I know the expression of armed patrol. I’ve seen it in Baghdad, Syria – on the streets of fear rule and peace and fragility. I didn’t expect to see the same look on the subway in our own capital.
From my home in northeastern Washington State to the DuPont Circle, I passed several pairs of National Guard soldiers who passed by on stations, trains and patrol sidewalks. Some carry side arms. I was watching, waving a hostile smile alone. I stopped, showed him my military ID card, and talked to him. We briefly discuss the meaning of being a professional in uniform, not only how to judge the army by its power, but also by its constraints.
I reminded him that the most important weapon the soldier carries in a city like this is not on his hips—it is the trust of the people around him. He nodded politely, but as I walked away, I wondered how much the message would stick when the task itself propels these young men and women who have never been trained.
The DuPont circle is not a remote corner of Washington. It’s a hub – lined with embassies, think tanks, coffee shops, bookstores and crowded sidewalks. On any day you will find students in samurai, diplomats, diplomats attending meetings, and activists gathered in parks near anchorage. This is the crossroads of international thinking and local community life. To see armed soldiers patrol, you can see the forces exerted in places built for conversation, communication and citizen trust.
I was shot dead in Iraq, led a convoy of scarred deserts due to war, and spent nearly five years of my life on operations in the Middle East. Through all this, what disturbs me in those places is the vulnerability of trust between the armed patrol and the civilians around me—a feeling of uneasiness that a spark could undo any trivial stability. I never thought I would feel the same fear when riding a DC subway, but for our society.
On the past Sunday, I retired as Commander Major. In the nearly three decades of wearing uniforms, I have never brought government-issued weapons to civilian spaces in the United States. Even the fleet between installations is strictly regulated. Civilians didn’t see us walking into the Krispy Kreme or boarding with the pistol on the hip. What I saw last week wasn’t like the disciplined army I knew.
That should upset us.
There is no doubt that these guards are proud patriots, but they are not experienced veterans. Most are teenagers far away from home, trained on battlefield missions, but not unpredictable reality for a major city. In DC, like most big cities, you will not only encounter commuters. People you encounter in crisis – homelessness, addiction, untreated mental illness. Locals may avoid their eyes or walk around. But what happens when people in crisis actively urge 18-year-old boys to wear pistol hips and limited downgrade training?
Risk is not abstract. Police are trained in these situations because they encounter them every day. A homeless person yells in someone’s face. A dead woman boycotted the order. A soldier, from his depth, almost certainly misread the moment and reached for his weapon. The spark turned into a fire, and trust between citizens and the army burned.
I do not question the courage or commitment of these guards. I fought beside them in battle, knowing their perseverance. But I also know their limits. It is unfair to ask them to police a city – to them and to the people they should serve.
This is not a guard construction. Its mission is to respond to disasters, provide logistical support and support civil authorities, rather than act as armed force on city streets. However, like in Los Angeles earlier this summer, they were how they deployed in the U.S. capital.
The sight of weapons patrols, boarding trains and weapons standing outside a coffee shop has now spread from the second largest city in the United States to the U.S. capital. Once extraordinary, quietly regarded as routine.
That should shock us all.
The sight of soldiers patrolling weapons and the streets of Los Angeles should be shocked. Because once we accept it is normal, we start accepting what the military has been fighting against – the idea that legitimacy comes from guns.
I have seen what it looks like in a failed country abroad: checkpoints that divide communities, convoys of civilians, armed patrols blur the lines between protectors and occupiers. These societies did not collapse overnight. They slowly erode because citizens are used to the mission once soldiers reserved for police or community leaders. When people realize the cost, trust disappears.
That’s not the United States we should be.
For 28 years, I have been wearing uniforms as proud. I deployed many times, led soldiers to fight and believed that our service meant something bigger – we defended a way of life rooted in fear but freedom. My biggest concern when I took off my uniform the last time was that by putting young soldiers in an impossible position, we are undermining the trust that unites our democracy between society and service members.
The powder bucket is real. The spark is already here.
Eric Chastain is an adjunct professor on the University of Southern California campus in Washington, where he teaches social analysis. He served as the Army’s first senior recruitment consultant at the White House. From the Los Angeles Times.
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