Recently, I came across three interesting, overlapping stories about how government communicates with us. Each highlights tensions between joy, seriousness, and the incentives built into social media.

1. During the 2025 legislative session, the House Democratic Caucus (HDC) developed content described as having a “man on the street” perspective. The Legislative Ethics Board recently ruled against it.

Examples include:

  • March 17, 2025: A post featuring Rep. Zahn asked, “What music pumps you up?”
  • January 24, 2025: A post directed to Rep. Leavitt asked, “What is your go-to coffee order or snack during session?”
  • January 24, 2025: The caucus asked several legislators, “Describe your district in three words.”

These posts, along with others highlighting personal journeys, were criticized in a complaint suggesting these “puff pieces” were more appropriate for campaign materials than official social media posts. The Board concluded that the posts violated state rules on the use of public resources for campaign purposes because they lacked a legislative nexus.

Here we see a small example of harmless, joyful content being shut down simply because it was in the wrong bucket.

2. Meanwhile, the Center Square took a highly critical, detail-heavy approach toward similar content developed by the state Attorney General’s office. At first glance, the video was actually fun. Yet the criticism focused on the AG “wasting time” on a light-hearted video while other office issues demanded attention. It’s almost like the NFL cracking down on harmless end-zone celebrations: nobody is hurt, it’s just joy.

The broader lesson is that on official government channels, we’re expected to be serious and not have fun. This expectation exists despite the consistently creative, people-focused work the Department of Transportation produces every week.

3. By contrast, other officials use the cloak of “unofficial” channels to abandon even the pretense of harmless fun. State Representative Joel McEntire’s Facebook activity illustrates this clearly. While he previously claimed an unauthorized party ran a Twitter account in his name, he now openly manages his personal Facebook page.

Occasionally, he posts serious political content, but more often he engages in highly partisan and aggressive behavior, echoing the divisive rhetoric seen at the federal level. This includes ad hominem attacks, inflammatory comments (like suggesting a political opponent “needs to burn”), and calls for a boycott of a community activist’s business. One target, local activist and business owner Kyle Wheeler, recalled McEntire calling him a “pansy boy” and “delicate flower boy” in 2024—even while acknowledging Wheeler’s community work.

McEntire’s self-proclaimed “unofficial” page status, along with his title of “Chief of Mischief,” has allowed ethics complaints to be dismissed, since the Legislative Ethics Board lacks jurisdiction over personal accounts. Yet his behavior has drawn public criticism, including from a self-identified Republican who called it “childish insults” and an “embarrassment.”

How do we let ourselves be free?

These are small examples in Washington State, but they illustrate a broader trend: social media algorithms giving us different social incentives, and our institutions are not equipped to respond. The decline of local journalism, combined with attention-maximizing algorithms, means our online environments amplify the worst content.

As much as I respect the Project on Civic Health’s efforts to encourage civility, it’s not enough to ask people to control their own behavior. Smoking cessation is one thing; addressing the industry that created the addiction is something else entirely. Social media is designed to maximize attention, often at the expense of civility and community. People like McEntire are using these platforms exactly as intended: stoking outrage, drawing attention, and triggering the emotional rewards built into the system.

Real-world communities thrive on politeness, modesty, and small gestures of mutual care. Online platforms operate in almost the opposite way: they reward conflict, outrage, and self-promotion, which amplifies hate and division. This environment contributes to rising loneliness, anxiety, and mental distress, especially among young people.

Social media can be addictive, much like tobacco, and increased use correlates with worse mental health. Platforms are designed to keep users engaged, making regulation and conscious limits essential to prevent long-term harm.

I’ve been critical of school districts that adopt phone-free policies under the guise of student mental health when the real goal is classroom control. If schools were serious about the impacts of social media, they would ensure their own communications teams weren’t actively posting on spaces that are demonstrably harmful. They have not.

And there’s a reason for this: that is where the people are. We are trapped in a system where some people are finger-wagged for being “not serious” on official channels, while others are incentivized to be the worst versions of themselves on unofficial channels because it works. Meanwhile, serious communicators are stuck posting on platforms that reward outrage.

Kelly Stonelake captures this trap very well here.

The network effects are real. We can’t leave until enough of our actual friends, people we love, leave first. I’ve experienced this myself. I put Meta platforms on pause earlier this year, but returned because of the deaths of two men in my life and the need to connect with people during my mourning period. I could not fulfill my duties as a friend without the platform and the network. And now, I’m even raising money for Movember there because I couldn’t find another way to do it.

A step forward

One thing government could do is explore self-hosted, ActivityPub-powered social media. This idea had some momentum but seems to have stalled. Technically, it’s straightforward, and a handful of governments have experimented with it.

The first step in countering harmful network effects is to build a new network. Putting official government communication on a platform that no corporation can ever own is a vital first step toward reclaiming civility, community, and public trust.

Because yes, it really does matter how we talk to each other.