The League of Women Voters still prints “nonpartisan” on its letterhead and still receives privileged access to forums, voter guides, public buildings, and elections because of that claim. Karen Crowley’s Peninsula Daily News column defends the organization by splitting hairs between “political” and “partisan.” Local evidence shows that distinction has collapsed. The Clallam County chapter and its leaders function as one side in a partisan contest while still collecting the credibility and institutional access that were granted under the old promise of neutrality.

The Semantic Escape Hatch

Crowley’s piece rests on a familiar claim: the League does not endorse parties or candidates; therefore, it remains nonpartisan even when it takes strong positions on issues. That framing treats the League’s own rules as optional. In practice, the local chapter has spent years aligning with one political direction. The League now sells “Political but not partisan” as the distinction. The record shows the League has repeatedly crossed that line.

Paid Ads Against a President

The Clallam County League ran a paid advertisement in the Peninsula Daily News under the headline “LWVUS Condemns Trump Administration’s Weaponization of Government Against Americans.”

The ad accused the administration of terrorizing immigrants, gays, attacking civil rights, and undermining democracy in its first 17 days. It was not a narrow critique of a single policy. It was a full-throated condemnation of a president and his administration. No comparable advertisement has appeared against Democratic administrations.

Partners Who Pick Candidates

The same chapter regularly tables, marches, and co-hosts events with Indivisible Sequim. Indivisible endorses candidates, produces partisan voter guides, and has turned local rallies into opposition events aimed at the President, Jake Seegers, and Virginia Shogren.

League members appear at these events under League branding.

Crowley argues that partnerships do not compromise the League’s nonpartisanship as long as the shared activity stays focused on an issue. That claim fails when the partner organization exists specifically to defeat particular candidates and the League still lends it both its name and its volunteers. At that point the distinction between issue-based work and partisan activity disappears.

The Face of the Local League

Norma Turner has been a League member for more than five decades and has served multiple terms as president of the Clallam County chapter. Public Disclosure Commission records show she donated $1,000 to Mike French’s campaign for county commissioner—one of his larger individual contributions. She has voiced radio ads for French and filmed a Facebook video promoting his candidacy.

In the video, she claims Seegers wants to send troubled youth out of the county, deport anyone who uses drugs, and make people afraid of the homeless. None of those statements appear in Seegers’ recorded debates, questionnaires, or public comments. Turner has not produced the quotes or context to substantiate them.

If Norma Turner, Karen Crowley, Mike French, or any League official can document that Jake Seegers said any of those things, Clallam County Watchdog will make a donation to the local League of Women Voters chapter. Until then, the video stands as a sitting commissioner’s most prominent local supporter circulating falsehoods about his opponent while the organization that still claims nonpartisan status stays silent.

Title IX and the Girls’ Sports Initiative

Crowley herself has been associated with opposition to Initiative 638, which would require biological males to compete in boys’ sports rather than girls’ sports. She helped author the voters’ pamphlet statement against the citizen-led initiative.

The organization that once advanced women’s suffrage now opposes measures that preserve the protections Title IX was written to guarantee. Young female athletes lose podium places, scholarships, and physical safety while the League treats biological reality as a partisan talking point rather than settled policy.

One Direction Only

Crowley asks why the League has “so much to say” if it does not take sides. The record shows the answer: the organization says a great deal when the position aligns with radical, progressive priorities and almost nothing when it doesn't. It has not run ads against Democratic administrations. It has not partnered with groups that endorse Republican or independent candidates. Its leaders’ donations and public advocacy flow overwhelmingly in one direction. National League materials now frame the country as in a “constitutional crisis” under a program titled “Women Defend Democracy: Democracy Under Siege.” Local chapters are instructed to implement that framing.

The Brand That Buys Access

The League retains its special access—curated forums, ballot processing, and tables in public buildings—only because enough people still believe the old brand. That access is not automatic. It was granted on the explicit claim of neutrality. When the claim no longer matches the behavior—paid anti-administration ads, partnerships with groups that endorse candidates, ballot handling in races those groups have already picked, and a longtime president circulating lies about a challenger—the privilege should end.

Is Norma Turner defending democracy, or desecrating it? Crowley’s column asks the public to treat a word game as if it were still true. The local evidence shows the distinction has already been abandoned.

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A group that still prints “nonpartisan” on the letterhead spent a decade studying the Dungeness, then mailed Olympia a wish list of tighter rules, new fees, and more mitigation. The people who live on the wells were not asked. The causes of those wells going dry were left “unclear.” The U.S. Geological Survey was not.

A letter, not a vote

On September 14, 2026, the League of Women Voters of Clallam County wrote Saboor Jawad at the Department of Ecology’s Southwest Regional Office and copied Washington’s Water Future Initiative, care of Jennifer Hennessey, at Ecology. The letter is input on the state’s water-future process. It is also a lobbying document, sent on behalf of a study team, not a vote of the people who drink from the aquifer.

It never went in front of the public that has to live with it. No hearing in Sequim. No notice to ditch shareholders. A study team, a state portal, a cc to the director’s office. That is how activists move policy when they do not want a room full of well owners.

The bill they didn’t price

The League says the Dungeness Rule and the basin framework “have likely improved conditions.” Then it asks the state to go further. Update the model. Strengthen mitigation triggers and withdrawal rules. Write contingency plans. Modernize graywater and reclaimed-water law. Keep funding irrigation “efficiency,” including cutting tailwater. Set indoor and outdoor conservation standards “to support future growth with conserved water.” Expand storage and recharge. Add property-tax incentives and tiered consumption fees.

Read that in a county where a starter home is already out of reach. Conservation standards, mitigation packages, and new fee structures are not free. Those costs land on building permits and monthly bills. The League never prices them. It never asks whether another layer of process is what an economically strained county needs before the next subdivision or the next farm season. It treats cost as someone else’s problem.

