A personal experience from my time in the U.S. Navy raises intriguing questions about Pete Hegseth’s candidacy for Secretary of Defense. During my service as a nuclear electronics technician on the USS Olympia, which was the oldest fast-attack submarine in the American fleet before its decommissioning due to COVID, I participated in a unique drill.
My role in the drill involved acting as a distressed sailor who had supposedly placed a detonator on a nuclear weapon. It’s important to clarify that no nuclear weapons were present on board, and the entire exercise was purely a simulation. Drills are fundamental in military training, serving as a way to prepare personnel for potential emergencies.
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The most common type is a fire drill, which, on a submarine, means that each sailor assumes the role of the fire department, donning emergency equipment and practicing under pressure. Every drill is meticulously timed and assessed to ensure readiness against specific threats.
With simple instructions in hand, I was to simulate having planted a bomb while someone attempted to negotiate with me. I was encouraged to act erratically, disregarding any attempts to calm me. This drill quickly became one of the most enjoyable experiences I had aboard the submarine, which often felt monotonous.
As the drill commenced, the weapons officer attempted to de-escalate the situation, yet my irritation with his approach grew. I focused on his shortcomings, voicing complaints about the burdensome workload and subpar food, which only amplified my role.
Suddenly, I heard a loud command from behind, instructing me to put my hands up. Completely caught off guard, I complied. It was Petty Officer Karns, who then handcuffed me with a zip tie and escorted me for further questioning.
When I was asked to empty my pockets, I felt a bit like Mary Poppins as I revealed an assortment of items: chapstick, pens, screwdrivers, tweezers, clippers, wire brushes, and notepads. It felt absurd as I continued to pull out more items, creating a spectacle.
This experience relates to Hegseth’s candidacy for Secretary of Defense in a way. Professionalism is essential in any workplace. For instance, a teacher cultivates a supportive environment, automotive engineers mitigate risks associated with vehicle failures, and military drills are designed to safely apprehend a simulated threat without harm.
If my drill experience illustrated the professionalism expected in the military, then unprofessional conduct must be defined by a stark contrast. I hadn’t pondered this until I encountered an account involving John Jacob Hasenbein, who worked as Hegseth’s personal security guard on Capitol Hill.
Allegedly, Hasenbein violently assaulted a role-player during a military exercise. While my drill centered on professionals safeguarding one another, Hasenbein’s incident devolved into chaos, reportedly resulting in serious injuries for the civilian involved, including a broken nose and facial trauma.
He left the individual restrained and bloodied, a far cry from the professionalism my experience reflected. This situation reflects harm with no productive outcome, replacing readiness with carelessness. By defending and employing Hasenbein, Hegseth conveys a troubling message that unnecessary aggression is permissible.
The military inherently deals with life and death. Few contexts present ethical dilemmas as severe as those found within the military, where lapses in professionalism can lead to dire consequences, including torture and murder.
Since leaving the service, Hegseth has claimed that criticism of military personnel constitutes a “war on warriors.” Yet, if such a conflict exists, it seems to stem from Hegseth’s own actions.
By supporting a man accused of assault, which is prosecutable under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, instead of defending the code itself, Hegseth raises doubts about his values. His portrayal of critiques as a “war on warriors” comes across as a radical stance that threatens the core mission and principles of the military.
As a veteran, I assert with conviction that anyone who fails to comprehend the importance of the Uniform Code of Military Justice and the necessity for discipline among military personnel should not hold positions of authority, including the title of Secretary of Defense.
Submarines, often referred to as “the silent service,” possess nuclear capabilities that could devastate entire nations. Their purpose extends beyond mere aggression; they symbolize the potential for force, combined with the restraint required to manage it.
The narrative of submarine warfare can be seen as one of “victory through professional restraint.” However, Hasenbein represents a tale of “unrestrained unprofessionalism.”
Through Hegseth’s lens, we encounter a narrative centered on “defending unrestrained unprofessionalism.” Is this the narrative we want for the U.S. military?
Vincent Schutt served as an electronic technician second class (nuclear) on submarines in the U.S. Navy and is currently pursuing a PhD in education.
