The League of Women Voters says it stands for equity, inclusion, and amplifying marginalized voices. But what happens when those voices were silenced—not by outsiders—but from within? A closer look at the Clallam Relief Act of 1925 raises uncomfortable questions the League seems unwilling to answer.

Last month marked the 101st anniversary of the Clallam Relief Act of 1925—a law often framed as a long-overdue effort to compensate the Clallam people. Congress appropriated $400,000, later reduced to $385,000, to be distributed among enrolled tribal members. On paper, it looked like justice.

In practice, it tells a far more complicated—and far less discussed—story.

To receive payment, individuals were required to sign a sweeping legal release, relinquishing “all claims of any nature” against the United States under any treaty or agreement, including the Treaty of Point No Point. The intent was clear: this was meant to be a final settlement.

And yet, even at the time, not everyone was included.

Who Was Left Out—and Why It Matters

Historical records from 1926 reveal that eligibility was not simply about lineage—it became about who was allowed to count.

Despite federal guidance that tribal decisions should involve both men and women, a small group of male signatories pushed to exclude:

• Clallam women who married outside the tribe

• Their children

• Others deemed to have “questionable” or “shadowy” claims

The reasoning? Fewer claimants meant larger payouts.

The result was not just administrative—it was systemic exclusion. Women and children who met earlier criteria were deliberately removed from the base roll. Their absence wasn’t incidental. It was strategic.

And the consequences didn’t end in 1925.

By 1933, complaints surfaced that hundreds of Clallam individuals had received nothing at all. Estimates suggested roughly 700 tribal members existed, but only about 533 participated in the distribution. The rest were left out—completely.

A Settlement That Didn’t Settle

Each recipient signed language accepting payment as “full satisfaction” of all claims. That raises a reasonable question:

If this was truly final—why are we still revisiting these issues today?

But there’s another question, one that gets far less attention:

What about those who were excluded entirely?
What claims did they ever get to settle?

The League’s Selective Advocacy

The League of Women Voters frequently invokes phrases like:

• “equity”

• “inclusion”

• “amplifying marginalized voices”

It acknowledges the region as the homeland of Indigenous people and speaks about historical injustices. But those statements tend to stop where the narrative becomes uncomfortable.

Because if the League is serious about amplifying voices, it raises difficult questions:

• What about Clallam descendants whose lineage was excluded because of who their grandmothers married?

• What about individuals of Clallam heritage who remain unrecognized today?

• What about the Chimakum people—whose history in this region includes displacement, violence, and near-genocide at the hands of the Clallam?

The Chimakum are not federally recognized. They received no land, no compensation, and no institutional support. Their story doesn’t fit neatly into modern frameworks of advocacy—and so it is rarely discussed.

If equity is the standard, it has to apply consistently.

History Is Not a Slogan

The modern tendency to reduce complex history into simplified narratives—“stolen land,” “colonizers,” “oppressed vs. oppressor”—breaks down under scrutiny.

History in this region, like elsewhere, is layered:

• Conflict existed before European settlement

• Power shifted between groups over time

• Outcomes were not always just, even within communities

Acknowledging that complexity doesn’t diminish anyone’s experience—it strengthens the credibility of the conversation.

Ignoring it does the opposite.

A Question the League Should Answer

If the League of Women Voters is committed to fairness and representation, then the question isn’t whether it supports Indigenous voices.

The question is:

Which voices—and why those?

Because when advocacy appears selective, it starts to look less like principle and more like alignment.

Closing Perspective

The Clallam Relief Act of 1925 was supposed to resolve claims. Instead, it left behind a record of exclusion that still echoes today.

That history doesn’t disappear just because it complicates a modern narrative.

And for organizations that claim to stand for inclusion, that’s not a detail—it’s the test.

The League of Women Voters has found the time to take out ads in local newspapers warning residents that their rights are at risk. But when asked a simple, direct question—which rights?—there’s no response, no clarification, no engagement.

This is now the seventh article raising legitimate questions about the League’s positions and actions. Every article has been sent to info@lwvcla.org. Not one question has been answered.

Yet this is the same organization that hosts forums, moderates debates, and positions itself as a steward of civic dialogue. The message is hard to ignore: they ask the questions, but answer to no one.

Through the Clallam County Charter Review Commission—an entity frequently chaired or influenced by League leadership—they have helped shape the direction of county governance for decades. But during the most recent Charter Review, that influence took a more troubling turn.

The League’s secretary, Susan Fisch, along with other members, pushed for changes that would limit what could be reported from publicly available information. In effect, they were advocating for restrictions on speech—on information that is already, by definition, public.

That is not a gray area.

The First Amendment is a cornerstone of American democracy. It protects the free exchange of information, the right to report on public matters, and the ability of citizens to hold government accountable. Efforts to restrict the reporting of public information run directly counter to those protections.

So the question becomes unavoidable:

How is that defending democracy?

At the same time, the League’s internal rhetoric around “diversity of thought” rings hollow to many who have watched dissenting viewpoints dismissed or excluded.

If inclusion is the standard, it must apply beyond those who align ideologically.

There are, without question, marginalized voices in Clallam County that deserve to be heard. But increasingly, those voices include people who simply think differently than the League and the activist circles it promotes.

The League also plays a role in election observation—and in some cases, administration, such as involvement in Conservation District elections. For an organization that insists on its neutrality, that level of influence raises reasonable concerns about perception, impartiality, and public trust.

Taken together—with its role in civic processes, its willingness to entertain restrictions on speech, and its lack of responsiveness—the result is not greater confidence in local institutions, but growing skepticism.

Accountability isn’t optional for organizations that claim to defend democracy.

And when questions go unanswered, people will start asking them somewhere else.

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Today’s Tidbit: Drought for Some, Not for All

The Washington State Department of Ecology has issued a statewide drought declaration, with the Olympic Peninsula flagged as especially vulnerable due to unusually low snowpack.

“Going into April with half of our usual snowpack is alarming,” said Department of Ecology Director Casey Sixkiller. “Without enough snow… we must prepare for widespread shortages.”

The message from the state is straightforward: start conserving now.

For the moment, that conservation is voluntary. Residents are being asked to reduce lawn watering, fix leaks, and limit non-essential use. Local governments may implement restrictions later, but today the responsibility rests largely on individuals to act early.

The Inconsistency

On the Olympic Peninsula, where summer water supply depends heavily on mountain snowpack, the concern is legitimate.

But the application isn’t uniform.