“Unclear” was a choice

On the wells themselves, the letter is careful to the point of evasion. “Many domestic wells in the basin have had to be deepened or re-drilled; the causes are unclear but may include climate impacts and the combined effect of other users and the management program.”

In 1983 the U.S. Geological Survey modeled this peninsula and published the result in Water-Resources Investigations Report 83-4094. The abstract still says what the League did not:

“Analysis using the model shows that leakage from irrigation ditches is the area’s most important source of ground-water recharge. Termination of the irrigation system would lead to lower heads throughout the ground-water system. After 10–20 years of no irrigation, the water-table aquifer would have average drawdowns of about 20 feet and some areas would become completely unsaturated. Several hundred wells could be in danger of going dry.”

That scenario is ending irrigation, not merely slipping a pipe into a ditch that still delivers water. It is still the starkest official warning on the books about what happens when ditch leakage, the recharge the model called most important, goes away. Piping is how this county has been removing that leakage while calling it conservation. The League’s own solution list asks the state to keep funding irrigation efficiency. It does not mention the USGS finding. A group that claims to have studied this watershed for almost a decade did not forget that paragraph. It left it completely out.

Treaties first, homeowners second

The rest of the letter tells you the priority. Tribal treaty fishing rights are named as impaired. Salmon habitat is an ecological risk. The state League’s land acknowledgement, which this chapter sits under, says the land is the homeland of Native peoples who have “long resiliently resisted the ongoing harms of colonialism,” and commits the League to partner with tribes, amplify Indigenous voices, and educate the public on treaty issues.

That is a political program. It is allowed. It is not neutral hydrology.

The green golf course and the dry well

The audience for the letter makes the same point. It is addressed into Ecology under Director Casey Sixkiller, appointed by Governor Bob Ferguson. His father, Sonny Sixkiller, is the former University of Washington quarterback who recruits the celebrities and lends his name to the Sonny Sixkiller Celebrity Golf Classic, held at the Jamestown Tribe’s Cedars at Dungeness course.

The course stays green in the driest weeks of the year. New rural wells in the same watershed have, since the 2013 Dungeness Rule, had to buy mitigation for a lawn. Tribal trust land is exempt. The visual is not. One group is told to conserve. The other group hosts a celebrity golf tournament on irrigated turf.

Nonpartisan, except for the candidate

And the local messenger is not a blank slate. Norma Turner, a fifty-year League member and multi-term president of the Clallam chapter, proposed the charter amendment that let the east end outvote District 3 and seat Mike French. Public disclosure filings reported by this site show she gave his reelection campaign $1,000. She has also used a newspaper letter to police his opponent over 2020. The League still says it does not endorse candidates. Its most durable local figure funds one, rewrites the rules that elected him, and sits inside the organization now telling Ecology to tighten the basin.

What they didn’t study

None of this is a study of harm reduction. None of it is a look at county waste. Those are local issues where an engaged civic organization, like the League, could make a real impact. Instead, it is a request for more state control of a scarce resource, aimed at a director whose family name is on the tribe’s golf tournament, from a civic brand that has picked a side and called it nonpartisan. The drying wells were the fact they could not use. So they called the cause “unclear.”

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9:14:2026 Lwvcla Input On Water Initiative Copy

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The League of Women Voters spent September saying Jake Seegers and Virginia Shogren would not show up. The emails show both were willing to face voters. What they refused was the League’s control of the format, control of the recording, and control of the story.

On September 6, the League of Women Voters of the United States told voters that trusted information is “the ultimate form of inoculation against disinformation,” and offered itself as the trusted messenger.

The same week, the Clallam chapter and its political neighbors were already spreading their own misinformation: the candidates bailed.

The rumor was a campaign ad

A post on Indivislbe — a partisan group that the local League promotes — said Seegers “bailed” on the September 28 League of Women Voters forum with Mike French. Comments on social media echoed that narrative.

Then the poster. Red type: “Jake Seegers Bails On The September 28 Forum.” An empty chair on a laptop accusing him of denying voters a conversation unless it was on his terms. The bottom line was the tell: “Vote Mike French.”

“Conditions attached” means they asked a question

On September 8, voter services chair Deb Cannon canceled both the September 28 County Commissioner forum and the October 1 County Auditor forum. The notices used the same sentence. Policy “requires at least two candidates participating on the terms outlined in the Candidate Forum invitation — a forum cannot proceed with an empty chair or with conditions attached.”

The forums weren’t cancelled because candidates refused to appear, but because candidates had “attached conditions.”

Shogren’s mistake: asking questions of the question askers

On August 28, auditor candidate Virginia Shogren said she would answer voters, but not before the League answered her questions. A forum works only if the host is, and is reasonably seen to be, a neutral referee.

Lwv Forum Inquiry Fas Fae 8 28 26

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She asked which tax-exempt entity would sponsor and brand the forum, and for the current nonpartisan policy. She asked how publishing a condemnation of a sitting presidential administration is issue advocacy rather than opposition to a candidate or party.

She asked for the chapter’s relationship with Indivisible Sequim, Indivisible Port Angeles, and any other group endorsing Clallam candidates: joint events, shared tables, rallies, and use of the League name, logo, or shirts since January 1, 2025.

She asked why members in League identification at “No Kings” and “Resist” rallies should be treated as separate from those organizers’ endorsements.

She asked what role the chapter played in the 2024, 2025, and 2026 Clallam Conservation District supervisor elections, and whether that role was observation or handling ballots.

She cited a December 2025 Thurston County Superior Court ruling that voided the District’s 2024 election for unauthorized procedure. She asked for a written commitment that the chapter will not process ballots in a race where a partner group has endorsed a candidate, and will not appear at partisan rallies under the League name while recruiting for its forums.

On September 6, Cannon sent the waiver, the forum policy, orientation slides, and tabling guidance. The slides call the League a “nonpartisan, political organization.”

The tabling sheet is blunter: “The League is not neutral.” Shogren had asked for a list of joint events with Indivisible and similar groups, a dated account of any ballot handling in Conservation District elections, and the name of the tax-exempt entity that would host this forum. None of the attachments supplies any of these.

