As federal law enforcement officers and National Guard troops flood into Washington, D.C. and Los Angeles under President Trump’s orders, a fierce national debate has erupted over the legality, necessity, and political motivations behind these deployments—especially in predominantly Black and Democratic-led cities. The president, citing the need to fight crime, has not only threatened to take over these urban centers by decree but has also called upon Republican governors from states like Ohio, Tennessee, Louisiana, Mississippi, South Carolina, and West Virginia to send their National Guard units to assist in his crackdown on crime in the nation’s capital.
This aggressive federal intervention has drawn sharp criticism from local leaders and civil rights advocates, who argue that the move is less about public safety and more about political theater and racial intimidation. According to The Hill, critics have condemned the deployments as “nefarious acts of political provocation,” with many pointing out that the legality of using federal police and the National Guard in this manner is, at best, questionable. The debate has taken on an added layer of complexity as Black police officers and soldiers find themselves at the center of the controversy, wrestling with whether to follow orders they believe may be unlawful or to resist through officially sanctioned channels.
History offers a sobering perspective on the dilemma faced by Black law enforcement and military personnel. All federal police and soldiers swear an oath to uphold the Constitution, not to blindly follow orders from superiors. Legal experts, as cited by The Hill, note that officers and soldiers have the right—and sometimes the duty—to refuse orders that are illegal. The Uniform Code of Military Justice, the Army Field Manual, and federal regulations protect this right of refusal. However, the consequences for defiance can be severe, as history shows.
One of the most notable acts of Black dissent occurred in August 1968, when 60 Black soldiers from the Army’s First Armored Division at Fort Hood, Texas, refused orders to deploy to Chicago for riot control during the Democratic National Convention. This protest, which took place just months after the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., resulted in 43 soldiers being arrested, court-martialed, and sentenced to six months of hard labor, a forfeiture of two-thirds of their wages, and reductions in rank. Despite the harsh penalties, these men—known as the “Fort Hood 43”—were celebrated within the Black community for their courage in standing up to what they saw as an unjust order.
Throughout the Vietnam War and the civil unrest of the 1960s, Black soldiers and National Guard members found creative ways to express their dissent, from adopting empowering fashions and symbols to forming support groups and advocating for change from within. According to Wallace Terry’s book Bloods: Black Veterans of the Vietnam War, such acts of resistance, while risky, helped to create space for policy reforms and to protect the rights of the public.
Today, Black law enforcement organizations continue this legacy of advocacy. The National Organization of Black Law Enforcement Executives has been vocal in its calls for systemic reform, including de-escalation training, the abolition of chokeholds, and the swift intervention of officers to stop excessive force. These reforms, they argue, are essential for building trust between police and the communities they serve—trust that is now being tested by the Trump administration’s sweeping use of federal power.
The legal framework governing the use of the military in domestic law enforcement is rooted in the Posse Comitatus Act of 1878, which was enacted to prevent the federal government from using the Army to enforce laws within states unless specifically authorized by Congress or the Constitution. Yet, as The Hill reports, the Trump administration has found ways to circumvent these protections—most notably by invoking the Insurrection Act of 1807 to deploy troops without state authorization and by exploiting the unique status of the District of Columbia National Guard, which is always under presidential control. The administration has also used “Title 32 status” to encourage governors to send their Guard units to other states, sometimes against the wishes of local leaders.
For cities like Baltimore, the federal intervention has been met with skepticism and outright rejection. On August 21, 2025, Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott made it clear that his city does not need the National Guard to reduce gun violence. “We know that the National Guard is not the way. That's not what those soldiers signed up to do,” Scott stated, as reported by WBAL-TV. Instead, he called on President Trump to send more federal law enforcement resources to support the city’s ongoing efforts. Scott highlighted that Baltimore is experiencing its lowest number of homicides on record, with a 28.8% decrease in homicides and a 19.2% decrease in non-fatal shootings in the first half of 2025 compared to the previous year.
Scott credited this progress to years of planning and collaboration with local FBI, DEA, and ATF counterparts, as well as the tireless work of police and community violence intervention workers. “Allowing them to have more agents would be allowing them to work alongside BPD,” he argued, emphasizing that federal support should come in the form of partnerships rather than military deployments. He also criticized the Trump administration for cutting public safety grants that supported local crime reduction and victim services, and renewed his call for a national ban on ghost guns and Glock switches—measures he believes are crucial for lasting change.
Meanwhile, the deployment of National Guard troops from states with their own significant crime challenges has raised eyebrows. A CNN review of FBI data from 2024 revealed that at least ten cities in the states sending troops to D.C. had higher violent crime or homicide rates than the capital itself, which ranked 17th among major cities for violent crime. Cities like Cleveland, Memphis, Jackson, and Shreveport all surpassed D.C. in crime statistics, prompting critics to question the logic and motivations behind the deployments. “It speaks to their lack of genuineness,” said Rena Karefa-Johnson, vice president at the criminal justice reform group FWD.us. “Public safety is being used—as it often is—as a pretext to attack, target and terrorize specific communities.”
Some Republican officials have openly acknowledged the political nature of these actions. Senator Thom Tillis told CBS News that the deployments were “100%” about pleasing President Trump, rather than addressing genuine public safety concerns. Local leaders in states like Ohio and Tennessee have also questioned the wisdom of sending troops to D.C. while their own cities grapple with high crime rates and the loss of federal support for anti-violence programs.
As nearly 2,000 soldiers and airmen patrol the streets of Washington, D.C., and the debate over federal intervention intensifies, Black police and soldiers once again find themselves at a crossroads—torn between their sworn duty to uphold the Constitution and the demands of a political moment that threatens to undermine the very communities they are meant to protect.
The current standoff over federal deployments, state autonomy, and community safety is more than a legal or political dispute; it’s a test of the nation’s commitment to justice, accountability, and the principles enshrined in its founding documents.
