The 'Signalgate' Fiasco: A Deeper Look From an Intelligence Professional's Perspective, Without Partisan Hype

Was it just a woeful blunder? Or a genuinely serious security breach?

When the story first broke that a group of Trump administration officials accidentally invited a journalist into a Signal chat where war planning was allegedly being discussed, social media lit up with mockery and outrage. Democrats called for resignations. Republicans scrambled to downplay the story. It was Hillary’s private email server all over again, but with the teams reversed, and the partisan outrage a bit louder, and more intense.

But the partisan outrage tends to mask actual analysis and makes it hard to assess — was this just an embarrassing political moment, the kind that comes and goes in the 24-hour news cycle? Or was it something more serious—a genuine, meaningful breach of operational security that should concern us regardless of which political team we’re on?

Here’s my take, from the point of view of an intelligence professional—an attempt at a fair assessment.

What Actually Happened?

In early March 2025, National Security Advisor Mike Waltz created a Signal group chat titled “Houthi PC small group”—a reference to the “Principals Committee,” which typically includes the highest-ranking national security officials in the executive branch. The chat included:

• Vice President JD Vance

• Secretary of State Marco Rubio

• Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth

• Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard

• CIA Director John Ratcliffe

• Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent

• White House Chief of Staff Susie Wiles

• Deputy Chief of Staff Stephen Miller

• Special Envoy to the Middle East Steve Witkoff

• And Mike Waltz himself, as National Security Advisor

But in the process of setting up the group, someone—either Waltz or someone on his staff—accidentally added Jeffrey Goldberg, the editor-in-chief of The Atlantic.

Goldberg, to his credit, quickly realized the mistake. He observed the messages silently, without participating, then removed himself from the chat. His exit would have triggered an alert to the group’s creator, but no one followed up. Days later, Goldberg published a piece detailing what he had seen: active discussion of an upcoming U.S. military strike against Houthi targets in Yemen. The group reportedly discussed specific details—targeting, weapons systems, and timing.

Adding to the concern: during this time, Steve Witkoff was in Moscow, reportedly meeting with Russian President Vladimir Putin. Another member may have been in a foreign capital as well. That means at least one participant in the Signal chat was accessing sensitive communications from within the borders of a hostile foreign power—apparently using a personal or non-secure device.

The accidental invitation of a journalist is what made headlines. But it's the existence of the chat itself that may turn out to be the real scandal.

What Are the Elements of the Breach?

When the story first broke, the attention focused on the mistake of adding a journalist to a secret war-planning chat. That is, without question, a breach. But it’s the kind of breach we’d call an “accidental blunder”—akin to a diplomat leaving a classified laptop in a taxi or a staffer printing confidential documents and forgetting them on a train.

Those kinds of lapses are serious, but their severity depends on the context. If the laptop, for example, was properly secured and authorized for travel, then the loss is unfortunate but not willfully reckless. If, on the other hand, it was never supposed to leave a secure facility, then we’re talking about a deliberate violation of policy.

Apply that logic here.

The addition of Jeffrey Goldberg to the Signal chat appears to have been an honest mistake. But the bigger question is: why were senior U.S. officials convening on Signal in the first place?

To understand that, you have to understand the perennial tension in national security between security and efficiency.

Good security is inefficient by design. Viewing classified materials, sharing sensitive plans, or holding secure discussions typically requires leaving your phone behind, traveling to a SCIF, and operating under carefully controlled conditions.

Signal, by contrast, offers immediate, mobile, real-time communication. It’s convenient, fast, and popular among people who need to communicate off-grid. It’s also wildly insecure at the device level. No matter how strong the app’s encryption, it’s only as safe as the phone it runs on—and personal smartphones, especially when taken abroad, are incredibly vulnerable to malware, spyware, or remote access.

So maybe the decision was made in favor of efficiency. Maybe the thinking was: “We need something quick and responsive. Signal is encrypted. These are trusted people. Let’s just do it.”

But even if the decision was made in good faith, it contradicts the protocols developed over decades to guard against precisely these kinds of vulnerabilities. These protocols aren’t optional. They exist because adversaries—from Russia to China to Iran—spend billions trying to intercept precisely this kind of information.

And when the chat includes someone sitting in Moscow, within reach of Russian signals intelligence, the risk escalates even further.

