On April 29, Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth made headlines, not for announcing a new strategic doctrine, but for boasting about cutting a life-saving initiative. With a tone of triumph, Hegseth declared, “This morning, I proudly ENDED the ‘Women, Peace & Security’ (WPS) program inside the @DeptofDefense,” calling it “a woke, divisive/social justice/Biden initiative that overburdens our commanders and troops.”

But his victory lap was premature. Legally, he can’t actually eliminate the WPS program, it’s mandated by Congress. A follow-up clarification by an administration official explained that what Hegseth meant was ending the broader Biden-era initiatives surrounding WPS and limiting the program to “statutory minimums.”

Even if scaled back, this move reflects a narrow, almost outdated understanding of modern warfare. And as someone who once commanded an operation that laid the groundwork for WPS itself, I can say with conviction: this program isn’t about politics—it’s about saving lives and winning wars.

The Lessons of Northern Iraq

In 2008, while leading the 1st Armored Division in northern Iraq, I witnessed firsthand why including women in security efforts isn’t a “woke distraction”—it’s battlefield necessity.

We were facing a disturbing new tactic: female suicide bombers. Al Qaeda in Iraq exploited a cultural vulnerability—male soldiers couldn’t search women, and there were no female officers to step in. These attacks shook crowded markets, polling stations, and checkpoints. We couldn’t stop what we couldn’t see.

It wasn’t until one of our junior female soldiers suggested organizing a women’s conference that things began to change. That single idea snowballed into a turning point in our counterterrorism efforts. Four hundred Iraqi women—Kurdish and Arab, politicians and clerics—gathered in Erbil to speak about their roles in securing peace. They weren’t just attendees. They became allies.

That day, one woman approached me privately. “We can help stop the bombings,” she said. “But we need your help to get women into the police academies.” After resistance from Baghdad, we succeeded. We started with 27 women. Weeks later, they were patrolling streets and screening civilians at checkpoints.

One of them stopped a 15-year-old girl named Rania—strapped with explosives, drugged, and pushed toward a crowd by her own mother, a widow of an al Qaeda fighter. Her story was horrifying: manipulated, radicalized, and discarded.

But it also changed minds. As Iraqi officials and media began to understand the truth, female officers were hailed as heroes. Radio shows called them “Doves of Peace.” The public began to see these women not just as security forces—but as a path to a safer Iraq.

WPS Isn’t Feminism. It’s Strategy.

The WPS Act, signed into law in 2017 with bipartisan support, codified what we already knew on the ground: to win modern wars, we must include everyone. The act is built on four pillars—Participation, Protection, Prevention, and Relief/Recovery. These aren’t slogans; they are the tools of counterinsurgency and stabilization.

In Afghanistan, U.S. Female Engagement Teams gathered vital intelligence male soldiers never could. In Iraq, female officers turned the tide on suicide bombings. In Ukraine today, tens of thousands of women are not only fighting—they are shaping the resistance. Kurdish women’s units struck fear into ISIS not just with their skill but by shattering the jihadi narrative that women are weak.

A Blind Spot in the Name of "Lethality"

Secretary Hegseth claims that ending WPS makes the military more focused on “warfighting.” But in doing so, he’s ignoring the full spectrum of what war requires in the 21st century: legitimacy, intelligence, community engagement, and social resilience.

Yes, lethality still matters. But so does perception. So does trust. So does building the kind of peace that prevents future wars. Empowering women in conflict zones isn’t softness—it’s strategy.

Our female soldiers didn’t champion WPS because of ideology. They did it because they saw the gaps. They filled them. And they saved lives.

The battlefield isn’t the only terrain where wars are won. They’re also won in villages, radio waves, classrooms, and yes—even in conference halls full of women determined to make their communities safer.

By minimizing WPS, we’re not just sidelining women—we’re ignoring a proven method of securing peace and dismantling extremism. That isn’t strength. It’s shortsightedness.

You don’t fight 21st-century wars with a 20th-century mindset.

Cutting WPS doesn’t make our military stronger. But it may very well make it half blind.