While residents are urged to cut back, large-scale water users—such as irrigated golf courses—are expected to continue operating. That includes the Jamestown S’Klallam Tribe’s 122-acre course, which hosts the “Sonny Sixkiller Celebrity Golf Classic” in late July, typically one of the driest periods of the year.

Sonny Sixkiller, the tournament’s namesake and spokesman for Jamestown Corporation, is also the father of Ecology Director Casey Sixkiller.

The result is an uncomfortable contrast: the state’s top water official is calling for conservation while a high-profile, water-intensive event tied to his father proceeds during peak drought season.

Complicating matters further, state-imposed water restrictions do not apply in the same way to sovereign tribal trust lands, creating a structural gap in how conservation policies are experienced across the region.

The Question

No one is disputing the drought.

But when conservation is voluntary for some, enforceable for others, and functionally inapplicable to entire categories of land use, it raises a fair question:

Who, exactly, is being asked to sacrifice?

A 15-year-old took the podium. But the question that lingered afterward wasn’t what they said—it was who put them there, and why.

On December 22nd last year, just twenty minutes before the 2025 Charter Review Commission wrapped up and slipped into dormancy for the next four years, the youngest public commenter of the entire year approached the podium.

What followed caught the room off guard.

Here is what the student said, in full:

“Hello, I choose not to state my name. I’m a minor. I just recently turned 15 years old. I’m a freshman and I’m part of Sequim High School’s Mock Trial Program. I recently saw a post on social media from one of the Charter Review Commissioners. Its title, ‘Blindfold Removed,’ and was posted December 16th, 2025. This post was regarding inappropriate topics such as acting out pedophilia while referring to people who were networked to another commissioner. Photos which are unrelated contain students in mock trial and they are not his property and were not stated from where they were from. There were four minors in said photo. I’m sorry, I think I may have restated something. It’s a submitted photo to the Sequim Gazette published in an article by Michael Dashiell February 1st, 2023. One of the students is a young woman who is a current Sequim High School student who I look up to. I’m concerned for her and my fellow peers, as the comments, which are unmoderated by said commissioner, stated that anyone networked to the people in these photos were bullied, bullies, or were molested. How far is an elected official allowed to go when using free speech to cause outrage by using disgust and involving minors, attacking my advisors and in turn attacking me and my peers. Thank you for your time.”

[Watch the public comment by clicking here and advancing to 3:09:45.]

The student was clearly referring to me and my article, “Blindfold Removed.”

That article focused on Charter Review Commission Chairwoman Susan Fisch and what many observed as a pattern of selective enforcement—rules for some, exceptions for others. It documented instances where agenda items were blocked, political allies were accommodated, and decorum was unevenly applied. It also highlighted a specific incident involving a supporter who disrupted public proceedings while Susan Fisch allowed it to continue.

The student’s comment was, at times, difficult to follow. But for a 15-year-old, it was still impressive. Civic engagement at that age should be encouraged.

But something didn’t sit right.

The phrasing.
The structure.
The framing of the argument.

It didn’t sound like a student speaking organically. It sounded… coached.

A Serious Line Was Crossed

There’s another piece of this that cannot be ignored.

Embedded in the student’s remarks—and in the broader narrative surrounding that post—was an implied connection between me and inappropriate conduct involving minors.

Let’s be very clear about what that means.

In modern society, suggesting that someone has inappropriate intentions toward minors is among the most serious and damaging implications that can be made. It carries reputational consequences that can follow a person indefinitely, regardless of whether there is any evidence behind it.

Layer onto that the reality that I am gay.

For decades, one of the most harmful and false stereotypes pushed against gay individuals was the idea that they posed a danger to children. That narrative has been widely discredited, but its use—implicit or explicit—remains deeply offensive and dangerous.

Whether intentional or not, the framing of these comments echoed that same stereotype.

That’s not just inappropriate—it’s reckless.

And when those implications are introduced into a public setting, involving minors, and tied to political disagreements, it raises the stakes considerably.

Because at that point, this isn’t about criticism or disagreement anymore.

It’s about crossing a line that should never be crossed.

So Who’s Coaching the Kids?

The student identified themself as affiliated with the Sequim High School’s Mock Trial program.

That program didn’t appear out of thin air.

It was started with the involvement of retired judge Susan Fisch and retired lawyer and current Sequim School Board member Patrice Johnston—both activists with the League of Women Voters, and both directly involved in controversies surrounding the Charter Review Commission.

According to reporting from the Sequim Gazette, the program was launched with outside support, including a $700 civics from the League of Women Voters. The club itself is designed to teach students how to argue cases using facts, evidence, and structured reasoning.

That’s the goal, at least.

But that’s where the contradiction begins.

During the Charter Review process, Johnston advocated for rules that would have restricted the reporting of publicly available information—rules that would have directly impacted watchdog journalism and public transparency.

That’s not a minor policy disagreement. That goes to the core of how free speech is understood.

The First Amendment does not exist to protect comfortable speech. It exists to protect speech that is critical, inconvenient, and, at times, unwelcome—especially to those in positions of authority.

What was being proposed—and defended—moved in the opposite direction.

Limiting the reporting of public information.
Reframing criticism as harassment.
Drawing boundaries around lawful expression.

That isn’t a misinterpretation of the First Amendment.

It’s a rejection of it.

And when individuals, like Susan Fisch and Patrice Johnston, in positions of influence—particularly those helping shape how students understand law, argument, and civic engagement—get something that fundamentally wrong, it raises a much bigger question:

What exactly are they teaching the next generation about free speech, dissent, and accountability?

At the same time, Fisch and Johnston publicly accused CC Watchdog of bullying, harassment, and intimidation—claims that were never supported with verifiable evidence.

Then, just hours before a special meeting, an anonymous email surfaced making those same accusations.

According to retired judge Susan Fisch, the “evidence” was the email itself.

No corroboration.
No documentation.
Just allegation.

The Pattern Matters

If this were an isolated moment, it would be easy to dismiss.

But it isn’t.

The Sequim School District has faced a series of controversies over the past decade:

• A $40,000 settlement over a Public Records Act violation regarding transparency

• A lawsuit alleging misconduct and retaliation involving staff

• Suspension of top administrators

• Curriculum controversies involving sensitive topics

• Student safety threats and arrests

• A mass disciplinary incident involving 45 students

• The resignation of former School Board member Jim Stoffer amid allegations that he shared confidential information, following efforts to censure him

Individually, each incident can be explained away.

Together, they paint a picture.

A pattern of strained trust.
A pattern of questionable judgment.
A pattern of blurred lines between authority and accountability.

When Education Becomes Advocacy

Mock Trial is supposed to teach students how to think—not what to think.

