In international relations theory, constructivism reminds us that states’ goals and threats are often the products of shared ideas and identities, not just raw power. Constructivists insist that collectively held beliefs construct the interests and identities of actors. In other words, policy follows worldview. This perspective finds a famous echo in Samuel Huntington’s Clash of Civilizations thesis: Huntington argued that the world’s key fault lines are cultural and religious, not merely ideological or material. He famously posited that “people’s cultural and religious identities will be the primary source of conflict in the post–Cold War world.” Huntington’s work is often cited as an example of a cultural or constructivist mindset in geopolitics. Viewing Pete Hegseth through the same lens, we see his ideas about America, faith, and enemies are likewise identity-driven. He constructs a worldview in which the United States is a Christian civilization under existential siege by hostile ideologies.
Pete Hegseth is a former Army officer and Fox News host who, in late 2024, was nominated as Secretary of Defense by former President Trump. In media and his 2020 book American Crusade: Our Fight to Stay Free, he explicitly frames politics and strategy as a holy struggle. Observers note that Hegseth’s narrative embodies Christian nationalist assumptions, the belief that America is fundamentally a Christian nation with a providential mission. As one critic warned, Hegseth’s “deep ideological commitment to extremist Christian nationalism, if put in a position of great power and authority, would pose a serious threat to the right to religious freedom.” His own words make that commitment plain: in American Crusade he repeatedly urges a violent cultural campaign. He even likens America’s moment to the 11th-century Crusades.
American Crusade's core is a binary narrative of us versus them. Hegseth portrays “leftists” as an enemy closing in on “traditional American patriots,” saying they have “surrounded” conservatives and are “ready to close in for the kill: killing our founders, killing our flag, and killing capitalism.” In this portrayal, politics is no longer about compromise or debate but about an irreconcilable war. Hegseth warns that there are “irreconcilable differences between the Left and the Right in America,” conflicts that he insists “cannot be resolved through the political process.” Thus, he explicitly calls for an “American crusade” and even a “360-degree holy war” to save the country. In one stark passage, he writes that “the hour is late for America,” declaring that the nation’s fate now depends on “exorcising the leftist specter dominating education, religion, and culture, a 360-degree holy war for the righteous cause of human freedom.” In Hegseth’s framing, the Left itself is cast as a kind of “false religion” and its adherents as infidels. He addresses his conservative readers bluntly: “Whether you like it or not, you are an ‘infidel,’ an unbeliever, according to the false religion of leftism.” He adds: “You can submit now or later, or you can fight.” This stark language reveals Hegseth’s conviction that American identity is defined in opposition to leftist ideology. He even dismisses democracy by name: democracy is portrayed as a leftist demand that “represents a complete rejection of our system,” and he urges Republicans to bypass majority rule. The book advises that “Republican legislatures should draw congressional lines that advantage pro-freedom candidates and screw Democrats.” In short, Hegseth equates cultural disagreement with sedition, calls for the Left to be “mocked, humiliated, intimidated, and crushed,” and essentially treats partisan rivals as existential enemies rather than fellow citizens.
Hegseth’s worldview extends beyond domestic politics into foreign affairs. He casts America as a beleaguered Christian civilization surrounded by hostile forces, a narrative straight out of a Clash of Civilizations story. He repeatedly ties religious identity to global threats. For example, the American Crusade depicts a grim scenario: if the U.S. military (which he insists is “the only powerful, pro-freedom, pro-Christian, pro-Israel army in the world”) were dismantled, then “Communist China will rise and rule the globe. Europe will formally surrender. Islamists will get nuclear weapons and seek to wipe America and Israel off the map.” In Hegseth’s view, America is allied by faith with a Judeo-Christian West and Israel. The opposing camp is a loose alliance of China, Islamist extremists, secular globalists, and the “leftist machine” domestically. He praises Israel and other nationalist allies (even Brexit Britain) as fellow warriors of “Americanism.” He explicitly supports policies like building border walls, raising tariffs, and promoting English-only as part of this clash.
Islam, in particular, looms large in Hegseth’s imagination. He has openly identified a “war on Islamism” as a central battleground. A PBS NewsHour report notes that Hegseth adopted Crusader imagery literally: Hegseth bears a tattoo reading “Deus Vult” (“God wills it”), a motto of the medieval Crusaders. Hegseth himself invokes that era: he writes that the present moment is “much like the eleventh century.” He calls on “Christians, Jews and the Israeli army” to “push Islamism back,” both culturally and, if necessary, militarily. In his rhetoric he rarely distinguishes between “moderate” and “radical” Muslims, often subsuming them under one threat. He has flatly declared that “Islam itself is not compatible with Western forms of government” and argued that ordinary Muslims inevitably fall short of Islamicist goals, making the very presence of Muslim communities a problem to be solved. He warns that Western nations are being “invaded” by demographic changes (citing Muslim mayors or birthrates as evidence) and that unless Americans summon crusader-like resolve, the country will be “done for.” In short, Hegseth’s foreign policy vision is framed as another cultural war, Americans and Israel versus Islamism (and China), rather than a balance of strategic interests. His appeals to faith and identity here clearly mirror Huntington’s idea that post–Cold War conflict follows civilizational lines.
All this is more than abstract theory; Hegseth’s beliefs consistently color his public commentary and policy positions. As Fox News host and author, he frequently invoked religion. After the U.S. withdrawal from Afghanistan, Hegseth lamented on air that American forces were outmatched by enemy “fanaticism,” noting with admiration that Taliban fighters had more conviction: “The fanaticism was an advantage for them we barely even accounted for,” he said. Such statements imply that he thinks America needs to adopt a more dogmatic, faith-driven posture in conflict. He has also openly discussed his love of warrior imagery. In his 2016 memoir, he described looking at an ISIS fighter as a “conquering warrior” with God on his side and said he “understands [the fighter’s] passions,” even while condemning him as evil. These comments underscore that Hegseth sees combatants through a filter of religious identity and zeal.
