Australian writer Helen Garner has been turning the fabric of her life into unforgettable literature for almost 50 years. Speaking to Georgina Godwin on Meet the Writers, Garner discusses the diaries that have shaped her work, the chaos of her earlier years and the serenity of being a grandmother.

Let’s start at the beginning. Take us back to Paris in the late 1970s – what was life like?
I moved to France with my daughter when she was eight. I had just published Monkey Grip and received a grant from the Australia Council that would sustain us for a few years. So I thought, let’s live in Paris! My daughter picked up French in about five minutes but I never quite felt at ease. I was used to big hippie houses in Melbourne, full of single mothers and children in happy chaos. Paris felt alien. I eventually realised that I had nothing to do with that place and it had nothing to do with me. We moved back to Australia but I had met a lovely Frenchman while in Paris. He came back with us and we married. Though we have since parted, I still have great warmth for him.

One of the pleasures of your diaries is their domestic detail; the cherry-red boots, the soap-dish quarrels. How do such moments become material?
I’ve always kept a diary. I use my immediate surroundings as subject matter. A quarrel about who cleaned the soap dish can loom as large as a major fight when you’re writing on an intimate scale. Those things carry weight: they reveal how people really live together.

And yet there were big fights too, such as that unforgettable kitchen scene.
Yes. I discovered a letter from my husband – my third husband – to the woman I suspected he was having an affair with. I went berserk. There was beetroot soup on the wall; it looked like blood, though no one had actually been killed. I even had a hammer in my hand. A friend told me, “Helen, put the hammer down.” And I did.

The diary format seems perfect for that immediacy.
It suits me. My novels were always close to being non-fiction anyway. Writing in a diary taught me to seize the moment as it happens.

Are you still keeping a diary?
Oh yes. I steady myself by making a record of things and trying to tell myself the truth. These days I write about being a grandmother. Living nextdoor and helping raise my grandchildren has been the happiest time of my life. I probably won’t publish those diaries; they belong to them as much as they do to me.

You sound content.
I am. After my third marriage ended, I thought that I’d given it my best shot. I decided that I’m not going to try again. And that’s when real happiness started.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity. Listen to the full conversation on ‘Meet The Writers’ on Monocle Radio.

Gaza’s future is being contested on every front. The Gulf states propose sweeping reconstruction while Israel advances a security blueprint and Palestinian groups set out their own competing visions. Into this fraught landscape enters a different idea: “A Land For All” is a joint Israeli-Palestinian initiative that advocates for two states within a shared homeland, a shared Jerusalem, joint security and, eventually, freedom of movement. It challenges the old model of separation and asks both peoples to imagine a more humane existence. The movement’s directors are May Pundak, an Israeli lawyer and feminist activist, and Rula Hardal, a Palestinian citizen of Israel and lecturer in political science. 

Pundak and Hardal spoke to Monocle Radio’s The Globalist to share their vision for a united future.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity. Listen to the full conversation on ‘The Globalist’. 

May, what kind of political future do you imagine for Israelis and Palestinians beyond the current reality?
This is exactly the moment that we should all face the unknown and start articulating a clear vision for the future of Israeli and Palestinian people. And, of course, how to solve the conflict in a way that would be sustainable, just and acceptable for both. What we are offering is ‘two states, one homeland’: two sovereign and independent states, Israel and Palestine, with a clear border along 1967 lines. And, on top of that, there would be another added value: a new model of shared institutions to take care of the things that have to be taken care of, shared and jointly, without taking away from the sovereignty of the two states.

I refer to France, Germany and the EU models as inspirations that can lead us to the independence, separation and safety that we need. But we understand that there are multiple challenges, including security, economics, water and Jerusalem, as well as infrastructure and climate, which demand us to work in tight co-operation. Any realisation of interdependency between Israelis and Palestinians at this point demands a political vision that answers those needs. 

Rula, how does this differ from the classic two-state solution?
The whole approach is different by moving away from segregation and separation – which we view as immoral, supremacist, unrealistic – into a new approach and paradigm of how to get to the two states based on sharing. We are using the same land, the same resources, the same streets, sometimes the same economy. 

A second difference that we offer with the confederation model – shared institutions and freedom of movement – is that it will gradually and hopefully lead to new approaches and solutions to the deadlocks of the classic two-state solution, which include Jerusalem, the right of return of Palestinian refugees, settlers and settlements.

