Pete Hegseth’s Campaign to Shape the Military into a Christian Tool
Trump’s nominee to lead the Pentagon has adopted a militant interpretation of Christianity that conflicts with the military’s commitment to nonpartisanship and pluralism.
TroibNews 
Just before Donald Trump put forth his nomination for Pete Hegseth as Defense Secretary, Hegseth made an appearance on Shawn Ryan's podcast. Ryan, a former Navy SEAL, has established a reputation in conservative military media, akin to Joe Rogan's in the broader podcasting world.
During the early parts of their conversation, Hegseth shares the striking tagline from his latest book, The War on Warriors: “I joined the Army to fight extremists in 2001. Twenty years later, that same Army labeled me one.” He later shows off a tattoo on his right pectoral muscle, which he claims contributed to this label: a prominent Jerusalem cross that is linked to the Christian right.
The context behind Hegseth's grievance dates back to shortly after January 6, 2021, an event during which numerous active-duty personnel and veterans took part in the Capitol attack. A fellow Army National Guard member raised concerns about Hegseth’s tattoos, viewing them as indicators of a possible “insider threat.” In addition to the Jerusalem cross, Hegseth has a tattoo reading “Deus Vult” or “God wills it,” a phrase from the Crusades that has been appropriated by white supremacist groups, notably appearing during the violent rally in Charlottesville in 2017.
“My orders were revoked to guard the Biden inauguration,” Hegseth states.
“What a punishment,” Ryan replies with sarcasm, prompting laughter from both.
A veteran of Iraq and Afghanistan deployments and a holder of two Bronze Stars, Hegseth left the military voluntarily not long after this incident, denouncing the backlash regarding his tattoos as anti-Christian bias. His narrative conveys a deep sense of betrayal. “The military I loved, I fought for, I revered … spit me out,” he writes in his book.
If confirmed by the Senate to lead the Defense Department, Hegseth would step into one of the government’s largest and most significant bureaucracies, albeit amid allegations of sexual assault, public intoxication, and financial mismanagement. He is positioned to challenge the leadership class that has turned against him. Likely, he will infuse his role with his distinctive blend of conservative and Christian ideology, which is prominently represented in his tattoos. His public statements and writings suggest he might seek to dismantle the military’s historical nonpartisan pluralism, targeting diversity within the ranks, opposing women in combat, advocating for the military to take a stance in a “civil war” against alleged “domestic enemies” on the left, and reorienting the military’s missions around his fixation on the Muslim world, which he views as an existential threat to Western civilization.
Hegseth’s ambition to eliminate the Pentagon’s diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives stems from his belief that these represent ideologies of their own—he has characterized them as a “religion” for “woke zealots” that could divide rather than unify the military. He has argued for “a 360-degree holy war” to expunge the “leftist specter dominating education, religion, and culture.” He has consistently claimed that a common dogma is crucial for domination, referencing past failures to comprehend the tenacity of religious beliefs among enemies. “The fanaticism,” he noted, “was an advantage for them we barely even accounted for.”
In his 2016 memoir, In the Arena, Hegseth expresses an unsettling connection to an online image of a victorious ISIS fighter, holding a Quran and an AK-47. “With God on his side and the wind at his back, he is a conquering warrior,” he observes. “He is fighting for something greater than himself. He is fighting for his God.” Despite his repulsion for what this fighter represents, he confesses to an understanding of his fervor: “I recognize that fighter, even though I’ve never met him. I am drawn to him because I relate to him,” Hegseth writes. “I deplore what he stands for, what he does and how he does it. He is a soldier of hate, subjugation, and sheer evil. But I understand his passions.”
Since resigning from the military in 2021, Hegseth has increasingly aligned himself with his Christian faith. He relocated his family to Tennessee two years ago, joining a church and school connected to reformed reconstructionism, an ideology led by the right-wing theologian Doug Wilson.
