History, politics, people of Oly WA

Category: Cluetrain (Page 1 of 10)

Confusion wins

This is a second blog post reflecting on some of the meta-lessons that came out of local elections in Thurston County this year.

The New York Times recently ran a story about how The Stranger sets the tone in Seattle politics. This is not breaking news for anyone who has watched Seattle politics for the last two decades.

The secret is simple: The Stranger shows up. It is consistently present, consistently relevant, and consistently part of the political conversation.

On a recent episode of The Olympia Standard, campaign consultant Rob Richards talked about the failure of the Workers’ Bill of Rights and how the yes campaign faced an uphill battle from the start. The opposition narrative was already circulating almost a year before the campaign really got rolling. And he’s right. The first public attention the idea got wasn’t from the campaign; it was from a flare-up of misinformation about a possible minimum wage increase more than a year earlier.

The campaign eventually launched with a petition drive last spring, but real messaging didn’t start until August. And in a town with fewer than half a dozen full-time local reporters, what earned media campaign can you realistically run? There simply aren’t enough people covering local government closely or consistently to help counter a false narrative once it takes hold.

We saw this same dynamic in the Regional Fire Authority vote a few years ago. The JOLT, in particular, published a lot of stories leading up to the election that, while not necessarily inaccurate, clearly shaped the public conversation. The RFA election became a turnout election. The precincts that voted “no” were the ones where people just didn’t vote at all. Many voters were confused, caught between the campaigns’ messaging and the churn of coverage and commentary on social media. Faced with confusion, they defaulted to the “safe” choice: not voting or voting no.

I’ve heard some fair criticism that JOLT’s model (reporters overseas watching meetings remotely and writing from the recordings) made it difficult to provide the broader context of why the RFA mattered. That coverage tended to highlight debate and points of disagreement, because that was what stood out in public meetings. Without interviews, on-the-ground sourcing, or deeper reporting, the coverage didn’t really capture the larger picture of why the RFA might be beneficial. That isn’t a slam on the reporters; they were doing the best they could with limited resources and time.

Could the cities or RFA supporters have engaged more with JOLT? Absolutely. But it’s also fair to say that the resulting coverage skewed toward highlighting the questions and the drama, not the underlying case for the proposal. That imbalance, born from limited capacity, not ill intent, helped create confusion.

And that’s the common thread between Proposition 1 and the RFA: a negative discussion, powered by limited local reporting and social media algorithms that amplify emotional scepticism, grew in the absence of steady, contextual information. Confusion became the common voter experience, and in low-turnout elections, confusion is fatal.

What we need is clarity.

I generally appreciate news coverage. I’m not someone who gets angry every time a reporter writes something that makes a campaign uncomfortable. But we have to be honest about something: in a community with shrinking traditional media, campaigns still spend money on mailers and consultants and ads. But aren’t investing in the thing that makes campaigns possible in the first place: local media.

There’s been a lot of talk about how much the Prop 1 campaign spent on signature collection and basic campaign work. But how can complex, structural policy changes succeed when there isn’t a consistent media presence helping the public understand them? A community cannot hold informed elections without informed voters, and voters don’t have the time or energy to attend every meeting, read through every governing document, or fact-check every post on Facebook. That’s what journalism is for.

Which brings us back to The Stranger. It is only one outlet in a city that still has a relatively healthy Seattle Times. KUOW spends a significant amount of airtime on Seattle politics. Smaller niche outlets like PubliCola and The Urbanist also contribute to the political conversation. But for capturing the mood and narrative arc of Seattle politics, The Stranger is uniquely powerful, not because it is perfectly neutral, but because it is present, consistent, and willing to frame debates with a point of view.

In Thurston County, with so few journalists, coverage is often reactive. Journalism focuses on the easiest available material: summaries of meetings, recaps of official statements, and the occasional story on a high-profile incident. There isn’t enough capacity for the proactive, explanatory reporting necessary to unpack something like a Workers Bill of Rights. And when a reporter tries to be fair in that environment, “balance” can easily look like “There’s a real debate here,” even when one side is working with a year-long head start fueled by fear, confusion, and online misinformation.

Without sustained reporting, balance becomes ambiguity. And ambiguity becomes a “No” vote.