How to evaluate evidence.
How to argue both sides.
How to understand that disagreement is not an attack.

But what happens when the adults leading that program are themselves deeply entangled in political disputes?

What happens when those same adults are the subject of criticism—and suddenly, students appear at public meetings echoing those narratives?

That’s where concern shifts from education… to influence.

A Community Concern, Not Just a Personal One

This is my platform.
My opinion.
My perspective.

But I’m not alone.

Many who attended that meeting—or watched it online—came away with the same question:

Was that student speaking for themself… or for someone else?

Because if students are being encouraged—directly or indirectly—to participate in political disputes involving the very adults overseeing their education, that’s a line that should not be crossed.

Where This Leaves Us

I grew up in the Sequim School District.

So did my parents.
So did my grandparents.
So did my great-grandparents.

My mom served on the Sequim School Board decades before it became entangled in the kind of political activism we see today from figures like Patrice Johnston and Jim Stoffer.

This isn’t abstract to me. It’s personal.

And that’s why this matters.

Because when education starts to look like advocacy,
when mentorship starts to look like influence,
and when students start appearing in adult political conflicts—

We owe it to them to ask questions.

What Happens Next

I am formally requesting an investigation into a potential inappropriate relationship between League of Women Voters–affiliated activists and students involved in the Sequim High School Mock Trial program.

If wrongdoing is found:

• The program should be disbanded or placed under new leadership

• Appropriate safeguards should be implemented

• And any conflicts of interest should be addressed immediately

Additionally, I am requesting that School Board member Patrice Johnston recuse herself from any involvement in this matter.

Because if we are going to teach students about justice—

We should probably model it first.

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Today’s Tidbit

Subject: Request for Review — Mock Trial Program

To: rnickels@sequimschools.org, epickens@sequimschools.org, mhalvorsen@sequimschools.org, nbell@sequimschools.org, mrocha@sequimschools.org

April 9, 2026

Dear Members of the Sequim School Board and Superintendent,

I am writing to formally raise concerns regarding the Sequim High School Mock Trial program and the potential involvement of students in adult political matters.

At a December Charter Review Commission meeting, a minor affiliated with the Mock Trial program delivered public comments tied to an ongoing political dispute involving adults connected to the program’s leadership. While student civic engagement should be encouraged, the circumstances surrounding these remarks have raised reasonable questions about whether the student was acting independently or may have been influenced, prepared, or coached by individuals in positions of authority.

The public comment can be viewed by clicking here and advancing to 3:09:45.

This concern is heightened by the fact that individuals associated with the program, Susan Fisch and Patrice Johnston, have also been directly involved in the underlying political controversy. When students appear in public forums addressing disputes involving their own advisors or program leaders, it creates the appearance—whether intended or not—of students being placed in the middle of adult conflicts.

Additionally, I am concerned about the broader civic framework being modeled for students. During the Charter Review process, proposals advanced by Mock Trial advisors Susan Fisch and Patrice Johnston would have limited the reporting of publicly available information and recharacterized criticism as harassment. These positions raise questions about how foundational principles such as the First Amendment, free speech, and open public discourse are being conveyed to students participating in programs intended to teach law and civic engagement.

I also want to raise a separate and serious concern. The content and framing of the student’s remarks, combined with related public commentary, appeared to suggest an implied association between me and inappropriate conduct involving minors. As you can understand, such implications—whether intentional or not—carry significant reputational harm. Given the historical misuse of similar insinuations, particularly toward individuals who are gay, this is not a trivial matter and warrants careful consideration.

Based on these concerns, I am formally requesting a district-led investigation into potential inappropriate conduct and boundary violations involving adults affiliated with the Mock Trial program and students participating in that program.

Specifically, I am requesting that the district examine whether individuals connected to the program—including those in positions of authority or influence, such as Susan Fisch and School Board member Patrice Johnston—have in any way:

• Directed, encouraged, or influenced students to participate in public political disputes involving those same adults

• Used their roles in an educational setting to advance personal, political, or reputational interests

• Crossed appropriate boundaries between mentorship, instruction, and influence over students

Students should never be placed—directly or indirectly—in the middle of adult conflicts, particularly when those conflicts involve their own advisors or authority figures. Any appearance of such involvement warrants serious and independent review.

In addition, I am requesting:

• That School Board member Patrice Johnston recuse herself from any involvement in this matter to avoid conflicts of interest

• That the district clearly outlines the scope, process, and findings of this investigation

• That appropriate corrective actions be taken if any misconduct or boundary violations are identified

I appreciate your attention to this matter and respectfully request a response outlining how the district intends to review and address these concerns.

Sincerely,
Jeff Tozzer

As “No Kings” protesters take to Sequim streets, a deeper contradiction comes into focus: the same organization championing democracy has remained silent while unelected power and procedural control reshape decisions here at home.

When Democracy Took a Back Seat

Four years ago, in the spring of 2022, Clallam County faced a looming disaster.

A dike holding back the Dungeness River west of Towne Road had been deliberately breached by the Jamestown Corporation—ahead of schedule, without coordination, and despite requests from the County to pause. At the time, the County had not yet completed the new Towne Road levee that would protect downstream residents and keep the road open.

The danger wasn’t immediate—but it was coming. When fall rains arrived, the risk was clear: flooding in the Dungeness community.

The warning from the Jamestown Corporation to county leaders and local media was stark:

“News helicopters would circle the devastation and speculate on the number of dead. The County, Tribe, and the Corps would be embroiled in wrongful death suits for years or decades.”

The County engineer proposed a simple fix:
A temporary levee costing $200,000, buildable in 10 days, requiring no permits. It would have:

• Blocked the breach

• Protected salmon habitat

• Prevented downstream flooding

• Avoided millions in construction impacts

• Kept Towne Road open

It was the definition of a practical, accountable, taxpayer-minded solution.

The response?

“Chairman Allen is not in favor of this solution.”

Instead, the Tribe’s demands came back:

• $15 million bond

• $750,000 escrow for restoration

• Up to $25,000 in legal reimbursements

A $200,000 solution was rejected in favor of something 75 times more expensive.

Who Was Actually in Charge?

Clallam County is supposed to be a democracy.

• We elect county commissioners

• They appoint leadership accountable to the commissioners

• Public employees ultimately answer to voters through that chain

But in this case, the decision wasn’t made by elected officials accountable to Clallam County residents.

It was made by Ron Allen—a leader of a sovereign nation not accountable to county voters—determining how local taxpayer dollars would be spent and how a public safety risk would be handled.

For that moment, the system flipped.

Local democratic authority paused.
An unelected external leader dictated the terms.

