Local and regional stories
Now more than ever.
Hello, and welcome to a weekend edition of Western Water Notes.
I’ll get back to regular programming soon, including a look at a new study on what is driving drought in the West. But before all that, I felt the need to write a few thoughts on journalism, storytelling and writing that I’ve been reflecting on as I’ve thought about some recent work.
It’s not directly related to water, but in a sense it is, because we all live and die by information. And our information landscape, especially on the local level, remains cratered. With so much attention focused (rightly) on the future of the federal government, I worry about the trickle-down impacts and government accountability on the local, state and regional level.
First, the usual housekeeping:
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There are far more stories than people to cover them.
Any of my colleagues over the past few years know I repeat this line too much.
It’s nothing new. The economic and social trends that have turned competitive local news markets into news deserts are well-documented. But I couldn’t help but think about it this week, both in the lead up to the election and after the election was over.
In the past decade, tremendous progress has been made to fill gaps with nonprofit outlets, online startups and independent work disseminated through newsletters, TikTok, etc... But the un-covered stories are often still those closest to where we live.
Stories about health care and local corruption. Stories about policing and high school sports. Stories about water and pollution. Stories of trials, redemption, loss and gain.
It wasn’t always this way. Spend a few minutes with the Library of Congress’ digitized archive of local newspapers. These newspapers, some dating back to the 19th Century, chronicled communities in excruciating detail. They are illuminating and sobering.
Today our news is nationalized.
With so much needed media attention focused on such a consequential presidential election, the news landscape might actually feel crowded to an average viewer tuning into CNN or a national outlet. But that’s not the kind of storytelling I’m talking about.
National political news has much value. But it is also prone to being recursive, much of the high-quality work drowned out by predictions, punditry and forecasts. In the weeks before the election, it was frustrating to see so many outlets pouring so many resources into polling, sleuthing for clues in snapshot data and making projections — all things that have degrees of merit but are not “news” in any sort of “report of recent events” or mission-driven “comfort the afflicted, afflict the comfortable” way.
I like how the L.A. Times’ Sammy Roth put it on Twitter earlier this month, writing that “…news orgs spend too much time reporting stories that attempt to predict, implicitly or explicitly, which candidates will win or lose. There's value in taking the pulse of the electorate, but I think we spend too much time gauging how voters are feeling, at the expense of telling more stories giving folks information that might help them figure out how to feel.”
I agree. We need more of the latter and less of the former, especially now.
Giving folks information is what local, statewide and regional reporters are good at. And in a period of messy politics with stakes that can feel all-consuming, we need far fewer predictions and far more information, especially on the local and regional level — stories to highlight perspectives, ideas and voices often invisible in national media.
Don’t get me wrong. The story is a second Trump term, one that is all but guaranteed to significantly change the federal government’s relationship with communities, the environment and the institutions around it. I can’t overstate that. And the essential job of reporters to storytellers to document, dissect and chronicle these changes is also more important than ever. Trump’s advisors have already announced big changes to environmental regulation, climate policy, the energy transition and much more. What happens on the national level effects everyone on a local level, not only here in the U.S. but around the world. National media has a key role in telling these stories.
But as vital as this coverage is, so too are local, statewide and regional stories about how a time of immense upheaval and change is affecting those on the ground. These stories are a key way we understand the world and each other, not only in theory but in practice. This feels especially true with water, where rules are dictated by layers of governance, policy and customs that sometimes operate outside political boundaries and result in surprising coalitions. Water is an area where power can be distributed, often at the most local level. It is shared between neighbors and within communities.
They are some of the stories I’m most interested in telling and sharing here.
For another reason too: The other thing I’ve been thinking about is this. When local information goes away — or we turn our attention solely to national news — it creates a breeding ground for local corruption. When no one is watching, local politicians and officials can get away with violating the public’s trust. This sort of “no ask, don’t tell” corruption is another way that democratic norms erode. Only from the bottom up.
I don’t have all the answers.
But we cannot turn away from information that gives us insight into place, geography and context. There are still far too many stories than there are storytellers to tell them.
Will be back with the regular programming later this week.
Until then, all the best,
Daniel