The absence of robust journalism means our community lacks the civic infrastructure necessary for democratic decision-making. The cost of a policy failing, of housing going unaddressed, fire services going unfunded, worker protections never advancing, is far higher than the cost of supporting journalism that helps voters understand what’s at stake in the first place.

If campaigns can’t count on local media to provide that clarity, then some of that investment needs to shift. Local media is not optional. It is foundational civic infrastructure. Until we treat it that way, we will keep re-running the same story: big ideas, complex policies, passionate campaigns, and a confused electorate that never gets the chance to truly understand the choice.

It matters how we talk to each other, but it matter more where we talk to each other

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.

When enshittification comes for your town

This started as a simple essay about why we shouldn’t be diving headfirst into the black hole of a “link tax” to fund journalism.

So let’s start there: link taxes are bad policy.

Especially when considering the alternative, a digital ad tax that funds journalism. I would write a straight-up op-ed about how link taxes are a disaster and digital ad taxes are a cleaner, smarter fix. But then, as I wrote it, this essay kind of veered off course.

We haven’t considered a link tax in Washington, but a lot of the rhetoric around our journalism funding has adopted link tax framing. Oregon is considering a link tax, though. And California just showed how the link tax debate can derail any hope of actually shifting money from digital platforms to journalism.

Link taxes prop up platforms. They accept the smug assumption that platforms benefit from real journalism, and therefore should be forced to pay for linking to it. In the era of Shrimp Jesus and AI-generated sludge, Mark Zuckerberg doesn’t need your 3,000-word explainer on the local government budget crisis. He just needs eyeballs, clicks, and outrage.

A digital ad tax, on the other hand, is like a sin tax. It exists whether or not Facebook will allow users to link to news reporting. If you’re a smart marketer, you’re buying ads from Meta, Google, or some massive programmatic ad exchange. These companies have systematically cut new publishers out of the ad revenue stream, building ad empires that strip-mine value from communities that once supported journalism.

They don’t need to link to journalism to pay, they pay because their business model is the problem. And with a tax, we can peel off a sliver of that revenue to buy pizza for reporters. Or, you know, pay their actual wages. Or, and here’s where it gets interesting, fund moderators of online forums.

This is where the essay went sideways. I started thinking about how we got here.

For years after about 2008 or so, people who made money writing things contorted themselves trying to perform well in the social newsfeed. We all did it, even the newspapers. We started chasing clicks from social platforms, hoping they would translate into eyeballs, and in the case of news publishers, ad revenue. All the while, the social platforms were building ad empires. So it’s pretty ironic now to hear that social platforms “stole” content, when the very same newsrooms were hiring social media engagement specialists to crack the newsfeed algorithm to go viral.

We messed up. We poured energy into platforms that contribute nothing to our communities. My particular sin? Facebook and the death of Olyblog.

In my case, the biggest victim of the Facebook newsfeed was Olyblog. It launched 20 years ago as a hyperlocal community blog, the kind of thing that would now exist as a Facebook group or maybe a subreddit. It thrived from 2005 to 2008, then imploded in a mix of interpersonal drama and everyone just migrating to Facebook. The traffic to Olyblog fell through the floor two years after Facebook opened to the broader public and revised the news feed to become most like what it is today.

These days, I’m basically off Facebook. I’ve iced both my Instagram and Facebook accounts, no new posts, only logging in when absolutely necessary. I was disappointed that more people didn’t bail when Facebook took its latest nosedive earlier this year.

Over the past four years, I’ve been in the trenches of a local fight against election disinformation. I’ve also spent a lot of time thinking about what I put into the world, and I chose to cut harmful, algorithmic media out of my life. That meant not engaging on Facebook, even when it was the easiest option. In balance, I’ve moved to Bluesky, Mastodon, and an RSS feed reader. But microblogging is not a replacement for community blogs or Facebook groups.

So the band plays on. I was disappointed when a new crop of Democratic Party organizers in Thurston County launched yet another Facebook group. But really, I’m not disappointed in them. I’m disappointed that this is still the only viable option for online organizing. I didn’t offer to do the hard work of building an alternative, so I can’t fault them. But I can recognize the gap between the world I want and the world we live in.

In Thurston County, Facebook is where the people are. But it’s a toxic place, one that encourages content that enrages rather than content that solves problems.

Cory Doctorow talks about this process as “enshittification,” how digital platforms gradually turn against every user group they once courted, until we’re all stuck. They ratchet up the costs of leaving until we feel like we can’t go because everyone else is still there.