That’s not democracy.

And Where Was the League?

This is where the contradiction becomes impossible to ignore.

Tomorrow, Indivisible Sequim, which is promoted and supported by the League of Women Voters of Clallam County, is holding a “No Kings III” protest.

The message from protesters is simple:

No unchecked authority. No king-like leadership. Defend democracy.

But when Clallam County residents faced a real-world example of exactly that—
a non-elected authority shaping millions in taxpayer spending and public safety outcomes—

Where was the League?

• No statements

• No public concern

• No call for accountability

• No rally

• No outrage

The same organization that urges residents to “stand courageously” when democracy is threatened remained silent when it was tested locally.

It’s Not Just One “King” — It’s a Pattern

If this were only about one decision, it would be troubling.

But the pattern continues—again, in full view of the League of Women Voters.

The 2025 Charter Review Commission was a case study in selective democracy. Susan Fisch, who identified herself in the voter pamphlet as Secretary of the League, rode that trusted, nonpartisan reputation to receive the highest vote total of any Charter Review Commissioner—and ultimately became chair.

That matters.

Because what followed wasn’t just policy debate—it was control.

Susan Fisch Ruled by Decree

The public priorities survey—the commission’s primary tool for gathering citizen input—was delegated by Chair Susan Fisch to a subcommittee led by Jim Stoffer without a vote of the full commission. That decision allowed a small inner circle to shape the questions, frame the responses, and route feedback through a private email address outside normal public records visibility.

When the collection of public input is controlled behind closed doors rather than decided openly, the process stops being representative.

Susan Fisch Ruled by Gatekeeping

Certain agenda items were blocked by Fisch’s executive committee, while favored topics were allowed through. This created an uneven playing field where not all commissioners had equal ability to bring forward issues raised by their constituents. When challenged, discussions were cut short or meetings recessed, leaving key questions unanswered.

Susan Fisch Ruled by Narrative

A proposed amendment brought forward by Ron Richards that applied broadly and did not name any tribe was framed by Susan Fisch as targeting Jamestown’s tribal interests. That reframing shifted the debate away from the actual language and toward a perceived intent.

When leadership controls the narrative, it can shape outcomes before the discussion even begins.

Susan Fisch Ruled by Control of Public Engagement

Fisch ended the Sequim town halls an hour early, limiting the time available for public participation. She also restricted commissioners from directly answering questions, reducing opportunities for real dialogue.

What should have been open forums became tightly managed events with limited public exchange.

Susan Fisch Ruled by Uneven Standards

Under Fisch’s leadership, procedure itself became inconsistent—at times strictly enforcing Robert’s Rules of Order, at other times ignoring or suspending them when it suited the moment. Meetings spent hours attempting to adopt new rules that aligned with her preferred outcomes, while similar or more serious actions by others went unaddressed. This selective application of rules created the appearance of favoritism rather than fairness.

When procedure becomes a tool of convenience rather than a standard applied equally, trust in the process erodes quickly.

Susan Fisch Ruled by Secrecy

Concerns were raised when taxpayer-funded private security was arranged for Commissioner Jim Stoffer—with involvement from Chair Susan Fisch—without clear public discussion or prior transparency. When questions surfaced about how that decision was made and whether it complied with the Washington Open Public Meetings Act, efforts to bring the issue forward for discussion were blocked by Fisch. Agenda attempts to address the matter were removed or denied, preventing the full commission and the public from examining the decision.

When leadership facilitates action but refuses scrutiny, transparency gives way to control.

The League Watched—And Said Nothing

Here’s the part that should concern every resident.

Members of the League of Women Voters were there.

They attended meetings.
They sat in the gallery.
They observed the process unfold in real time.

• They did not raise public concerns

• They did not question procedural inconsistencies

• They did not defend open participation

• They often praised the very leadership exercising that control

At least one League member was even observed passing signals to Fisch during meetings—hardly the posture of a neutral observer.

So the question becomes unavoidable:

What exactly does “defending democracy” mean to the League?

Because it appears to depend on where—and who—is involved.

A Five-Year Opportunity—Handled Like a Closed Circle

The Charter Review process happens once every five years.

For many residents, it’s the closest they will ever come to shaping their government.

It should be:

• Transparent

• Open

• Accountable

Instead, what many witnessed was something far more controlled—
and the organization most associated with protecting democratic norms stood by without objection.

That’s not neutrality.

That’s selective engagement.

No Kings… Unless They’re Local?

Indivisible, with the League’s support, is asking residents to take to the streets to oppose “king-like” authority.

Fair enough.

But credibility matters.

Because here in Clallam County, we’ve already seen:

• Unelected authority influencing millions in public spending

• Small groups controlling process and access

• Public participation limited or redirected

And in those moments, the League was silent—or worse, supportive.

Questions the League Still Hasn’t Answered

Two weeks ago, questions about their textbook for elementary school-aged children were sent to the League of Women Voters.

They did not respond.

So here are a few more:

• Do you believe the Charter Review process was conducted fairly and openly?

• Why did you not speak out about the concerns raised during that process?

• How do you reconcile promoting “No Kings” while ignoring concentrated power locally?

• Do your standards for accountability apply equally at the local level?

If the League stands for democracy, these should be easy questions to answer.

Final Thought

Imagine what could happen if the same energy being directed at distant political figures was focused right here at home.

On the decisions.
On the processes.
On the people actually shaping this community.

Because democracy doesn’t collapse overnight.

It erodes quietly—
often with the approval, or silence, of those who claim to defend it.

And if we’re being honest—

The problem isn’t that we don’t have kings and queens.

It’s that too many people are willing to ignore them when they’re local.

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Today’s Tidbit

Sequim resident Kaylee Kuehn has announced her candidacy for Legislative District 24.

According to her biography, she holds a bachelor’s degree in liberal arts from The Evergreen State College, with a focus on politics and psychology, and has already secured several notable endorsements.

• Clallam County Commissioner Mike French, who has described $350,000-per-unit luxury developments for the homeless as “affordable housing.”

• Sequim City Councilmember Nicole Hartman, who is considering support for the Jamestown Tribe’s request to transfer two national wildlife refuges out of public ownership.

• Community advocate Jim Stoffer, who resigned from the Sequim School Board amid controversy and was later linked to the disclosure of confidential documents during his time on the Charter Review Commission.