May, how would you plan to deal with the complexities of Jerusalem?
It is becoming clearer for anyone who has lived, resided or visited Jerusalem in the past few years that the city is not meant to be divided. Carving up the capital is impossible by its own internal logic, not to mention the soul of the city or the way that we perceive it. And then for practical reasons, we’re not going to build a big wall in the middle of the holy city.

Jerusalem is a place that tells the story that we’re trying to tell on a more political level: most Israelis and Jews see all of this homeland, from the river to the sea, including Judea and Samaria, as their homeland. Jews have an attachment to the entirety of the land – but so do Palestinians. For Palestinians, from the river to the sea will always be Palestine, including Jerusalem and other cities that would remain, in our plan, under the jurisdiction of Israel.

But the idea that we both share the attachment to this homeland – such a strong emotional connection – as a place that divides us is where we differ from the classic two-state solution. This is where we say that we will have to share some things in order to make it work. Jerusalem is a great example for that for practical reasons and emotional ones. 

And Rula, what are the challenges that you face in implementing this plan, from politicians and two divided populations?
The first challenge is that leadership on both sides are unwilling to find a solution to the conflict and seek symmetry between the warring parties. From the whole development of the Israeli political system to the ideologies and components of the current coalition – particularly the Likud party, which has been governing Israel with one short exception since 2009 – it is clear that everything is being done to prevent the establishment and the recognition of a sovereign Palestinian state. It’s not a hidden agenda; it’s something that they emphasise every day, including Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu. 

The second obstacle is the recent political developments. It has been about a month since the announcement of Donald Trump’s plan, a historic stop to the atrocities and genocidal war in Gaza. But still, there is no serious conversation about a Palestinian state or a permanent solution to the conflict. I am afraid that, following this fragile ceasefire, we might enter a new-old status quo, where we are still not speaking about the recognition of Palestine, ending the occupation and creating two states. 

May, how do you go about getting buy-in from all the other interested parties, from the Gulf states to the US?
The commitment needs to be about realising a ceasefire – which has already been breached multiple times at this point – but also putting forward a clear, rational and acceptable vision for how to solve the Israel-Palestine conflict once and for all. If we do not commit to such a vision, we are going to be in a much worse situation than 7 October. This is a historic moment that has to be seized. From our experience over the past few months, there has been growing interest in Israel, Palestine, the Gulf states, the Middle East and in the international community over a pragmatic approach to the two states that will allow us to solve the dispute. 
What we are trying to do now is build a movement of Israelis and Palestinians – people committed to ending the conflict and taking agency for our own future as our leadership has failed to do. Important interlocutors from across the globe are buying into this idea, especially as we have already been able to solve some things that seemed intractable.

What we ask is for people to read our vision on the website, to start talking about it and understand that this conflict will end, as all conflicts do, and that it can end. We offer a roadmap, a vision and a solution that has been created by experts and multiple people from different communities in Israel and in Palestine over the past 15 years. We have the answers and now we have to move forward and have a clear vision that learns from the mistakes of previous failed negotiations, as well as the success stories of other conflicts that have been solved in a sustainable way. That’s exactly what we’re doing, building from the bottom up and the top down.

From Hollywood reboots and retro car models to vintage fashion, a swath of industries are doing a roaring trade in nostalgia. But there’s a fine line between celebrating your legacy and being stuck in a creative ditch. By failing to embrace fresh ideas, some French brands risk trading their future appeal for the comforts of the past.

Visitors to the French capital can currently see two major exhibitions looking back at the historic achievements of storied brands: Louis Vuitton Art Deco at LV Dream, the luxury giant’s Paris headquarters, and 1925-2025: One Hundred Years of Art Deco at the Musée des Arts Décoratifs, which explores the design legacy of the Orient Express. Both shows mark the centennial of a major art deco exhibition held in the city. There’s plenty of exquisite craftsmanship on display, both by major figures of the art deco movement and by modern-day artisans and designers.

