FAFO Pete: Secretary of War Crimes
Introduction: A Reckoning Delayed
There is a certain species of political appointee so intoxicated by the trappings of power that they mistake the authority to command for the license to commit atrocity. Pete Hegseth, the current United States Secretary of Defense, has become the apotheosis of this type. In his conduct of the military campaign euphemistically dubbed “Operation Epic Fury”—a sustained bombing campaign against the Islamic Republic of Iran—Hegseth has not merely flirted with illegality; he has publicly, proudly, and repeatedly proclaimed his intent to violate the very laws of war that bind the United States. From his “no quarter” declaration to his threats against civilian water supplies, from the massacre at Minab to the weaponization of Christian prayer, Hegseth has constructed a blueprint for war crimes so transparent that it reads like a prosecutor’s indictment waiting to be filed.
The legal framework that Hegseth so cavalierly disregards is not some obscure international treaty signed by distant diplomats. It is the War Crimes Act of 1996, passed by the United States Congress and signed into law by President Bill Clinton, which explicitly criminalizes violations of the Geneva and Hague Conventions under Title 18 of the U.S. Code. Hegseth appears either blissfully unaware of this statute’s existence or, more chillingly, entirely indifferent to its prohibitions. His bombastic rhetoric and operational decisions constitute a systematic assault on the very legal architecture designed to prevent the atrocities he seems eager to commit.
The Law Hegseth Ignores: The War Crimes Act of 1996
Before cataloging Hegseth’s transgressions, one must understand the statute he so flagrantly violates. The War Crimes Act of 1996 (codified at 18 U.S.C. § 2441) was enacted precisely to prevent the scenario now unfolding under Hegseth’s watch. The original act criminalized “grave breaches of the Geneva Conventions” committed by or against American nationals or military personnel . The 1997 amendment significantly expanded its scope, defining “war crime” to include conduct prohibited by specific articles of the Hague Convention IV of 1907—including Article 23, which forbids declarations of “no quarter”—as well as violations of Common Article 3 of the Geneva Conventions .
Under this statute, conviction for a war crime carries penalties ranging from fines to life imprisonment and, where death results, the death penalty. The law applies to anyone—whether inside or outside the United States—who commits such offenses. It is not a suggestion. It is not a guideline. It is the codified criminal law of the United States.
Yet Hegseth has spent his tenure treating this statute as though it were written on water.
“No Quarter, No Mercy”: A Confession of Intent
On March 13, 2026, Pete Hegseth stood before Pentagon reporters and, with evident satisfaction, declared: “We will keep pressing. We will keep pushing, keep advancing, no quarter, no mercy for our enemies.” For those unfamiliar with the law of armed conflict, these words might sound like mere rhetorical flourish—the kind of tough talk one expects from a defense secretary. But in legal terms, “no quarter” carries a specific, unambiguous, and entirely forbidden meaning.
As international law scholars Michael Schmitt and John Tramazzo have explained, “no quarter” constitutes “an order that there shall be no survivors, a threat to conduct operations on that basis, or fighting in that manner”—meaning that enemy combatants are to be executed rather than taken prisoner . Article 23(d) of the Hague Convention IV Regulations, incorporated into American law through the War Crimes Act, states explicitly that “it is especially forbidden…[t]o declare that no quarter will be given.” The Pentagon’s own Law of War Manual reiterates this prohibition at Section 5.4.7 .
Hegseth’s statement was not an isolated gaffe. It was consistent with a pattern of rhetoric dating back to his pre-confirmation writings. In his 2024 book, The War on Warriors, Hegseth dismissed the laws of war as “rules written by dignified men in mahogany rooms eighty years ago” and insisted that American troops “should not fight by” such constraints . During his Senate confirmation hearings, he acknowledged the Geneva Conventions only to argue that they were ill-suited to modern conflict . As Secretary, he has boasted of eliminating “stupid rules of engagement” and granting troops “maximum lethality, not tepid legality.”
