Outside Union Station, armed soldiers and a military vehicle stood watch, a striking display of state power in one of Washington’s busiest public squares. Credit: Jacob Sandobal

Quick Take

Jacob Sandobal, a Watsonville native and University of San Francisco politics major, is interning for Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer this summer and has watched as National Guard troops fill the capital. Here, he reflects on the stark contrast between militarized Washington, D.C., and the community-driven civic life he experienced in Santa Cruz County. True democratic power, he argues, comes not from uniforms and rifles but from young people, families and neighbors who step up with courage, trust and participation.

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In Washington, D.C., democracy wears a uniform. 

When I first walked past a National Guard patrol in Washington this summer as a Senate intern, I was struck by how ordinary the scene seemed for everyone else. For me, it felt anything but normal. The sight of soldiers with weapons of war and trucks outside the Union Station is a constant reminder of how fragile our democracy feels in the very place it is supposed to be most secure.

Back home in Watsonville and Santa Cruz, civic life looks very different. Power doesn’t appear in camouflage uniforms or armored vehicles; it emerges through participation. The visibility of military authority in D.C. makes me ask what kind of power we value most: the power of force, or the power of community.

I grew up seeing it firsthand as a graduate of St. Francis Salesian College Prep. Youth organized climate marches. Families rallied for immigrant rights. Parents testified against pesticide use near schools. These were not movements led by uniforms or Humvees, but by neighbors who believed their voices mattered. That taught me that real power comes from trust and determination, not force and weakness masquerading as strength from the White House.

One moment stays with me. On my way across the Capitol grounds, I stopped in front of a National Guard truck parked near an intersection. Tourists didn’t give it a second glance. But I couldn’t help thinking about what that image teaches my generation: that democracy expects threats so constant it must always be under watch.

Immigrant workers planting American flags outside the U.S. Department of Labor’s Frances Perkins Building, a powerful reminder that those who contribute most to the nation’s backbone are too often left out of its promises. Credit: Jacob Sandobal

Democracy here feels fragile enough to require military reinforcement. 

In Santa Cruz County, young people step up when their communities call, whether it’s organizing food drives, leading after-school programs or mobilizing voters. Our strength doesn’t come from intimidation. It comes from participation. Power in Watsonville has always been about connection, not control.

Some argue the Guard is necessary to protect democracy from real dangers, and I don’t dismiss that. But I worry about the lesson it teaches young people stepping into public life. What message does that send to young people about their role in shaping the future? It suggests that civic life belongs to those with the ability to enforce, not those with the courage to engage.  

I worry about what that normalization does to trust. In Santa Cruz and Watsonville, trust is the glue that holds our communities together. Farmworkers fight for better working conditions. High school students demand representation and mental health awareness. Neighbors rally for affordable housing. All rely on trust – trust that leaders will listen, systems will respond and voices will count. 

That trust is especially vital in communities like ours, which have been targeted for being sanctuary cities. For immigrant families, the promise that local leaders will protect and include them is what makes civic life possible. Replace that trust with soldiers, and you chip away at the very foundation of civic participation.

For youth especially, it sends the wrong lesson. If our first experience of democracy is one that is militarized, it risks discouraging us from believing in our own agency. It tells us to step back, not step forward. That’s the opposite of what we need.

Because the truth is, young people already hold a power the National Guard cannot provide. We hold the power of ideas, energy and persistence. We organize, vote, run for office and question authority. I’ve seen peers step into leadership before they could even drive. They didn’t need rifles to be powerful. 

Watsonville native Jacob Sandobal. Credit: Via Jacob Sandobal

They needed courage.

Watching the National Guard in D.C. has convinced me of this: Real power is not carried on a soldier’s shoulder. It’s carried in the voices of people, especially young people, who refuse to be silent. 

If Washington, D.C., reminds us of the fragility of democracy, then Watsonville and Santa Cruz remind us of its resilience. The strongest guard for democracy is not soldiers at an intersection. It’s an engaged public, neighbors, families and especially young people who refuse to be silent.

Jacob Sandobal is a political science major and public policy minor at the University of San Francisco. A Watsonville native, he is interning this fall in Washington, D.C., for Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer.