When Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth directed Navy Secretary John Phelan to rename the USNS Harvey Milk, most headlines focused on the politics of the moment. But they missed the deeper problem: we have allowed the Navy’s ship naming process to become a vehicle for political messaging instead of a reflection of shared national values.
The U.S. Navy once named ships to inspire unity, not controversy. Vessels like Enterprise, Constitution, and Liberty evoked our ideals, our heritage, and our resolve. Even when ships bore individual names, they were those of towering figures like Washington, Farragut, and Nimitz. These were men whose service and sacrifice were broadly acknowledged across political lines. That tradition has eroded in recent decades. Today, ships are increasingly named after polarizing figures whose legacies serve current political agendas more than enduring national values.
From Valor to Virtue Signaling: The Decline of Navy Naming Traditions
Ship-naming disputes are not new, but they have become more frequent, more political, and more disconnected from tradition. As detailed in a USNI News review of naming controversies spanning from the 1790s to today, deviations from established naming conventions have often reflected political pressure rather than principle. Recent decades have seen a surge in ships named for sitting or recently retired politicians, cultural activists, and divisive public figures, often in direct contradiction to long-standing class-based naming conventions.
When Politics Trump Principle: The Case Against the USNS Harvey Milk
The USNS Harvey Milk is a case in point. Milk is frequently honored as a pioneer of LGBTQ rights and a martyr to intolerance, but his personal conduct raises serious questions. According to Randy Shilts and other biographers, Milk, then 33, engaged in a sexual relationship with Jack Galen McKinley, a vulnerable 16-year-old runaway. McKinley was not an isolated case. Biographical accounts reveal a broader pattern in which Milk, well into his 30s and 40s, preyed on teenage boys, often targeting runaways and emotionally unstable minors. These were not romantic relationships; they were acts of exploitation. The boys involved were victims. One attempted suicide. While Milk’s behavior went largely unchallenged at the time, it fits the profile of a serial predator and would be grounds for disqualification from any military honor today.
That is what makes this case particularly egregious. The naming occurred at the height of the #MeToo movement, when military leaders were pledging reform, accountability, and a hard look in the mirror. The services were rightly investigating patterns of abuse, failures in command climate, and how power imbalances left younger troops vulnerable to exploitation. Against that backdrop, the decision to name a ship after someone with a well-documented pattern of sexually exploiting teenage boys sends a deeply contradictory message. It suggests that if the politics are right, in this case advancing a symbolic gesture toward the LGBTQ agenda, then even predatory behavior can be excused or ignored.
It is difficult to imagine the Navy naming a ship after any public figure, regardless of sexual orientation, with a known history of engaging in relationships with minors. In most cases, such revelations would disqualify someone from public honor, sparking justified outrage and calls for accountability. But in this case, sociopolitical objectives overrode ethical consistency. That should concern anyone who believes the military must uphold clear, apolitical standards, especially in decisions that carry such symbolic weight.
Beyond the Milk controversy, the broader trend is equally troubling. In recent decades, ships have been named after politicians, cultural figures, and partisan activists whose legacies divide more than they unite.
Consider the USS Carl Vinson, named for a longtime congressman who played a critical role in building the modern Navy, but also spent decades opposing civil rights legislation as a staunch segregationist.
When Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth directed Navy Secretary John Phelan to rename the USNS Harvey Milk, most headlines focused on the politics of the moment. But they missed the deeper problem: we have allowed the Navy’s ship naming process to become a vehicle for political messaging instead of a reflection of shared national values.
The U.S. Navy once named ships to inspire unity, not controversy. Vessels like Enterprise, Constitution, and Liberty evoked our ideals, our heritage, and our resolve. Even when ships bore individual names, they were those of towering figures like Washington, Farragut, and Nimitz. These were men whose service and sacrifice were broadly acknowledged across political lines. That tradition has eroded in recent decades. Today, ships are increasingly named after polarizing figures whose legacies serve current political agendas more than enduring national values.
