Every few years, Washington rediscovers the same stunt: if you can’t fix the border, pose next to it in uniform.
This week’s version comes with a historical flourish. The administration has expanded use of the 1907 Roosevelt Reservation — a 60-foot strip of federal land along the U.S.–Mexico border — stretching it from California to New Mexico. It’s legal. It’s real. It’s also about as subtle as a drum roll before a campaign speech.
Cue the troops.
The move sounds muscular. Old law. Federal authority. Boots on the ground. Chest out. Cameras rolling. If Theodore Roosevelt were alive, half the press office would be invoking his name like a charm against criticism.
But this isn’t policy. It’s optics wrapped in camouflage.
The Roosevelt Reservation was created so the federal government could maintain border infrastructure without tripping over land disputes. It was never meant to substitute for immigration law, asylum reform, or an enforcement system that works when no one’s watching.
What the press releases don’t mention is where those troops come from.
They’re National Guard units and active-duty support forces pulled out of normal training and readiness cycles — engineers, military police, aviation, logistics. Units with training calendars, certification requirements, and warfighting tasks that don’t pause just because a border deployment polls well.
When they go south, something else doesn’t happen.
Yes, the military will say this is “real-world experience.” That’s technically true. It’s also misleading.
Standing watch, stringing wire, flying surveillance loops, or providing logistical support along the border is not training for high-end conflict. It doesn’t prepare units for peer adversaries, contested logistics, electronic warfare, or combined-arms maneuver. A month on the border is a month not spent preparing for the missions the force is actually built for.
You can call it readiness if you like, but the arithmetic doesn’t change.
This is the same old trade Washington keeps making: short-term optics in exchange for long-term readiness debt. The bill doesn’t arrive immediately, which makes it politically convenient — until it isn’t.
And notice what this deployment still doesn’t do.
It doesn’t fix asylum backlogs.
It doesn’t add immigration judges.
It doesn’t address labor demand driving migration.
It doesn’t touch cartel finance.
It doesn’t build a system that functions after the cameras move on.
What it does do is let the administration say it’s “taking control” without passing legislation, negotiating compromises, or admitting that the problem is structural rather than theatrical.
Which brings us to the most revealing detail of all.
Yesterday, the troops received a participation medal for their appearance at the border.
That’s not a knock on the service members — they go where they’re sent and do what they’re told. But awarding a ribbon for showing up perfectly captures the spirit of this deployment. When policy is thin, symbolism gets thicker. When results are scarce, optics get commemorated.
The administration got its visuals. The border remains broken. Training time disappeared quietly. And the troops got a ribbon to mark the moment.
That’s not strategy. That’s stagecraft.
You can thump your chest, or you can do the work. One looks great on camera. The other actually solves problems. History suggests Washington knows the difference — and keeps choosing the easier shot.