Wilson’s denomination rejects religious pluralism, advocating for a nation founded on the premise that Jesus Christ is the “lord of all.” He has controversially argued that owning slaves in biblical times was compatible with Christian beliefs, stating that “the system of slave-holding in the South was far more humane than that of ancient Rome, although it still fell short of the biblical requirements for it.” Wilson has expressed views portraying border security and Christian supremacy as divine conflicts and claimed that God has approved of targeting women and children in such struggles. “The word of God,” Wilson teaches, “tells Christian soldiers what to do, even if Christian soldiers are in the service of an unbelieving magistrate.”
Church membership in Wilson’s community requires rigorous theological vetting. A system of church courts imposes penalties for heresy. “They think the Bible applies to every area of life, and they want to see that made into law,” explained Julie Ingersoll, a professor of religious studies. “In that sense, they are not unlike the Taliban.”
Some may view Hegseth's embrace of Christianity as hypocritical, given his two divorces and a child born out of wedlock. In 2017, he faced rape accusations during a Republican women's conference. However, Ingersoll emphasizes that Wilson’s denomination readily accommodates past indiscretions. “This world makes all kinds of space for people to come along and say, ‘I repented,’ and then that’s the end of it,” she noted, adding that accountability is often unevenly applied, with men facing fewer repercussions than women.
Matthew Taylor, a senior scholar at the Institute for Islamic, Christian and Jewish Studies, believes Hegseth’s new faith community, coupled with his writings and tattoos, reveals his commitment to the concept of holy war. In his 2020 work, American Crusade, Hegseth stated that Islam “is not a religion of peace,” and lamented the increasing number of Muslim Americans. “Our present moment is much like the 11th Century. We don’t want to fight, but, like our fellow Christians one thousand years ago, we must,” he asserted. He urged readiness and preparation: “Arm yourself — metaphorically, intellectually, physically. Our fight is not with guns. Yet.” A recent report from the New Yorker highlighted an incident from 2015, where, allegedly intoxicated, Hegseth chanted, “Kill all Muslims!” at a bar in Ohio.
Neither the Trump transition team nor Hegseth’s legal representatives responded to requests for clarification on how he would reconcile his religious convictions with his governmental responsibilities.
“The vast majority of modern Christians see the crusades as a low point in history where Christian theology was literally weaponized to slaughter Jews and Muslims,” Taylor remarked. “It’s a very macabre and ominous and dark vision of Christian dominance that Hegseth is toying with.”
“The last thing we need,” Taylor added, “is a Christian ISIS.”
Hegseth describes his upbringing as being influenced by “God-fearing” parents who valued secular education. He attended Minnesota public schools and later Princeton, coming to view himself as somewhat nonideological, identifying as a Christian “more out of diligent habit than deep conviction.” The September 11 attacks seemingly catalyzed a shift in his perspective. He notes in his memoir being unsettled by the chapel’s “gospel of moral relativism,” and criticized his peers for prioritizing peace and “mutual understanding” over a denunciation of Islamic terrorism.
When a classmate suggested that the Bush administration was provoking anti-American sentiment to rationalize military interventions, Hegseth co-authored a rebuttal in the school's newspaper, defending President Bush's rhetoric as benign toward innocent Arabs.
“The Pete I knew in college could have been a principled ‘Never Trumper,’” reflected a former friend who requested anonymity out of fear for professional repercussions. This friend noted that Hegseth was then a nuanced constitutional conservative who believed in the righteousness of American interventions.
Hegseth joined the Army through Princeton’s ROTC program and, upon graduating in 2003, was deployed as a guard at Guantanamo Bay prison. He later characterized his time at Guantanamo as formative to his animosity toward the enemy, calling it a “dirty place” housing “some of the world’s most dangerous Islamic extremists.”
By July 2005, while working as a capital markets analyst at Bear Stearns, Hegseth came across a news article about a suicide bombing in Baghdad that killed 18 children and a young American soldier. This led him to secure his own mission to Iraq, where he noted keeping the newspaper clipping as a reminder of “the stakes of our fight against Islam.”