A standout piece from the Louis Vuitton exhibition is a trunk designed for British conductor Leopold Stokowski in 1929, which folds out into a portable desk. This clever feature allowed Stokowski to travel with his documents and sit down to write wherever he happened to be. The piece is emblematic of the brand’s history of innovating to meet the evolving needs of wealthy globetrotters throughout the 20th century. With the advent of cars and transatlantic steamers, Gaston-Louis Vuitton, the grandson of the brand’s founder, oversaw a period during which aesthetics and functionality went hand in hand.

At the Louis Vuitton shop above the exhibition space, you’ll spot an updated version of the Stokowski trunk, the Secrétaire Bureau 2.0. Usefully, it has a wider work surface that’s designed to accommodate laptops – but it seems more likely to grace a collector’s lounge than to travel the world with its owner.

Meanwhile, in the grand hall of the Musée des Arts Décoratifs, you can admire the splendid interiors of the new Orient Express. Though the state-of-the-art passenger train includes 21st-century amenities such as wi-fi, it’s ultimately just a homage to the 1920s. It reflects a mindset that locates the future of design in the archives – leaving true innovation stuck at the station.

That’s not to say that past icons can’t be resurrected to break new ground. Renault, for example, has successfully launched updated versions of classic models such as the Renault 5 and Renault 4, with the Twingo next in line. The refreshed Twingo features a design similar to the 1992 original, which sold 2.6 million models over its 20-year production run, as well as all-electric drivetrains. By combining nostalgia-inducing design with significant hardware upgrades, the automaker is making contemporary electric vehicles more appealing to drivers who aren’t yet fully comfortable with the technology.

What if brands such as Louis Vuitton and the Orient Express reclaimed their status as cutting-edge innovators in travel, while staying true to their legacy? Perhaps we’d enter a new golden age of travel – one that pairs timeless elegance with genuine progress. The 2026 christening of the Orient Express Corinthian, the world’s largest sailing yacht and a partnership with LVMH, could be a groundbreaking moment for the sector. Combining luxury amenities and destinations that are often out of reach for conventional cruise ships, it will be charting new waters for hospitality, while still evoking the Old World glamour of the Orient Express. Fresh ideas such as this are why these brands rose to prominence in the first place. 

Simon Bouvier is Monocle’s Paris bureau chief. Fancy more from the French capital? Check out our City Guide. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.

Arriving in Muscat, you’re struck by the absence of construction cranes and the sense of calm that hangs in the air. In a region where perpetual transformation has become the default, Oman’s relative stillness feels almost subversive. The country faces many of the same pressures as its Gulf neighbours: its population is projected to grow by almost 50 per cent to 7.7 million by 2040 and oil production is expected to fall from a million barrels per day to 700,000 over the same period. But instead of turning to the familiar megaproject playbook, Oman is attempting something more difficult: measured densification.
 
Sultan Haitham City, designed to house 100,000 residents, is the clearest expression of this approach. Oman has long intentionally avoided building skyscrapers, prioritising low-rise development. Its focus now is on drawing a population – 89 per cent of whom are homeowners accustomed to villa living and privacy – into walkable neighbourhoods without resorting to towers. It’s an experiment in Middle Eastern urbanism that prioritises liveability over spectacle, though whether Omanis will embrace this shift towards urban consolidation remains to be seen.

The country’s emphasis on restraint extends to its cultural infrastructure. The Royal Opera House, opened in 2011, was built on the orders of the late Sultan Qaboos, a music lover with a meticulous ear for acoustic detail. The venue hosts world-class performers in a building designed for music fans rather than photographers. 

Tourism follows the same measured logic. Oman is expanding its luxury-hotel inventory – Jumeirah, St Regis, Four Seasons, Mandarin Oriental – without remaking whole districts. Where its neighbours build smart cities and urban forests, Oman is banking on a quieter proposition. A limited nightlife, yes – but unlike the metropolises nextdoor or in the West, there’s always space to think.
 
Vision 2040, the country’s economic and social road map, articulates this explicitly, with human-centric development, cultural preservation and sustainable growth at the top of its agenda. Similar language appears in many countries’ planning documents but Oman means it. With oil accounting for about 70 per cent of state revenue, diversification isn’t aspirational – it’s a structural necessity. Meanwhile, Oman Air’s recent entry into the Oneworld alliance signals that travel infrastructure is maturing without the fanfare that typically accompanies aviation expansion in the Gulf.