Shogren said stock materials are not numbered answers. She would not sign the release. She also refused a rule that converts a demand for answers into a public claim that she canceled voter education. Answer the August 28 letter, she told the League, and she would reconsider.

The next morning the forum was canceled. Best of luck in your campaign.

The waiver is the point

The form is one page. The candidate grants the League permission to record the forum. The next paragraph takes that recording away: the content “is the property of the League of Women Voters of Clallam County and cannot be rebroadcast or used by anyone else WITHOUT SPECIFIC WRITTEN LEAGUE PERMISSION.” The candidate also releases the League and everyone involved from liability for taking, publishing, and using the recordings.

The League screens the questions, runs the clock, keeps the only official tape, owns the answers, and decides who else may use them. A candidate who will not sign does not get the stage. A candidate who signs does not get the recording.

Seegers offered to show up

On August 23, Cannon said policy calls for Zoom only forums due to access, a bigger audience, equal time, and a recording. Candidates had been held to that format for six years. She thanked French for agreeing. A footnote admitted they had recently edited out a “pornographic zoom bomber” and switched to a webinar.

On August 24, Seegers did not refuse. He asked for an in-person forum with Zoom access, the way county meetings already run. “It would be a pleasure to participate if LWV reconsiders and offers an in-person or hybrid forum.”

Cannon’s reply rewrote the offer as a no. “We wish you were flexible to try something different, but respect your choice to not participate.” On September 8 the forum was canceled for lack of two candidates “on the terms outlined.” French had accepted. Seegers had asked to be in the room. Under League rules, that is an empty chair.

Four years ago, French debated Bill Peach in a virtual-only League format. Peach cut out. His face would not show. The glitches devoured the exchange.

Zoom also lets the League collect questions by email and curate which ones to ask, possibly altering questions and feeding them in advance to candidates. When done live, in the same room, that is harder. Seegers’s recent interview with Jesse Charles shows what the League format avoids. Two people who disagree sat in the same room, had respectful dialogue, and found common ground. A webinar with screened questions cannot do that.

Defending the format, not the voters

The League of Women Voters tabling guidance says the organization will never support or oppose a candidate or party. It also says nonpartisan does not mean non-political: “The League is not neutral.”

In the League’s telling, it may advocate on issues its members have adopted, because issues are not partisan.

A civics referee like the LWV who wanted that distinction believed would have answered the questions that test it. This local chapter did not. Shogren asked about joint events with Indivisible and about who touched Conservation District ballots. She got orientation slides and a release. Seegers asked for the hybrid option that county meetings and the Calico Cat Club already use. The chapter called that inflexibility, canceled the forum, and left the preferred candidate’s allies free to print “he bailed.”

It is the same habit voters watched last year, when League secretary Susan Fisch chaired the Charter Review Commission. Robert’s Rules of Order were set aside. Agenda items moved only with her consent. League members in the audience passed her signals on how to run the meeting and Fisch turned the 2025 Charter Review into a mockery of the democratic process. That is not a civic club looking for dialogue. It is a circle that already knows the outcome and treats procedure as the obstacle.

On September 6 the national League asked voters where they were getting their information. Start with these emails. Seegers and Shogren were willing to face the public. The Clallam chapter canceled both forums rather than answer a question or share a room, then stood inside a brand that says it is defending democracy.

The League was not defending democracy. It was defending its grip on the stage, the recording, and the narrative.

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Tabling Guidelines Final 8 28 26 (1)

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Norma Turner wants Jake Seegers to settle 2020 before she will trust him with county roads, budgets, and parks. A longtime League of Women Voters leader spent her letter attacking a local challenger over a national question instead of defending Mike French’s record. If the League still claims to be nonpartisan, this is the moment members should ask whether the organization is serving voters or spreading misinformation.

A 50-year League résumé, and a letter that isn’t about Clallam

Norma Turner has spent more than five decades in the League of Women Voters, including multiple terms as president of a group that still markets itself as “nonpartisan.” Her Sept. 19 letter in the Peninsula Daily News is not an analysis of Clallam County government. It is a loyalty test.

She attended a candidate debate and faulted coverage for omitting answers to one question:

“Did Biden win the 2020 election?”

Mike French said yes. Jake Seegers called the question divisive and declined a yes-or-no answer. Turner’s letter then quoted Seegers’ written questionnaire answer: Candidates who give a simple yes or no risk alienating half the county when unity is needed to get things done.

She asked, “Unity around what? Misinformation?” and concluded that if he will not give “the actual answer,” voters cannot trust what he says is reality. She added that he declared nearly a year ago, yet when asked at a forum what his proposals would cost, he didn't even give a ballpark figure. “Is this a candidate who will be accountable?”

What Turner actually asked at the Calico Cat Club — and what both men said

That last charge is worth checking against the recording she was in the room for.

At the Calico Cat Club debate, Turner asked both men for dollar figures on “all the things you promise” — affordable housing for everyone who needs it, job training, immediate treatment, “all the stuff we’ve heard tonight.”

French spoke first. He called it a tough question, then described strategy rather than a total price tag: the county adopted a sales tax for affordable housing that brings in about $1.5 million a year as seed money for federal and state awards; 36 units coming online this month; 24 hoped for next year; a 60- or 70-unit senior project in a few years “if they can figure out that funding stack.” He said the local number does not have to be huge if the strategy multiplies it. Then he admitted, “I know it’s not exactly the answer, but that’s my attempt.”

Seegers answered next by saying he would “answer partially for my opponent.” His critique was not a spreadsheet of every wish list. It was a record:

• From 2018 to 2024, county revenues rose about 54%

• During that same time, the Bellevue Consumer Price Index (CPI) rose 27.6%

• Grants jumped 125%

• Law enforcement lagged inflation

• The road fund declined

The pattern, he said, is always more — more grants, more tax, more government, more money to NGOs. He would not invent an exact number for an open-ended list of promises.