Reflecting on this phase of his life years later, Hegseth emphasizes faith-based moments, recounting a powerful experience of divine intervention during a mission when his platoon was unintentionally dropped in a perilous location. “I remember feeling a sense of peace and calm that I had no business having in that moment,” he recounted in a recent interview. A few weeks later, his mother shared that she felt compelled to pray for him at that precise time, which both credited as a profound instance of the power of prayer.
However, during that time, Hegseth’s public discourse was focused on military strategy. In a notable 2006 op-ed, he advocated for a troop surge in Iraq and by 2007 was leading Vets for Freedom, a pro-war group affiliated with Bush loyalists.
He later transitioned to the group Concerned Veterans for America, where he pushed for the controversial privatization of Veterans Affairs health care. After returning from Afghanistan in 2012, he made a brief and unsuccessful run for the Senate seat of Amy Klobuchar in Minnesota, focusing on typical conservative issues: job creation, deregulation, and repealing Obamacare. Throughout this time, he continued to advocate for military action, even when public sentiment turned against prolonged engagements, illustrating a persistent zeal for conflict framed by Bush’s rhetoric of a “crusade.”
“I never got the feeling that [Hegseth] wanted to abandon the Middle East,” commented a former official at Concerned Veterans for America.
In the decade following this tumultuous period, Hegseth increasingly intertwined his conservative beliefs with a public expression of faith, evident in his published works and on his Fox News platform.
According to Vanity Fair, Hegseth ended his first marriage in 2008, revealing infidelities and a crisis of faith. His involvement with Concerned Veterans for America and Vets for Freedom was marred by allegations of reckless behavior, including heavy drinking. One internal memo suggested he became so inebriated during a 2014 Christmas gathering that he required assistance to return to his room.
Joining Fox News in 2014, he applied militant rhetoric to new adversaries, assailing the Army and academia. He produced segments infused with religious themes, including “Battle in Bethlehem” and “Life of Jesus,” while remaining vocal on military matters. A notable instance involved a call-in from his recreational vehicle to critique the Afghanistan withdrawal that reflected his desire for continued military presence.
His move to Fox coincided with a shift in his pastoral guidance, moving from Bob Merritt, a traditional Evangelical, to Chris Durkin, who holds more politically charged views. Hegseth described his faith journey as partly motivated by overcoming personal struggles, including his marital history. Durkin has featured in Fox specials with Hegseth and endorsed his recent works.
In a recent interview, Hegseth acknowledged that he once projected “a Christian veneer but a secular core,” stating, “many people miss Jesus by 12 inches — the distance from their head to their heart.”
On the Red Pill podcast, Hegseth reasoned that both politics and culture derive from religion, asserting he should “start at the source.” This philosophy prompted trips to Israel, where he observed another Middle East conflict from a sacred perspective. On one trip, he was inspired by the Jerusalem cross, which he later tattooed on his chest “to show that my religion is front and center in my life.”
Nonetheless, Trump’s emergence in 2015 proved pivotal in shaping Hegseth’s public image as an advocate not only of conservatism but of a more aggressive Christianity.
“There’s always been undercurrents of the us-versus-them stuff — Christian versus Muslim, liberal versus conservative,” noted a confidant. “But when I knew him there was always a lot of intellectual curiosity, a lightness. He had space for the idea that people were people. Trump spoke to the darker side of him.”
Initially, Hegseth engaged with Trump through television as Fox’s representative veteran voice. When Trump suggested in 2015 that he sought military counsel from “the shows,” Hegseth soon appeared on Fox, indicating some understanding of Trump's instincts while recommending he consult traditional foreign policy experts.
As Trump's presidency progressed, Hegseth adapted, positioning himself as a trusted pundit. Reportedly, during Trump’s first term, he would check his phone during breaks to gauge if the president echoed his commentary. “His co-hosts,” reported Brian Stelter, “felt like he was putting on a show specifically for Trump.”
