We often hear concerns about dark money in politics. Usually, the discussion focuses on who is funding advocacy groups, nonprofits, and political movements. But an equally important question receives far less attention: How is that money actually being spent?

While in Washington, DC, over the weekend, I found myself asking that question after multiple encounters with paid canvassers working on behalf of the National Parks Conservation Association (NPCA).

The organization is hardly a neutral observer of public policy. Under the leadership of Tiernan Sittenfeld, a former senior vice president at the League of Conservation Voters, NPCA has repeatedly criticized President Donald Trump and opposed many of his administration’s policies. In recent months, the organization has attacked projects ranging from staffing decisions to renovations around federal monuments and parkland.

What caught my attention, however, was not NPCA’s political advocacy. It was the people being paid to carry it out.

Several canvassers approached me on the National Mall, urging visitors to sign a petition opposing what they described as a Trump administration plan to build a private luxury golf course on public land near the Thomas Jefferson Memorial. As someone who follows politics closely, I was surprised. A proposal to construct a private golf course on national park land next to one of America’s most recognizable monuments would almost certainly be national news.

So I asked a simple question.

Where can I find the proposal?

The canvasser’s response was revealing.

“I wouldn’t even know how to direct you to the proposal.”

Moments earlier, the same canvasser had been encouraging tourists to sign a petition against it.

When I pressed further, the details became even murkier.

“The proposal was released, I think, a couple of weeks ago,” she told me.

She could not identify where it had been released, who had proposed it, or provide any documentation supporting the claim. Asked why the project was supposedly being pursued, she replied:

“Honestly, they want, like, a luxury golf course in the area.”

Why?

“They’re trying to make it more commercialized, basically.”

The pattern repeated itself throughout the conversation. Confident claims were followed by uncertain explanations. Assertions about a major public policy proposal were accompanied by admissions that the canvasser had never actually reviewed the proposal itself.

At one point, when asked directly whether she had seen the proposal, she acknowledged, “No, I never have.”

Yet she was still asking members of the public to oppose it.

Perhaps even more revealing was what I learned about the canvassing operation itself. The canvassers were not employees of NPCA. Instead, they worked for a third-party canvassing company contracted to collect signatures and promote campaigns.

“So keep in mind,” one canvasser explained, “the canvassing job is like a third-party kind of situation. We take on different campaigns all the time.”

He compared the work to political consulting.

“Politicians — they want to canvass their material, but they don’t have a canvassing team. They get a third party to canvass for them.”

Then came what may have been the most honest statement of the entire exchange: “We are like the experts on canvassing.” Not experts on environmental policy. Not experts on national parks. Not experts on public land management.

Experts on canvassing.

Another canvasser also admitted he had only been working on the job for a matter of weeks: “Completely honest with you, I’ve only been doing this since May.”

Despite that limited experience and apparent lack of familiarity with the underlying issue, he was tasked with persuading strangers to support a political message. That should concern anyone who cares about informed civic engagement.

Advocacy organizations frequently present themselves as grassroots movements powered by ordinary citizens. In reality, many rely heavily on professional canvassing operations whose employees move from campaign to campaign, collecting signatures, generating contacts, and advancing organizational objectives regardless of the issue at hand.

There is nothing inherently wrong with hiring canvassers. Organizations have every right to advocate for causes they support.

But donors should ask a basic question: Are they funding education and public awareness, or are they funding a sales operation?

When a canvasser promoting a petition cannot explain the proposal he opposes, cannot direct the public to the relevant documents, and admits he has never reviewed the proposal himself, something has gone wrong.

The issue extends beyond a single organization or a single petition. It raises broader questions about how modern advocacy works. Millions of dollars flow into nonprofits every year. Much of that money is justified as public education, outreach, and citizen engagement.

Yet my conversations suggested that, at least in some cases, what donors are really funding is a system of paid activists armed with talking points they barely understand.

If advocacy groups want the public’s trust, they should expect the people representing them to know more about an issue than the citizens they are trying to persuade.