Last month, Keir Starmer made an announcement that sounded full of governmental largesse. From henceforth, the Prime Minister said, ex-servicemen would be exempt from local connection tests for social housing for ever, guaranteeing them a roof over their heads.
‘The military is a brilliant mechanism for social mobility… but it can be difficult to continue that upward trajectory when you leave’
Leaving aside the fact that the announcement did nothing to actually increase the amount of social housing available, or that the lack of housing generally means an ever-widening gap between civilian and military life, why would someone leaving the service need access to social housing for ever? Perhaps because the really hard thing about transitioning to civilian life after a career in the forces is finding a job.
If you join the Armed Forces at 16 and stay in it for 25 years, you’ll rack up a significant amount of experience, whether you remain a regular soldier or work your way up to becoming a non-commissioned officer (i.e. one who didn’t go to Sandhurst). You’ll have been responsible for many men and women, seen some things you’d probably rather you hadn’t, and learnt to make tough decisions quickly under enormous pressure.
You’ll have been drawing a salary when your mates are racking up student loans, but what you’re unlikely to have is a degree, or maybe even A-levels – a prerequisite for most jobs these days. Which is where the problem starts. The fact that the military has its own language and jargon (think lots and lots of acronyms) – deliberately so – to delineate jobs and roles within the forces further complicates the transition to civvy street, which doesn’t always understand the significance of coming top in your ACMT and being used to giving out QBOS even when U/S.
‘The military is a brilliant mechanism for social mobility, in that you can join at 18 with potentially a limited formal education, do some extraordinary things and upskill in all sorts of ways, but it can be difficult to continue that upward trajectory when you leave,’ says Benedict Robb, a military veteran himself, who spent three and a half years as a junior officer attached to the Grenadier Guards. Two years ago, he set up Forces Horizon with two other ex-service colleagues (one British, one American). It’s a company that uses AI to translate the CVs of former soldiers into civilian speak, and match them up with employers. With around 16,000 people leaving the armed forces each year, there’s a steady stream of potential users, although the company keeps the user-end of the service free, instead making its money by charging would-be employers a fee. These in turn know that they’re getting access to capable, reliable, resilient men and women with a specific skillset. The veterans, meanwhile, can generally look forward to a 30 to 50 per cent pay increase in their new civilian life.
Admittedly, says Robb, unemployment rates tend to be lower among veterans, despite the scare headlines around mental health and homelessness. Skill translation aside, many employers recognise the benefits that service life confers, from punctuality and reliability to a problem-solving, can-do attitude. But for the panicking, about-to-leave veteran, the service can be a godsend. ‘It was magical,’ recalls Pete McGann, a former Royal Navy chief petty officer, who has just left the service after 26 years. McGann is far from unqualified: he used his time in the Navy to get a first-class engineering degree, as well as collecting various City & Guilds graduateships, but his CV when he first started to write it was, he says, ‘four pages of expansive rubbish – I’d just put everything I could think of on there.’ After feeding his experience into Forces Horizon’s programme, he got a call from a recruiter at engineering and technology company Honeywell that evening; two weeks later he had a job lined up, which he started last month, as an advanced project engineer, in the first civilian job he’d had since working at McDonald’s in his teens. ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am,’ he tells me on his lunch break.
Forces Horizon has correctly identified that what it offers could be something usefully deployed in other areas of society too; it is currently running a trial with correctional facilities in the US, as well as working with the Department for Work and Pensions. It is also being used as a tool for military spouses, many of whom have disjointed CVs full of holes thanks to the multiple moves required of military life; a recent survey carried out by the Army Families Federation found that 20 per cent of Army spouses and partners are unemployed, a figure that jumps to 60 per cent for those living overseas, and that a lack of options often meant having to take work that did not match qualifications.
It’s not perfect, of course: Scott Rogers, a Marine who’s got 18 months to serve and has been playing around with Forces Horizon’s CV service to get his own into shape, says at the moment it is ‘impressive’ but that ‘the AI might become ubiquitous.’ And Forces Horizon only has a limited number of employers signed up to the site, which isn’t great for either its own coffers or those wanting a wider range of potential companies to work for.
If it succeeds, however, the company could prove a useful tool to help useful members of society remain useful – as well as building confidence for those who are unsure of themselves. ‘Helping people in transition’, is how Robb puts it. Sir Keir might want to take note.
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