Dwain Northey (Gen X)

Ah yes, nothing screams “leadership” quite like setting up a meeting with the nation’s top generals and immediately showing them that you’ve got all the tactical depth of a Call of Duty lobby. The whole performance was supposed to project strength, dominance, the aura of a man who could command armies and reshape global strategy. Instead, it conveyed all the gravitas of a kid in his dad’s suit demanding to be called “sir.”

The goal was clear: he wanted to look like the new Secretary of War—yes, War—because apparently “Defense” just sounds too wimpy. You see, “Defense” implies protecting the country, safeguarding interests, thinking strategically. But “War”? Oh, that’s so much tougher, so much manlier. You can practically smell the testosterone dripping off the word. He wanted to be the guy with the big red button on his desk, not the one reading nuanced policy briefings about cyber threats or supply chain resilience. Subtlety, after all, is for cowards.

And then—like clockwork—enter Trump. Because what’s a meeting with generals without Trump’s personal brand of wisdom, right? It’s like inviting a drunk uncle to Thanksgiving dinner: you know it’s going to be a trainwreck, but you can’t stop watching. Trump’s input didn’t just fail to help; it actively made things worse. The generals were probably sitting there thinking, Do we salute? Do we laugh? Or do we just start drawing up early retirement papers?

Trump, of course, has always been obsessed with appearances over substance. He doesn’t want a military that functions—he wants a military that poses. And this is where his hype man Pete Hegseth comes in. Their shared dream seems to be a Pentagon run like Hollywood central casting. Forget logistics, forget strategy, forget making sure soldiers have working gear or adequate mental health care—what really matters is whether the troops look like they just stepped off the set of a Michael Bay movie. Square jaws, polished boots, gleaming medals, and uniforms crisp enough to cut glass. Who cares if the policy behind them is a dumpster fire, as long as they make a good backdrop for the photo op?

The generals, men and women who’ve spent decades worrying about actual combat readiness, had to sit there and endure Trump and Hegseth’s fantasies about turning the armed forces into a propaganda fashion show. It wasn’t about strength—it was about optics. It was about the image of power, not the reality of it. A military designed to win wars? Please. That’s boring. They wanted a military designed to look good in glossy campaign ads, with Trump standing proudly in front, like some kind of spray-tanned Caesar.

The problem, of course, is that Trump always thinks “toughness” means yelling louder, puffing his chest, or bragging about things he doesn’t understand. So instead of sober discussion on strategy, you get a pep rally about “winning so much you’ll be tired of winning” and vague mutterings about “the best missiles, the biggest missiles, missiles like you’ve never seen before.” Meanwhile, the generals—actual professionals who’ve dedicated their lives to military service—have to nod politely as the man with zero military experience lectures them on how wars are “easy to win if you’re smart, which I am, very smart.”

So we ended up with a spectacle: a wannabe Secretary of War trying to cosplay as General Patton, only with less credibility and a worse haircut, backed by a former president whose military experience consists of avoiding the draft with bone spurs. And standing right behind him, Hegseth beaming like a stage mom at a middle school play, gushing about how amazing the uniforms look under the lights.

Together, they projected all the strength of a wet paper bag in a thunderstorm. By trying so hard to look strong, they looked weaker than ever. The generals didn’t see fearless warriors. They saw two wannabe casting directors trying to turn the U.S. military into a bad reality show, mistaking bluster for power and costumes for capability.

At the end of the day, the whole charade made one thing very clear: if you have to insist you’re strong, you’re not. And if you need Trump and Pete Hegseth to design your military like it’s a Marvel movie trailer, you’ve already lost the plot.