Jake Seegers’ ballpark figure was different:

• Do it inside the existing budget

• Stop raising taxes on people already carrying the load

• Treat public safety as the fiscal lever. Law and justice, he said, is about $33 million. Cut the costs tied to crime, homelessness, and substance abuse by 20 percent, and that is more than $6 million — enough, in his telling, to balance the budget and fund priorities without another tax hike.

Turner’s letter flattened that exchange into:

“He did not give even a ballpark figure.”

French also did not give a ballpark figure. He offered a housing tax stream and hoped grants would stack. Seegers offered growth-versus-inflation numbers and a 20 percent reduction target on a $33 million public-safety line. One answer assumes the solution is a larger funding stack. The other assumes the county already grew faster than inflation and still has a spending problem. Voters can prefer either theory. What they cannot honestly say is that only one man was asked for numbers and only one man failed.

Why 2020 is a screening device, not a job description

A county commissioner does not certify presidential elections or retry 2020 in the county’s district court. Asking every local candidate to relitigate a six-year-old national contest is not civic hygiene. It is a screening device. If the test is “will you say the sentence our side requires,” then the League is no longer measuring fitness for the Board of Commissioners. It is measuring membership in a political congregation.

Turner’s letter spends almost no space on why French deserves another term. It does not walk voters through the lagging Recompete grant’s results, multi-year budget strain, or the Shore Memorial Pool District — a board on which French serves while the State Auditor documented weak controls and a fraud investigation into credit-card and related spending.

Those are local files. They involve money, oversight, and public trust in this county. A 2020 talking point is easier to defend than them.

PDC filings show Turner putting $1,000 into French’s campaign. If the incumbent’s record is the argument, write that argument. Using a League elder’s byline to police a 2020 sound bite — and misrepresent the answer about costs that she herself asked for — is not accountability. It is a dodge.

Seegers declined the 2020 yes-or-no because a county race is not cable news. His voters want taxes, public-trust land, public safety, and whether spending works. Refusing the LWV ritual is not denying reality. It is refusing to be sorted.

The Rudersdorf video: a president, a lecture, and a one-way standard

The same pattern showed up in a recent video circulated under Erik Brihagen’s name but featuring Martha Rudersdorf — a prominent local League activist, Indivisible member, and retired Sequim teacher.

She opened with a “toxic president,” then said that same spirit of disrespect, lying, name-calling, and vitriol has reached Clallam elections. She treated Seegers’ recent apology as too little, too late, and praised French for saying leaders should calm rhetoric and bring people together.

Hold that standard up to the record the other side actually produced.

Lying. Rudersdorf’s Indivisible invited Seegers to answer its questionnaire, then published only French’s answers and presented Seegers’ responses as if they were the opposite of what he wrote. If “lying” is the charge, start with groups that solicit answers and then refuse to present them straight.

Name-calling. On the eve of Seegers’ first debate at Clallam County Democrats’ headquarters, the party’s official Facebook presence labeled him “Fake Jake.” That is not a voter in a comments section. That is an institutional tone-setter before the first joint appearance.

On the topic of name-calling, Rudersdorf’s husband, Dave LeRoux, just published a letter to the editor which insinuates Seegers is a Christian nationalist.

Vitriol. Replacing slashed, stolen, and spray-painted signs has cost the Seegers campaign about $1,000, plus boycott threats against businesses that host them. Slashed signs, blood-smeared anti-Seegers messages, and a Charlie Kirk comparison are not “robust debate.”

Recently, Seegers did something incumbents and activists in this race have not matched: he took the heat onto himself. He did not claim every ugly post came from the other side. He said the race turned toxic months ago, that both supporters and opponents had used name-calling, threats, and foul language — and that he had participated by staying silent until a friend called him on it. Then he asked the community to join him in setting a standard: attack policies, not people; don’t post anything you wouldn’t say to a friend; keep competing hard on public safety, affordability, and spending.

Rudersdorf treats the apology as a problem. It isn’t. Seegers drew a line between policy and personal attack, refused to smear French as a person, and asked the county to argue facts. That is adulthood. Calling it too late gives the LWV game away: French saying “rhetoric is bad” counts as leadership; Seegers asking people to stay on the issues does not. If that statement still isn’t good enough for the League, the standard was never civility. The only outcome that would have satisfied the lecture is Seegers losing.

Property destruction, missing local files, and the fading League brand

French’s own past comment on property destruction sits awkwardly next to lectures about civic tone. He has been quoted saying property destruction is “not only fine,” and is “usually the only way we’ve ever seen actual change happen.”

A commissioner who has normalized destruction as a tool of change is a weak messenger when the other campaign’s signs are being destroyed. Accountability, if it means anything, runs both directions.

The $118,000 safe-parking program is the kind of file a “nonpartisan” League should be worried about: county money sent by Commissioner French to a Sequim church, then paid out to OlyCAP, an NGO on whose board French serves. If League voices want to lecture about accountability, start there. A 2020 quiz is easier, but voters can tell the difference.

What has worn thin in Clallam County is the performance of neutrality. The League of Women Voters built a reputation on candidate forums, voter guides, and the idea that process matters more than team. A local chapter that treats a presidential-election catechism as the gateway to county office, while its most prominent members donate, endorse, and narrate for one Democrat-aligned incumbent, is not hiding its politics. It is advertising them.

Groupthink is comfortable. County government is not a congregation.

Groupthink never calls itself groupthink. It calls itself moral certainty: the answer is settled, and the offense is refusing to recite it. That may be comfortable, but it is a lousy way to choose a county commissioner.

Jake Seegers is running as an independent against an incumbent with a record voters can inspect without a 2020 decoder ring. At the forum that Turner attended, Seegers didn't price a wish list because he doesn't accept it. He said the county already outran inflation, backfilled with grants, and shorted core services — and that a 20 percent cut in the downstream cost of crime and addiction on a $33 million justice budget is the fiscal path that does not require another tax. French said strategy and seed money. Turner only heard what she wanted to.

