Silence is endorsement

Why former generals must speak now.

(Department of Defense)

By Brian O’Neill

By any normal measure, the abrupt removal on Thursday of Gen. Timothy D. Haugh from his dual role as head of the National Security Agency and U.S. Cyber Command should have triggered immediate bipartisan alarm. Sen. Mark Warner (D-Va.), the ranking Democrat on the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, and Rep. Jim Himes (D-Conn.), Warner’s counterpart in the House, have publicly expressed deep concern for the decision.

The Republican chairs of the House and Senate intelligence committees have so far made no public statements. However, former Senate majority leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.) has publicly questioned the judgment behind Haugh’s removal.

The White House has offered no official explanation for his removal or even confirmed it directly. A NSA spokesman on Friday would only disclose that Haugh’s deputy at Cyber Command had taken over Haugh’s CYBERCOM duties.

The White House informed Haugh that his services were no longer required and that he would be reassigned to the Pentagon’s Office of the Undersecretary of Defense for Intelligence. His civilian deputy at NSA, Wendy Noble, was also reassigned to that office.

Any speculation as to the cause—ideological, political, or personal—would be conjecture at this time. Still, Haugh’s removal might reflect a deeper shift in how President Donald Trump intends to reshape the intelligence community. The intelligence community’s core function—to deliver objective, unvarnished assessments regardless of political consequence—has never been a welcome deliverable for this president, who has consistently shown a preference for echo chambers over expertise. His recent appointments to lead the CIA, Office of the Director of National Intelligence, and the National Counterterrorism Center suggest that loyalty is becoming the primary qualification. However, that broader concern warrants separate examination.

What can be said with certainty is that a senior military officer with a confirmed record of service was relieved of command without public justification. That alone should prompt concern, particularly given its timing and the absence of any stated rationale from the White House.

This decision comes against a backdrop of a growing number of senior-level officer removals. Since returning to office in January, Trump has replaced the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Gen. Charles Q. Brown Jr.; the chief of Naval Operations, Adm. Lisa Franchetti; and the commandant of the Coast Guard, Adm. Linda Fagan. In each case, no allegations of misconduct were cited.

The common thread these past weeks is not failed performance but perceived ideological deviation.

The removal of senior military leaders without explanation is not just a personnel matter—it sends a message that professional military judgment and qualifications are subordinate to political loyalty. When such decisions go unchallenged, especially by those who once held similar commands, the effect is normalization.

That is why retired general officers, who swore the same oath and once upheld these standards, must now speak out. Not in defiance but in defense of the institutions they served.

Not individually but as a collective.

To speak out in this moment is neither insubordination nor defiance. Nor would it suggest any challenge to the fact that Trump is the duly elected commander in chief. No one should dispute that. But general officers who have served and are now retired must remember that exercising their constitutional right to raise concerns about national security is not disloyalty. It is fidelity.

Nor is speaking out questioning the president’s legitimacy. It is a question of how that authority is being applied in ways that risk undermining readiness, professionalism, and the foundational norm that the military serves the Constitution, not an individual.

Everyone who serves this country—civilian or service member—swears the same oath: “to support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.” That commitment does not—and should not—expire with the end of government service or the removal of a uniform. But such a reminder is of little value unless those officers who raised their right hand also remember what follows: “I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion.”

This is not a time for evasion.

A few former general officers—James Mattis, John Kelly, Mark Milley, and H.R. McMaster—have warned of the risks posed by Trump’s approach to civil-military relations. Their words were direct, often damning. But in the face of an accelerating purge of senior military officials, what’s needed now is not another solitary statement but a collective affirmation of principle by the broader community of retired senior military leaders. The absence of that unity, that sense of shared institutional alarm, risks being read not as prudence but as permission.

That responsibility does not fall on any one former commander alone. But collectively, those officers who once led the armed forces—who understand both the military’s constitutional role and the fragility of its norms—can offer the country a stabilizing signal.

There is precedent for speaking out collectively when institutional norms are at risk. That understanding drove an extraordinary step in early January 2021: all 10 living former Secretaries of Defense—from Dick Cheney to Leon Panetta—issued a joint letter reminding Pentagon officials of their oath to the Constitution, not to any individual or party. Without naming Trump, the letter made clear that the military had no role in resolving election disputes, warned against unlawful or unconstitutional orders, and cautioned that those who directed or carried out such actions could face criminal penalties. It urged the Defense Department to carry out the transition of power “fully, cooperatively and transparently.”

The Intelligence Community also recognized the stakes when institutional tools were repurposed for political retribution. In October 2018, 13 former senior intelligence officials—12 of them former CIA directors or deputy directors—signed a public letter denouncing Trump’s decision to revoke John Brennan’s security clearance. The move, they wrote, had “nothing to do with who should and should not hold security clearances—and everything to do with an attempt to stifle free speech.” Without endorsing Brennan’s rhetoric, the signatories agreed that using a national security tool to punish political criticism was “inappropriate and deeply regrettable.”

These acts of collective warning mattered. They reaffirmed institutional boundaries when they were under strain. But precedent alone will not stop what’s unfolding now. The military is facing a different kind of erosion—one carried out through opaque removals, unspoken litmus tests, and the quiet installation of loyalty over merit.

Where in any doctrinal text is the removal of officers without cause or transparency described as a sound or sustainable practice? The longer this continues without principled objection, the harder it becomes to prompt corrective action—or even to generate the public awareness and outrage such moves should demand.

Those in uniform cannot speak freely. That burden falls to those who can. No law prohibits retired officers from raising alarms—at least for now. What restrains them now is culture, caution, and an outdated sense that silence is somehow safer than dissent.

That hesitation only deepens the void. If not now, when?

Maybe the clearest way to say it is what we were taught as young infantry officers: When the enemy is nearly on top of you, you might have no choice but to call for artillery strike just feet from your own position. You radio in, “Danger close. Fire for effect.”

It’s time to do so.

Brian O’Neill, a retired senior executive from the CIA and National Counterterrorism Center, is an instructor on strategic intelligence at Georgia Tech.

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