Recently Donald Trump rebranded the Department of Defense as the Department of War. This may seem insignificant or unimportant for many, but I’d suggest that it is a very predictable and significant move in the current political and religious climate. You see, about every 20-30 years, particularly during times of social upheaval, instability and change, there is a moral panic in regard to masculinity. Trump’s framing taps directly into this mindset, using the language of war to stoke fear and reinforce the ideals of a hyper-masculine identity—domination over others, rigid hierarchies, and the belief that strength is proven through conflict. These themes resonate strongly with his base.

Christian hyper-masculine identity has long been tied to war and the military, where aggression, dominance, power, and at times ruthlessness are framed as virtues rather than vices. Societies have often tied male worth to the ability to fight and protect, making war not only a political tool but also a cultural script that legitimizes men’s power and status. In this way, the idea of war functions as both a literal and symbolic proving ground for a rigid masculinity ideology. Even the idea of men going to war seems to embolden many men with the idea that structures and systems that lead to gender inequality are reasonable because “men go to war.” When presented with this argument, I like to point out that more women have died in childbirth than men have in war, and statistically fewer men go to war than women give birth. Additionally, “more lives are lost through violence against women from sex-selective abortion, female infanticide, suicide, egregious maternal mortality, and other sex-linked causes than were lost during all the wars and civil strife of the twentieth century” (p. 4). 

Important to understand this topic is the power and pervasive influence of conservative Evangelicals. You may not be Evangelical and you might not even identify as religious, but if you live in the U.S., you have been influenced and affected by this religious movement. Suffice it to say, conservative Evangelicals form the most cohesive, influential and powerful voting block the U.S. has ever known. If we want to understand politics, we must understand conservative Evangelical movements (Conservative Catholics and LDS tend to also vote along the same lines).  

For a significant portion of male Evangelicals, war has long been intertwined with white masculine Christian identity. From this vantage point, Jesus is not a passive figure, but a “warrior.” Earthly conflicts are black and white, good versus evil, with God on the side of the United States. A sense of persecution combined with beliefs of religious superiority and divine favor have contributed too often to an “ends justify the means” approach and attitudes that excuse the U.S. from following the same rules expected or imposed on other nations. 

A strong, rugged, militarized masculine ideal has for as long as this country has existed, offered a way to oppose change and perceived (and real) threats to white male power. Equal rights movements for minorities and women such as the civil rights movement, and ERA (feminism) are examples where Evangelicals and other conservative Christians have held up gender roles as the solution. In an environment where more women than ever are succeeding in higher education and the workforce, and where many institutions and universities adopted DEI policies to address long-standing disparities, many white men, who have historically held a disproportionate share of power in this country, have come to perceive themselves as under attack. I’m reminded of the saying, “To those accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” This isn’t an effort to paint white men as “bad.” Rather, it acknowledges a shift: white men no longer hold the same unquestioned dominance they once did, even though they continue to control the overwhelming share of power and privilege. For most men, making a living in a capitalist society is already a brutal and relentless pursuit. Life is hard. And in a world where they now compete more directly with women and minorities, it can feel even harder. Without strong role models to demonstrate healthy forms of masculinity in a society moving toward greater balance, it’s not difficult to see why the “manosphere” and far-right ideologies are enticing.

Fear is always a greater motivator than hope. If Donald Trump has been successful at anything, it is tapping into the fear, anger and insecurities of white men. For these men, and the women who depend on these men in some form, Donald Trump represents a strong, ruthless, powerful ideal. He is the great white hope; the person who will turn us back to a time when people “knew their place.” Importantly, what he offers is not genuine safety and economic stability but the comfort of nostalgia, a false sense of security rooted in an imagined past. That past feels stable because it was shaped by unusual historical forces: the post-war economic boom that gave the United States dominance while other nations rebuilt, the benefits of the New Deal and GI Bill programs that expanded homeownership and education primarily for white families, the temporary advantage of limited global competition, and the reality that many women, people of color, and immigrants were excluded from sharing fully in this prosperity. Likely not recognized on a conscious level, Trump’s promise to “return” us to that time resonates for some, not because it reflects a fair or universal past, but because it recalls an era when white men held unrivaled economic and social power.

Trump has been successful in creating an enemy to fight against and unite against: immigrants, minorities and feminists. We are indeed at war. A war in addition to the horrific conflicts abroad. And if we continue on this path, it will not end well—not for vulnerable immigrants, minorities, and women. It will also not end well for men. No matter how many times we cycle through a new “masculinity panic,” an androcentric, hierarchical culture built on rigid gender roles does not lead to healthy and thriving communities, families, relationships, and individuals. What will lead to flourishing is what Jesus actually taught: caring for the poor and marginalized, treating women as equals to men, ministering to suffering children and the elderly, and seeing people of all nations as equals. Jesus was a warrior, but not in the way our culture so often defines warriors. His power was not rooted in dominance or violence, but in courage, compassion, and a relentless defense of the vulnerable. Jesus did not tolerate injustice, and he did not mince words when calling out those who used religion in the pursuit of power.

I’ll close with the words of Reverend Chuck Currie, “Christianity has been misused to promote slavery, hatred, and oppression. But Christianity is a faith rooted in liberation from oppression. Its most authentic expression comes in the liberating words of Jesus: ‘He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free those who are oppressed.’ If your church doesn’t preach Jesus’ message of liberation over oppression, they preach a false gospel.” 

Recommended readings: 

Jesus and John Wayne

War, Sports, and the Construction of Masculinity in American Christianity

United States Department of War