A former confidant views Hegseth as a “true believer” in his faith and political views, while acknowledging the ambiguous evolution of those opinions in combination with the allure of opportunity.
In 2019, Hegseth lent his support to Eddie Gallagher, a Navy SEAL involved in a highly publicized war crimes trial. Gallagher, whose background is Catholic, suggested Hegseth’s renewed faith might stem from a trend among veterans seeking meaningful connections post-service. “Guys find all sorts of things to cling to when they get out to keep them going,” he stated. “I think a lot more men are clinging to Jesus. And I don’t see a problem with that one bit.”
Many in this demographic, such as Shawn Ryan, the aforementioned SEAL podcaster, have also reported feeling a similar gravitation toward faith, aligning their beliefs with their military experiences.
In 2020, Hegseth published a more faith-centric work, American Crusade, featuring more overtly religious imagery. The cover illustrated an AR-15 tattoo incorporated into an American flag design, with “We the People” prominently displayed on his forearm. His writing reflects a combative tone similar to Trump’s, calling for the need to “mock, humiliate, intimidate, and crush our leftist opponents.” He warned that a Biden victory would herald the end of “the only powerful, pro-freedom, pro-Christian, pro-Israel army in the world.”
Hegseth epitomizes a steadfast and historically influential soldier archetype: white, masculine, and devout. As of 2019, approximately 70 percent of active-duty service members identified as Christian, rendering individuals sharing Hegseth’s background particularly receptive to his critiques against the military's integration of women into combat roles—a contentious topic with limited empirical research. Hegseth presents this issue in extreme terms, falsely asserting that diversity initiatives undermine morale and lead to military failures, overlooking the fact that women have served effectively in various military capacities for more than two centuries. He similarly denounces initiatives related to diversity and critical race theory, alleging they alienate “young, patriotic, Christian men who have traditionally filled our ranks.”
The implications of Hegseth’s campaign against the Pentagon—where he aims to elevate those resembling him while ousting a significant portion of top leadership—could complicate recruitment efforts and damage retention of skilled personnel, ironically hindering the very military efficacy he seeks. On the other hand, it may help to reverse the Army's troubling decline in enlistment among white men, a shift some attribute to widespread dissatisfaction stemming from extended conflicts and their costly toll.
U.S. Sen. Bill Hagerty, a Republican from Hegseth’s new home state of Tennessee, recently expressed that Hegseth’s leadership could revitalized recruitment efforts. Hegseth reportedly informed Hagerty that he has been inundated with outreach from troops expressing doubts about leaving the service, instead committing to stay now that he is leading.
While Hegseth champions legitimate concerns, such as inadequate funding and support for the VA health care system, the transition to a more combative and radical anti-government stance, embedded in religious rhetoric, risks aggravating issues of extremism within the military. A 2023 study highlighted that individuals with military backgrounds are “2.41 times more likely to be classified as mass casualty offenders than individuals who did not serve in the armed forces.”
Some believe that, regardless of Hegseth’s intentions, veteran military leaders can manage him effectively. “The four-stars will run circles around him,” asserted Paul Eaton, a retired major general involved with the left-leaning group VoteVets. “He will not be running the Pentagon. The Pentagon will be running him.”
However, Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin’s initiative to address military extremism post-January 6 faced significant setbacks, and a report indicated that only a small portion of new recruits underwent thorough screening for extremist tattoos.
Ruth Ben-Ghiat, a scholar specializing in military authoritarianism, sees Hegseth as a potential catalyst for radicalizing military culture. “If you’re planning a fundamental reorientation of the military — and you’re going to go past the third rail of deploying against Americans — you have to really shift the whole mentality, shift the culture, permit radicalization. Already, I think we’re pretty far down the road,” she warned.