If League members still believe their organization is for voters rather than for a faction, the respectful move is simple: drop the national litmus test, put French’s local file on the table next to Seegers’ budget argument, and let Clallam County decide which one is actually accountable.

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District 3 voted no. The rest of the county voted yes. That is how Mike French became commissioner, and that is how he is trying to keep the job. The League of Women Voters helped write the rules, Norma Turner helped bankroll the candidate, and the West End is still waiting for its own vote to count.

In July 2025, this site asked a simple question: Who speaks for the West End? The answer, a year later, is still not District 3.

A Charter Review survey that year found 74 percent of 1,457 respondents wanted to return to district-only voting for county commissioners. That would have meant the people who live in a district nominate and elect the person who represents them — the system Clallam used before a 2020 charter amendment.

Instead, the current hybrid lets District 3 pick two finalists in August, then hands the November decision to Sequim and the east side of Port Angeles.

The Commission asked the public. Then it sat on the results for nine days and released them hours before a meeting. That delay made it nearly impossible to move an amendment through the required steps in time for the November ballot. A majority-Democrat Charter Review Commission, 12 of 15 members endorsed by the Clallam County Democrats, never put restoration of district-only voting in front of voters. So why did they even ask the public to take the survey? They asked the public, then ran the year as if the answers didn’t matter.

Last year’s Commission was chaired by Susan Fisch, then secretary of the League of Women Voters of Clallam County. She received the most votes of any Charter Review commissioner and ran the process. Fisch ran the calendar like a private club. Items she opposed never got a meeting and objections to that practice became bylaw fights.

The League has had a grip on Charter Review for years. Last year was not an exception. It was the tradition.

The 2022 race was the proof of concept

In the August 2022 primary, only District 3 voted. Incumbent Bill Peach beat Mike French 53.34 percent to 46.44 percent.

In the general, the whole county voted. French won 51.52 percent to 48.32 percent.

If only District 3 had voted in November, Peach still would have won: 53.8 percent to 46.2 percent, even after a late DUI charge against Peach. District 3 preferred Peach in the primary and preferred Peach in the general. Voters in Districts 1 and 2 flipped the seat. That is not a theory. That is the certified count.

The amendment that made that possible was proposed by Norma Turner, former president of the League of Women Voters of Clallam County and a 50-year member.

It passed countywide 54.21 percent to 45.79 percent. Turner’s amendment gave Mike French his commissioner seat.

She did not stop at rewriting the rules. PDC records show Turner gave French $1,000 last month.

That is not the “nonpartisan” League writing a check. It is the person most identified with the local League writing the check after rewriting the map.

August 2026: District 3 spoke again

This August, District 3 voters chose Jake Seegers over French, 3,675 to 3,288 — 52.66 percent to 47.11 percent. Both names advance because the general is countywide. The district that has to live with the commissioner picked Seegers. The east end gets the last word. Again.

Imagine Washington’s 6th Congressional District narrowed the field to two people — say Emily Randall (D) and a local independent — and then the entire country picked the winner because “Congress votes on things that affect all Americans.” No one in this county would call that local control. County commissioners vote on roads, fees, health policy, and land use that hit Forks and Clallam Bay differently than they hit Sequim. The principle is the same. The people who live with the office should determine the election.

District 3 is the most rural, the poorest, and the most dependent on timber, trades, and distance. French’s record doesn't reflect that district. As chair of the Board of Health, he backs harm-reduction ideology. He has supported tighter rural burning rules through ORCAA. He supported the Cultural Access Tax, which commissioners could impose without a public vote. Four years ago, at a League forum against Peach, he asked why the county wasn't permanently funding the Conservation District. That idea later showed up as a parcel fee on property.

Why keep commissioners partisan — and only commissioners?

The local League has stated that all county elected officials should be nonpartisan except the commissioners. Not the auditor. Not the assessor. Not the sheriff. Not the prosecutor. Only the three people who set policy and pass budgets keep party labels.

That is not a small carve-out. Keep the party label on the commissioner and a local campaign becomes tied to the White House. The League never has to say this aloud, because it has Indivisible to do that.

The League’s own site still recites that it does not endorse candidates or parties. Its calendar and its company tell another story. It promotes and appears with Indivisible Sequim and Indivisible Port Angeles — groups that endorse candidates and publish partisan guides. League members have helped staff Conservation District elections in a race Indivisible had already picked a side in. The League has paid for newspaper ads attacking a sitting president.

Tomorrow the LWV Civics Education Committee is slated to staff a table and give a voting presentation at the Election Protection Fair — an RSVP-only Indivisible event at St. Luke’s in Sequim.

The same network put out an invitation with a skunk at the bottom, the image that has become shorthand for anti-Seegers messaging. That is not a League endorsement on letterhead. It is a platform, a table, and a brand loaned to a group that does the endorsing. Nonpartisan is the title. Indivisible is the hands.

National League materials are not written in Clallam County. They are written in the orbit of D.C.: democracy “under siege,” a DEI lens on every process, immigration, abortion access, climate, guns. Local chapters are mandated to follow. Clallam’s LWV chapter talks like a civic club but votes like a progressive ideological sect. Calling that nonpartisan does not make it so. It just keeps access to the forums, the ballots, and the Charter Review gavel.

Respect the neighbors

Four years ago District 3 rejected French when only District 3 voted, and it still preferred Peach when you isolate the general-election precincts. This August it chose Seegers. The League’s most prominent local figure helped change the rules so the east end could overrule the west. She helped fund the man who benefited. The Commission she and her network have shaped refused to let the public vote on putting the old rule back — after asking the public and getting a 74 percent answer.

Forks, Clallam Bay, Joyce, Beaver, Neah Bay, and La Push are not suburbs of Sequim. They are a third of the county with a different economy and a different vote. Countywide general elections for a “district” seat are how you keep that vote from mattering.

