Fascism doesn’t always march in uniforms or wave foreign flags—it seeps quietly into local politics through manipulation, double standards, and fear. A series of handmade signs on a Sequim street reminded us how these tactics are showing up in Clallam County today: voter suppression disguised as strategy, loyalty over competence, history rewritten for convenience, and fear wielded as control. From skewed elections to silenced citizens, the lessons our grandparents fought for overseas now demand vigilance at home. The question isn’t whether fascism can happen here—it’s whether we’ll notice before it takes hold.
Some things are easier to spot when written on a sign than when woven into policy. Recently, a group of masked citizens stood on Washington Street in Sequim—between the Costco roundabout and Walmart—holding signs that spelled out what fascism looks like. They didn’t need speeches or shouting. Just words on cardboard.
Their message was simple: fascism isn’t just about distant history or foreign regimes. It creeps in closer to home, in the everyday actions of those who govern us.
This series of photos—and the signs displayed in them—serve as a mirror for Clallam County. Each one reflects uncomfortable truths about how our leaders behave.
“Use of voter suppression”
Voter suppression is a powerful tool because it silences voices. Sequim’s school bond campaign offers a case study: a special election with low turnout, ballot language crafted by a national law firm that buried the price tag, and a holiday-season filing that left residents just ten days to challenge it.
Endorsements flowed from commissioners who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—answer simple questions. A city council violated its own rules to provide support. The largest private employer, The Jamestown Corporation, threw in its weight—despite much of its land being exempt from paying for the school bond and levy.
Transparency was sacrificed for strategy. Voter suppression doesn’t always look like locked ballot boxes. Sometimes it’s quiet manipulation.
“Accusing others of crimes you commit”
Ordinary citizens are lectured about bullying, harassment, or intimidation. Yet when Commissioner Mark Ozias’s wife, Lisa Boulware, confronted a critic of her husband in the hallway after a meeting—and then retreated into the commissioners’ office for cover—it was treated as acceptable.
In Clallam County, consequences often depend on who you are and who you know. Justice applied unevenly is not justice at all.
“Appointing incompetent loyalists”
Mike French’s county commmissioner career was secured by Charter Review changes driven by League of Women Voters Presdient Norma Turner. Her letter to the editor promised housing solutions and action from then Port Angeles City Councilmember French. Two and a half years later, housing is less affordable, taxes are higher, and millions have been sunk into failed projects like Towne Road.
What has French delivered? Pizza parties for addicts, a county-funded poet laureate, and new tax proposals. Loyalty may be rewarded—but competence? That seems optional.
“Rewriting history”
Commissioner Ozias once wrote passionately about transparency. He promised Towne Road would sit atop a levee. Years later, he declared it was never meant to be a road project at all. Which is true?
“Once the new levee is built, the new Towne Road will be on top of the levee, and the section of Towne Road will be removed as part of the restoration of the floodplain.” — Commissioner Mark Ozias
“From the very beginning, this project was always intended to feature a trail. The road component was always considered optional,” explained Ozias. “From the very beginning, the trail was a given; the road was not.” — Commissioner Mark Ozias
Meanwhile, history itself is reshaped. The Jamestown Tribe’s 1874 purchase of 210 acres built a land base—an act of resilience and independence. Yet today, commissioners say the Tribe “did not begin with a land base” and must build one now through trust transfers which remove property from the tax rolls.
Past and present is being rewritten to fit a narrative.
“Fear mongering to gain power”
The Conservation District and the County Commissioners told us that without a new $5 parcel fee (exempting tribal trust lands), clean water, salmon, and agriculture might vanish. The League of Women Voters warned democracy itself was collapsing in a local ad.
Exaggeration breeds fear. Fear secures control.
“Racial profiling against minorities”
The Jamestown Tribe, the county’s second-largest employer, admits to race-based hiring preferences. Tribal citizens make up 62% of employees—far beyond the county’s demographics.
In an area where women, people of color, and LGBTQ residents seek equal opportunity, is preferential hiring fair? Or is it simply discrimination with a different name?
“Threatening political opponents with prison”
When opponents of the Towne Road realignment voiced their case, county leaders launched a secret month-long investigation into them. Allegations of bullying and harassment proved empty during an attempt to prosecute political foes, but the threat was clear.
Contrast that with how county leaders ignore citizens that are doxed, intimidated, and smeared online. No investigation. No urgency. Different standards for different people.
“Erasing and faking government data”
Commissioner Ozias recently claimed that 30% of Sequim’s population used the food bank in a single month. In reality, the figure reflected a year’s worth of data. The difference matters—but no correction was issued.
When a sitting commissioner also sits on that nonprofit’s board which benefits from a relationship with the County, blurred lines become dangerous. Advocacy replaces accuracy.
“Oppression of LGBTQ+ people”
League of Women Voters ads warn that LGBTQIA+ rights are under siege. Yet here in Clallam County, the real oppression many feel comes not from who they love, but from how their government treats them. Citizens silenced, misled, and dismissed—rights eroded by neglect, not identity.
“Replacing science with ideology”
The Marine Resources Committee warned the commissioners of sea-level rise and advised that residents retreat from homes like those on 3 Crabs Road. Yet property owners point out their flooding worsened only after an armored dike was removed.
Respected scientists like Cliff Mass point to gradual, natural change—not sweeping, man-made crisis—yet ideology insists on drastic action. And ideology wins when citizens’ homes are reduced to bargaining chips in someone else’s agenda.
“Our grandparents fought fascism. Will you?”
In 1943, my grandparents left their farm on Jamestown Beach to serve. My grandmother worked military communications in Nome. My grandfather fought through the Battle of the Bulge. His leg is still somwhere in Luxembourg. They believed they were fighting fascism abroad so their children and grandchildren would never face it here.
They came home to dairy farming and quiet lives. But they never imagined that one day, in their own county, leaders would weaponize government against its people, rule through fear, and rewrite truth for convenience.
They fought fascism. So did their entire generation. Now the question is ours to answer.
Last Sunday, Jake Seegers asked readers whether commissioners should weigh the ethics of an organization—and the conduct of its members—when deciding how to allocate taxpayer dollars. Of 164 votes:
91% said, “Yes, always”
4% said, “No, ethcis are irrelevant”
4% said, “Ethics are too hard to define”
1% said, “Only if lies have been told”