Hegseth, on his part, believes he can effect significant change with limited resources. In The War on Warriors, he draws lessons from the biblical narrative of Gideon, who led a small group to overcome a larger force. Hegseth acknowledges Gideon’s flaws, yet he highlights that he ultimately experienced divine favor and became a celebrated figure of faith. “When we maintain our covenant, we are Gideon,” he concludes. “God on our side, heroism and victory in our future.”
Mark B Thomas for TROIB News
During the early parts of their conversation, Hegseth shares the striking tagline from his latest book, The War on Warriors: “I joined the Army to fight extremists in 2001. Twenty years later, that same Army labeled me one.” He later shows off a tattoo on his right pectoral muscle, which he claims contributed to this label: a prominent Jerusalem cross that is linked to the Christian right.
The context behind Hegseth's grievance dates back to shortly after January 6, 2021, an event during which numerous active-duty personnel and veterans took part in the Capitol attack. A fellow Army National Guard member raised concerns about Hegseth’s tattoos, viewing them as indicators of a possible “insider threat.” In addition to the Jerusalem cross, Hegseth has a tattoo reading “Deus Vult” or “God wills it,” a phrase from the Crusades that has been appropriated by white supremacist groups, notably appearing during the violent rally in Charlottesville in 2017.
“My orders were revoked to guard the Biden inauguration,” Hegseth states.
“What a punishment,” Ryan replies with sarcasm, prompting laughter from both.
A veteran of Iraq and Afghanistan deployments and a holder of two Bronze Stars, Hegseth left the military voluntarily not long after this incident, denouncing the backlash regarding his tattoos as anti-Christian bias. His narrative conveys a deep sense of betrayal. “The military I loved, I fought for, I revered … spit me out,” he writes in his book.
If confirmed by the Senate to lead the Defense Department, Hegseth would step into one of the government’s largest and most significant bureaucracies, albeit amid allegations of sexual assault, public intoxication, and financial mismanagement. He is positioned to challenge the leadership class that has turned against him. Likely, he will infuse his role with his distinctive blend of conservative and Christian ideology, which is prominently represented in his tattoos. His public statements and writings suggest he might seek to dismantle the military’s historical nonpartisan pluralism, targeting diversity within the ranks, opposing women in combat, advocating for the military to take a stance in a “civil war” against alleged “domestic enemies” on the left, and reorienting the military’s missions around his fixation on the Muslim world, which he views as an existential threat to Western civilization.
Hegseth’s ambition to eliminate the Pentagon’s diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives stems from his belief that these represent ideologies of their own—he has characterized them as a “religion” for “woke zealots” that could divide rather than unify the military. He has argued for “a 360-degree holy war” to expunge the “leftist specter dominating education, religion, and culture.” He has consistently claimed that a common dogma is crucial for domination, referencing past failures to comprehend the tenacity of religious beliefs among enemies. “The fanaticism,” he noted, “was an advantage for them we barely even accounted for.”
In his 2016 memoir, In the Arena, Hegseth expresses an unsettling connection to an online image of a victorious ISIS fighter, holding a Quran and an AK-47. “With God on his side and the wind at his back, he is a conquering warrior,” he observes. “He is fighting for something greater than himself. He is fighting for his God.” Despite his repulsion for what this fighter represents, he confesses to an understanding of his fervor: “I recognize that fighter, even though I’ve never met him. I am drawn to him because I relate to him,” Hegseth writes. “I deplore what he stands for, what he does and how he does it. He is a soldier of hate, subjugation, and sheer evil. But I understand his passions.”
Since resigning from the military in 2021, Hegseth has increasingly aligned himself with his Christian faith. He relocated his family to Tennessee two years ago, joining a church and school connected to reformed reconstructionism, an ideology led by the right-wing theologian Doug Wilson.
Wilson’s denomination rejects religious pluralism, advocating for a nation founded on the premise that Jesus Christ is the “lord of all.” He has controversially argued that owning slaves in biblical times was compatible with Christian beliefs, stating that “the system of slave-holding in the South was far more humane than that of ancient Rome, although it still fell short of the biblical requirements for it.” Wilson has expressed views portraying border security and Christian supremacy as divine conflicts and claimed that God has approved of targeting women and children in such struggles. “The word of God,” Wilson teaches, “tells Christian soldiers what to do, even if Christian soldiers are in the service of an unbelieving magistrate.”