The model has obvious trade-offs. Whether you’re a linen-suited old Gulf hand or a newly arrived expat from London or Mumbai, you’ll find that Muscat moves more slowly than Dubai. Some find this boring. But the hypothesis is that second-tier cities can compete with their more established counterparts through developments that prioritise preserving regional culture. 
 
Some early cracks are visible. Waterfront-development renderings show a few high-rise towers that would significantly alter Muscat’s traditionally low skyline. For developers and investors, the more upwards-thinking approach of cities such as Dubai and New York remains seductive. Still, the idea that moving at a deliberately slower pace might produce more durable networks and communities in the Omani capital is alluring. After all, who wins by playing to the strengths of competitors?
 
Muscat’s radical proposition of restraint in a region defined by bold timelines is worth keeping an eye on. Perhaps the most subversive part of it all is Oman’s apparent comfort with letting the answer emerge gradually, rather than forcing it through capital deployment. Whether that patience pays off remains to be seen but, a short flight from the bustle of Dubai, at least the question is being asked.
 
Colin Nagy is a Los Angeles-based journalist and frequent Monocle contributor.

Read next: Oman is carving its own path with the Vision 2040 plan

You’ve done all your last-minute travel prep, ticked off your packing list and remembered to water the houseplants. But have you done a deep dive into the soundness of political institutions and the robustness of civil society in the country to which you’re headed?
 
Barring a substantial outbreak of violence or the credible risk of terrorist activity, most of us don’t tend to dwell much on geopolitics as we jet off on holiday to places whose regimes might be less salubrious than our own. Perhaps it’s because a cursory check of your government’s advisory scale can change your behaviour – but, honestly, if people followed rules to the letter they might never leave home (in only two of Mexico’s 31 states, for example, are you currently free to “exercise normal precautions”, according to the US Department of State).
        
Heading on assignment to Tanzania recently, bound for a luxury tented camp in the country’s northwest, I hurriedly tried to get up to speed. One line that kept appearing across various sources was, “Tanzania is one of the most stable and peaceful countries in East Africa.”

So it was until one afternoon, when the internet connection went down. Initially, I didn’t think much of it. After it had been down for much of the day, I casually enquired about it and was told that the government had shut it off across the country. The reason, it turned out, was that Tanzania was holding elections. In what is effectively a one-party state, opposition had unexpectedly flared. Flicking the switch was a gesture of control. As startling as this was to me, it is rather common in much of the world. In May, Libya enforced a shutdown in the face of election protests. Some crackdowns have been more parochial: in Syria earlier this year, a countrywide internet outage was ordered to break up organised “cheating networks” in state education exams. 

Being cut off from the outside world and put into an enforced digital detox, we struggled to make sense of events. The Tanzanians present at the dinner table were pressed into impromptu political analyses. One theory making the rounds was that the opposition was being stealthily promoted from within the ranks of the Chama Cha Mapinduzi, the party of the Tanzanian president, Samia Suluhu Hassan, because of her status as a Muslim woman from Zanzibar who was appointed by succession rather than democratically elected.

I felt a bit like the protagonist of Eric Ambler’s classic thriller State of Siege, in which a hapless foreigner is caught up in a Southeast Asian coup. But more pressingly, international flights in and out of the country were being cancelled. Fortunately, I was able to hitch a ride on a hastily arranged charter flight to Nairobi, though a new hurdle loomed: I didn’t have a yellow-fever certificate (required for Kenya). Thankfully, the fact that I transited through the international zone of the airport and didn’t have to retrieve luggage meant that I never actually entered Kenya.

So here are two pieces of advice: always do your geopolitical homework; and always travel with a carry-on.

Tom Vanderbilt is a regular Monocle contributor. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.

Do you use your Sunday to look back over the past five or six days and take stock? Or are you one of those look-ahead types who ploughs on and does little in the way of a weekly audit? Or are you something of a seventh-day swinger and find moments for reflection while also eagerly entering plans and lists in the diary for the weeks and months ahead? To stay crisp, I like to play back the week on Saturdays and Sundays and recall the high points (and lows), who was brilliant, what was tasty and where was worth documenting and might demand a return visit. Most importantly, I ask: “What did I learn and who taught me?”
 
