Don’t Give Up the Ship: When Rhetoric Meets Rifles in a Fractured Moment
There is a sound that wakes up a democracy: the low, steady thud of institutions doing their work. It is not dramatic. It is not televised. It is the hum of daily stewardship—judges issuing opinions, inspectors writing reports, commanders following the law. Lately, that hum has been punctured by something louder: a public argument about what the military should do when orders collide with the Constitution.
Last week, six members of Congress—veterans and former intelligence officers among them—recorded a short, pointed message aimed squarely at men and women in uniform. “We want to speak directly to members of the military and the Intelligence Community,” Senator Elissa Slotkin, a former CIA analyst, said on camera. “The American people need you to stand up for our laws and our Constitution. Don’t give up the ship.”
“Our laws are clear: You can refuse illegal orders,” added Senator Mark Kelly, a former Navy pilot and astronaut. The video did not enumerate hypothetical scenarios. It did not get into legal minutiae. It was a moral check-in, a reminder carved in plain English for a country where the line between lawful command and unlawful coercion has suddenly felt thin to many.
A provocation, a warning, a firestorm
The reaction was immediate. The former president reposted coverage of the video on his social media platform and wrote, in all caps, “SEDITIOUS BEHAVIOR, punishable by DEATH!” He followed with: “This is really bad, and Dangerous to our Country… Their words cannot be allowed to stand. SEDITIOUS BEHAVIOR FROM TRAITORS!!! LOCK THEM UP???”
Within hours, critics and allies alike were choosing sides. A White House spokesperson later told reporters the president did not mean he wanted to execute members of Congress. “No,” Karoline Leavitt said bluntly at a briefing when asked whether the extraordinary language was a literal call for execution.
But in the fevered ecology of modern politics, words matter. They are not abstract. They land like ordnance. They can change how people think about one another and what they perceive as permissible.
Why this matters to more than just Washington
Think about it this way: the United States fields roughly 1.3 million active-duty service members and maintains a far larger ecosystem of reservists, civilian intelligence professionals, contractors and veterans. These are people who sign an oath to “support and defend the Constitution.” They are trained to follow legitimate orders. They are also trained to recognize unlawful commands—this is a cornerstone of military law and international humanitarian law, forged from the bitter lessons of history.
“You can’t reduce complex legal obligations to sound bites, but you also can’t ignore when public leaders tell troops to think through the law,” said a retired JAG officer who served two tours overseas and asked not to be named. “Reminding service members they have a duty to refuse illegal orders is about preserving the institution’s integrity, not about fomenting insubordination.”
That perspective is shared by many who worry that escalating presidential rhetoric could have real-world consequences. “The danger is not just what is said,” a political scientist who studies civil-military relations told me, “it’s the accumulation of words that normalize the notion of targeting political opponents, then pairing that rhetoric with questions about the military’s role.”
Voices from the ground
On a damp evening in a small town outside Hampton Roads, Virginia, retired Master Sergeant Luis Ortega sipped a coffee and reflected. “I swore an oath,” he said. “When I was in, it was simple: follow lawful orders, refuse unlawful ones. If Congress—people like Slotkin and Kelly—are telling troops to remember the law, that’s not treason. That’s stewardship.”
Across town, a young active-duty sailor, speaking on condition of anonymity, told me she was unsettled by the spectacle. “I don’t want politics creeping into my chain of command,” she said. “But I also don’t want to be ordered to do something that breaks the rules. Who tells a soldier what to do when the rules are unclear? We need clarity—fast.”
The legal backdrop: not as mysterious as it sounds
Legal experts note that the question of refusing unlawful orders is not new. The Uniform Code of Military Justice and international law make clear that service members are not permitted to carry out manifestly illegal orders—those that would, for example, amount to war crimes. Still, the real world is messier. Orders are often given in fast-moving, ambiguous circumstances. Determining legality is rarely instantaneous.
“The principle is straightforward,” said a law professor who studies military justice. “The application is not. That’s why trust in chain-of-command processes, independent legal advice, and robust civilian oversight matter more than ever. When those things fray, the only way to protect both the troops and the republic is through clear norms and mechanisms for accountability.”
From Caribbean strikes to Venezuelan whispers
Underlying this latest clash is a larger foreign-policy context. Several Democrats have openly criticized recent military strikes in the southern Caribbean and the Pacific, questioning their legal basis and transparency. There are also persistent concerns—fuelled by officials and analysts—about the possibility of broader military action against Venezuela, a neighbor already roiled by economic collapse, migration and geopolitical tension.
“Calling for the execution of senators and members of Congress for reminding our troops of that is chilling behavior,” said Senator Chris Coons, echoing a worry that the rhetoric was reminiscent of authoritarian leaders elsewhere. “We should expect that from Orban or Putin, not from the president of the United States.”
The echo of January 6, 2021, still lingers. The former president had previously defended supporters who chanted for the hanging of the vice president as a mob stormed the Capitol—an image burned into the American psyche. For critics, the new language feels like more than a slip; it is a pattern.
What should we ask ourselves?
How do democracies self-protect when leaders weaponize rhetoric? When words edge toward violence, what mechanisms do we lean on—courts, legislatures, the press, or the civic conscience of everyday people? And crucially: who speaks for the soldiers and intelligence officers caught in the middle?
One thing is certain: the loudest sounds in politics are not always the most authoritative. Sometimes the quiet, steady decisions made in courtrooms, military legal offices, and Congressional oversight hearings are the ones that preserve the republic.
So where do we go from here? We can rage, retweet, and rally. Or we can insist on clarity—legal, procedural, and moral. We can demand that leaders of all stripes model restraint. We can remind ourselves that in a constitutional republic, the ultimate sovereignty rests with the people, not a single office, and certainly not with unchecked threats.
As you read this, ask yourself: do you trust the institutions that regulate the use of force? If not, what would it take to rebuild that trust? And if you do—what are you willing to do to protect it?
