Trigger-Happy Typing

How Military Hardware Journalism Lost the Plot (and its Humanity)...but Ukraine Is A Different Story

In a world of exploding acronyms and orgasmic odes to missiles, a strange creature has emerged: the military hardware journalist. But what happens when the bylines forget the body bags? And why this sometimes might be a good thing.

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There is a particular species of journalist who, when confronted with the news of a city reduced to rubble, doesn’t ask why it was bombed, who died, or whether any of this is necessary. No, they ask: “Was it a JDAM or a GBU-12?” (to which another will add, JDAM isn’t a bomb, it’s a kit actually). I get it, because I’ve been that person.

This is the realm of the military hardware journalist—a class of writer so entranced by the elegance of an airstrike that they write as if reality exists in the clean, exciting graphics of a Lockheed Martin animation. They operate in a glittering void of press briefings, weapons expos, and “exclusive” chats with unnamed colonels. Their words are a strange cocktail of giddy techno-fetishism and Pentagon-approved detachment. It is war, not as a human tragedy, but as a trade show.

Imagine reading about a bombing campaign and walking away with more admiration for the targeting pod than concern for the incinerated civilians. That’s the vibe.

War as Brochure, Not Bloodbath

Modern war reporting from these quarters doesn’t open with “Today, a hospital was levelled,” but “The new F-35 Lightning II platform has seen its first combat deployment, delivering precision munitions with impressive efficiency.” Thank God for that. Children are dead, but the platform performed admirably.

This form of coverage operates in an alternate dimension—somewhere between a defence contractor’s PowerPoint deck and a cheeky Tom Clancy tech-wank. It’s not uncommon to read entire articles that don’t mention casualties once, instead choosing to fixate on the “kinetic capabilities” of some acronym-laden death machine. These pieces often sound less like journalism and more like a product launch:

“The AGM-158 JASSM demonstrated remarkable low-observable flight characteristics and target discrimination capability during last week’s urban strike.”

Oh? You mean when it obliterated an apartment complex?

When did we get so comfortable discussing war as if it were a gaming convention? You almost expect the next line to be, “Now available in matte black. Pre-order yours today!”.

The Psychopath in the Byline

There is something uncomfortably psychopathic about writing with such surgical coldness about events where actual people are being shredded, burned, and buried. The focus on hardware instead of humanity isn’t just tone-deaf—it borders on sociopathy.

It’s the journalistic equivalent of watching a funeral and commenting on the casket craftsmanship.

Military hardware journalists have mastered the art of the warzone featurette—complete with drone-shot B-roll and quote snippets from “senior defence sources”—but somehow forgot to include a single grieving mother, a displaced family, or even the vague mention that bombs do, in fact, kill people.

Sure, they might technically note that there was “collateral damage”. Don’t expect any dwelling on it. The real story is the new turret stabilisation system. She’s a beauty!

It’s not just dehumanising. It’s bizarre. You’re reading about war as if it’s Formula 1, and the journalist is breathlessly reporting, “And here comes the new T-90M, hugging those corners like a dream!” Meanwhile, in real life, it’s hugging a charred school bus.

Acronyms as a Defence Mechanism

The writing becomes a blur of ISR assets, EO/IR sensors, C-RAM systems, and MALE UAVs. At some point, you suspect that if you asked one of these writers about the Geneva Conventions, they’d assume it was a Jason Bourne film.

And while you’re desperately trying to remember whether an OWA is the same thing as a kamikaze drone, the article has conveniently skipped over the part where someone’s house was vaporised by one.