He has made his symbolism a form of outreach: media reports show him tattooed with a rifle entwined with the American flag, the words “We the People,” the Jerusalem Cross, and the “Deus Vult” motto. Allies and fellow veterans have noted that his body art and speeches celebrate a warrior mentality rooted in Christian imagery. Practically speaking, if put in power, Hegseth’s perspective would shape decisions at the Pentagon. Reporters expect him to roll back diversity programs and curb women in combat because such initiatives divide “the battlefield” by identity.
He has explicitly called DEI training and even critical race theory “religions” for “woke zealots” that must be purged from the military. On foreign policy, he would likely center the fight on what he perceives as civilizational threats: analysts say he has urged scrapping NATO, demanding that Europe arm itself, and treating China and Islam as blunt geopolitical enemies, not nuanced actors. Indeed, in American Crusade, he wrote that “NATO is not an alliance; it’s a defense arrangement for Europe… The defense of Europe is not our problem; been there, done that.” In short, Hegseth’s Christian nationalism predisposes him to see the world in us-vs-them terms: conservative Christians versus secularists, America versus Islamism, the nationalist West versus globalists. This mirrors a constructivist insight: his American identity (“Americanism” rooted in faith) defines his perception of interests and enemies.
This worldview draws clear parallels to Huntington’s thesis. Hegseth effectively casts the United States as the leader of a “Western Christian” civilization, locked in perpetual struggle against other cultural blocs. In one notable line, he boasts that “our weapon is American nationalism,” countering the Left’s attempt to discredit patriotism. In a sense, he has taken Huntington’s idea of cultural conflict and turned it into a blueprint: Leftism is a destructive ideology of the West, while Islamism is the existential foe of Western/Judeo-Christian values. Defining politics this way, along constructed lines of faith and culture, is precisely the kind of analysis constructivists encourage us to notice. He is not thinking about dollars, logistics, or democracy; he believes in myths and metaphors.
Critics are alarmed by what this means in practice. Religious freedom advocates warn that Hegseth’s fusion of church and state could erode pluralism. The Interfaith Alliance notes that by treating the military and government as tools of a singular faith, he threatens the constitutional separation of religion and state. They point out that his rhetoric divides Americans by religion, labeling Muslims “invaders” and leftists “infidels,” in ways that “perpetuate fear and division.” Among security analysts, some see echoes of early-20th-century ethnonationalism. For example, one commentator bluntly argues that Hegseth’s “clash of civilizations” worldview is so extreme that it sanctions war on the Muslim world, even comparing the impact of his rhetoric to “Nazi-like views on Muslims.” Whether or not one accepts such hyperbole (personally I believe it is a little far), Hegseth himself leaves little ambiguity: he suggests that tolerance of Muslim immigration or minority leadership is “naive and cowardly,” demanding instead that Americans “muster the same courage” as medieval crusaders.
Throughout his media appearances and writings, Hegseth’s tone is one of urgency and polarization. On social and policy questions, he advises activists to “disdain, despise, detest, distrust” mainstream institutions and to take direct action, for example, staging sit-ins at schools or openly carrying firearms into public forums in the name of defending conservative Christian values. Critics note that this advice has helped fuel real-world harassments and threats against teachers, officials, and minority groups. In short, his commentary turns every cultural issue (immigration, LGBTQ rights, education, military policy) into a front in the civilizational war he envisions.
Viewed through the constructivist lens, Hegseth’s case highlights how a cohesive ideology can warp policy. Constructivism teaches us that political actors operate inside frameworks of meaning. Hegseth’s framework is a cosmic struggle of faiths, not the pragmatic balancing of interests. This has concrete implications: as Secretary of Defense, he might press for alliances and wars not on strategic logic but on religious identity. He might reward troops who share his views and sideline those who do not, undermining the military’s nonpartisan ethos. He rejects even simple democratic norms, such as accepting electoral outcomes or pluralistic debate, in favor of “mocking” dissent and entrenching one party.
In narrative terms, Pete Hegseth tells a story of America in crisis: a nation worth defending only through the lens of Christian nationalism. This story is powerful to its adherents but deeply controversial. Journalistically, one must note that it is not an objective analysis but a constructed myth that critics say oversimplifies reality. Unlike a realist who might warn of rising powers or economic shifts, Hegseth warns of spiritual enemies. And like Huntington’s thesis, it rests on broad civilizational categories that many scholars find reductive. For example, Hegseth lumps all critics or opponents into a single “false religion” of leftism and all Muslims into a singular “Islamism” threat. In doing so; he justifies extreme measures, whether gerrymandered politics or cultural crusades, as existential necessities.
Ultimately, the constructivist approach helps us see that Hegseth’s policy prescriptions follow directly from his identity-based outlook. He perceives foreign and domestic affairs through the fixed categories of civilization and creed, not through compromise or empirical strategy. As one analyst put it, Hegseth’s vision is a “dangerous fusion of faith and force,” a way of thinking that poses fundamental questions for a democracy built on pluralism. Whether one agrees or not, it is clear that Pete Hegseth’s Christian nationalist ideology provides the lens through which he sees the world, making his book and commentary a kind of practical theology of war. The task of critics and analysts, then, is to expose where this constructed narrative diverges from the complexities of modern politics, a task that constructivism would applaud. In any case, under Hegseth’s tenure, the United States would likely see policy driven more by identity and myth than by traditional strategic calculation, a development that many observers view with alarm.
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