This is part of CC Watchdog’s continuing series examining the most influential political bloc in Clallam County. The “nonpartisan” League of Women Voters presents itself as a trusted civic organization, but its elementary-age Washington history and civics curriculum pushes a narrow worldview on children—heavy on tribal grievance, climate alarmism, and modern political activism, while leaving out inconvenient parts of history that would complicate the story. Locally, League members have helped bring this worldview to life in schools through curriculum support and museum field trips, even as the League has declined to answer questions from CC Watchdog.

The League of Women Voters wants the public to believe it is simply promoting civic education. But its own words tell a different story.

The League of Women Voters of Clallam County describes itself as an “activist, grassroots organization.” The statewide League has promoted and distributed The State We’re In: Washington, a civics and history textbook for elementary students. The Washington League says the book is designed for grades 3 through 5 and includes chapters on tribal government, settlers, treaties, and civic life.

That matters, because when an openly activist organization is shaping what children learn, parents and taxpayers should ask whether students are getting education—or ideology.

Right from Chapter 1, the book is not just presenting history. It is teaching children how to feel about it. Students are introduced to Washington’s first peoples through a romanticized lens: they “knew how to harvest fish without harming future fish runs,” they managed the land wisely, and they saw themselves as part of nature. It also says that in these societies “no one owned land.” That is not a small detail. That is the foundation for a very modern political message about land, stewardship, and legitimacy.

What is missing is just as important. There is little sign here that tribal societies, like every other human society, also experienced warfare, raiding, hierarchy, brutality, slavery, and conquest. Children are not being given a balanced account of human history. They are being given a moral lesson.

By Chapter 2, the storyline is unmistakable. Europeans arrive not just as explorers or settlers, but as the villains in a simplified morality play. The book highlights the Doctrine of Discovery and quotes the language about invading and subduing non-Christians. That history is real and worth teaching. But in this textbook, it is presented in a way that reinforces a one-way narrative: tribes as victims, Europeans as oppressors, and history as a neat march from innocence to injustice.

Again, what is left out? Where are the chapters on intertribal warfare? Where is the harder history of tribes raiding other tribes, taking captives, keeping slaves, or displaying the heads of enemies? Where is the recognition that cruelty and conquest did not begin only when white settlers arrived? Those parts of history would interfere with the emotional architecture of the book.

Chapter 3 drops any pretense of neutrality. In one exercise, children are told which statements about climate change are “fact” and which are merely “opinion.” Students are taught that claims about rising temperatures, more severe storms and wildfires, sea-level rise, and fossil fuels driving climate change are facts, while “climate change is a hoax” is an opinion.

That is not teaching children how to think. That is teaching them what to think.

This is one of the most revealing pages in the entire textbook because it shows that the book is not confined to Washington history. It uses history and civics as a delivery vehicle for current political messaging. Elementary students are not just being taught the structure of government. They are being nudged toward approved conclusions on some of the most contested political questions of the day.

And this is not happening in a vacuum. Jamestown CEO Ron Allen said in 2003, “You change a society… at the younger level. You use the media… every form of media.” Whether he meant schools, curriculum, civic institutions, or all of the above, the strategy is plain enough: shape the next generation early. The tone and content of this curriculum fit that approach perfectly.

By Chapter 5, the book is openly encouraging activism. Children are told not to wait because “the world needs your help right now.” The list of approved causes includes hunger, poverty, discrimination, disease, and climate change. In the same chapter, students are shown examples of young people marching over climate issues, and the book approvingly notes that some have joined Black Lives Matter demonstrations.

Call that what it is: activism for children.

This is where the League’s defenders may say that encouraging engagement is part of civics. But there is a difference between teaching students how government works and steering them toward a specific ideological outlook. There is a difference between explaining how to participate in public life and wrapping that lesson in progressive political causes that are treated as morally settled.

Chapter 8 continues the same pattern by emphasizing tribes as sovereign governing powers and moral leaders in areas like salmon restoration, environmental protection, and stewardship. Once again, only one side of the story is emphasized. Children are taught to see tribal governments primarily as wise protectors and rightful partners in public life. They are not taught to wrestle with the real-world tensions that come with sovereignty claims, tax exemptions, separate legal frameworks, race-based benefits, or the growing influence of tribal governments over land and water disputes.

That is especially relevant here in Clallam County, where questions about tribal influence are not abstract classroom discussions. They are live political issues.

Later chapters continue layering in activist themes. Students are taught about climate change in emotionally charged, declarative terms. They are introduced to racial-justice framing. They are pointed toward a view of citizenship that sounds far less like civic literacy and far more like political formation.

That is a serious concern in a state where academic performance is still not where it should be. In 2025, OSPI said 71 percent of students demonstrated foundational grade-level knowledge and above in English language arts, and 63 percent did so in math and science.

Those numbers were an improvement, but they are hardly a sign that schools have mastered the basics. Parents have every right to ask why political and ideological framing seems to be getting so much classroom energy while core academic performance remains uneven.

What makes this even more relevant locally is that the League is not simply publishing books somewhere off in Seattle. In 2022, the League said part of a civic-education grant would be used to purchase The State We’re In: Washington textbooks for teachers and libraries. Then, in 2025, the Clallam County League publicly stated that three of its activist members helped with a field trip to the Elwha Klallam Museum while Crescent fourth graders were working through the curriculum.

Locally, this matters even more because the Sequim School District has adopted a land acknowledgment and works with the Jamestown Tribe to integrate Since Time Immemorial curriculum.

The district’s board also includes Patrice Johnston and Maren Halvorsen, both active with the League of Women Voters and part of the same local political network that frequently presents itself as neutral while advancing a very specific worldview.

To be clear, teaching tribal history is not the problem. Tribal history is part of Washington history and should be taught. The problem is that this textbook does not appear interested in balance. It does not appear interested in complexity. It is interested in shaping perspective. It teaches children to view the past through a preset moral script: tribes as stewards, settlers as oppressive colonizers, climate politics as settled truth, and activism as civic virtue.

That is not real education. Real education gives students facts, competing perspectives, historical complexity, and the tools to reason for themselves. Indoctrination gives them approved heroes, approved villains, and approved conclusions.

And that is what makes this so inappropriate. The League of Women Voters is not a neutral historical society. It is an activist organization. Its own local chapter says so. An activist organization should not be quietly shaping the worldview of elementary school children while pretending it is simply offering civics instruction.

The League of Women Voters did not answer questions from last week’s CC Watchdog. So here are some new ones:

• Why is an openly activist organization helping shape what elementary students are taught about Washington history and civics?

• Why are schoolchildren being steered toward one-sided narratives about tribal history, climate politics, and social justice before they are old enough to critically test those claims?

• Why are difficult parts of tribal history and the fuller complexity of Washington’s past omitted while children are encouraged to internalize guilt, grievance, and activism?