District 3 has said who it wants. The honest thing is to let that stand.

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The League of Women Voters of Clallam County sells itself as a homegrown, nonpartisan civic club. Its national parent has already written the script: democracy is “under siege,” every process runs through a DEI lens, and local chapters are expected to follow.

The brand and the access it buys

The League of Women Voters of Clallam County presents itself as a grassroots group that registers voters, hosts forums, keeps residents informed about local government, and thanks our public servants for keeping us safe.

That brand has given it unmatched access: official listings as a voter resource, a standing role processing ballots, and a decades-long grip on the Charter Review Commission. Look at the national Leaders Guide the local chapter is expected to follow, and the mask slips. This is not a collection of independent neighbors studying Sequim water or Port Angeles schools. It is a franchise executing a centralized ideological program.

“Nonpartisan” in name only

The League’s own website still recites the old promise: it does not endorse candidates or parties. In Clallam County, that promise has been tested and found lacking.

The local chapter has repeatedly appeared at, promoted, and marched alongside Indivisible — a group that endorses candidates, produces partisan voter guides, has excluded residents from meetings advertised as public, and has called for boycotts of local businesses.

In the Clallam Conservation District race, Indivisible backed the incumbent while League volunteers helped process the ballots. League members have bought newspaper ads attacking a sitting president. Their leaders and long-time activists donate exclusively to Democratic campaigns and county party committees. “Nonpartisan” has become a credential, not a practice.

The national script: “Democracy Under Siege”

That pattern is not an accident of a few local enthusiasts. It tracks the national organization. The 2026-2028 Leaders Guide instructs every League to plan around a campaign titled “Women Defend Democracy: Democracy Under Siege.” It declares a constitutional crisis as of April 17, 2025, and lists six prongs: Voting Rights, Election Protection, Redistricting, Individual Liberties, Immigration, and The Presidency.

The language is not the measured tone of a civic league. It is mobilization language: democracy is under “coordinated attack,” institutions face “direct and sustained threats,” and the League is “uniquely positioned to fight back.” Local chapters are not invited to debate whether that framing is accurate. They are told to implement it.

The DEI operating system

Layered on top is a mandatory DEI filter. The same guide tells leaders to run every process—meetings, studies, advocacy—through a “DEI lens.”

The questions are explicit: Whose voices are included and excluded? Who is burdened? Does this meet the needs of underserved and marginalized groups? What barriers prevent equity? How will people from different backgrounds perceive this?

Equity here is not equal rules. It is an audit of outcomes and feelings, with special attention to race, identity, and “marginalized” status. The national League reports that 85 percent of its recent federal and redistricting litigation “meaningfully supported diversity, equity, and inclusion.” DEI is not a side project. It is the operating system.

Positions that are not local

The positions that flow from that system are equally specific. On immigration, the League supports a path for people already in the country without legal permission to earn legal status, opposes deportation of those without major violent criminal records, and insists all residents—regardless of status—receive dignity, essential services, and protection from “xenophobia, racism, [and] anti-immigration rhetoric.”

A new national concurrence position pushed by Washington state goes further: condemn anti-immigrant rhetoric at every level of government and civil society.

On reproductive policy, public policy “must affirm the right of privacy” to make choices, and every resident should have affordable access to abortion as part of basic health care.

Climate policy must follow “the best available climate science.” Voting policy treats ID requirements and citizenship documentation as threats rather than safeguards. These are not local consensus positions reached after a study of Clallam County’s timber towns and fishing communities. They are national talking points.

Who holds the gavel

The local payoff is power.

League-connected figures have chaired or dominated the Charter Review Commission cycle after cycle. Susan Fisch, the local League secretary, received the most votes of any commissioner and served as chair.

Norma Turner, a former local League president with more than 50 years in the organization, has served on multiple commissions.

Jim Stoffer, a frequent League and Indivisible collaborator, has sat on the commission and previously on the Sequim School Board.

It’s all within the same network. Patrice Johnston, Sequim School Board director and part of the earlier Sequim Good Governance League circle that fed into today’s activist groups, and Maren Halvorsen, who lists the League’s Civics Education Committee on her voter pamphlet, help set education policy.

When the most influential political organization in Clallam County also supplies the chairs, the observers, the forum moderators, and the school-board members, “grassroots” starts to look like a closed loop.

The question Clallam County still has to answer

None of this requires conspiracy. It requires only groupthink and brand protection. The national program planning process, the DEI checklist, the “democracy under siege” campaign, and the standing partnerships with groups that do endorse candidates all point in the same direction.

Local members can still register voters and host forums. They cannot credibly claim the organization is merely a neutral advocate of civic life when its parent body has already decided which side of the culture and policy wars it is on—and expects every local chapter to follow.

Residents who value actual local control should stop treating the League’s nonpartisan label as settled fact and start reading the program the chapter is required to implement.

The documents are public.
The influence is not subtle.

The League already chose its ideology. The only question left is whether Clallam County will keep pretending it didn’t.

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The League of Women Voters built its name on two rules: no parties, no candidates. In Clallam County, the local chapter still trades on that name while standing with groups that endorse candidates, buying ads against a president, and helping handle ballots in a race a court already had to throw out. If the national organization will not enforce its own rules here, “nonpartisan” is just a brand.

League of Women Voters of the United States
Board of Directors
1233 20th Street NW, Suite 500
Washington, DC 20036
governance@lwv.org
memberservices@lwv.org

Copy:
League of Women Voters of Washington
Karen Crowley, President
1511 Third Avenue, Suite 801
Seattle, WA 98101
president@lwvwa.org
info@lwvwa.org

August 28, 2026

Dear Members of the National Board:

I am writing from Clallam County, Washington, because the League of Women Voters built its name on a simple promise: it does not support or oppose political parties or candidates. That promise is why people still trust the League with voter guides, forums, and a seat at the table in elections.

Our local chapter still uses that promise. I do not believe it still keeps it.

