The phrase “different spanks for different ranks” is a well-worn adage in the military for decades. Higher-ranking enlisted personnel and officers have used this notion to dodge the accountability our armed services desperately require. When we speak of “the standard,” it conjures an image of a universal requirement, a bar that applies to all, regardless of rank. In theory, the standard is unwavering—or so we’d like to believe. In reality, a stark divide exists: leaders and lower enlisted are judged by different yardsticks. If a young E-2 faces an assault accusation, they’re likely staring down non-judicial punishment (NJP) at a minimum, with a courts-martial looming as a real possibility. Yet when a senior NCO or officer commits the same offense, orders mysteriously appear, and they’re quietly PCS’d (permanently changed station) before justice can catch up. A junior enlisted member caught sleeping with a subordinate risks demotion and administrative action; a higher-ranking enlisted or officer doing the same is hushed up, with whispers of “handling it in-house”—though accountability rarely follows.
How did we arrive at this point? When did military leaders become untouchable? The officer corps bears much of the blame. For officers, any administrative action is a career death sentence—no more promotions, no more pay increases. This differs sharply from enlisted personnel, who can weather paperwork and still aspire to future advancement. To sidestep this harsh reality, officers often opt for a simple solution: they don’t hold each other accountable. A single piece of paperwork can derail a career, so supervising officers hesitate to document misconduct, fearing they’ll ruin a subordinate’s future. By design, the system incentivizes turning a blind eye, creating a troubling dynamic where lower enlisted face stricter scrutiny than their leaders.
Lower enlisted personnel—often dismissed as uneducated or naive—see this double standard clearly. It foments resentment in a force that rejects hypocrisy. No one wants to follow a leader who operates on a “consequences for thee, but not for me” philosophy. This isn’t the only shield officers enjoy. Take the U.S. Air Force, for example: enlisted rarely take a PT test alongside officers. Why? If an enlisted member witnessed their Commander or Operations Officer fail a fitness test, it would undermine that leader’s authority to enforce the same standard. Over time, this has produced visibly unfit officers who escape repercussions while punishing subordinates for failing to meet benchmarks they themselves can’t achieve.
In recent years, officer accountability has only surfaced when misconduct becomes public. Too often, officers shield their own, burying complaints, stifling investigations, or PCSing the offender to evade scrutiny. How does this inspire troops to trust their leaders? It doesn’t. It erodes confidence in leadership and fosters disillusionment among enlisted personnel, who see standards applied only to them when, in theory, those standards should bind everyone. Enlisted leaders aren’t blameless either. Many are complicit, either ignoring officer misconduct to curry favor or fearing the loss of their own influence. Officers, in turn, often spare senior enlisted leaders from the same scrutiny applied to lower ranks, thanks to close working relationships or friendships. This selective enforcement undermines any pretense of equality across the force.