• And why should the public trust this as education rather than political formation?

This is part of CC Watchdog’s continuing series investigating the most influential political bloc in Clallam County. If the League of Women Voters chooses to answer, its response will be published in full, unedited, on CC Watchdog.

If you have questions for the Clallam County League of Women Voters, they can be contacted by emailing info@lwvcla.org.

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A digital edition of the textbook can be accessed by clicking here.

What’s the difference between Rev. Jesse Jackson and Charlie Kirk? Both were political activists with large national followings. Yet when Jackson died, the “nonpartisan” League of Women Voters of Clallam County posted a tribute. When Kirk was killed at a rally at age 31, the League said nothing. That contrast raises a larger question: is the League truly nonpartisan, or part of the activist class shaping Clallam County politics while presenting itself as neutral?

Not Equal Coverage

The League of Women Voters of Clallam County recently posted a tribute after Rev. Jesse Jackson, a longtime political activist, died at the age of 84.

Yet the League posted nothing when another political activist, Charlie Kirk, was shot and killed at a rally at age 31.

The League insists repeatedly that it is “nonpartisan.” The word appears throughout its website and mission statements. But moments like this have left some residents wondering whether that claim matches reality.

A review of years of posts on the League’s Facebook page shows a pattern: praise for Democratic political figures…

…and criticism of Republican ones.

The question naturally follows: if an organization consistently promotes one political perspective, can it still claim to be nonpartisan?

What the League Says It Is

On its website, the League describes itself as a group that:

• Expands voter access

• Fights voter suppression

• Promotes transparency in government

Those are legitimate civic goals. But the site contains little information about the organization’s regulatory structure or the rules governing its nonprofit status.

Under federal law, organizations operating as 501(c)(3) nonprofits must avoid political campaign intervention.

The IRS regulation is clear: Organizations can advocate policy positions, but they cannot support or oppose political candidates.

That raises an important question: where exactly is the line between education and advocacy?

A National Debate About the League

The issue is not unique to Clallam County.

A 2022 investigation by ProPublica examined tensions between the League’s claim of nonpartisanship and its advocacy positions.

Critics argue that the League increasingly functions as a political advocacy organization while still presenting itself as neutral.

Supporters say the League simply defends democratic institutions and voting rights.

But the debate is growing louder.

Funding and Advocacy

Another recent editorial from The Highline Journal examining the League’s national structure pointed to major foundation funding behind its educational arm, the League of Women Voters Education Fund (LWVEF).

Recent grants reportedly include:

• Bernard and Anne Spitzer Charitable Trust — $450,000

• Democracy Fund — $300,000

• Fidelity Investments Charitable Gift Fund — $316,909

• Carnegie Corporation of New York — $250,000 in 2024 and $1 million in 2025

Past donors have included foundations such as:

• Ford Foundation

• MacArthur Foundation

• Open Society Foundations

• Joyce Foundation

• Tides Foundation

These are not small neighborhood donors. They represent large national philanthropic networks with defined ideological and political priorities.

Looking Closer at the Local League

The League does not publish a roster of members. But some individuals connected with the organization have been visible in local civic activity.

Several League-affiliated participants were active during the 2025 Clallam County Charter Review Commission process.

For example:

Susan Fisch, identified as Secretary of the local League, received the most votes of any Charter Review Commissioner and served as chair of the commission. PDC records show one single donation: a political contribution to the Clallam County Democratic Central Committee.

Stephanie Sherman was a frequent attendee at Charter Review meetings and she participates in Indivisible Sequim protests.

Sherman has several PDC donations to Democratic candidates, including:

• Adam Bernbaum

• Dave Upthegrove

• Governor Bob Ferguson

• Clallam County Democratic Central Committee

Patrice Johnston, a Sequim School Board member and League activist, also appeared frequently during Charter Review discussions.

Johnston has supported several progressive Democratic figures, including:

• State Senator T’wina Nobles

• Port Angeles Mayor Kate Dexter

• State representative candidate Connie Fitzpatrick

A Longtime League Figure

Another name frequently associated with the League locally is Norma Turner.

Turner has served on the Clallam County Charter Review Commission multiple times and previously served as president of the League of Women Voters of Clallam County. She has belonged to the organization for over 50 years.

Public Disclosure Commission records show multiple pages of political donations, including contributions to:

• Governor Bob Ferguson

• Clallam County Democratic Central Committee

• Commissioner Mark Ozias

• Commissioner Mike French

• Representative Steve Tharinger

• Senator Mike Chapman

• Former Port Angeles councilmember Lindsey Schromen-Wawrin

Turner also successfully advocated for a change to countywide voting for county commissioners, a change that helped Democrat Mike French defeat Republican Bill Peach.

A Question of Definitions

Civic engagement is not wrong.
Political activism is not wrong.

Many organizations participate in public life and advocate strongly for their beliefs.

But the more this record is examined, the more one question arises:

Is the League of Women Voters truly nonpartisan, or simply politically aligned while claiming neutrality?

Questions for the League

This article continues a series examining the League’s role in Clallam County civic life.

Each Friday, CC Watchdog has submitted questions to the League. None have yet received a response.

This week, CC Watchdog asks:

• How does the League define “nonpartisan”?

• Do League leaders believe consistent support for one political party is compatible with that definition?

• What internal guidelines govern political neutrality for local League leaders and volunteers?

• Why is the League listed on the Clallam County website as a contact for “unaffiliated voters” seeking to become election observers?

If the League is truly nonpartisan, othese questions should be easy to answer.

Readers who would like to ask the League directly can contact them at: info@lwvcla.org

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The Clallam Conservation District’s 2026 supervisor election is underway — but many voters never knew it started. Ballots had to be requested before candidate statements were posted. Postcards went to past voters, not all registered voters. Conflicting messages about who would automatically receive a ballot have added confusion. Meanwhile, the League of Women Voters is helping process ballots in a race where activist allies endorsed the incumbent. After a court invalidated the last CCD election, residents are again asking whether transparency and fairness are being treated as priorities — or afterthoughts.

Clallam County’s most confusing election is back.

The Clallam Conservation District (CCD) is holding its annual supervisor election — a three-year position overseeing a taxpayer-funded agency that recently secured $2 million in county funding over the next decade.

This year’s election is entirely mail-in. But unlike the county’s regular elections, voters had to request a ballot in advance — before most residents knew who was running.

March 17 is Election Day. But if you didn’t request a ballot, you’re out of luck.

Candidate statements were posted very near — and possibly immediately after — the filing deadline, leaving little time for voters to review positions before ballot request deadlines.