I respect the national organization. I am not asking you to punish a local League because some disagree with its policy positions. The League has always been allowed to study issues and take stands on legislation. That is not the problem.

The problem is that the League of Women Voters of Clallam County now looks, to a large part of this county, like a political operation wearing a nonpartisan badge. It partners with groups that endorse candidates. It has paid for advertising that attacks a presidential administration. And it has helped handle ballots in a local election where those same allies told people how to vote.

If that is allowed to continue under your name, the name does not mean what you say it means.

What your own rules require

Every local League has to stay nonpartisan toward parties and candidates. That is not optional. Local chapters exist because the national organization grants them recognition. If a chapter will not follow the rules, national can set conditions or pull the charter and the right to use the League name.

You have said yourselves that the League only works if the public believes it is genuinely nonpartisan. In Clallam County, that belief is breaking.

The local chapter is publicly tied to a group that endorses candidates

The Clallam County League has promoted and appeared at events with Indivisible Sequim and Indivisible Port Angeles. These are not neutral civic clubs. They endorse candidates and tell their members whom to support.

In the Clallam Conservation District race, Indivisible endorsed incumbent Wendy Rae Johnson and told people to vote for her. League members, at the same time, have served as volunteer election officers and helped process ballots in that race.

The local chapter can say it did not sign the endorsement. That is not enough. When the League shows up with the same group, under the same banners, and then helps handle the ballots, ordinary people do not see a wall between the two. They see one side with better access.

It ran a newspaper ad against a presidential administration

Last year, the local League paid for an ad in the Peninsula Daily News condemning the presidential administration. It was not a write-up on a local ordinance. It was a public attack on an administration.

A League can criticize a bill. A paid ad going after a president is something else.

If the local GOP bought a Peninsula Daily News ad condemning a Democratic administration and then asked to handle ballots, nobody would call that voter service.

It is inside a local election that already collapsed once

A court threw out the 2024 Conservation District election over bad procedure. The following election was marked by confusion about who received a ballot and by observers being kept outside the room.

League members processed ballots in the last CCD election. That might be tolerable if people here still saw the League as neutral. They do not. They see a group aligned with activists who had already chosen a candidate in the same race.

This is the part that should concern you most. This is not a disagreement about climate policy or abortion. This is the League’s name attached to ballot handling after a voided election.

The pattern is not hard to see

Public reporting has laid out the rest:

• The chapter praises some political figures and ignores others.

• Visible League leaders have a public record of donations to the Clallam County Democrats and Democratic candidates.

• The chapter takes official stances on contested local projects and still expects to be treated as the county’s neutral civic referee.

• Its candidate forums use questions submitted in advance and screened by League members.

None of that, by itself, proves a formal endorsement. Taken together, it explains why so many people here no longer buy the “nonpartisan” label.

Private donations by members are not a crime. Using the League’s reputation to keep special access while acting like a faction is the issue.

What I am asking you to do

Please investigate the Clallam County League.

Ask whether it has supported or opposed candidates or parties, directly or by tying itself to groups that do. Ask whether its leaders have kept League office separate from partisan activity. Ask it to produce its nonpartisan policy, its ads, its partnership records, and a plain explanation of its role in Conservation District ballot processing.

Until that review is done, the chapter should not appear at partisan rallies under the League name, and it should not handle ballots in any race where its partner groups have endorsed a candidate.

If the facts show a real breach, put conditions on the chapter or take back the charter.

I will send sources, dates, and links if you want them. The local reporting is collected here: https://www.ccwatchdog.com/s/league-of-women-voters

The national League does not have to stop advocating.
It does have to decide whether “we do not support or oppose candidates or parties” is a rule or a slogan.
In this county, that decision is overdue.

Respectfully,

Jeff Tozzer

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A glowing letter to the editor—appearing to come from within the League of Women Voters itself—holds the organization up as “nonpartisan.” But a closer look at its recent messaging and local activity suggests otherwise. It’s time to examine whether that label still holds up—and whether the continued focus on national politics is pulling attention away from the real issues facing Clallam County.

A recent letter to the editor from Sequim resident Linda Benson attempts to draw a clean distinction between “political” and “partisan,” praising the League of Women Voters (LWV) as firmly in the former category while rejecting the latter. It’s a tidy argument—one that sounds reasonable at first glance. But it doesn’t hold up under closer inspection.

Benson argues that being partisan means supporting a candidate or party, and that the League does neither. But that definition ignores a more practical reality: you don’t have to explicitly endorse a candidate to consistently advance one side of the political spectrum.

A Message Without a Name

Consider the League’s own paid messaging. In a widely circulated advertisement, the organization condemned actions taken by a presidential administration, warning of threats to democracy, civil rights, and constitutional balance.

No candidate endorsement. No party logo.

Those weren’t needed; the message is unmistakable.

When an organization repeatedly frames national issues through one lens—highlighting one side’s failures while remaining silent on the other—it is shaping political opinion. And shaping opinion, especially in a selective and consistent direction, is not neutral. It’s partisan in practice, even if not in name.

The Exception That Raises Questions

That concern becomes sharper when looking at the League’s own policy positions.

Two years ago, the LWV adopted a position on the Clallam County Charter that called for all elected officials to be nonpartisan—except for county commissioners.

Why the exception?

Why preserve partisanship in the very offices that set policy, control budgets, and shape the county’s future?

If the goal is truly nonpartisan governance, carving out the most powerful local positions suggests something else is at play. It keeps the door open for party-driven influence where it matters most.

More Connected Than It Appears

There’s another detail that complicates the narrative.

According to a Sequim Gazette report covering local candidate forums, a “Linda Benson” is identified as part of the League’s Voter Services Committee and served as a moderator for one of its forums. That raises an obvious question: Is this the same Linda Benson now publicly defending the League’s nonpartisan reputation in a letter to the editor?

If so, the letter reads less like an outside perspective and more like an internal defense—something readers deserve to know as they evaluate the argument being made.