Fellowship
On Tuesday morning, I had the honour of sharing the stage with Tilda Swinton. The venue was the Capitol Theatre in Singapore and in the audience were several hundred students from universities across the city-state. I was moderating and Ms Swinton was there to talk about her career, new projects, the creative process and to take questions from the students. Best of all, it was a trip down memory lane as she reminded me about our days in London in the early 1990s, the people we hung out with, the clubs we frequented and the wonderful jobs we did for very little money. About halfway through our talk, Tilda hit upon the importance of fellowship and how we’ve somehow landed in a place where the individual and personal brand has become far more important than being part of a troupe or team. It was a simple observation but refreshingly on point. “Aren’t we motivated by the process and the people we work with? And the people we return to work with?” Tilda asked. “It’s about fellowship.” This definitely struck a chord with the students and it has stayed with me all week.

Chairman’s flight 
On Thursday it was another talk – this time I was answering the questions on stage at The Foreign Correspondents’ Club in Hong Kong. Before taking up my position, I was chatting to one of the club’s leaders and he mentioned the beauty of flying around Asia from HK and catching the chairman’s flight to Tokyo, Singapore and Jakarta. Chairman’s flight? I’d never heard the term. And given my card says chairman, right below my name, why wasn’t I aware of this service, concept or secret society? “The chairman’s flight is a weekday departure that leaves midmorning and means that you can have a gentle start, do a little work in the lounge, have a drink and lunch onboard and maybe there’s even a little nap,” explained the club grandee. “And given these are all three-to-four hour sectors, the meeting at your destination is most likely drinks and dinner.” I’ve now instructed my travel agent, Jill, that chairman’s flights are the only way to go.

Secrets are important 
I just landed in Tokyo and I’m meeting my friend Noriko for dinner at the same restaurant that we sampled two weeks ago. It’s hidden away up a staircase on a third floor in Hiroo. It’s open late and the kitchen will cook up pretty much any classic dish that you fancy. The crowd is exclusively Japanese and it feels a bit like Tokyo circa 1998. Heaven. The lesson here is that personal connections are everything, as this semi-secret establishment needs to know its patrons before allowing them to book. Not only does this keep the tourists out, it also creates a certain kind of intimacy between staff and patrons. I’m looking forward to going back for thirds.

Enjoying life in ‘The Faster Lane’? Click here to browse all of Tyler’s past columns. 

Do you want to be a better writer? Well, I do, and that’s why I have a suggestion for you: go to Cecil Beaton’s Fashionable World at London’s National Portrait Gallery. Curated by Robin Muir, it’s an extraordinary visual celebration of the British photographer’s career, from society portraits to fashion shoots for Vogue; from men of war to Hollywood. It’s definitive and beautiful, and so many images feel new and innovative, even after the passing of numerous decades. The show is also a masterclass in how to write. Next to each image is a little card that helps illuminate what you are looking at and the wit, craft and skill that have gone into writing these is a joy to read.

This week we have been meeting with all of Monocle’s editors to review the year but also to lay down some plans for 2026. We’ve looked at how we told stories, what worked a treat, what fell by the wayside. We’ve talked about writers we would like to work with and the varying needs of print versus digital. We’ve debated why length adds delight sometimes and leaves you cold at others (it’s all about how you use those big words). We’ve talked about inspiration, too. And that’s why I’ve told everyone: go to the Beaton show and read those little cards, which are as honed as any haiku.

OK, I’ll show you what I mean. The note for a picture of the Viennese dancer Tilly Losch says that “Her freedom on stage was matched by her personal style – Beaton compared her to ‘a rifled drawer’ – but she could be modern too, here in a Yvonne Carette suit and a felt turban designed by Charles James, a friend of Beaton’s from Harrow school”. A rifled drawer! You want to know Miss Losch – in just a few words you slide back through time, see the connections; a snapshot becomes a bigger picture.

Or how about this one for an image of The Honourable Mrs Reginald Fellowes, who “was considered the best-dressed woman in the world. The title might have implied frequent changes of wardrobe but, in fact, the distinction was hers on account of a rigorous simplicity of style.” We learn that Lady Ottoline Morrell presided over “a salon of the brilliant and eccentric minds of her age” and was described as having “magenta hair and two protruding teeth”. What a time and all unlocked for visitors in a series of descriptions just 75 words long. It’s writing that’s lean, evocative and fitting. I have waded through numerous magazine profiles and interviews with today’s rich and famous that leave you none the wiser and certainly don’t make you smile. Verbosity can be such a mood killer, as off-putting as a hot date who wants to keep their socks on in bed.