In practical terms, voters were asked to commit to participating in a race before knowing who was running.

The $900 Postcard

CCD sent a postcard to select individuals, reminding them to request a ballot. The cost: just over $900.

Who received it?

According to District Manager Kim Williams, the mailing went to people who had participated in past CCD elections and those already on a CCD mailing list.

That raises obvious questions.

If the goal is broader participation, why send reminders primarily to prior voters rather than the roughly 65,000 registered voters in Clallam County?

If prior participants automatically receive ballots in some cases, why the extra mailing expense?

And if this is about expanding access, why not simply mail ballots to all eligible voters?

CCD has explained that conservation district elections are governed by Chapter 89.08 RCW and Washington Administrative Code 135.110. They are exempt from Title 29A — the election laws that govern standard county and state races. Elections occur annually in the first quarter and are overseen by the Washington State Conservation Commission.

In other words, this is a different system.

But different does not automatically mean clearer.

Conflicting Messages

An email exchange between a voter and incumbent WendyRae Johnson illustrates the confusion.

Johnson wrote:

“We want every person who voted in the past and anyone on our mailing list to have the opportunity to vote.”

That phrasing appears to prioritize prior voters and those already connected to CCD communications.

Another dispute centered on whether voters who cast ballots last year were assured they would automatically receive one this year. Johnson later clarified that only those who had checked a specific “annual ballot” request box would automatically receive a ballot — though many voters understandably do not remember which box they checked years ago.

The result is uncertainty.

When election rules are unclear — especially after the previous CCD election was thrown out over improper procedures — confidence suffers.

Sloppy Records?

The postcard recipient list apparently included the late John Brewer, longtime publisher of the Peninsula Daily News, who passed away in April 2024.

Whether the mailing list simply lagged behind obituary updates or reflects deeper record-keeping issues, the optics are difficult.

If reminders are reaching deceased residents, voters reasonably wonder how current the ballot databases are.

Election Reform — Or Politics?

In response to concerns, District Manager Kim Williams wrote:

“We are asking that you and others stand with the CCD in election reform. Clallam Conservation District is committed to pursuing election reform with the Washington State Legislature and making future elections more accessible to all voters. If you would like this election on the regular fall ballot, please contact your legislator at 1-800-562-6000.”

Moving conservation district elections onto the regular fall ballot would require a change in state law.

Yet public records show Williams testified in opposition to House Bill 2499 — legislation related to conservation district election processes.

So which is it?

If the district is committed to reform and broader accessibility, why oppose legislative efforts tied to election changes?

That contradiction deserves explanation.

The League’s Role

Ballot processing assistance in this race is being provided by the League of Women Voters of Clallam County.

The League has publicly campaigned against federal voter ID proposals, warning of barriers to participation and voter suppression. They argue that voting should be as accessible as possible.

At the same time, Indivisible Sequim — an activist group that organizes alongside the League — endorsed incumbent Wendy Rae Johnson, instructing supporters to vote for her.

No policy comparison. No mention of her opponent. Just a directive.

So the activist group, backed by the League of Women Voters, endorses a candidate.

The League, publicly described as nonpartisan, helps process ballots in the same race.

Even if entirely lawful, perception matters.

Trust matters.

If voter access is sacred at the federal level, why is a ballot-request system before knowing who is running accepted locally?

If election integrity is nonnegotiable in Washington, D.C., why the relative quiet from the LWV when confusion and litigation arise in Clallam County?

The Pattern

The CCD’s previous election was invalidated due to improper procedures.

This year’s election features:

• Ballot requests required in advance

• Candidate statements posted after filing deadlines

• Postcards mailed to select lists

• Conflicting public explanations

• A reform narrative that clashes with legislative testimony

None of this proves wrongdoing.

But it does prove something else:

The system is not intuitive.
The messaging has not been consistent.
And confidence has not been strengthened.

Questions for the League

Last week’s questions to the League of Women Voters about whether their messaging amplifies fear within the gay community for political effect remain unanswered.

This week, additional questions:

• How does the League define “nonpartisan” when affiliated activist groups openly endorse candidates in elections the League helps administer?

• Did the League advocate mailing ballots to all eligible voters in this race?

• Does requiring ballot requests before candidate information expand or limit access?

• How does the League reconcile its national rhetoric about voter barriers with this local structure?

If you are a League supporter or critic, you can contact them directly at info@lwvcla.org.

CC Watchdog will continue posing respectful, direct questions each Friday and will publish any responses in full.

Transparency builds trust.

Silence erodes it.

We’ll be back next week.

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That’s so League of Women Voters:

While the League of Women Voters of Clallam County is concerned about losing a hypothetical voter base due to potential legislation that requires proof of citizenship, they appear to have no interest in the lackluster turnout for the 2025 general election in Clallam County where less than half of registered voters participated.

Total Ballots Cast: 28203, Registered Voters: 59529, Overall Turnout: 47.38% (Source)

When it comes to restricting access or making ‘voting harder’ maybe the League should have a talk with the Clallam Conservation District about why they make voting for a supervisor ‘harder’ than in a regular election, and whether or not it restricts access by not alerting all residents in Clallam County about the election; as well as what the CCD did that resulted in a Superior Court voiding their previous election results.

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Two years ago, I defended the League of Women Voters. Today, I’m asking them direct questions. After a partisan newspaper ad, unanswered emails, curated forums, and messaging that amplifies fear about looming threats, it’s time to examine whether the League of Women Voters of Clallam County is truly nonpartisan — or simply branded that way. This begins a weekly series of direct questions to the League. They are invited to respond through CC Watchdog, and I will publish their answers in full.

Two years ago, during the heated debate over whether Towne Road should reopen as promised or be converted into a park as the Jamestown Corporation was advocating, I participated in a Town Hall hosted by the People’s Forum.

On the panel were DCD Director Bruce Emery and Commissioners Mike French and Randy Johnson. Commissioner Mark Ozias declined to participate in the debate held in his own district. About 80 residents attended.

What made that event work was simple: anyone could walk to the microphone and ask a question. It was moderated, yes — but it was open.

Compare that to forums hosted by the League of Women Voters of Clallam County, where questions must be submitted in advance and are curated by the League before being asked.

That contrast stayed with me.

At that Town Hall, longtime residents warned me that the League had long influenced local politics, swayed elections, and shaped the Sequim School Board, Sequim City Council, and past Charter Review Commissions. Some even described the organization as being aligned with a far-left, fringe, radical ideology.

I pushed back. I defended the League.

