The Old Law That Could Put Troops in Your Town

This coming weekend, from June 19th to the 21st, the Jurupa Community Services District Parks & Recreation department is throwing their annual Picnic in the Park at Eastvale Community Park in California. If you’re in the area, you’ll see exactly what it sounds like: families on blankets, kids playing games, the smell of barbecue, maybe a local band playing slightly off-key. It’s a postcard of American summer.

It’s a scene so normal, so foundational to our idea of community, that it feels almost silly to protect. It’s just a picnic. But look closer. That simple gathering is an exercise of fundamental rights: the right to assemble, to speak freely, to simply exist together in a public square. It’s an act of community so powerful that some people are now openly planning how to shut it down.

You’ve probably heard whispers about it, maybe seen a headline scroll past. Talk of deploying federal troops on American soil. Talk of using an old, dusty law to declare protests, and potentially any large gathering, an “insurrection.”

It’s easy to dismiss this as political noise, the kind of fringe talk that never comes to pass. But the plans are detailed, public, and backed by groups with immense influence. And they hinge on a law from 1807 that most Americans have never heard of. Understanding it, and understanding how a simple picnic pushes back, is one of the most important civic duties we have right now.

What Is the Insurrection Act, Anyway?

The Insurrection Act of 1807 is a piece of federal law that gives the President of the United States the authority to deploy federal troops within our own country to suppress a rebellion or enforce the law. It’s an exception to the Posse Comitatus Act, which generally forbids using the military for domestic law enforcement.

For most of its history, the act has been used sparingly, and often for causes we’d now consider just. President Eisenhower invoked it to send the 101st Airborne to Little Rock, Arkansas, to enforce school desegregation against a defiant governor. President Kennedy used it to ensure James Meredith could enroll at the University of Mississippi. In these cases, it was a tool to uphold federal civil rights laws against local resistance.

But the law is written with broad, ambiguous language. It allows for the deployment of troops in cases of “insurrection, domestic violence, unlawful combination, or conspiracy” that hinders the execution of state or federal law. Who gets to define “unlawful combination”? Who decides when a protest crosses the line into an “insurrection”?

That ambiguity is where the danger lies. We saw this during the 1992 Los Angeles riots, when its invocation was controversial. We saw the threat of it in 2020, when the idea was floated of using troops to clear protesters from Lafayette Square. The law is a loaded weapon, left sitting on a table for more than two hundred years. Now, a group of policymakers is drafting a manual explaining exactly how they intend to pick it up and use it.

Project 2025 and an Insurrection of One

This isn’t a secret conspiracy theory. It’s a public strategy document. Project 2025, a policy initiative organized by the Heritage Foundation, has published a nearly 1,000-page “Presidential Transition Project.” It's a playbook for a potential new administration, designed to be implemented on Day One. Buried within its chapters is a radical reinterpretation of the Insurrection Act.

Traditionally, the act was understood to be used when a state government was either complicit in or unable to control violence and insurrection. The Project 2025 authors argue for a different reading. They contend a president can, and should, invoke the act to put down “riots and mob violence” even if a governor objects. They explicitly state an intention to use it to “restore order.”

The plan isn't a secret; it's a promise. The goal is to turn the military into a tool for domestic political enforcement.

What constitutes a “riot” or “mob violence” in this context? The plan is chillingly vague. It opens the door for a president to single-handedly declare a protest he doesn’t like, a strike he wants to break, or even a large, peaceful gathering, to be an “unlawful combination” that needs to be suppressed with military force.

This is coupled with another key goal of the project: the revival of “Schedule F.” This is an executive order that would reclassify tens of thousands of federal civil servants—policy experts, scientists, attorneys, administrators—as political appointees, allowing a president to fire them at will and replace them with loyalists. Imagine the people at the Department of Justice or the Department of Defense whose job it is to advise a president on the legal limits of their power. Schedule F is designed to replace them with people whose job is to say “yes.”

Combine a reinterpreted Insurrection Act with a hollowed-out civil service, and you have a recipe for unchecked executive power. You have a system where the guardrails are gone.

The Power of the Public Square

This is where we come back to that picnic in Eastvale, California. What does a hot dog and a game of frisbee have to do with any of this? Everything.

