The military is very good at setting conditions.
We set conditions for success before a mission ever begins, through planning, language, expectations, and shared understanding. We set the conditions during the mission, putting things in place that enable the next move. I remember first hearing the phrase “set the conditions” as a new 2LT in the 82nd Airborne Division from my Battalion Commander, Tom Snukis. It stayed with me throughout my career, and continues to weave its way into my everyday life.
We also know that words have power, that what we name something shapes how we treat it. That’s not semantics. That’s proven.
Which is why I’ve been thinking a lot about the word “dependent.”
I was chatting with a military spouse, and she mentioned how she hated the word. I reflected on that, and realized it is not only a word that evokes certain feelings, it’s a word that is an incredibly poor description of what it represents.
In the military system, “dependent” is an administrative term. It’s clean. It’s efficient. It tells the bureaucracy who is eligible for what. I get it. On paper, it works.
But culturally, and more importantly, humanly, it misses the mark.
Because if we’re honest, the idea that our spouses and families are “dependent” on us violates one of the most sacred ideas we hold in the military: the team.
In reality, we are far more dependent on them than they are on us.
We depend on them to carry stability when we are absent. To absorb uncertainty when plans change. To manage households, children, moves, deployments, injuries, and reintegration. To hold emotional ground so we can focus on the mission.
That’s not dependency. That’s contribution. That’s support. That’s mission focus.
And yet, our language doesn’t reflect that truth.
The military prides itself on mutual reliance. No one succeeds alone. No one survives alone. Whether in a platoon, a squadron, or a ship, the idea is simple: I rely on you, and you rely on me. That interdependence is not weakness, it’s strength.
So why does that thinking stop at the edge of the formation? Why does it stop with those who may not wear the uniform, but allow those in uniform to succeed?
In fact, a common saying in the military is that one’s proximity to the battlefield does not equate to one’s importance to the battle.
Somewhere along the way, we accepted a word that quietly reframes spouses and families as passive recipients rather than active participants. Not teammates, beneficiaries. Not contributors, dependents.
And words matter because words set conditions.
They shape how people see themselves and how we see them. They shape how institutions allocate respect. They shape what support looks like, and who feels entitled to it.
When someone is labeled a dependent long enough, it subtly suggests they are secondary. That their role is supportive but not essential. That their identity exists downstream of someone else’s service.
But anyone who has served knows better.
Families don’t just support service, they enable it.
They make the impossible sustainable. They absorb the friction that the system cannot. They hold continuity when everything else is temporary. They are not on the sidelines of service; they are woven into it.
And when service ends, this language becomes even more problematic.
Because transition is already disorienting. Identity is already in flux. Purpose is already being renegotiated. Carrying forward a term that implies passivity or reliance only makes that harder, especially for spouses who are navigating their own transitions, careers, identities, and sense of belonging.
We would never call a Ranger on a team a “dependent” because they rely on others to support the job they do. We would never say a pilot is “dependent” on their crew. We call that trust. We call that professionalism. We call that teamwork.
So maybe the issue isn’t accuracy, it’s framing.
What if instead of “dependents,” we talked about:
Service families?

_____________________________
JC Glick serves as the Chief Executive Officer of The COMMIT Foundation. JC brings with him a wealth of experience as a leadership consultant and career Army officer and is driven by a deep commitment to supporting veterans in their transition journey. Since transitioning from 20 years of military service in 2015, JC has been a founder and partner of two leadership companies, where his clients included Fortune 500 companies, international non-profit organizations, government agencies, the NFL, numerous NFL and NBA teams, and multiple NCAA programs.
Over the course of his Army career, JC spent over seven years in the Ranger regiment, serving in two Ranger Battalions as well as Regimental Headquarters, participating in the Best Ranger Competition twice, and has over seven and a half years of command time with 11 operational and combat deployments to Haiti, Bangladesh, Iraq, and Afghanistan. JC is the author of two books, including A Light in the Darkness: Leadership Development for the Unknown. In 2017, he was selected as a TEDX Speaker and delivered Rethinking Leadership at TEDX Hammond. JC is also an adjunct professor at St. John’s University in Queens, New York. He holds a degree in Political Science from the University of Rhode Island and is a Liberty Fellow, part of the Aspen Institute.
As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.
Buy Me A Coffee
The Havok Journal seeks to serve as a voice of the Veteran and First Responder communities through a focus on current affairs and articles of interest to the public in general, and the veteran community in particular. We strive to offer timely, current, and informative content, with the occasional piece focused on entertainment. We are continually expanding and striving to improve the readers’ experience.
© 2026 The Havok Journal
The Havok Journal welcomes re-posting of our original content as long as it is done in compliance with our Terms of Use.
