The phrase “enemy within” gained significant traction during the lead-up to the presidential election, used to cast suspicion upon political opposition. This rhetoric set a tense stage as the new administration began to form, with appointments drawing intense scrutiny. Among these was Pete Hegseth, a figure whose nomination sparked debate, even within his own support base. Concerns regarding his suitability for a high-level position soon intertwined with public attention to his personal choices, specifically, his tattoos. An accusation emerged: Hegseth, nominated for a significant role, was flagged as a potential insider threat.
This accusation, reported by the Associated Press, stemmed from tattoos on Hegseth’s body, symbols potentially linked to Christian Nationalist and White Nationalist organizations. JD Vance defended Hegseth, dismissing the concerns as “anti-Christian bigotry,” claiming the tattoos were merely Christian symbols. Hegseth echoed this sentiment, decrying media scrutiny as an attack on Christians and patriots.
But are these symbols simply benign expressions of faith, or do they carry a deeper, more contentious meaning? Let’s delve into the symbolism, particularly of the Iron Cross, and its connection to the unfolding controversy.
The debate centers around two prominent tattoos on Pete Hegseth: the Jerusalem Cross and another symbol resembling the Iron Cross, accompanied by the Latin phrase “Deus Vult.” While Hegseth claims these are generic Christian symbols, their historical context and modern interpretations paint a more complex picture.
The Jerusalem Cross, also known as the Crusader’s Cross, features a large central cross surrounded by four smaller crosses. It is historically linked to the Kingdom of Jerusalem, established after the First Crusade. The Crusades themselves are a complex and often dark period in history, marked by antisemitism and violence. While the Jerusalem Cross has undergone some rebranding, its origins are undeniably rooted in this history.
While the Jerusalem Cross can be seen as a general symbol of Christian heritage, especially in liturgical Christian contexts where its historical baggage might be less emphasized, the symbol resembling the Iron Cross on Hegseth’s arm raises more pointed questions. The article points out a key detail: Hegseth’s tattoo uses arched crosses, more akin to the Iron Cross than the straight-pointed crosses typically found in the Jerusalem Cross. This subtle yet significant visual cue shifts the symbolic weight.
The Iron Cross, originally a Prussian military decoration, has a history spanning centuries. However, its most infamous association is with Nazi Germany. While the Iron Cross itself predates the Nazi regime, it was adopted and utilized by the Nazis, becoming heavily symbolic of the Wehrmacht and Nazi military power. This historical baggage is undeniable and cannot be easily separated from the symbol.
Even post-World War II, the Iron Cross has continued to be used in various contexts, including by military groups and subcultures. However, it has also been increasingly adopted by far-right and white supremacist groups, particularly in the United States. This appropriation has turned the Iron Cross into a symbol laden with connotations of hate, extremism, and white nationalism for many.
The phrase “Deus Vult,” meaning “God wills it,” further complicates the interpretation. Historically, this phrase was a battle cry of the Crusaders. While it can be interpreted within a theological context of Divine Providence, it has also been co-opted by Christian Nationalist groups. These groups, espousing a modern form of Manifest Destiny, believe they are divinely ordained to control and “reclaim” territories, often with exclusionary and discriminatory ideologies targeting minority groups.
The resurgence of Crusader imagery, including both the Jerusalem Cross and phrases like “Deus Vult,” within Christian Nationalist circles is not accidental. These symbols are being used as coded language, often to signal solidarity with extremist ideologies and to implicitly or explicitly threaten violence against marginalized communities, including the LGBTQ+ community, Muslims, and immigrants.
Therefore, while Pete Hegseth and his defenders may attempt to portray these tattoos as innocuous Christian symbols, the context matters immensely. For a Protestant figure, particularly one associated with politically conservative circles, to sport symbols so closely tied to Crusader history and, crucially, visually resembling the Iron Cross, raises significant red flags. These are not symbols deeply rooted in Protestant heritage; instead, they are symbols that have been actively repurposed by groups promoting ideologies antithetical to inclusivity and tolerance.
The question then isn’t about religious freedom or attacking Christianity, but about accountability for the symbols we choose to display and the messages they convey. In a climate where Christian Nationalism is on the rise and hate groups are actively utilizing historical symbols to promote division and violence, the choice to wear symbols like a modified Iron Cross cannot be dismissed as mere personal expression. It demands critical examination and raises legitimate concerns about the values and ideologies being represented. It is not “anti-Christian bigotry” to question the meaning and implications of symbols that have been so heavily co-opted by hate. It is responsible and necessary scrutiny.
