America asks a lot of its service members and their families. We move them frequently, often far from extended family, and we promise that life on base will be stable, safe and decent. That promise depends heavily on privatized military housing contractors, companies that stand in the shoes of the government for tens of thousands of families.
When that system works, it’s a quiet force multiplier. When it doesn’t, the consequences show up fast: health problems, disrupted family life and a corrosion of fundamental liberties.
Two recent religious freedom disputes illustrate how easily that trust can be shaken.
In Virginia, Navy Lt. Cmdr. Levi Beaird was told by a Liberty Military Housing employee to remove an “Appeal to Heaven” flag from his residence after neighbor complaints. Liberty reversed course when faced with legal action.
More recently, Balfour Beatty Military Housing Management directed Air Force Technical Sgt. Robert Durrant to remove a flag reading “Jesus is my King, Trump is my President” from his residence when sports team, LGBT and other flags had been flying on base homes for years. Asked to remedy its mistake, Balfour shamefully blamed the military rather than own its discriminatory errors. The principle at stake is straightforward: Private housing managers operating on federal installations cannot become ad hoc speech and religion tribunals.
These episodes are about more than flags. They’re about respect for America’s heroes and the values they defend. They’re reminders that military families live under capricious corporate rule while still bearing the burden of uniformed service.
These recent issues aren’t isolated. For years, military families have reported issues ranging from persistent mold and water intrusion to pests and other unsafe conditions. A 2020 Government Accountability Office report flagged the need for stronger, clearer accountability mechanisms in privatized housing. A 2025 Department of War Inspector General audit calls for much of the same, including a recommendation that the military service secretaries develop internal controls to provide better oversight.
Contractors like Balfour have not helped their own case. In 2021, the Department of Justice announced a major fraud resolution with Balfour Beatty Communities, including a guilty plea and over $65 million in fines and restitution tied to a scheme involving maintenance data falsified to secure performance incentive fees. Other large providers have faced fraud allegations as well, including a DOJ settlement with Hunt Companies tied to false information about work orders and incentive payouts.
None of this is to deny the intended value of their roles. Congress authorized privatized involvement in 1996 amid a major maintenance backlog, and these companies are meant to do work that frees military officials to perform other important duties. Both Congress and the military have taken steps in recent years to improve conditions and resident rights. But the frequent recurring pattern — habitability crises, fraud cases and religious expression controversies — should settle the question of whether light-touch supervision is enough.
The encouraging news is that the Pentagon appears to be leaning in. Secretary Pete Hegseth’s push for a departmentwide barracks investment plan and a dedicated task force signals seriousness about living conditions for junior enlisted troops. Pair that momentum with Sec. Hegseth’s insistence on respect for religious liberty — a corrective that’s sorely needed at the unit level — and you have the outlines of a durable fix for military family housing.
The system doesn’t need to be eliminated, but housing contractors do need lawful standards, fair implementation, independent audits that matter and consequences that drive adherence to the law. Our service members keep their end of the bargain to honor the Constitution and basic decency. It’s time to ensure the corporations profiting from military housing do the same.