The League of Women Voters that I remembered from my youth — the one my mother admired — was about voter registration, civic literacy, and encouraging participation across party lines. It was respected. It was trusted.

Then last January I saw something that changed my view.

The League of Women Voters of Clallam County ran a paid advertisement in the Peninsula Daily News condemning the presidential administration.

Not criticizing a specific policy. Not addressing a local issue. Condemning an entire presidential administration.

For an organization that calls itself nonpartisan, that was striking.

One line in particular stood out:

“We’ve seen… continued attacks on… the LGBTQIA+ community.”

As a gay man, that line caught my attention.

Doug and I married in 2015, two months after the Supreme Court legalized same-sex marriage nationwide. Our marriage simplified everything — health insurance, taxes, home ownership, estate planning.

During the 2016 presidential race, we were told — repeatedly — that our marriage would be annulled, that the Supreme Court would reverse course, that we would be targeted, rounded up, even exterminated depending on the outcome of the election. I’m not exaggerating. Friends warned us we might need to hide.

The election came and went. Four years passed.

Nothing happened to our marriage.

But something else did happen.

Doug and I are friends with a same-sex couple who have a “bug-out bag” packed with essentials. They’ve moved money into a Canadian account. They keep a boat at the marina fueled and ready. They’ve mapped the route. They can be in Canada in less than 24 hours — in case the federal government ever begins rounding up gay couples and putting them in camps.

We know another couple who refuses to get married at all. They believe a marriage license would place them on some kind of national registry — a list that could be used to identify and detain them if the political winds shift.

This is not satire. These are real conversations.

Our friends live in quiet, constant anxiety. They have contingency plans for exile. They rehearse escape routes for something that never happened.

Doug and I don’t live that way. And that’s the tragedy.

Because when activists repeatedly warn of annulments, registries, camps, and extermination, they may energize voters. They may raise money. They may consolidate power.

But they plant fear deep inside ordinary lives.

They convince people their rights are one election away from extinction.

Our friends are not afraid because of anything that has happened to them. They are afraid because of what they were told would happen.

And when organizations position themselves as the last barrier between minorities and annihilation, they are not just advocating policy. They are manufacturing emotional crisis.

Fear mobilizes. It builds loyalty. It wins elections. But it also steals peace from the very people it claims to protect.

And if the League of Women Voters — or any group claiming nonpartisan credibility — contributes to that climate of panic without balancing it with factual developments and constitutional realities, then it’s fair to ask whether they are informing voters…

…or frightening them.

So when the League’s ad claimed “continued attacks” on my community, I emailed the address listed — info@lwvcla.org — and asked a simple question:

“As a member of the LGBTQIA+ community, I am reaching out to request an example of attacks taken by the Trump administration that negatively impacted my community within the first 17 days of his presidency.”

I never received a response.

Meanwhile, last year the Supreme Court declined to hear a challenge that could have threatened same-sex marriage. The Court was asked to revisit the landmark Obergefell decision that guaranteed constitutional rights to same-sex marriage. The Supreme Court declined to do so. Marriage equality remained intact.

The same Court that many warned would dismantle our rights decided to leave them standing.

That decision wasn’t highlighted by the League. They didn’t run another ad in the local paper. They didn’t post the victory on Facebook. There was no acknowledgment that marriage equality remained secure. No reassurance to counter fear.

What I saw instead was an organization willing to run a public ad stoking alarm — but unwilling to answer a respectful, direct question from a member of the very community they claimed to defend.

Recently, I encountered a League leader at the courthouse. She wanted to discuss CC Watchdog, but declined to take my business card from my hand because she “didn’t want to end up in the Watchdog.” I assured her that private conversations remain private if requested, and that I rely on publicly available information to write my articles. She continued explaining why she would not be engaging with me. She also said the League never received my email.

So I sent the email again.

Ten days later — still no response.

There’s one more piece of this that I can’t ignore.

On the League’s website, under “Supporting Our LGBTQ+ Community Members,” there’s a Pride photo from Sequim.

In it, former League of Women Voters Secretary Susan Fisch is front and center, raising a rainbow shot glass as an “ally.”

That image matters.

Because I served with Susan Fisch on the 2025 Charter Review Commission.

And during that time, I watched her block agenda items she opposed, restrict public comment, and narrow debate in ways that directly limited participation in a public, taxpayer-funded process. I experienced those restrictions personally. My constituents experienced them. Items were prevented from moving forward. Public input was curtailed. Speech was coonstrained through Susan’s procedural maneuvering.

These are not abstract concerns. They go to the heart of constitutional governance — open meetings, free expression, equal participation in the democratic process.

So when I see the charter review commissioner who ran as the Secretary of the League of Women Voters raising a glass as a champion of LGBTQ+ rights, I can’t help but ask:

Where was that same commitment to protecting rights when it came to protecting the rights of fellow commissioners and Clallam County residents to speak, propose, and participate freely?

In my lived experience, no federal administration has annulled my marriage. No president has stripped me of my constitutional rights as a gay man.

But at the local level, I’ve witnessed procedural power used to limit participation — and it was done by someone who publicly brands herself as a defender of equality.

That’s hypocrisy.

If the Secretary of an organization that claims to be nonpartisan and rights-focused participates in restricting open debate and public process, then it is fair to ask whether the League’s rhetoric about defending rights applies to everyone — or only to those who agree with them.

Rights are not situational. Free speech is not conditional. Public participation is not ideological.

And when someone who publicly claims to defend rights uses procedural authority to narrow them, that deserves scrutiny.

The League claims nonpartisanship.
The League runs partisan ads.
The League curates debate.
The League does not answer direct questions.

Nonpartisan means engaging issues individually, not condemning entire administrations. It means fostering open debate, not controlling the microphone. It means answering constituents, even when the question is uncomfortable.

This article begins a weekly series.

Each Friday, I will pose direct, respectful questions to the League of Women Voters of Clallam County. They are invited to respond through CC Watchdog. I will publish their responses in full, without editing.

Here are this week’s questions:

1. How does condemning an entire presidential administration align with your claim of being nonpartisan?

2. What specific policy actions did you reference when stating there were “continued attacks” on the LGBTQIA+ community?

3. Why are questions at League forums curated rather than asked directly by constituents?

4. Will the League commit to responding publicly to reasonable questions from the community?

5. How do you define “nonpartisan” in practice — not just in branding?

If you are a curious League supporter, or critic — send additional questions to info@lwvcla.org.

Transparency builds trust. Silence erodes it.

The League has the opportunity to clarify its mission and demonstrate that it truly serves all voters — not just those who agree with it.

The microphone is open.

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