At a recent meeting of top brass in Quantico, Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth didn’t mince words. He called for the U.S. military to abandon what he labeled as “woke culture” and return to a strict “warrior” ethos, pledging sweeping changes to fitness, grooming, and disciplinary standards. Hegseth’s remarks, delivered on October 6, 2025, sent shockwaves through the armed forces and across the political spectrum, sparking fierce debate about the meaning of strength, the future of military readiness, and the ongoing culture wars shaping American society.
Hegseth’s vision is clear: every combat position will now be judged by the “highest male standard” for physical fitness—effectively erasing gender-neutral benchmarks that were designed to reflect the real requirements of military jobs. Critics warn this move could push women out of roles they’ve fought decades to earn. According to data cited by WIRED and other outlets, women now make up 17.3% of the total active-duty force and more than 21% of the Guard and Reserves. Their representation is felt in every branch: about 21% in the Air Force, 20% in the Navy, 15–16% in the Army and Coast Guard, 9–10% in the Marine Corps, and 19–20% in the Space Force.
Far from being a minority on the margins, women are central to military readiness. They serve in every combat role once barred to them—and they’re staying in the service longer. In 2023, 33% of enlisted women in the Marine Corps reenlisted, compared to just 28% of men, and nearly 90% of female officers continued their service, surpassing their male counterparts. These numbers, reported by WIRED, are all the more striking given the long history of women’s exclusion from the armed forces. Until the Women’s Armed Services Integration Act of 1948, women could not serve as permanent, regular members of the military. Even after integration, combat positions remained closed for decades: women were barred from flying combat aircraft until 1993, from serving on submarines until 2010, and from ground combat jobs until 2013.
Today, women are not just meeting the standards set before them—they’re often exceeding them and helping to redefine what military excellence looks like. The future of warfare, as many experts argue, is less about brute strength and more about technology, intelligence, and strategy. Modern armed forces rely on advanced systems, cyber defense, drones, artificial intelligence, and space operations—fields that require highly educated recruits. Across the country, women are already outperforming men in educational attainment, graduating from high school and college at higher rates and earning more advanced degrees. As longtime feminist leader Ellie Smeal told WIRED, “Successful militaries don’t use hand-to-hand combat anymore. What the military really needs is intelligence and skill, and women are essential for a modern military.”
But Hegseth’s framing of “woke versus warrior” is more than a cultural shift; it’s a rejection of the very programs that made women’s full participation in the military possible. Efforts toward equity and accountability have built a stronger, more capable force. Casting them aside, critics say, not only threatens women’s gains but leaves unaddressed the systemic issues—like harassment and abuse—that undermine readiness. One of the most urgent concerns is sexual assault and harassment, which remains disproportionately high for women in uniform. In 2023, nearly 7% of active-duty women and 1.3% of men reported experiencing unwanted sexual contact. Surveys show that more than half of female service members report persistent or serious harassment, and fewer than 40% trust the military to protect their privacy if they report an incident.
Hegseth’s pledge to cut or sideline diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programs—which he has called “social justice distractions”—has drawn pointed criticism. Former Defense Secretary Leon Panetta warned against politicizing the military, saying it “should be entirely focused on protecting the country.” Senator Tammy Duckworth, a combat veteran, condemned Hegseth’s leadership, labeling him “unqualified, unethical, and unfit to be Secretary of Defense.” The concern, echoed by many, is that eliminating DEI programs could weaken the military’s ability to prevent and respond to sexual harassment and assault, ultimately harming readiness.
Hegseth’s rhetoric hasn’t stopped at policy. Last week, he bluntly called America’s troops “fat,” mandating that every “warrior” train every duty day and pass fitness tests twice a year. “Frankly, it’s tiring to look out at combat formations … and see fat troops. Likewise it’s completely unacceptable to see fat generals and admirals in the halls of the Pentagon,” he said, as reported by WIRED. This focus on physical appearance as a marker of battle-ready fortitude has become a consistent talking point for Hegseth and other Republicans. In August, Hegseth and U.S. Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. launched the “Pete and Bobby Challenge” on social media, completing 100 pushups and 50 pull-ups in under five minutes. The challenge quickly became fodder for online mockery, with left-wing accounts poking fun at Kennedy’s form and fashion choices.
The cultural and political implications of Hegseth’s “warrior culture” push are far-reaching. After young male voters shifted toward Trump by nearly 30 points in the last election, both parties are now vying for the attention of the most fitness-obsessed generation in recent memory. Fitness influencers—especially those on the right—have played a significant role in shaping the so-called “manosphere,” a digital space where themes of self-improvement, masculinity, and community through fitness dominate. Figures like Andrew Tate, who has faced criminal charges in the UK, have capitalized on this trend, using weightlifting and combat sports as platforms for their messages.
But the landscape isn’t monolithic. A growing contingent of progressive “gym bros” is pushing back. Colin Davis, a 24-year-old from North Carolina, has gained a following for ridiculing the “warrior” culture and advocating for a more inclusive gym environment. “You are not a warrior, you are not a protector, you are not defending your homeland. You are a guy that lifts weights a couple times a week and maybe goes for a run,” Davis said in one viral video. He told WIRED, “I want more people to feel like they have a spot in the gym than just like straight white guys that go ‘rah, rah, boo, fuck you.’”
Some left-leaning influencers have even signed five-figure contracts to create content promoting progressive values—a sign that Democrats are trying to counter the right’s dominance in the fitness space. Yet, as one influencer told WIRED, “It feels like no one that I’ve talked to has had a clear idea of what they really want or need. They’re just like, fuck, there’s a problem. Throw money at it, fix it.” As the 2026 midterm elections approach, Democratic politicians are following suit, posting workout videos and engaging with fitness culture online. But whether this will be enough to win back young male voters—many of whom feel “sidelined by progressive narratives that do not fully acknowledge their struggles or aspirations,” according to the SAM Project—remains to be seen.
With political violence and polarization on the rise, the stakes of these culture wars are higher than ever. As Colin Davis warned in a recent post, “They’re planning for us to turn on each other and make this culture war a civil war. I am begging you, please, for the love of God, for the love of our neighbors … do not take the bait.” The battle over what it means to be strong, to serve, and to belong in America’s armed forces—and in American society at large—is far from over.
