27 March 2025
The unfolding controversy dubbed “Signal Gate” has thrust senior US officials—including Vice President JD Vance, Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth, and National Security Adviser Mike Waltz—into the spotlight. A group chat on the encrypted messaging app Signal, purportedly discussing airstrikes on Yemen’s Houthi rebels, was exposed after Atlantic editor Jeffrey Goldberg gained access and published its contents. Mainstream media outlets have seized on the incident, framing it as a grave security lapse and a sign of administrative incompetence.
However, one detail stands out as particularly striking: all 17 participants in this chat used their real names.
Not a single alias appears among them.
In the context of a privacy-focused platform like Signal, this raises serious questions about the nature of the incident—questions that suggest it may be less a blunder and more a calculated move.
Signal is designed for discretion, marketed as a tool for secure communication. It seems reasonable to expect that individuals discussing sensitive matters—particularly those of national security—would take the basic precaution of concealing their identities with pseudonyms. Yet, among 17 high-ranking officials, not one opted for anonymity. This uniformity is statistically improbable and challenges the assumption of mere carelessness. It points instead to the possibility of intent. Politicians and governments have a long history of orchestrating leaks to serve strategic ends, and this case bears the hallmarks of such a manoeuvre. As Sun Tzu wrote in The Art of War, “All warfare is based on deception”, a principle that could well apply here.
Examples of deliberate leaks abound in political history. In Australia, the Hawke government in the 1980s selectively released details of tax reform discussions to test public sentiment, while Tony Abbott’s team later fed the media information to undermine Labor’s carbon tax policy. In the United States, the Nixon administration’s leaks—sometimes intentional, as with the Pentagon Papers, shifted narratives and public perception during the Vietnam War. These precedents illustrate a common tactic: those in power allow information to surface when it aligns with their objectives. The content of the Signal Gate messages—laden with anti-European sentiment and references to the Suez Canal’s trade disparities (3% benefiting the US, 40% Europe), suggests a specific agenda. This could be a deliberate effort by the current US administration to unsettle allies and redirect global attention.
Consider the strategic context. The Trump administration has consistently positioned itself as a disruptor of traditional alliances, often criticising European nations for perceived over-reliance on American support. The leaked messages, with their pointed disdain for “free-loading” and focus on the Suez Canal, align with this stance. They could serve as a signal, both literal and figurative, that the US intends to recalibrate its role in global trade and security. The Art of War advises leaders to “appear weak when you are strong,” and a staged leak masquerading as incompetence fits this doctrine. By allowing the media to amplify a narrative of disarray, the administration might be masking a broader play: sowing discord among NATO partners, pressuring Europe to reassess its dependencies, and reinforcing America’s unpredictable posture on the world stage.
Mainstream media outlets, such as the ABC, CNN, and BBC, have predictably framed the incident as a failure of protocol, focusing on the breach rather than its implications. This response plays into the potential strategy. By fixating on procedural lapses, they inadvertently amplify the disruption, leaving little room for scrutiny of the leak’s origins. The administration’s reaction, dismissing the incident as a “glitch” and asserting no classified information was compromised, further suggests control rather than crisis. Were this a genuine error, one might expect swift disciplinary action; instead, the lack of repercussions implies a degree of orchestration.
The use of real names, rather than aliases, strengthens this hypothesis. Identifiable figures like JD Vance lend the messages authenticity and immediacy, ensuring they resonate as personal critiques rather than abstract policy statements. Anonymity would dilute their impact, reducing them to generic commentary. The very improbability of 17 officials forgoing aliases on Signal becomes the hook, drawing attention and sustaining the story’s momentum. The media, in turn, becomes an unwitting tool, broadcasting the narrative precisely as intended.
Is this conclusive evidence of a orchestrated leak? Not definitively. The possibility of human error cannot be entirely dismissed. However, the absence of even one alias among 17 seasoned officials strains credulity and invites scepticism. The Art of War reminds us that “the leader is the arbiter of the people’s fate, the man on whom it depends whether the nation shall be in peace or in peril.” If the US government has engineered this incident, it is not merely reacting to events—it is shaping them. The question remains: who is truly being deceived?