Senator Mark Kelly, a retired Navy captain and Arizona Democrat, formally demanded that Hegseth retract his “no quarter” statement, warning that it constitutes a potential war crime prosecutable under 18 U.S.C. § 2441 . Hegseth has not retracted it. He has not clarified it. He has simply let it stand—a public declaration of criminal intent from the man responsible for the conduct of American forces.
The Minab Massacre: When Rhetoric Becomes Reality
Words have consequences, and nowhere is this more apparent than in the city of Minab in southern Iran. On the opening day of Operation Epic Fury, a U.S. airstrike struck an elementary school, killing more than 165 people—most of them girls . The Pentagon initially denied responsibility, with President Trump suggesting Iran or some other party had somehow obtained Tomahawk missiles. But a preliminary Pentagon investigation later confirmed American responsibility .
The Minab massacre is not an isolated tragedy. As of mid-March 2026, at least 1,298 Iranian civilians—including at least 205 children—had been killed since hostilities commenced . A girls’ school in southern Iran was struck in the campaign’s opening hours, killing 175 civilians, most of them children . These numbers are not abstractions. They are the concrete consequences of a leadership that views civilian harm as an acceptable cost rather than a violation to be mitigated.
Hegseth’s response to such tragedies has been to dismantle the very systems designed to prevent them. Shortly after assuming office, he dissolved the Pentagon’s civilian harm mitigation program, which had embedded roughly 200 personnel across military commands specifically to prevent civilian casualties . The program existed because the Department of Defense had recognized—belatedly, and after decades of such tragedies in Iraq and Afghanistan—that preventing civilian deaths was not merely a legal obligation but a strategic necessity. Hegseth abolished it anyway.
Bombing Water: The Desalination Threat
If Hegseth’s rhetoric on “no quarter” was a warning, the administration’s threats against Iran’s water supply represent a crossing of the Rubicon. On March 30, 2026, President Trump threatened to “completely [obliterate]” Iran’s power plants, oil wells, and “possibly all desalinization plants.” White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt confirmed that the administration was considering such strikes, stating that the president would “move forward unabated” in achieving the objectives of Operation Epic Fury .
International humanitarian law is unambiguous on this point: attacks on objects indispensable to civilian survival—including drinking water installations—are explicitly prohibited . This prohibition is not a technicality or a loophole to be exploited. It is a foundational principle of the law of armed conflict, designed precisely to prevent the kind of collective punishment that targeting water supplies would entail. Iran, like many countries in the region, relies heavily on desalinated water. Destroying those plants would not weaken the Iranian military; it would kill civilians through dehydration and disease, likely on a massive scale.
The administration has attempted to frame these threats as mere negotiation tactics—a senior U.S. official told Axios that “a couple of sorties, they will have no power. A couple of Israeli sorties, they will have no water.” This framing misunderstands both the law and its purpose. The prohibition on targeting civilian infrastructure exists precisely to prevent such “negotiation” tactics. Using civilian lives as bargaining chips is not realpolitik; it is a war crime.
Weaponizing Prayer: The Religious Rhetoric of Violence
Perhaps the most disturbing dimension of Hegseth’s conduct is his systematic effort to sanctify military violence through religious rhetoric. At a Pentagon prayer service, Hegseth's prayed justify the campaign: “Let every round find its mark against the enemies of righteousness and our great nation. Give them wisdom in every decision … and overwhelming violence of action against those who deserve no mercy.”
At the National Prayer Breakfast on February 5, 2026, Hegseth went further, suggesting that soldiers could gain salvation through fighting for the United States. “America was founded as a Christian nation,” he declared. “It remains a Christian nation in our DNA, if we can keep it. And as public officials, we have a sacred duty 250 years on to glorify him.” He then introduced his spiritual mentor, Doug Wilson—a self-described “paleo-Confederate” who has downplayed the horrors of slavery—to preach at a government-sanctioned Pentagon worship service.
This is not merely a matter of personal piety. Hegseth is systematically marginalizing military chaplains who refuse to embrace his Christian nationalist worldview. Retired Army Maj. Gen. Randy Manner, who trained hundreds of interfaith military chaplains, reports that “dozens and dozens” of active-duty chaplains have told him they are being marginalized, excluded from staff meetings, and threatened with retaliation for failing to endorse Hegseth’s religious framing of the war . An anonymous Department of Defense source characterized the environment as “terrifying.”
