Congress should not hesitate to remove the defense secretary over his numerous war crimes and related misdeeds.
Democrats seized control of the House of Representatives and the Senate on Tuesday night largely due to a voter backlash against President Donald Trump’s disastrous war of choice against Iran. When the House reconvenes for the lame-duck session, one of its first tasks—whether outgoing Speaker Mike Johnson (R–La.) approves of it or not—will be to revisit the impeachment articles lodged against Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth for “high crimes and misdemeanors” tied to that conflict.
Johnson moved the House to an early recess in mid-September to dodge a vote on Hegseth’s impeachment. But the eight articles, drafted by outgoing Rep. Thomas Massie (R–Ky.), are set to return when the House resumes. The GOP gadfly has recently announced his plan to compel a vote in the opening week back.
Massie’s push may have a genuine chance even in a lame-duck scenario, before the fresh Democratic majority takes power. Enacting it would require only a small number of GOP votes. Earlier in September, seven Republicans broke ranks to back withdrawing from Iran. In the wake of Tuesday’s electoral blow, members of the GOP should be seeking clear openings to separate themselves from Trump’s ruinous and unnecessary war. This is their opportunity to do exactly that—and to reinvigorate a valuable constitutional tool in the process.
Massie Wants To Impeach Hegseth for War Crimes and Misdemeanors
Four of the eight charges in Massie’s detailed list focus on Iran, alleging violations such as undermining Congress’ exclusive power to declare war; disregarding congressional safeguards intended to protect civilian lives; and multiple breaches of the 1973 War Powers Resolution, including exceeding time limits and ignoring a majority-vote directive from both chambers ordering the withdrawal of U.S. forces from hostilities against Iran.
Other items pertain to war crimes closer to home. Massie’s fifth charge accuses Hegseth of ordering “extrajudicial killings” in counternarcotics operations off Venezuela’s coast, through which Hegseth “asserted a unilateral power to determine who may live and who may die.”
Last month, public discomfort over Hegseth’s plan to livestream the public execution of Fort Hood shooter Nidal Hasan prompted Trump to halt the spectacle. As grotesque as the notion was, it wasn’t entirely new: Hegseth had already helped turn state-sponsored killing into something resembling spectator sport by proudly posting footage of U.S. missile strikes on suspected drug traffickers in the Caribbean. Hasan, at least, received a trial.
‘You’re Fired’?
Why have so few cabinet heads faced impeachment? “The issue has almost invariably proven moot,” explains legal scholar Frank Bowman in his 2019 book, High Crimes and Misdemeanors: A History of Impeachment for the Age of Trump. Whenever a Cabinet chief becomes politically toxic enough to invite impeachment, the president typically removes him from office rather than endure the process.
Trump could very well follow that playbook here. Hegseth earned his Pentagon post in part because the president admired his look—a muscular veteran straight from central casting, as he has remarked—but lately, with the former Fox & Friends host under intense scrutiny on Capitol Hill, the appeal has faded. This year alone, Trump dismissed two department heads, Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem and Attorney General Pam Bondi, who caused him political headaches.
Or he may dig in his heels and resist. After surviving two impeachment battles, would Trump want to appear as though he’s been cowed by a third challenge aimed at a subordinate? With a president this mercurial, who can say?
Either way, the objective should not be merely to score a scalp. When wielded effectively, a formal House indictment—even if the Senate does not remove the official—has functioned as a form of constitutional censure. In a time of a deeply unpopular war, putting Hegseth on trial—livestreamed—could leave a lasting imprint.
