Military sexual trauma is something that’s rarely discussed – in fact it’s not even formally recognised by the UK authorities. But if your clients are veterans struggling with their alcohol use there are questions you need to ask, says Tony Wright.
As a social worker in the voluntary sector, I’ve witnessed the profound and lasting impact of trauma on individuals who often feel invisible in society. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the lives of male military veterans who have survived military sexual trauma (MST). The reluctance of the UK government and Ministry of Defence (MOD) to recognise MST among men leaves many struggling in silence, often self-medicating with alcohol as a desperate coping mechanism.
Forward Assist, a charity dedicated to supporting veterans, recently published Liquid armour, a report shedding light on the realities of MST survivors and their relationship with alcohol. The findings are both harrowing and revealing, and highlight how alcohol becomes a tool for survival in the absence of trauma-informed services tailored to the unique needs of male survivors.
HIDDEN POPULATION
MST is not formally recognised in the UK, despite being acknowledged by the US Department of Veterans Affairs as any unwanted sexual experience during military service. The stigma surrounding male survivors creates a culture of silence. While reports indicate that between 5 and 10 per cent of military men in western nations experience sexual assault, under-reporting remains a significant barrier to addressing the issue. Many victims fear being labelled as weak or facing questions about their masculinity and/or sexuality, leading them to self-isolate and suffer alone.
Survivors of MST often endure post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), depression, anxiety, and other complex mental health conditions. The betrayal by fellow service members and the institutions meant to protect them leads to deep-seated mistrust, shame, and self-doubt. Many are left feeling marginalised, unable to access appropriate services, and with little recourse but to turn to alcohol as a means of temporary escape.
COPING MECHANISM
The military has a long-standing drinking culture, often viewed as a bonding exercise or a way to unwind. But for MST survivors, alcohol becomes more than just a social lubricant – it is a shield, a numbing agent, a way to forget. Veterans interviewed in Liquid armour spoke candidly about their relationship with alcohol:
‘My commanding officer once said that only Americans see a shrink, whereas the British go to the pub. That’s how I’ve dealt with every problem in my life since I left the army.’
‘I hoped I’d kill myself while I was drinking as I wasn’t brave enough to do it sober.’
‘Drinking made me feel cosy and warm… until I woke up.’
These stories illustrate the devastating cycle of self-medication that many MST survivors fall into. For some, alcohol is an unconscious attempt to suppress traumatic memories. For others, it’s an act of self-destruction – a slow suicide in the absence of hope.
INSTITUTIONAL BETRAYAL
Many MST survivors describe a sense of institutional betrayal that compounds their trauma. The military, often viewed as a ‘brotherhood,’ fails to protect them, and when they report their assaults they face disbelief, inaction, or even retaliation.
Even after leaving the military, barriers to support persist. Many veterans report being unaware of existing sexual trauma services or finding them unprepared to address the specific needs of men. Some avoid disclosing their experiences entirely, presenting instead with PTSD or alcohol dependency, which are more ‘acceptable’ within veteran services. The reluctance of the MOD to acknowledge male MST means there’s no dedicated funding, research, or policy change to address the issue. Without proper recognition, survivors remain in the shadows, left to navigate a fragmented system that fails to see them.
DEADLY CONSEQUENCES
The link between trauma and substance misuse is well-documented, yet male MST survivors remain an overlooked group in recovery services. The consequences of this oversight can be fatal.
Veterans struggling with MST-related alcohol misuse face an increased risk of suicidal ideation. Their pain is compounded by isolation, a lack of targeted mental health interventions, and a drinking culture that discourages vulnerability. Without tailored trauma-informed support, many will continue to spiral into addiction, homelessness, and early death.
One participant in Liquid armour reflected on the impact of alcohol misuse within the MST survivor community:
‘Watching friends die of alcohol misuse is soul-destroying. As an MST survivor, I know I could be next.’
ASKING THE QUESTION
When engaging with veterans who may be struggling with alcohol misuse, it is essential to ask about their experiences with trauma in a sensitive and non-judgmental way. A good practice approach is to use open-ended, trauma-informed questions that create a safe space for disclosure. Instead of asking direct or potentially re-traumatising questions like, ‘Have you been sexually assaulted?’ consider a gentler approach along the lines of: ‘Many veterans I work with have experienced distressing events during their service that continue to affect them. Sometimes, these experiences involve feeling unsafe, being pressured into unwanted situations, or facing harm from those around them. If anything like that has happened to you, I want you to know that you’re not alone, and there is support available. Would you like to talk about anything that’s been difficult for you?’
By framing the question in a way that acknowledges common experiences, respects personal boundaries and reinforces available support, professionals can encourage survivors to seek help without fear of stigma or judgment.
SEEING THE INVISIBLE
Male MST survivors are not just statistics – they are men who served their country, who were betrayed by their own, and who continue to suffer in silence. The voluntary sector plays a crucial role in advocating for these men, but we cannot do it alone. Until MST is fully acknowledged, resourced, and integrated into recovery and mental health services, we will continue to see these men drink to forget, to cope, and, ultimately, to die.
As social workers and professionals in the voluntary sector, we must amplify their voices, demand policy change, and provide the trauma-informed care they deserve. We must ensure that no veteran feels their only option is the bottom of a bottle.
Tony Wright is CEO of Forward Assist