The constitutional implications are profound. As one unnamed member of a recent Joint Chiefs chairman’s leadership team observed: “When the top of the chain couches these operations in this hyper-Christian tone, it flies in the face of the freedom of religion that the Constitution enshrines and that our men and women in uniform sign up to defend.” But the legal implications are equally serious. Framing military operations as a religious crusade—as a battle against “the enemies of righteousness”—creates precisely the kind of dehumanization that the laws of war were designed to prevent.
Ignoring the Chain of Command: Hegseth’s War on Military Lawyers
Hegseth’s contempt for legal constraints extends beyond his own rhetoric to his treatment of those charged with ensuring compliance with the law. In the first months of his tenure, he fired the top military lawyers for the Army, Navy, and Air Force, stating explicitly that he did not want them to be “roadblocks to orders given by a commander in chief.” He has moved unsuccessfully to punish Senator Kelly for a video advising troops to “refuse illegal orders”—advice that is, in fact, their legal duty under the Uniform Code of Military Justice .
This assault on the Judge Advocate General corps is not incidental to Hegseth’s approach; it is central to it. The JAG officers are the guardians of legal compliance within the military. Their removal signals a clear intent: to eliminate any institutional resistance to unlawful orders. When Hegseth boasts of eliminating “stupid rules of engagement,” what he means is that he has removed the lawyers who would remind commanders of their obligations under the Geneva Conventions.
Conclusion: The Reckoning to Come
The War Crimes Act of 1996 was passed by a unanimous Congress and signed by a Democratic president because the United States recognized—in the aftermath of the Cold War and in the shadow of atrocities in the former Yugoslavia—that it needed domestic legal tools to hold war criminals accountable. The law was designed to apply to Americans as well as to foreigners, to generals as well as to foot soldiers, to the powerful as well as to the powerless.
Pete Hegseth has conducted himself as though this law does not exist. He has declared his intent to deny quarter to enemy combatants—a violation of the Hague Convention and of 18 U.S.C. § 2441(c)(2). He has threatened to bomb civilian water infrastructure—a violation of the Geneva Conventions’ prohibition on attacks on objects indispensable to civilian survival. He has presided over airstrikes that have killed hundreds of children in schools—actions that, at a minimum, demand investigation for potential war crimes. He has dismantled the systems designed to prevent civilian casualties and purged the lawyers charged with ensuring compliance with the law.
Whether Hegseth will ever face accountability for these actions remains an open question. The War Crimes Act applies to him as surely as it applies to any American. The jurisdictional provisions of the statute—requiring that either the perpetrator or the victim be a U.S. national—would likely be satisfied in any prosecution . The question is not whether the law has been violated; it is whether anyone in a position of authority will enforce it.
Senator Kelly’s formal letter to Hegseth, demanding clarification of the “no quarter” policy and reaffirmation of the duty to refuse unlawful orders, represents the beginning of accountability, not its conclusion . The names of the dead at Minab—the children whose bodies were pulled from the rubble of their school—deserve more than a preliminary investigation and a presidential denial. They deserve a reckoning.
Pete Hegseth may believe himself immune from the laws he so casually violates. He may believe that his rhetoric of “maximum lethality” and his dismissal of “rules written by dignified men in mahogany rooms” places him above the constraints that bind ordinary mortals. He is wrong. The War Crimes Act of 1996 is still the law of the United States. The Geneva Conventions remain binding on American forces. And the day of reckoning, when it comes, will find Pete Hegseth standing before the bar of justice—or, like the war criminals of Nuremberg, consigned to the judgment of history.
Whether that reckoning arrives in a courtroom or only in the court of public opinion depends on whether the institutions Hegseth has sought to dismantle—the military justice system, the congressional oversight process, the rule of law itself—are strong enough to survive his assault. The evidence suggests they are under unprecedented strain. But the law remains, waiting to be enforced. The question is whether anyone will enforce it.