Pete Hegseth abandoned his tie to look ready to rant

Pete Hegseth performing for the audience at the Lockheed Martin F-35 Lightning II production facility in Fort Worth, Texas. Screen shot: wfaa/YouTube

Yesterday, PeteHegseth, the American “Secretary of War”, visited the Lockheed Martin F-35 Lightning II production facility in Fort Worth, Texas. It was part of his fierce-sounding “Arsenal of Freedom” industry tour, designed to engage with the defense industrial base and push for rapid acquisition reforms. This was one of his most camera-ready performances yet. To look the part of the TV war evangelist, he had to dress the part. What was most noticable wasn’t what he wore, but what he did not: a tie. Without the tie, the formidable Mr Secretary looked remarkably like a man waiting for his wife to finish her shopping at Costco so that both of them could go to the food court, where she would doodle and yield a map of Greenland and across it, write (so as not to be outdone by Katie Miller): ‘For Sure’.

A tie-less “Secretary of War” is a sight that needs getting used to. We noted that missing too was Donald Trump. It appeared that without the president next to (or in front of) him, Mr Hegseth was eager to forego a noose, if only to offer a visual shorthand for being unshackled from the Pentagon’s bureaucratic strangulation, but more likely to show that the hand pulling it no longer had a grip on his throat, even if temporarily. For now, with the massive F-35 jet behind him as backdrop, it was an open-collar surrender to high-altitude hardware. The jet isn’t just hardware. It is a towering prop that dwarfs the speaker, reminding us who really commands the stage. Here was a man trying to look unshackled while standing obediently in the shadow of a weapons empire. Sure the collar was open, but the throat was still gripped.

The gingham shirt, the lapel pin, and the pocket square. Screen shot: abcnews4/YouTube

His one-button suit was navy with a hint of grey in it. It was conventionally cut, with a notched lapel that did not overwhelm his chest. Under the blazer, the choice of shirt was a tad surprising: gingham—yes, as in tablecloth. Mr Hegseth’s chose of the light blue (possibly grey) and white check. If the open collar telegraphed rebellion, the gingham pattern dragged it straight back into the realm of suburban weekend, not battlefields, certainly not a “warrior” ethos. Against the hulking silhouette of an F‑35, the checkered shirt looked less like combat gear and more like a barbecue apron. It was a calculated attempt to look approachable, “one of the guys”, while standing in front of a trillion‑dollar weapons system that any one of the guys will never get to see. It is not certain that Mr Hegseth has mastered the military-industrial complex or if he’s just a domestic tourist in a gingham shirt.

Some details were unmistakable. He wore a lapel pin shaped as two flags criss-crossed as geopolitical triumph (the symbolism would require a separate story). Beneath that is a pocket square placed to look like a pocket flap, exposing part of the American flag. Mr Hegseth is a known patriot extrême, with a flag fetish. It has been reported that some of his suit jackets are lined with acetate of the star-spangled banner. And to match the pocket square, his enamel belt buckle was the American flag, too! Has he been shopping at the Trump Store and charmed by the rotary displays? When you indulge yourself in the boutique of belligerence, it is hard to tell if you’ll end up with creed or caricature. But for Pete Hegseth, as long as he wears a flag factory, he is not seeking subtlety. For the rest of us, it’s on the wrong side of saturation.