I am certainly not going to lecture anyone on this topic (good writing, I mean, not the socks in bed bit – my views on that are clear) but for me the best journalism is concise, avoids jargon and industry speak, doesn’t reach for arcane words to try to prove the writer’s superior intelligence (or reliance on a thesaurus), dodges clichés, knows how to use words to change pace and mood, delivers some delight and understands what to leave out of the narrative in the pursuit of clarity. I certainly keep striving for all these things (and benefit from the corrective tonic of a crack team of sub editors). But head to the Beaton show if you would like a lesson in delivering brevity, charm and knowledge inside a few short sentences.

To read more of Andrew’s columns, click here.

When I think of Belém, it’s the vibrant music scene found in this corner of the Amazon, rather than the Cop30 climate summit, that comes to mind. And yet, the diplomatic event kicks off in the northeastern Brazilian city next week. A tip for visiting dignitaries? Forget samba or bossa nova: in Belém, brega dominates the charts. It is a tricky genre to define due to its mix of styles, from funk to calypso, which meld into a romantic, dramatic and admittedly quite cheesy whole. Earlier this year the UN recognised Belém as the world capital of the genre and the Brazilian government is leaning heavily on it to promote Cop30 and distract from months of headlines criticising its decision to host the global gathering there.

With the leaders of the world’s largest polluters (the US, China and India) not attending Cop30, many seem pessimistic about its chances of success. But, even with a parade of leaders still descending on the port city, it will be the divas of brega that will be the summit’s real stars. The most famous name of them all is Joelma, who has now gone solo after being part of the duo Banda Calypso. Her gigs are eclectic and carnivalesque. She embodies Belém and brega like no other. A recent European tour was packed full of Brazilians and their slightly bemused foreign partners. Joelma recently performed at Amazônia Live, a special pre-Cop30 concert, alongside other brega stars and the biggest diva of them all: Mariah Carey. But it was Joelma, performing atop a giant water-lily-shaped stage floating on the Guamá river, who stood out. The show was what my fellow countrymen would call “pure Brazilian juice”. Also on stage at Amazônia Live was the ever-impressive 86-year-old Dona Onete, who released her first record at the tender age of 73. Her song “No Meio do Pitiú”, which translates as “strong fish odour”, was a massive hit.

Growing up in São Paulo, I was not exposed to the wonderful sounds of Belém until singer Gaby Amarantos began incorporating it into her electric grooves, bringing the genre to other regions of Brazil. But as with so many of the nation’s infectious rhythms, it migrated first around the country and then beyond.

On the world stage, music is as big of a cog in Brazil’s soft-power machine as football. A little flamboyancy and a good dance are never amiss. Belém’s infrastructure has long been criticised but if there’s a dance floor (perhaps a well-made caipirinha too) then Cop30 has every chance of getting leaders to sing the same tune. While Brazil prepares to host the climate conference in the Amazonian city, I would advise all delegates to spare some time to explore the city’s music and shake their hips to the energetic and sweaty sounds of Belém’s wonderful divas.

Fernando Augusto Pacheco is a senior correspondent for Monocle Radio and host of ‘The Stack’. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.Further reading? In Brazil’s agricultural boom towns, ‘sertanejo’ now trumps bossa nova.

From Bjarke Ingels’ harbour-inspired Brick to Naoto Fukasawa’s craned-in Hiroshima, The Monocle Book of Designers on Sofas – available to buy now – reveals how 50 of the world’s top architects and designers sit, think and live.  Leading architects and designers share their relationships with their settee, unpacking what it says about them and their design sensibilities.

Though the US government crashed into a bruising shutdown at the end of its fiscal year on 30 September, one arm of Uncle Sam’s vast bureaucracy weathered the storm. The Army enlisted 62,050 recruits in the 12 months to September, its highest amount since 2019. That figure exceeded its 61,000-soldier target and marked the second year in a row in which the Army met its recruiting goal after falling short in 2022 and 2023.

