Reimagining Albuquerque

In New Mexico, the crisis of housing has reached a boiling point — and the person most responsible for turning down the heat has consistently chosen to walk away from the stove.

New Mexico is in the throes of a housing emergency. In Albuquerque, homelessness has surged by 108% since 2017, with thousands upon thousands of people unhoused in 2023 alone. Median rents have skyrocketed by 60% between 2017 and 2024, far outpacing the national average. It’s one thing to wear designer boots — it’s another to walk in the shoes of those being crushed by this crisis. For a brief moment, the Governor let someone into her circle who could relate. And then she fired him. 

Governor Michelle Lujan Grisham’s recent firing of Daniel Werwath, one of the most respected and knowledgeable housing policy experts in the state, is not just a political misstep. It is a final, damning symbol of this administration’s complete lack of vision, coordination, and moral seriousness when it comes to solving the problems of housing, homelessness, and land-use in New Mexico.

Instead of learning from and standing with leaders like Werwath, who has actually built affordable housing, led community-based development, and advanced practical, system-level reforms, the Governor is doubling down on politically safe, ineffective strategies: throwing money at overburdened nonprofits, funneling limited resources into rental vouchers for a housing market that has no vacancies, and handing over generational development opportunities like the State Fairgrounds to establishment insiders like Marty Chavez, whose own record reflects the urban disinvestment, sprawl, and displacement that helped create this crisis in the first place.

This is not a failure of good intentions. It’s a failure of leadership.

A Crisis Ignored, a State Abandoned

Across Albuquerque, Santa Fe, and even Los Alamos — one of the wealthiest counties in the country — families cannot find affordable homes. Teachers, nurses, tradespeople, service workers, young professionals, and artists are either leaving the state or doubling and tripling up in overcrowded homes. Our cities are functionally unaffordable for the people who make them work.

And the Governor has no plan to fix it.

New Mexico has some of the highest rates of homelessness per capita in the nation. Rental costs have surged far beyond wage growth. And housing production, from affordable and workforce units to market-rate homes, remains stagnant, hobbled by outdated zoning laws, a bureaucratic permitting process, and a total absence of executive direction from the Fourth Floor.

What has the Governor done in response? She’s handed out vouchers, which routinely expire before people can find a place to use them. She’s sent money to nonprofits, many of whom are so overworked and understaffed that they can’t scale up without additional hiring — but state funding often excludes administrative and personnel costs. We ask these frontline workers to carry the weight of the crisis, then act surprised when they burn out, quit, and move to places where state leaders actually support their housing missions.

This is not just a policy failure. It’s an abdication of responsibility.

A Tale of Two Leaders: Werwath vs. Chavez

Daniel Werwath was one of the few people inside government who understood how broken New Mexico’s housing systems are and what it would take to fix them. He spoke clearly, acted boldly, and brought lived experience in community development to the table.

And that’s exactly why he’s gone.

In his place, the Governor has promoted the same tired political operators and establishment powerbrokers who helped build the low-density, exclusionary systems that created our current crisis. One of the most egregious examples is her selection of Marty Chavez to lead the development of the Fairgrounds — a once-in-a-generation opportunity to build housing, reknit neighborhoods, and correct decades of injustice.

Instead of opening that process to the public, setting clear goals around affordability, sustainability, and connectivity, and inviting grassroots leaders and planners to the table, the Governor has handed the reins to someone who represents the politics of yesterday.

Let’s be clear: the Fairgrounds could be New Mexico’s boldest urban reinvestment. It could be a model of mixed-use, mixed-income, transit-connected, pedestrian-friendly, deeply affordable development. But under this Governor’s watch, it’s becoming another backroom deal. Another missed chance. A symbol of why New Mexico just can’t catch up to its neighbors.

What Leadership Looks Like — and What Ours Is Missing

In California, Governor Gavin Newsom has pushed cities to legalize more housing and holds them accountable for not doing so. In Colorado, Governor Jared Polis made housing reform a top legislative priority, tying affordability to climate goals and land use reform. In Michigan, Governor Gretchen Whitmer backed zoning changes and invested in middle-income housing production.

In New Mexico, we fire the experts. We empower the insiders. We do nothing bold and then wonder why our developers take their money to Phoenix or Austin.

Governor Lujan Grisham has now had six years to lead. Six years to legalize more housing. Six years to support cities and counties in reforming zoning. Six years to fund housing production, not just housing paperwork. Six years to build, not just budget.

And what do we have to show for it?

Soaring rents. A rising unsheltered population. Nonprofits on life support. Urban neighborhoods fighting for scraps of funding. A tax system that favors speculation and vacancy. And a Governor who seems more interested in political maneuvering than long-term solutions.

Crisis Misdiagnosed: Troops Instead of Trust

Perhaps nothing captures the Governor’s failure to understand the true nature of New Mexico’s urban crisis more than her recent decision to deploy National Guard troops to Albuquerque.

Instead of investing in the housing, services, and systems that actually improve public safety and restore community trust, Governor Lujan Grisham declared a state of emergency and sent soldiers into the city to handle traffic and assist police; a move that does nothing to address the root causes of crime or violence.

It’s a theatrical gesture. One that mistakes presence for prevention.

In the neighborhoods where people are most vulnerable, where housing is scarce, incomes are low, and trauma is high, what people need is care, not camouflage. They need homes, jobs, healthcare, transit, and clean, safe streets. They need a Governor who treats their struggle as a call for justice, not a justification for militarization.

The deployment of troops reveals the same governing instinct behind the failed housing strategy: a preference for short-term optics over long-term investment. Whether it’s sending troops to high-need corridors or vouchers into a vacuum of affordable units, the Governor’s pattern is clear — she wants headlines, not hard work.

The Clock Is Ticking

Housing is not a side issue. It is the foundation of opportunity, safety, and equity. We cannot address public safety, public health, education, or economic development until we address the foundational scarcity of affordable, dignified, accessible places to live.

And we cannot do that when the Governor sees vouchers as victory, outsourcing as strategy, and Marty Chavez as the future.

If New Mexico is to rise to meet the challenges of the 21st century — climate resilience, workforce development, population retention, and justice — we need a housing agenda rooted in courage and clarity.

That begins by listening to those who know what it takes to build. And that means rejecting the legacy politics that got us into this mess in the first place.

Governor Lujan Grisham still has time to change course. But until she does, the blame for New Mexico’s housing crisis lies squarely at her feet.