When Candidates Opt Out

The League often points to its candidate forums as proof of its neutrality—open platforms where voters can hear directly from those seeking office.

But even those forums tell a more complicated story.

In that same Sequim Gazette article, two incumbent city council candidates declined to participate. One cited prior experience, saying the forums included too many “gotcha questions.” Another questioned the structure and setup of the event.

Those aren’t minor complaints. They go to the heart of credibility.

If candidates—especially incumbents familiar with the process—are choosing not to participate because they perceive bias in how questions are framed or discussions are conducted, that undermines the claim of neutrality. And frankly, who would blame them?

A forum that appears tilted, even subtly, doesn’t inform voters—it shapes outcomes.

Focus on D.C., Ignore Clallam

There’s a broader pattern here—and it’s hard to miss.

While Clallam County faces real, tangible challenges—public safety concerns, environmental degradation in places like Tumwater Creek, questions about school performance, and the effectiveness of taxpayer-funded programs—the conversation is often redirected elsewhere.

Back to Washington, D.C.
Back to national narratives.
Back to federal politics.

That shift matters. Because the more attention is focused outward, the less scrutiny is applied locally.

And that’s a convenient dynamic.

Activism by Proxy

The League often points to its lack of direct candidate endorsements as proof of neutrality. But endorsements are only one measure of partisanship. Where an organization shows up—and who it chooses to stand alongside—can be just as revealing.

That’s where the picture becomes clearer.

The League’s participation in and promotion of events tied to groups like Indivisible raises legitimate questions about that neutrality. These are not politically neutral spaces. Indivisible Sequim, for example, has openly called for boycotts of local businesses who do not align with their ideologies.

Indivisible has also removed participants for the materials they were reading or sharing.

These are advocacy-focused settings meant to energize a specific group, not reach all voters.

So when voter registration or civic outreach takes place in those settings, it isn’t broad-based civic engagement. It’s targeted engagement—aimed at a specific type of voter, in a space already aligned with a particular viewpoint.

Ask a straightforward question: what kind of voter are you most likely to reach at an ideologically charged protest? Then compare that to a setting like the Clallam County Fair, where the entire community—across backgrounds and beliefs—comes together.

One setting is consistently embraced. The other is noticeably absent.

That’s not incidental. It reflects a deliberate choice about where to engage—and who to engage with.

Local Leaders, National Talking Points

This national focus isn’t limited to advocacy groups.

Local elected officials have increasingly leaned into federal political commentary, using their platforms to weigh in on presidential leadership, congressional actions, and national controversies. Strong opinions are expressed. Federal narratives are reinforced.

But the contrast becomes harder to ignore when measured against silence closer to home.

In 2021, current Sequim City Mayor Rachel Anderson participated in a downtown protest highlighting violence against Asian women—a national issue that drew widespread attention and public response.

Yet fast forward to last year, when an elderly man was fatally assaulted in broad daylight during Sequim’s Irrigation Festival by a known drug user, there was no comparable public response. No statements. No visible urgency. Not from the mayor, and not from the city council.

That kind of contrast raises uncomfortable questions about what issues receive attention—and which ones don’t.

The roads still need fixing.
Public safety concerns persist.
Environmental problems continue to surface.
Families still have questions about schools and outcomes.

But those conversations don’t generate the same attention.

The Cost of the Distraction

When local discourse is dominated by national politics, something important gets lost: accountability.

It becomes easier to rally people around distant issues than to answer difficult questions close to home. Easier to point fingers at federal institutions than to measure whether local policies are working.

That’s the tradeoff.

And it’s one Clallam County can’t afford indefinitely.

A Different Path Forward

Clallam County doesn’t have Democrat problems or Republican problems. It has Clallam County problems—and they demand common-sense solutions.

Public safety.
Economic Development.
Affordability.
Fiscal responsibility.
Environmental stewardship.

These are not partisan issues—they’re practical ones.

Imagine if the same energy used to drive national political messaging were redirected toward local outcomes. Imagine if organizations demanded measurable results from county programs, real transparency in spending, and clear accountability from elected officials.

We’ve done it before—that’s what led to Towne Road reopening—and it’s where real, meaningful change begins.

Think Independently

If there’s one takeaway, it’s this: labels matter less than behavior.

“Nonpartisan” isn’t defined by what an organization says—it’s defined by what it does, where it shows up, and how it operates when no one’s watching.

Clallam County deserves voters who think for themselves. Who question what they’re told. Who look beyond national narratives and focus on what’s happening here at home.

Question the League.
Question local government.
Question the loudest voices in the room.
Question CC Watchdog.

Because real progress doesn’t come from picking a side.

It comes from thinking independently—and demanding better.

Today’s Tidbit: Boycott Today, Shop Tomorrow?

The League of Women Voters has promoted and partnered with groups like Indivisible Sequim—so it’s worth taking a closer look at what that actually means in practice.

Start with Indivisible Sequim’s calendar.

On certain “days of action,” the message is clear: no school, no shopping, no banking. Shut it down. Send a message. Apply pressure.

But when the Irrigation Festival comes around? Suddenly, it’s time to support local businesses.

So which is it?

Boycott the community—or support it?

That kind of contradiction isn’t minor—it speaks to a broader pattern. These aren’t neutral civic efforts. Indivisible is an openly ideological organization, built around mobilizing people toward specific political outcomes. Locally, that shows up in calls for boycotts, reports of excluding participants over what they read or share, and even events like lectures on martial law.

And this is the group the League of Women Voters is choosing to promote and engage with.

When an organization claims to be nonpartisan, but consistently aligns itself with groups that are explicitly partisan in tone and tactics, the label starts to lose meaning.

Step back and look at the full picture:

Encourage people to withdraw from everyday civic and economic life.
Push a specific political worldview.
Then pivot and promote local spending when it’s convenient.

That’s not consistency. That’s selective engagement.

And when the League lends its credibility to that kind of operation, it’s fair to ask whether “nonpartisan” is a description—or just branding.

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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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