Pete Hegseth And the Ghose of William Belknap

By Frank Ofili

As the war mongering US Secretary of War, Pete Hegseth, prepares to face the press over the impeachment initiative against him, I cannot help recalling the curious case of William Belknap, who occupied the same office exactly 150 years ago under President Ulysses S. Grant. My suspicion is that Hegseth may prefer to do a William Belknap: resign before the House of Representatives votes on his impeachment, rather than remain in office to face the humiliation of being formally impeached. Alternatively, President Donald Trump may decide to fire him before the impeachment proceedings gather momentum. Either way, I would not be entirely surprised if Hegseth suddenly discovers that there are other things he would rather be doing than defending himself against impeachment.

There is, of course, a historical precedent for this sort of political manoeuvre. In 1876, William W. Belknap, then Secretary of War in President Grant’s administration, found himself at the centre of a corruption scandal involving payments received in connection with the appointment of a military trading-post operator at Fort Sill, Indian Territory. Investigations by the House of Representatives uncovered evidence that Belknap had benefited from a kickback arrangement involving the appointment. As the House prepared to vote on his impeachment on March 2, 1876, Belknap hurried to the White House, tendered his resignation to President Grant, and promptly resigned from office.

But Belknap’s resignation did not save him from impeachment. The House proceeded with the vote and unanimously approved five articles of impeachment against him. The Senate subsequently agreed that it retained jurisdiction to try him notwithstanding his resignation. He was eventually acquitted, not because the allegations had disappeared, but because none of the five articles secured the constitutionally required two-thirds majority for conviction. The important lesson from the Belknap episode is that resignation in the US, unlike in our dear country, Nigeria, does not necessarily terminate an impeachment process. A public officer cannot automatically escape congressional accountability simply by resigning their position.

That historical parallel is particularly interesting in the unfolding Hegseth affair. Republican Congressman Thomas Massie of Kentucky has reintroduced eight articles of impeachment against the Defence Secretary, setting the stage for a possible vote in the House within days. What makes this development especially intriguing is that the initiative is not being spearheaded by a Democrat, as one might ordinarily expect in the highly polarised political environment of Washington. It is being driven by a Republican congressman, a member of Trump’s own party. It suggests that the opposition to Hegseth is not entirely a partisan Democratic enterprise, even though Democrats are expected to provide substantial support for the impeachment initiative.

The eight articles are quite weighty in their implications. Three concern Hegseth’s alleged involvement in prosecuting the war against Iran without congressional authorisation and in violation of the War Powers Resolution. Another accuses him of disregarding legal safeguards designed to minimise civilian casualties during military operations, particularly in connection with the deadly strike on an elementary school in Minab, Iran. There is also an allegation of extra-judicial killings arising from American military strikes against suspected drug-trafficking vessels in the Caribbean Sea and the eastern Pacific, including allegations that survivors of attacks were subsequently killed.

The central lesson for us in Nigeria is that loyalty to the President must never take precedence over accountability to the Constitution.

Another article concerns the alleged suppression of free speech and retaliation against Democratic Senator Mark Kelly following his participation in a video reminding American military personnel that they are not obliged to obey unlawful orders. The remaining articles concern the military operation that resulted in the capture of Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro without congressional authorisation and American military operations in Yemen, also alleged to have violated the War Powers Resolution.

These are allegations contained in the impeachment resolution. Nevertheless, their constitutional and political implications are enormous. They raise fundamental questions about the limits of presidential authority, the responsibility of cabinet officials, the relationship between the executive and legislative branches, and the extent to which the American President can deploy military power without congressional approval.

And this is where the matter becomes particularly uncomfortable for Donald Trump.

Hegseth is, after all, not an independent military adventurer operating outside the authority of the White House. He is a cabinet secretary implementing the foreign and military policy of the President. The decision to prosecute the war against Iran, the military operations in Venezuela and Yemen, and the broader exercise of American military power are matters of administration policy. Hegseth may have operational responsibility for implementing those policies, but he does not formulate American foreign policy in a vacuum.

Consequently, an impeachment process against Hegseth inevitably raises questions about the person who authorised, directed or politically supervised the policies he is accused of implementing. Although impeachment of a cabinet secretary is constitutionally distinct from impeachment of the President, the political implications cannot be so neatly separated. To impeach Hegseth on allegations arising from the implementation of Trump’s military policies is, in a sense, to put the administration’s own conduct under congressional scrutiny. It is difficult to see how the Hegseth could defend himself successfully without reference to the President’s decisions and instructions.