That’s exactly what’s happened here. Traditional media has been gutted by market forces and corporate consolidation. What’s left is small, siloed audiences mostly hanging out on Facebook. KGY doesn’t really do news anymore, but I remember when Doug Adamson was standing on the back of a truck, mic in hand, giving live updates during a May Day protest. Now, the Olympian is down to a skeleton crew. Meanwhile, the Thurston County Scanner Facebook page pumps out crime updates to a captive Facebook-only audience and pulls better metrics than anyone else around. But because it lives entirely on Facebook, it’s at the mercy of the algorithm.

Anyway, hard pivot, let’s get back to the digital ad tax.

Washington State actually passed one this year. It might get challenged in court (like Maryland’s did), and it doesn’t have any earmarked spending. The money just drops into the general fund. But if it survives, and if we can steer that revenue toward something meaningful, we need to think beyond just giving grants to newsrooms.

Don’t get me wrong, local journalism absolutely deserves public support. But there’s also a growing need to support local online communities that aren’t traditional news outlets.

Think of these online spaces like we think of libraries.

Take Front Porch Forum in New England. Or New_Public’s Local Lab, which is building an open-source platform for healthier town-based online spaces, alternatives to the rage-fueled mess of Facebook Groups and Nextdoor. Their goal is to support and pay local “stewards” to manage these communities. Move beyond toxic algorithms. Highlight high-quality local content. Create sustainable, public-good platforms.

We share ourselves and our lives online for free. We absolutely need more professional journalists reporting on local issues. But we also need to reclaim the connective power of the internet from the corporations that have hijacked it.

A digital ad tax is like taxing cigarettes. Algorithmic ad tech is sucking money out of Olympia and funneling it into corporations that don’t care about our community. Just skimming a little off the top could fund reporters, build home-grown platforms, and pay community moderators.

Olyroads.com, certainly bigger nerds than I am

Their response, certainly parsing it more than I did. Point taken though:

It appears you’re describing the differece between a native app (compiled and installed on a device) compared to hybrid and web apps. All three as classified as mobile apps. Wikipedia describes a mobile app as “…software which can be used on a mobile device. It also refers to the creation of special web and applications for mobile devices.”

Many of Google’s mobile apps are web apps running in web browsers on mobile devices, and Apple has a large collection of web apps on their website. Of course, Apple has popularized native apps and focus all their energy on their App Store, which only contains native apps which they can monetize better than web apps. But it wouldn’t be accurate to say web apps cannot be mobile apps.

Olympia Roads was designed specificially to be used on mobile devices and was first released for the iPhone. Then it was modified to become a website. No further development is planned at this point since it serves the purpose it was designed for, but there may be enhancements in the future based on user feedback and the number of people utilizing the app. Let us know if you have any suggestions or ideas for improving OlympiaRoads.com and maybe we’ll decide more development is in order.

Thanks, and take care!

– Olympia Roads Team

Who are these guys, though?

Olyroads.com, a really decent try

During the snow storm last week, someone (not the city) put up olyroads.com and olympiaroads.com, which showed weather related road closures across town. It seems to be a simple trick of pulling information from olympiawa.gov and republishing it on a mobile friendly website, but its interesting enough.

Aside from calling it the wrong thing (its not a mobile app, its a mobile friendly web page), it does show the need for some services that in a very simple way and on a local level, let you know what is going on out there. I sent an email to their contact address, asking if they were thinking of branching out into other road related information (construction updates).

One thing does bug me, there’s no information about who set the site up. No name on the site itself, no name on the email I got, and the domain registration is anonymous as far as I can tell. That’s weird.

Look at this cool thing, you can embed city of Olympia council meetings now

I’m mostly posting this because I think its exciting that the city of Olympia’s vendor finally caught up and now allows you to not only embed city council videos, but choose where you want the video to start. This is something little old TVW has been doing for a couple of years now, but I’m glad the vendor folks have caught up.

For some reason, this embedding thing seems to be working here and not over at Olyblog, which is a shame, because I think there will be more people interested in watching these clips over there.

And, if you’re really interested in this particular topic, read Janine Gate’s blog. She’s good.


