In a move that has sparked both admiration and outrage, former President Donald Trump has once again demonstrated his flair for provocative political branding.
In a recent post on his Truth Social platform, Trump referred to Pete Hegseth not as Secretary of Defense, but by a new—and historically loaded—title: Secretary of War.
The message, seemingly casual at first glance, has taken on larger significance, as it underscores Trump’s continued influence over conservative military rhetoric and suggests a potential return to a more aggressive defense doctrine should he retake office.
Trump’s remarks came after Hegseth, a longtime Fox News personality and Army veteran, delivered a forceful analysis on modern warfare, focusing on military readiness, cutting-edge weaponry, and American resolve in an increasingly volatile global environment.
Trump’s post not only praised Hegseth’s performance but also floated the idea of reviving a cabinet title that hasn’t been used since 1947.
“You know, it used to be called Secretary of War,” Trump said at the NATO summit at The Hague, referencing the pre-Cold War title once held by America’s top military official.
“Maybe for a couple of weeks we’ll call it that because we feel like warriors.” He added, “Then we became politically correct and they called it Secretary of Defense… maybe we’ll have to start thinking about changing it.”
The suggestion that the United States should return to calling its top defense official the “Secretary of War” may sound like typical Trumpian bluster. But for supporters, it signifies something deeper: a break with what they view as decades of bureaucratic euphemism, pacification, and weakness cloaked in diplomacy.
For critics, it represents a dangerous step toward militarism and authoritarian branding, a deliberate evocation of a more aggressive national posture, and a troubling disregard for constitutional and historical precedent.
Historically, the Secretary of War was the cabinet official responsible for overseeing the U.S. Army and military operations before the post was restructured during the 1947 National Security Act.
That legislation, passed in the wake of World War II and at the dawn of the Cold War, reorganized America’s military leadership by creating the Department of Defense and establishing separate Secretaries for the Army, Navy, and Air Force, all reporting to the newly created Secretary of Defense.
Kenneth Royall, appointed by President Harry Truman, was the last to hold the title of Secretary of War. The change reflected not just administrative restructuring, but a reorientation in the U.S. government’s philosophy—from prosecuting war to preventing it through defense, deterrence, and diplomacy. To many historians, this semantic shift marked a conscious move toward projecting America’s commitment to peace rather than conflict.
Trump, however, appears to see the change differently. To him, the shift in terminology represents yet another example of what he often derides as political correctness infecting national priorities.
“We feel like warriors,” he told reporters, adding that the White House next door to the old War Department still bears traces of the original name. “Maybe for a couple of weeks we’ll call it that.”
Pete Hegseth, a decorated Iraq and Afghanistan war veteran and a vocal proponent of conservative values, has long been rumored as a potential appointee to Trump’s cabinet.
He was reportedly under consideration for the role of Secretary of Veterans Affairs during Trump’s first term and has remained a trusted media surrogate and informal adviser on military affairs.
Hegseth’s hawkish views, staunch patriotism, and skepticism of military bureaucracy make him a natural fit for Trump’s America First platform. He has often criticized Pentagon leadership for being too slow to adapt to new challenges and for embracing what he sees as left-wing ideological campaigns within the armed forces.
By calling Hegseth “Secretary of War,” Trump is not merely complimenting his friend—it may be an early signal of the kind of leadership he envisions if reelected. A cabinet built not around institutional consensus, but around ideological conviction and rhetorical clarity.
While the president can appoint cabinet officials, the names and roles of those positions are codified in law. Changing the title from Secretary of Defense to Secretary of War would require congressional action, something that seems unlikely given the current political climate.
Nevertheless, the symbolic power of Trump’s words has real consequences. By framing the role as that of a “warrior” rather than a “defender,” Trump taps into a more muscular vision of American leadership—one that aligns with his broader themes of strength, dominance, and nationalism.
Critics were quick to pounce on the idea. “Zero days without an embarrassment,” one user on X (formerly Twitter) wrote. Another user responded sarcastically, “Yeah, when historians discuss the National Security Act of 1947, we absolutely stress how the centralization of American military power under the new Department of Defense at the dawn of the Cold War was all about being ‘politically correct.’”
Others pointed to constitutional and legal hurdles. “I’m pretty sure the Constitution says Congress has to get involved if you want to call him the Secretary of War,” one user posted. The broader concern among detractors is that Trump’s rebranding signals a potential shift toward glorifying war over diplomacy.
Trump’s comments have also triggered criticism from those who recall his first presidential campaign’s anti-interventionist tone. In 2016, he ran as a candidate who would get the U.S. out of “endless wars,” sharply criticizing the Bush administration’s involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan. He often attacked the military-industrial complex and expressed wariness about U.S. commitments abroad.
Now, referring to a potential cabinet official as the Secretary of War, some argue, signals a pivot toward a more confrontational doctrine. Trump’s supporters counter that there is no contradiction.
“Trump believes in peace through strength,” one Truth Social user wrote. “We stopped starting wars under Trump, but the world knew we weren’t afraid to finish one.”
Indeed, Trump’s record as president includes both dovish and hawkish moments. He reduced U.S. troop levels abroad, particularly in Syria and Afghanistan, but also approved aggressive military operations, such as the drone strike that killed Iranian general Qassem Soleimani.
Some see the proposed title change as political theater rather than substantive policy. “It’s Trump doing Trump,” said one GOP strategist. “He knows it’ll trigger liberals and dominate the news cycle, which it did.”
What’s undeniable is how effectively Trump continues to shape the political conversation—even without holding office. By invoking “Secretary of War,” he has reignited debates about military policy, the role of American force, and the future direction of U.S. leadership. The phrase resonates with voters who feel that America’s enemies—foreign and domestic—no longer fear the consequences of challenging the United States.
Trump’s choice of words also serves as a rallying cry to a segment of his base that craves clarity and strength over diplomacy and nuance. For them, a “Secretary of War” isn’t a return to conflict—it’s a reminder that America should never apologize for protecting its interests.
In the same way Trump rebranded trade negotiations as “America First,” he now appears to be testing a rhetorical rebranding of national security that strips away diplomatic polish in favor of raw honesty. Whether that leads to real policy change remains to be seen, but politically, the phrase “Secretary of War” has already done its job.
It has re-centered Trump in the national conversation, it has activated his supporters, and it has unsettled his opponents.
As tensions rise globally—from Iran to Ukraine to Taiwan—the language used by American leaders carries increasing weight. A title is never just a title. It reflects the values and intentions of those who wield power.
Trump’s flirtation with “Secretary of War” is a deliberate challenge to decades of institutional language that tried to soften the edges of military might.
Whether or not Pete Hegseth ever formally holds that title, the political message is clear: Trump is once again ready to disrupt Washington’s status quo, reshaping its traditions, its vocabulary, and—potentially—its foreign policy doctrine.
If he wins in 2026, don’t be surprised if “Secretary of War” becomes more than just a nostalgic phrase—it might become a blueprint.