This may explain why Trump has been so emphatic in defending Hegseth. He has publicly declared that he will stand by his Secretary of War, describing him as someone who has helped win America’s wars. He has also attacked Massie, dismissing him in characteristic Trump-style uncharitable language. But Trump’s public show of confidence does not necessarily mean that Hegseth’s political survival is guaranteed. In Washington, political loyalty can be a very convenient virtue until it becomes an expensive liability.

There is another dimension to this unfolding drama. Following the Democrats’ sweeping victories in the November midterm elections, they are preparing to assume control of Congress in January 2027. Their leaders have already signalled an intention to use the congressional oversight machinery to investigate the Trump administration, including allegations of corruption and controversial immigration enforcement policies. The incoming Democratic leadership has made it clear that holding the administration accountable will be a major priority.

This is where the Hegseth impeachment initiative could become the opening act of a much larger political confrontation. The impeachment of one cabinet secretary could provide the platform for examining the wider decision-making processes of the Trump administration. Questions about who authorised particular military operations, what legal advice was obtained, whether Congress was deliberately bypassed, and who bears responsibility for civilian casualties may not end with Hegseth. They could lead directly to the White House.

Of course, there is a distinction between political embarrassment and constitutional liability. The impeachment of Hegseth does not automatically translate into the impeachment of Trump. Nor does an allegation against a cabinet secretary establish presidential wrong-doing. But the President cannot reasonably expect to insulate himself entirely from scrutiny when the actions being investigated were undertaken as part of his administration’s policies.

There is also the question of whether Hegseth can actually be convicted. Impeachment by the House requires a simple majority, while conviction and removal by the Senate require a two-thirds majority. Even if the House approves the articles, securing the necessary Senate majority would be considerably more difficult. The historical experience of Belknap is instructive here: a unanimous House impeachment did not translate into a Senate conviction.

Nevertheless, the political damage may already be done. An impeachment vote, whether successful or not, would place Hegseth in an unenviable position. It would also force Republican lawmakers to choose between defending a controversial cabinet secretary and demonstrating that their loyalty to the Constitution is not necessarily subordinate to loyalty to their party or President.

For now, Trump says he will stand by Hegseth, while Hegseth himself has dismissed the impeachment effort as a political stunt. He is scheduled to address the press on Tuesday, November 10, in what will be his first press conference in more than six months. It will be interesting to see whether he uses the occasion to mount a robust defence of his actions or whether the questions from journalists expose the extent of the political and constitutional difficulties confronting him.

The Hegseth affair reminds us that in a functioning democracy, no public officer should be too powerful to be questioned, too loyal to be investigated, or too politically connected to be held accountable.

My suspicion remains that Hegseth may yet choose the Belknap route, or Trump may decide that sacrificing his Secretary of War is a price worth paying to contain the political damage. That is, of course, speculation. But American political history is replete with instances where presidential loyalty has suddenly given way to political self-preservation.

One thing is certain: the Hegseth affair is no longer merely about the political survival of one cabinet secretary. It has become a test of the limits of presidential power, the authority of Congress over military engagements, and the willingness of elected representatives to hold their own administration accountable.

The question, therefore, is not simply whether Pete Hegseth will survive impeachment. It is whether Donald Trump can prevent the impeachment initiative against his Secretary of War from becoming a much wider examination of his own presidency.

We wait and see. Washington has a way of turning what begins as a political sideshow into the main event.

The central lesson for us in Nigeria is that loyalty to the President must never take precedence over accountability to the Constitution.

Chants of “on your mandate we shall stand” must not replace allegiance to the National Anthem, the National Pledge and the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria.

A minister is not a personal emissary of the President, nor should public office become a shield against scrutiny. Where a minister acts unlawfully in the execution of presidential policies, he must be held accountable, but the President who authorised or sanctioned those policies must not be insulated from responsibility.

The Hegseth affair reminds us that in a functioning democracy, no public officer should be too powerful to be questioned, too loyal to be investigated, or too politically connected to be held accountable. Accountability must follow the chain of authority, not stop at the weakest link.