So yes, Signal might offer convenience. But every professional in intelligence, defense, or secure communications will tell you: the moment you trade security for convenience, you've already lost.

Was This About Avoiding Oversight?

There’s another possibility we can’t ignore: that Signal wasn’t chosen just for efficiency—but also for deniability.

Unlike government communication systems, Signal doesn’t keep records. It’s encrypted end-to-end. Messages can auto-delete. There’s no FOIA trail. No email archive. No compliance requirement to save logs.

That’s great if you’re protecting a source. Not so great if you’re planning a military strike.

The officials in this chat—Hegseth, Rubio, Ratcliffe, Gabbard, and others—aren’t amateurs. They know the rules. They understand the limits of what should and shouldn’t be discussed outside of official channels. And yet, they chose to coordinate through a platform that ensured nothing would be preserved or subject to oversight.

Was that an accident? Or a feature?

If the goal was to bypass National Security Council protocols, limit internal dissent, or shield conversations from scrutiny—then we’re no longer talking about sloppy decision-making. We’re talking about a shadow decision-making process: a backchannel that functioned not just as a workaround, but as the primary venue for planning military action.

Backchannels have a place in diplomacy. But they’re meant to supplement—not replace—official structures. When they become the central command hub, and when the participants are the top officials of the national security apparatus, then you’re dealing with something fundamentally incompatible with a transparent, accountable system of governance.

What Would an Investigation Seek to Learn?

If this were to be taken seriously—by Congress, the Pentagon, or an Inspector General—a real investigation would be launched to determine just how deep this breach goes. The purpose wouldn’t just be to embarrass people. It would be to clarify the facts, identify vulnerabilities, and make sure it doesn’t happen again.

Here’s what an investigation would need to establish:

• Who authorized the use of Signal for national security communication? Was there any directive—verbal or written—that permitted this group to use Signal in lieu of secure channels?

• Was classified or compartmented information shared in the chat? If so, that alone would trigger mandatory reporting requirements and possibly legal consequences.

• Were records preserved, or were messages set to auto-delete? This affects not only the legality of the chat under federal records laws, but also the ability to reconstruct decisions after the fact.

• What was the intent behind using Signal? Was it a temporary workaround due to logistical constraints, or a deliberate strategy to bypass oversight?

• How did Jeffrey Goldberg get added? Was it user error, or a deeper issue with the group’s formation or management?

• Were any participants accessing the chat from hostile territories, like Russia? This directly impacts the likelihood of foreign interception and espionage.

• What devices were used, and were they personal or government-issued? Device integrity is central to evaluating how secure the chat truly was.

• Did Signal serve as the primary venue for decision-making, or was it supplemental? If key military decisions were made there, it changes the stakes dramatically.

• Have other informal channels been used by this group or others for similar purposes? This would determine whether this was an isolated incident or part of a broader pattern.

• Were there post-incident efforts to cover up, minimize, or obscure the nature of the chat? Discrepancies between public statements and private records would be critical to assess.

These are not partisan questions. They are governance questions. They go to the heart of how power is exercised—and whether it is subject to any constraints.

Conclusion: In a Functioning Democracy, This Would Be Investigated

In a normal, functioning democracy, a security lapse of this kind—one involving senior leaders, military planning, and the use of unauthorized communications tools—would not be left to fade into the news cycle. There would be a thorough inquiry. A serious report. Clear lines of accountability.

But today, it’s not clear we live in that kind of democracy.

Inspectors General have been fired. Oversight mechanisms have been politicized. Congress is paralyzed by hyperpartisan gridlock, with Republican leadership unlikely to pursue answers that could reflect poorly on their own allies. And public fatigue with scandal has created a culture in which even serious breaches are dismissed as just more noise.

But this can’t be dismissed.

This isn’t about petty politics or partisan sniping. It’s about how national security decisions are made, who gets to make them, and whether any meaningful oversight still exists. The decision to use Signal—to plan military action, outside of official systems, involving the highest levels of government—demands scrutiny. Not because it’s a juicy scandal, but because it's a sign of a larger erosion.

A healthy democracy doesn’t need outrage to function. It needs integrity, transparency, and systems that correct themselves when they go off-course.

That correction starts with asking the right questions—and not looking away when the answers are uncomfortable.