To critics, President Trump’s threat to deploy the military to fight crime and unrest in America’s cities is a nightmare scenario, a pretext for martial law and a potential assault on democracy.
But starting next month, dozens of National Guard troops will be on the streets of a deeply Democratic city, Albuquerque, in a deeply Democratic state, New Mexico. And they are being deployed by the state’s governor, Michelle Lujan Grisham, a Democrat. She said they are needed to help the strained police force confront a crisis of violent crime and fentanyl use.
“The situation in Albuquerque has reached an unacceptable crisis point,” she said. “We simply cannot wait for traditional solutions to take effect.”
Few residents of Albuquerque would deny the scourge of violence in a neighborhood bisected by Route 66 and home to dense blocks of auto shops, immigrant-run businesses and working-class families. Officially, it is the International District. But many call it the War Zone.
The governor’s move to deploy Guard troops more commonly seen at wildfires, hurricanes and tornadoes has divided locals, reflecting the broader civil war within the Democratic Party over crime and disorder. It is already emerging as an issue among the Democrats who seek to succeed her in the governor’s office in Santa Fe.
Some praised the Guard’s arrival, saying extra resources could help to restore order before the 100-year anniversary of Route 66 brings thousands of tourists to Albuquerque next year. Critics called it an invasion of a neglected neighborhood that desperately needs better housing and services.
“What’s the difference between Trump and the governor if they’re both rolling out the military?” asked Enrique Cardiel, a longtime community organizer who helps run a monthly potluck in the neighborhood.
Under the governor’s plan, the Guard troops will deploy across Albuquerque but will focus on the area around Route 66, a strip of fading, neon-lit Americana that is now home to homeless encampments, shuttered motels, people smoking fentanyl on the sidewalks and a corner market where seven murders have occurred since 2020
The area has grappled with gangs and drug-related violence stretching back decades, residents said, but crime and homelessness have soared since the Covid pandemic. Retailers have fled. People have built steel security fences around their pueblo-style homes.
But debate lingers over whether that calls for military action. The governor and her allies are quick to say there’s plenty of difference between the state’s plan and the deployments Mr. Trump has entertained.
“This isn’t about militarizing our streets,” Ms. Lujan Grisham said in an email, sent while she was traveling in Asia last week. She framined the deployment as “bold, decisive action.”
She said the Guard’s role of supporting law enforcement would be completely different than the domestic uses of the military that Mr. Trump has entertained, such as patrolling the border, quelling protests or fighting crime.
“There’s a clear line between supporting law enforcement with specialized capabilities versus using troops to perform law enforcement functions,” she said. “Our operation is a targeted, strategic deployment requested by local officials who are on the front lines of this crisis.”
Ms. Lujan Grisham, who will complete her second and final term in 2026, has made confronting New Mexico’s high rates of violent crime a central issue in her final years as governor, and the issue is likely to shape the Democratic primary to replace her between Sam Bregman, the district attorney in Albuquerque, and Deb Haaland, the progressive former congresswoman and Interior secretary.
This spring, Ms. Lujan Grisham scolded fellow Democrats in the state Legislature for failing to pass new laws to address a surge in juvenile crime. After three people were killed in a shooting at a park in the border town of Las Cruces last month, she suggested calling lawmakers back for a special session focused on “our ongoing public safety crisis.”
She issued the emergency declaration in response to a request for help from Albuquerque’s police chief, Harold Medina, made in March. City officials say the 950-officer department is chronically understaffed, like many nationwide, and that putting Guard troops into supporting roles would free up more officers to patrol the streets, respond to complaints and investigate violent crimes.
About 60 to 70 National Guard members will deploy to Albuquerque. They will not have the power to arrest people or do any direct police work, officials say, and will not carry guns, be in uniform or roll down Route 66 in Humvees. Instead, they will wear polo shirts and khakis, and carry radios and — maybe — pepper spray, officials said. The effort is expected to cost the state about $750,000 a month.
The Guard troops are likely to transport detainees to jail, direct traffic around accidents or crime scenes, monitor security cameras, or help with airport security, officials say. Some may end up giving aid to fentanyl users, or handing out water to homeless people when the pounding summer temperatures hit 100 or higher.
It is hardly the first time Guard soldiers have been deployed beyond the bounds of a natural disaster. Thousands responded to chaotic protests after George Floyd’s killing in 2020, and Gov. Kathy Hochul of New York, a Democrat, sent hundreds to assist with an influx of migrants two years ago. In Texas, Gov. Greg Abbott, a Republican, dispatched rifle-carrying Texas National Guard troops as part of a border-security operation.
In New Mexico, Guard troops deployed as substitute teachers during the pandemic, when Covid depleted the ranks of teachers, and responded to record-breaking wildfires. Some Guard members said deploying in Albuquerque was a chance to address a different kind of emergency.
“It’s definitely not an invasion,” said Staff Sgt. Richard Aragon. “The military’s just there to help the police officers and the community.”
But critics say the Guard’s deployment to the streets of Albuquerque puts citizen-soldiers into a fraught role. Should they be required to wear body cameras, as Albuquerque police officers are? What if they get into a physical confrontation while securing the perimeter of a volatile crime scene?
“There is a ton of liability,” Sheriff John Allen of Bernalillo County, which includes Albuquerque, said in a social media post. He said he had declined to deputize any Guard members. “Lines can be skewed. I don’t want people to feel like we’re militarizing our community.”
The complexities of their mission were on display last week, when several dozen Guard troops sat in an auditorium watching a slide presentation about how to transport a prisoner. An instructor from the New Mexico State Police ticked through a minefield of challenges: how to buckle them in safely; how to search for drugs or weapons; how to check the tightness of their handcuffs; how to prevent an escape; the proper holds to use to escort a detainee.
“You guys might have to testify,” the instructor cautioned. “You’re always under the spotlight.”
On the streets of the International District, some residents welcomed the Guard’s upcoming arrival while others dismissed it as the latest in a string of cleanups and crackdowns. Heather Still, 49, a retired nurse, recently called 911 when a woman overdosed behind her apartment building, and said she welcomed any help from anywhere.
“It’s gotten really bad,” she said.
Albuquerque officials say they have been making progress. Property crimes like auto theft, burglary and shoplifting are down by double digits this year compared with 2024, and homicides were about 40 percent below last year’s numbers, the police said. Albuquerque has cleared encampments and opened tiny-home villages. A public-safety campaign led by Mr. Bregman, the Bernalillo County district attorney, the county sheriff and others has resulted in more than 500 arrests and the seizure of 35,000 fentanyl pills and 40 guns, officials said.
Tony Johnson, a deacon at Highland Baptist Church, doubted much would change. People frequently camp and use drugs on church property, he said, and when he asked three men to leave one day last year, one of them struck him with a metal pipe, crushing the bones in one hand. It is still scarred and swollen, and some in his congregation now refuse to leave their homes at night.
“People don’t have any hope,” he said, driving past an apartment building where a 17-year-old would be arrested in a fatal shooting two days later. “Fifteen-year-olds, 16-year-olds, what are they doing with guns? But is that the National Guard’s responsibility, to figure that out?”