Church membership in Wilson’s community requires rigorous theological vetting. A system of church courts imposes penalties for heresy. “They think the Bible applies to every area of life, and they want to see that made into law,” explained Julie Ingersoll, a professor of religious studies. “In that sense, they are not unlike the Taliban.”
Some may view Hegseth's embrace of Christianity as hypocritical, given his two divorces and a child born out of wedlock. In 2017, he faced rape accusations during a Republican women's conference. However, Ingersoll emphasizes that Wilson’s denomination readily accommodates past indiscretions. “This world makes all kinds of space for people to come along and say, ‘I repented,’ and then that’s the end of it,” she noted, adding that accountability is often unevenly applied, with men facing fewer repercussions than women.
Matthew Taylor, a senior scholar at the Institute for Islamic, Christian and Jewish Studies, believes Hegseth’s new faith community, coupled with his writings and tattoos, reveals his commitment to the concept of holy war. In his 2020 work, American Crusade, Hegseth stated that Islam “is not a religion of peace,” and lamented the increasing number of Muslim Americans. “Our present moment is much like the 11th Century. We don’t want to fight, but, like our fellow Christians one thousand years ago, we must,” he asserted. He urged readiness and preparation: “Arm yourself — metaphorically, intellectually, physically. Our fight is not with guns. Yet.” A recent report from the New Yorker highlighted an incident from 2015, where, allegedly intoxicated, Hegseth chanted, “Kill all Muslims!” at a bar in Ohio.
Neither the Trump transition team nor Hegseth’s legal representatives responded to requests for clarification on how he would reconcile his religious convictions with his governmental responsibilities.
“The vast majority of modern Christians see the crusades as a low point in history where Christian theology was literally weaponized to slaughter Jews and Muslims,” Taylor remarked. “It’s a very macabre and ominous and dark vision of Christian dominance that Hegseth is toying with.”
“The last thing we need,” Taylor added, “is a Christian ISIS.”
Hegseth describes his upbringing as being influenced by “God-fearing” parents who valued secular education. He attended Minnesota public schools and later Princeton, coming to view himself as somewhat nonideological, identifying as a Christian “more out of diligent habit than deep conviction.” The September 11 attacks seemingly catalyzed a shift in his perspective. He notes in his memoir being unsettled by the chapel’s “gospel of moral relativism,” and criticized his peers for prioritizing peace and “mutual understanding” over a denunciation of Islamic terrorism.
When a classmate suggested that the Bush administration was provoking anti-American sentiment to rationalize military interventions, Hegseth co-authored a rebuttal in the school's newspaper, defending President Bush's rhetoric as benign toward innocent Arabs.
“The Pete I knew in college could have been a principled ‘Never Trumper,’” reflected a former friend who requested anonymity out of fear for professional repercussions. This friend noted that Hegseth was then a nuanced constitutional conservative who believed in the righteousness of American interventions.
Hegseth joined the Army through Princeton’s ROTC program and, upon graduating in 2003, was deployed as a guard at Guantanamo Bay prison. He later characterized his time at Guantanamo as formative to his animosity toward the enemy, calling it a “dirty place” housing “some of the world’s most dangerous Islamic extremists.”
By July 2005, while working as a capital markets analyst at Bear Stearns, Hegseth came across a news article about a suicide bombing in Baghdad that killed 18 children and a young American soldier. This led him to secure his own mission to Iraq, where he noted keeping the newspaper clipping as a reminder of “the stakes of our fight against Islam.”
Reflecting on this phase of his life years later, Hegseth emphasizes faith-based moments, recounting a powerful experience of divine intervention during a mission when his platoon was unintentionally dropped in a perilous location. “I remember feeling a sense of peace and calm that I had no business having in that moment,” he recounted in a recent interview. A few weeks later, his mother shared that she felt compelled to pray for him at that precise time, which both credited as a profound instance of the power of prayer.