The strategy of authoritarianism relies on atomization. It wants you to feel alone, isolated, and powerless. It thrives when neighbors don’t know each other, when communities are just collections of houses, not networks of people. When we are disconnected, we are easier to control.

A picnic is the opposite of that. It is an act of connection. It's a visible, physical demonstration of community health. It says, “We are here. We know each other. We are a community.” A protest march is a fist, raised in defiance. A community picnic is an open hand, offered in solidarity. Both are necessary forms of assembly, but the picnic has a unique power in this moment.

It’s harder to demonize. It’s harder to paint as a threat. When people are just sharing food, playing music, and letting their kids run around, it short-circuits the narrative of “mob violence.” It’s an assertion of normalcy in the face of radical plans. These low-effort gatherings are the building blocks of a resilient society. You don't need a bullhorn and a thousand marchers to make a stand. You can start with low-key mini-gatherings in your own backyard, just by showing up for your neighbors.

Your Rights When You Gather

Knowing the threat is one thing; knowing your rights is another. The First Amendment protects “the right of the people peaceably to assemble.” This is the bedrock. Even with the Insurrection Act in play, federal troops can’t legally break up a peaceful gathering without justification. But that justification can become a gray area, fast. Here's what to keep in mind:

• Public vs. Private Property: Your rights are strongest in traditional public forums like public parks and sidewalks. The Eastvale picnic is at a community park—that’s a protected space.
• Peaceable Assembly: The key word is “peaceably.” This is why our movement is rooted in non-violence and joyful gathering. Violence or the destruction of property can give authorities a pretext to intervene.
• Documentation: In any interaction with law enforcement, federal or local, remember that you have the right to film and document. Bystander video has become one of the most powerful tools for accountability.
• Know Your Local Rules: Different cities have different rules. Does your gathering need a permit? Usually only if it’s very large, blocks traffic, or uses amplified sound. For a small group, you can typically just show up.

Speaking of Permits

Navigating local bureaucracy can feel intimidating, but it's a powerful act of civic engagement. When you file for a permit, you are putting your city on record. You are creating a paper trail that affirms your right to be there. It forces your local government to engage with your First Amendment rights directly. In many cities, the process is surprisingly straightforward. If you're planning a larger gathering for the Summer of ReLove 2026, our guide to reserving a park permit can walk you through the basic steps, which are similar from one town to the next. Securing that piece of paper is a pre-emptive strike for democracy.

An Army of Neighbors

The ultimate defense against an overreach of federal power isn’t a legal argument or a court case, though those are vital. The ultimate defense is a country full of communities that are too connected, too vibrant, and too resilient to be easily divided and controlled.

A military force can disperse a crowd of strangers. It cannot disperse a million friendships. It cannot shut down tens of thousands of simultaneous backyard barbecues, park picnics, and neighborhood block parties. This is the entire strategy of the Summer of ReLove 2026. It is a decentralized, neighbor-first movement designed to be too widespread to suppress.

Each picnic does three things:

1. It builds social trust. You convert an abstract “neighbor” into a person named Dave who makes killer potato salad.
2. It creates communication networks. When you know the people on your block, you can share information quickly and reliably, inoculating your community against disinformation.
3. It makes democracy visible. It shows that the true source of power in this country isn’t in a government building in D.C., but on the grass of a community park in Eastvale, California, and in every town just like it.

The push for authoritarian power is a project of intimidation. Our response must be a project of joyful, relentless connection. They want us scared and alone in our homes. We’ll meet them, together, at the park.

What you can do this week

1. Read the plan. Don't take our word for it. Go to the Project 2025 website and read the “Department of Justice” and “Department of Homeland Security” chapters. Understanding what is being proposed, in their own words, is the first step.

2. Find a picnic near you. The Summer of ReLove is happening now. People are gathering in parks and backyards all across the country. Check the national map to find a picnic happening in your area this weekend and just show up. Bring a friend.

3. Call your city council member or mayor's office. Ask a simple question: “What is our city’s policy on cooperation with federal law enforcement or troops deployed under the Insurrection Act for managing protests or civil disturbances?” Their answer—or lack of one—tells you a lot about where your local leaders stand.