Get Microsoft Silverlight

Notes and links for “Olympia Journalism Club”

Over at Olyblog, a question from Chad Akins seemed to have reignited the hyperlocal journalism fire with some of us. At least to the point of some folks getting together next Sunday afternoon.

I’ve been pondering the creation of something like this proto-group for a few months now, thinking about the examples from Clay Shirky’s “Cognitive Surplus,” about how local groups (Dogtown for example) can help sharpen skills and projects.

Not sure I can make the actual meeting yet, but I at least wanted to put together some thoughts and notes:

  • Thad Curtz has always talked about putting together a wiki on local issues. This core group would seem like a natural starting point for a project like that. It would take a long while to get going, but I think we’d eventually fill it out and keep it updated.
  • The Leeds Community News hub seems like an interesting project to emulated. Interesting, though, they seem to have some institutional support from the Guardian. 
  • Lakewood United and North Mason County Voice are groups that bring speakers in to talk about local issues. Seems like an interesting model to emulate, if we could do it. Especially if we made it a podcast as well.
  • Here’s my old list of “beats” that I posted on Olyblog almost three years ago (three years to the day this group will be meeting). Still pretty relevant, should be adding things to the list.
  • Here’s a small side project I’ve been working on, the Briggs Villager, a neighborhood based project for where I live now. Haven’t really launched it yet, but I’m getting there and just thought I’d share the link.

Skills, skills, skills. The more I think about it, the more I think that this group should be about sharing tips and tricks for people who want to do this sort of thing, but don’t have the chops. Little trainings on how to record and set up a podcast, how to find the information you’re looking for, how to conduct an interview or write a decent post.

So, in my mind, the group would have two purposes: teach skills and provide a place for collaboration and sharing.

Olympia Time, where did it die?

It didn’t, but I thought I’d give myself the same treatment I gave Olyforums here.

I haven’t been blogging recently and I never explained why, so if anyone was worried, I apologize. But, I’m going to assume that most of the people who read this blog either also follow my twitter feed or are friends on facebook, so they know I’m not totally gone.

But, I have been blogging, but in another capacity. I started up Informed Community, a blog that I will hopefully carry forward in the role of a trustee of the Timberland Regional Library. I’ve applied for the position (I don’t know yet when the Thurston County commissioners will appoint someone), but I’ve decided to put my blogging where my mouth was.

Since I’ve started talking to elected officials in person, I’ve always berated them on their lack of social media presence. So, hopefully, in my new role as a (not elected, but still) public official, I’ll be able to show what I’ve been babbling about for years.

Which if all goes well, will also mean less time blogging here and at other places. But, feel free to email me, follow me on twitter (which I’ll hope I can keep up) and read my library stuff.

New Timberland non-fiction tweeting and twitter level tech support

If you follow my twitter feed, you noticed earlier this week that I’ve been featuring a book a day from Timberland’s recent non-fiction RSS feed. This is in a way to try to publicize that Timberland gets a lot of new books, and indirectly publicize the feed, but to also try to do something innovative to support the library.

I’m also assuming there are non-fiction nerds out there that might appreciate it.

Not sure how innovative it actually is, but no one else was doing it and that’s enough of me patting me on the back.

Here’s the really funny part. When I first started posting the updates earlier this week @epersonae noticed that my links weren’t actually going to the book, but rather just to some “you’re lost dude” page at TRL’s online database. For some reason, when you get a link to a particular book via Timberland, it isn’t a permanent one. Sucks for sharing.

Then, @ahniwa came along and found a couple of solutions (the second seems way easier to me).

This is going to be a some what typical story of someone coming along in twitter and helping you out with something. I’ve gotten help like this before, but its always beautiful and nice when it happens, and very much worth mentioning.

Worth mentioning most is that @ahniwa is a library employee, but not for the library that I was trying to link to. He works for the state library. Anyway, good twitter y’all.

Thurston County budgeting some Web 2.0

They approved a budget today, which from what I can tell includes this:

• Redesign county website with a modern easy-to-use look and feel.
• Utilize Web 2.0 technology (example: Twitter) to disseminate information to
public in a timely useful manner.

But, there’s a nuance point to be made here, that in the budget document they still want to “disseminate” rather than “engage” or “exchange.” The real power of Web 2.0 isn’t to get information in front of passive eyes (although the web has great power to do that) its to have a dialogue.

I think it’ll take more than a new website and tools to create a culture of online exchange at the county.

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