Democratic nations are at a crossroads when it comes to staffing their armed forces, with Germany’s conscription debate taking centre stage in Europe. So what’s behind the success across the pond and why are more young Americans joining the Army than the Air Force, Navy or Marine Corps? The secret weapon is not, as some might think, the small but welcome wage bump but instead the Army’s advertising office.

The Army Enterprise Marketing Office (AEMO) is a creative agency born out of scandal. In 2019 the Department of Defense dissolved its marketing arm and cut ties with its old ad agency, McCann Worldgroup, after damning audits uncovered millions in wasted marketing dollars, alongside allegations of a romantic relationship between a US Army marketing director and a McCann staffer.

The Pentagon cleaned house, keeping only one employee from the disgraced department, and signed a 10-year, $4bn (€3.4bn) contract with ad agency DDB Chicago. DDB swiftly designated a group of specialists to work exclusively with the Army. The newly constituted AEMO set up shop a few blocks away in the global advertising hub of the Windy City and embarked on a novel hiring spree. First, it recruited seasoned marketing and advertising executives from the private sector. Second, it opened up some 50 internal jobs in marketing and behavioural economics – career paths that previously did not exist in the Army.

“We’re bringing best practices from the business world into the Army and operating more like a Fortune 500 company,” says deputy chief marketing officer Ignatios Mavridis, a former Johnson & Johnson associate marketing director with no prior military experience.

While DDB is plugged in to the latest trends in advertising and can keep abreast of what’s hot at the Cannes Lions, AEMO’s in-house team sits in on creative briefs to ensure that the Army experience is portrayed accurately and retains sole access to military data for prediction and modelling. With a central location in Chicago, the combined force of DDB and AEMO can easily reach bases around the world to gather footage, photos and interviews for campaigns, which tell the stories of real soldiers engaged in real-world training.

“We work closely with AEMO to make sure that we’re capturing the Army experience accurately within our concepts,” says Team DDB’s chief creative officer John Carstens. “Not just the technical aspects but the feeling of getting on the bus to basic training, jumping out of an aeroplane or creating the bonds that can only come from accomplishing difficult things together. So I’d say that we’re battle buddies, not just marketing partners.”

The unconventional new marketing agency did initially have its sceptics, however, including US Army Recruiting Command’s Colonel Che Arosemena. When the old method was disbanded, he worried that “we were pulling apart something relatively understood and operationalised and now we have to relearn”. But Team DDB and AEMO won him over, especially through their signature move thus far: a comprehensive brand refresh with a new logo and the relaunch of Be All You Can Be, a popular military-recruitment tagline from the 1980s and 1990s.

Army messaging has long been a bellwether of the national mood and the agency isn’t immune to this decade’s whipsaw changes in US public opinion and political directives. Its 2021 campaign, “The Calling”, with animated ads, including one featuring a soldier with two mothers, reflected Biden-era cultural sensitivities that some critics thought had run amok. Amid a conservative backlash reflected by the election of Donald Trump and a slew of executive orders on culture war issues, a new Army Special Forces ad this year, “Generation”, harkens to the Second World War and the Greatest Generation, while a regular Army ad, “Own the Night”, showcases soldiers’ night-vision capabilities with an emphasis on “lethality” – a favoured priority of defence secretary Pete Hegseth.

The Army is officially apolitical and Mavridis declined to say whether “The Calling” could run today but argued for a throughline between radically different messages airing just a few years apart. “Our campaigns are grounded in American ideals of opportunity, service, resilience and the belief that anyone can rise to their full potential,” he says. “Attracting qualified, motivated, talented prospects is the driving force behind all our campaigns.”

Col Arosemena knows the value of a resonant campaign. Two decades ago, as a young captain recruiting in Bronx secondary schools during the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan (he served multiple deployments in both), he relied on Yo Soy El Army, a Spanish-language campaign designed to connect with New York’s Latino communities.

“Those marketing materials changed the narrative and started to open some doors for us,” he tells Monocle. It’s a lesson that he now passes on to today’s recruiters, urging them to treat the Army’s sales pitch as strategically as any field manoeuvre. “If the recruiting force doesn’t understand what the marketing capability is, they’ll be less effective in the field.”

As Washington remains mired in partisan deadlock, the Army’s marketing revolution stands out as one of the few government success stories – a reminder that even the most traditional institutions can rebrand themselves when they start thinking like a business and, crucially, when they remember how to tell a good story.

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