Pete Hegseth, Cornball in Chief

The defense of the United States is a serious business. Every day, men and women, civilian and military, attend to the smallest details—the caloric content of a soldier’s meal, the fabric in a uniform—while others advise senior leaders on the use of violence to achieve the ends of national policy. Some, stationed underground, underwater, or on bomber airfields, stand ready to fulfill orders with apocalyptic consequences. These people are professionals and carry themselves with the quiet pride that comes from serving their nation.And then there’s Pete Hegseth, the self-declared secretary of war.Hegseth approaches his job as if it’s a vacation rather than public service. He shows up on military bases looking as exuberant as a bored househusband who just got a kitchen pass from his wife for a weekend of paintball with the boys. He sports a pocket handkerchief that looks like an American flag. He carries himself with an effortful swagger that is meant to convey machismo but instead just looks awkward. He talks with practiced drama, like he’s constantly trying out for the lead in a school play.He is, for want of a better word, corny. Corniness isn’t always bad; sometimes it comes from people who are so effusively sentimental or expressive that others laugh at them, albeit with a certain amount of indulgence. But Hegseth’s behavior is not the endearing corniness that comes spontaneously from an overly earnest person trying to express great emotion. It is the overbearing corniness that comes from trying to mimic deep sincerity, and it tends to end up sounding like a cross between a late-night-television preacher and an arrogant luxury-car salesman: Jesus brought you here, my brother, so what’s it gonna take for you to fly home in one of these super-lethal F-35 babies today? [From the July 2026 issue: Being Black in Pete Hegseth’s military]Hegseth’s public statements are full of such corniness. This is someone who thought that changing the name of the Department of Defense