From Valor to Virtue Signaling: The Decline of Navy Naming Traditions
Ship-naming disputes are not new, but they have become more frequent, more political, and more disconnected from tradition. As detailed in a USNI News review of naming controversies spanning from the 1790s to today, deviations from established naming conventions have often reflected political pressure rather than principle. Recent decades have seen a surge in ships named for sitting or recently retired politicians, cultural activists, and divisive public figures, often in direct contradiction to long-standing class-based naming conventions.
When Politics Trump Principle: The Case Against the USNS Harvey Milk
The USNS Harvey Milk is a case in point. Milk is frequently honored as a pioneer of LGBTQ rights and a martyr to intolerance, but his personal conduct raises serious questions. According to Randy Shilts and other biographers, Milk, then 33, engaged in a sexual relationship with Jack Galen McKinley, a vulnerable 16-year-old runaway. McKinley was not an isolated case. Biographical accounts reveal a broader pattern in which Milk, well into his 30s and 40s, preyed on teenage boys, often targeting runaways and emotionally unstable minors. These were not romantic relationships; they were acts of exploitation. The boys involved were victims. One attempted suicide. While Milk’s behavior went largely unchallenged at the time, it fits the profile of a serial predator and would be grounds for disqualification from any military honor today.
That is what makes this case particularly egregious. The naming occurred at the height of the #MeToo movement, when military leaders were pledging reform, accountability, and a hard look in the mirror. The services were rightly investigating patterns of abuse, failures in command climate, and how power imbalances left younger troops vulnerable to exploitation. Against that backdrop, the decision to name a ship after someone with a well-documented pattern of sexually exploiting teenage boys sends a deeply contradictory message. It suggests that if the politics are right, in this case advancing a symbolic gesture toward the LGBTQ agenda, then even predatory behavior can be excused or ignored.
It is difficult to imagine the Navy naming a ship after any public figure, regardless of sexual orientation, with a known history of engaging in relationships with minors. In most cases, such revelations would disqualify someone from public honor, sparking justified outrage and calls for accountability. But in this case, sociopolitical objectives overrode ethical consistency. That should concern anyone who believes the military must uphold clear, apolitical standards, especially in decisions that carry such symbolic weight.
Beyond the Milk controversy, the broader trend is equally troubling. In recent decades, ships have been named after politicians, cultural figures, and partisan activists whose legacies divide more than they unite.
Consider the USS Carl Vinson, named for a longtime congressman who played a critical role in building the modern Navy, but also spent decades opposing civil rights legislation as a staunch segregationist.
Then there’s the USNS John Lewis. While Lewis is rightly remembered for his civil rights activism, his long tenure in Congress was marked by deeply partisan rhetoric and opposition to multiple administrations.
The USS Gabrielle Giffords marked a clear departure from tradition, named while she was still a sitting congresswoman and without any military service or national security legacy to justify the honor.
Even the trend of naming ships after modern presidents, with the notable exception of George Washington, introduces partisanship by honoring figures chosen through divisive elections.
Taken together, these decisions have turned warships into floating billboards for domestic politics. They undermine their intended role as symbols of unity, valor, and national purpose.
Ship names matter. They are symbols, broadcast across the globe, of who we are and what we value. They project power, identity, and history. That is why they should be chosen with care, with humility, and with an eye toward unity rather than division. Warships are not monuments to political movements, morally compromised figures, or partisan cultural agendas. They are the tools of national defense, and their names should reflect timeless values, shared sacrifice, and national pride, not the political preferences of whoever happens to hold office at the time.
A Course Correction: Restoring Integrity to Naval Ship Naming
There is a better path forward. The Navy should return to naming ships after battles that shaped history, like Yorktown or Midway, values we aspire to, like Courage or Resolve, or service members whose actions truly embody the highest standards of character and sacrifice. If ships are going to bear individual names, they should come from the ranks of Medal of Honor and Navy Cross recipients. These are individuals whose courage and conduct in uniform not only unite the nation, but motivate current and future generations to serve with honor.
The Navy should stop naming warships after partisan politicians, performative ideologues, and morally compromised figures. These decisions should reflect honor and a sense of national purpose, not headlines or agendas. If the Navy wants to inspire the next generation, it should start by choosing names that actually deserve to be remembered.
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