However, during that time, Hegseth’s public discourse was focused on military strategy. In a notable 2006 op-ed, he advocated for a troop surge in Iraq and by 2007 was leading Vets for Freedom, a pro-war group affiliated with Bush loyalists.
He later transitioned to the group Concerned Veterans for America, where he pushed for the controversial privatization of Veterans Affairs health care. After returning from Afghanistan in 2012, he made a brief and unsuccessful run for the Senate seat of Amy Klobuchar in Minnesota, focusing on typical conservative issues: job creation, deregulation, and repealing Obamacare. Throughout this time, he continued to advocate for military action, even when public sentiment turned against prolonged engagements, illustrating a persistent zeal for conflict framed by Bush’s rhetoric of a “crusade.”
“I never got the feeling that [Hegseth] wanted to abandon the Middle East,” commented a former official at Concerned Veterans for America.
In the decade following this tumultuous period, Hegseth increasingly intertwined his conservative beliefs with a public expression of faith, evident in his published works and on his Fox News platform.
According to Vanity Fair, Hegseth ended his first marriage in 2008, revealing infidelities and a crisis of faith. His involvement with Concerned Veterans for America and Vets for Freedom was marred by allegations of reckless behavior, including heavy drinking. One internal memo suggested he became so inebriated during a 2014 Christmas gathering that he required assistance to return to his room.
Joining Fox News in 2014, he applied militant rhetoric to new adversaries, assailing the Army and academia. He produced segments infused with religious themes, including “Battle in Bethlehem” and “Life of Jesus,” while remaining vocal on military matters. A notable instance involved a call-in from his recreational vehicle to critique the Afghanistan withdrawal that reflected his desire for continued military presence.
His move to Fox coincided with a shift in his pastoral guidance, moving from Bob Merritt, a traditional Evangelical, to Chris Durkin, who holds more politically charged views. Hegseth described his faith journey as partly motivated by overcoming personal struggles, including his marital history. Durkin has featured in Fox specials with Hegseth and endorsed his recent works.
In a recent interview, Hegseth acknowledged that he once projected “a Christian veneer but a secular core,” stating, “many people miss Jesus by 12 inches — the distance from their head to their heart.”
On the Red Pill podcast, Hegseth reasoned that both politics and culture derive from religion, asserting he should “start at the source.” This philosophy prompted trips to Israel, where he observed another Middle East conflict from a sacred perspective. On one trip, he was inspired by the Jerusalem cross, which he later tattooed on his chest “to show that my religion is front and center in my life.”
Nonetheless, Trump’s emergence in 2015 proved pivotal in shaping Hegseth’s public image as an advocate not only of conservatism but of a more aggressive Christianity.
“There’s always been undercurrents of the us-versus-them stuff — Christian versus Muslim, liberal versus conservative,” noted a confidant. “But when I knew him there was always a lot of intellectual curiosity, a lightness. He had space for the idea that people were people. Trump spoke to the darker side of him.”
Initially, Hegseth engaged with Trump through television as Fox’s representative veteran voice. When Trump suggested in 2015 that he sought military counsel from “the shows,” Hegseth soon appeared on Fox, indicating some understanding of Trump's instincts while recommending he consult traditional foreign policy experts.
As Trump's presidency progressed, Hegseth adapted, positioning himself as a trusted pundit. Reportedly, during Trump’s first term, he would check his phone during breaks to gauge if the president echoed his commentary. “His co-hosts,” reported Brian Stelter, “felt like he was putting on a show specifically for Trump.”
A former confidant views Hegseth as a “true believer” in his faith and political views, while acknowledging the ambiguous evolution of those opinions in combination with the allure of opportunity.
