Why a Hegseth Impeachment Terrifies the GOP

Politics It’s not just the political embarrassment. (Andrew Harnik/Getty Images) In 1626, England’s Parliament sought to impeach the Duke of Buckingham, a widely despised advisor to King Charles I. The king moved quickly to shield his favorite; on hearing the news, he said curtly that Parliament would sit “not a minute” more and gave orders for its immediate dissolution. Exactly four centuries later, Speaker of the House Mike Johnson (R-LA) has taken a page from the Stuart playbook, dismissing our own legislature (or at least, its lower chamber) to protect an unpopular official. Following a mid-September move by Rep. Thomas Massie (R-KY) to force a vote on impeaching Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth, Johnson—who had previously cut the House’s schedule short by two weeks, breaking an earlier pledge to “work all the way through September and every day that’s on the calendar”—abruptly cancelled the last day of session. Although Johnson made noises about giving members more time to campaign in their districts, the reason for the dismissal was obvious: He wanted to avoid that impeachment vote. Massie’s measure had a 48-hour timer baked into it, and it was introduced on a Tuesday. Johnson sent his members home on Wednesday night, thus punting consideration of impeachment until the House gavels back in after the midterms. (In an interview with CNN, Massie dubbed that cancelled Thursday “the Hegseth holiday.”) The Kentucky congressman has become adept at congressional maneuverings, and his latest move appeared to take GOP leadership by surprise. Had the House remained in session as planned, it would have had to vote for the first time in Trump’s second term on impeaching a cabinet official. And not just any cabinet official: Hegseth has antagonized Republican lawmakers to an unusual degree, including by summarily dismissing senior defense officials and military officers, failing to offer details on how he’ll spend the gargantuan sums for which his department is asking, and generally exhibiting what might charitably be called an indecorous manner. And more than any other administration figure—excepting only the president himself—Hegseth owns the least popular war in American history. Indeed, polling suggests a majority of Americans support Hegseth’s impeachment. It’s therefore not inconceivable this thing might have passed. And even an unsuccessful impeachment measure would be politically embarrassing, both for Johnson and the White House. But there may be another reason the GOP establishment went to such lengths to scuttle the vote. Already Democrats are salivating over the prospect of wielding state power against their political enemies, should they regain power. Assuming a blue wave in the midterms, this would start next year with congressional investigations, hearings, and impeachments. If a Democrat were to win the White House in 2028, these efforts would quickly escalate to encompass the full machinery of government. Hegseth is likely to be among the highest-priority targets. His record reads like it was cooked up in a lab to enrage liberal sensibilities: He is a former Fox News host who has been accused of sexual assault, a brash and crude culture warrior who delights in what progressives call “punching down,” and a combination hype man/executive agent for the president’s various military interventions. Dozens of Democratic lawmakers have openly said he is guilty of war crimes; one liberal outlet published a piece last year that began with a simple assertion—“Pete Hegseth is a murderer.” And Dems are unlikely to be content with bagging Hegseth; others further down in the Pentagon bureaucracy could be in legal jeopardy as well. Nor is the American justice system the only worry. One increasingly hears speculation that a liberal administration could manifest its enthusiasm for the “rules-based international order” by working with the Hague on this. Subscribe Today Get daily emails in your inbox Viewed in this light, the significance of Massie’s impeachment move is that it could significantly bolster such a case. For his effort isn’t hastily drawn-up hackwork; it consists of eight separate articles, each of which is specific and serious. The articles accuse Hegseth of illegally using U.S. forces for hostilities not authorized by Congress in Iran, Venezuela, and Yemen; contravening the War Powers Resolution of 1973; ordering extrajudicial killings in the Caribbean and Eastern Pacific; ignoring legislation requiring the minimization of civilian casualties; and using his department to retaliate against Sen. Mark Kelly (D-AZ) in violation of the latter’s First Amendment rights. And while most of the charges essentially amount to carrying out illegal orders from his commander-in-chief, two of them—ignoring responsibilities for protecting civilians and targeting Kelly—concern things that Hegseth seems to have done on his own. To have these articles debated, memorialized in the public record, and voted upon—even if ultimately rejected—would be to give substance to prospective future prosecutions, both domestic and international. The whole affair is also likely to spook those currently running the war, especially if the president at some point decides to make good on his perennial threats to “annihilate” Iran. (This is a particularly relevant fear given the UN’s recent finding that there are “reasonable grounds” to believe the U.S. military has committed war crimes in Iran.) It may well be that this was seen as the most dangerous part of Massie’s maneuver. Postponing the vote until after the midterms relieves some of the pressure on Republican congressmen, and it also provides a little breathing space if the White House escalates over the next month or so. Yet impeachment will sooner or later be considered by the House. And these are unlikely to be the last charges lodged against Hegseth.