In 2019, Hegseth lent his support to Eddie Gallagher, a Navy SEAL involved in a highly publicized war crimes trial. Gallagher, whose background is Catholic, suggested Hegseth’s renewed faith might stem from a trend among veterans seeking meaningful connections post-service. “Guys find all sorts of things to cling to when they get out to keep them going,” he stated. “I think a lot more men are clinging to Jesus. And I don’t see a problem with that one bit.”
Many in this demographic, such as Shawn Ryan, the aforementioned SEAL podcaster, have also reported feeling a similar gravitation toward faith, aligning their beliefs with their military experiences.
In 2020, Hegseth published a more faith-centric work, American Crusade, featuring more overtly religious imagery. The cover illustrated an AR-15 tattoo incorporated into an American flag design, with “We the People” prominently displayed on his forearm. His writing reflects a combative tone similar to Trump’s, calling for the need to “mock, humiliate, intimidate, and crush our leftist opponents.” He warned that a Biden victory would herald the end of “the only powerful, pro-freedom, pro-Christian, pro-Israel army in the world.”
Hegseth epitomizes a steadfast and historically influential soldier archetype: white, masculine, and devout. As of 2019, approximately 70 percent of active-duty service members identified as Christian, rendering individuals sharing Hegseth’s background particularly receptive to his critiques against the military's integration of women into combat roles—a contentious topic with limited empirical research. Hegseth presents this issue in extreme terms, falsely asserting that diversity initiatives undermine morale and lead to military failures, overlooking the fact that women have served effectively in various military capacities for more than two centuries. He similarly denounces initiatives related to diversity and critical race theory, alleging they alienate “young, patriotic, Christian men who have traditionally filled our ranks.”
The implications of Hegseth’s campaign against the Pentagon—where he aims to elevate those resembling him while ousting a significant portion of top leadership—could complicate recruitment efforts and damage retention of skilled personnel, ironically hindering the very military efficacy he seeks. On the other hand, it may help to reverse the Army's troubling decline in enlistment among white men, a shift some attribute to widespread dissatisfaction stemming from extended conflicts and their costly toll.
U.S. Sen. Bill Hagerty, a Republican from Hegseth’s new home state of Tennessee, recently expressed that Hegseth’s leadership could revitalized recruitment efforts. Hegseth reportedly informed Hagerty that he has been inundated with outreach from troops expressing doubts about leaving the service, instead committing to stay now that he is leading.
While Hegseth champions legitimate concerns, such as inadequate funding and support for the VA health care system, the transition to a more combative and radical anti-government stance, embedded in religious rhetoric, risks aggravating issues of extremism within the military. A 2023 study highlighted that individuals with military backgrounds are “2.41 times more likely to be classified as mass casualty offenders than individuals who did not serve in the armed forces.”
Some believe that, regardless of Hegseth’s intentions, veteran military leaders can manage him effectively. “The four-stars will run circles around him,” asserted Paul Eaton, a retired major general involved with the left-leaning group VoteVets. “He will not be running the Pentagon. The Pentagon will be running him.”
However, Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin’s initiative to address military extremism post-January 6 faced significant setbacks, and a report indicated that only a small portion of new recruits underwent thorough screening for extremist tattoos.
Ruth Ben-Ghiat, a scholar specializing in military authoritarianism, sees Hegseth as a potential catalyst for radicalizing military culture. “If you’re planning a fundamental reorientation of the military — and you’re going to go past the third rail of deploying against Americans — you have to really shift the whole mentality, shift the culture, permit radicalization. Already, I think we’re pretty far down the road,” she warned.
Hegseth, on his part, believes he can effect significant change with limited resources. In The War on Warriors, he draws lessons from the biblical narrative of Gideon, who led a small group to overcome a larger force. Hegseth acknowledges Gideon’s flaws, yet he highlights that he ultimately experienced divine favor and became a celebrated figure of faith. “When we maintain our covenant, we are Gideon,” he concludes. “God on our side, heroism and victory in our future.”
Mark B Thomas for TROIB News
