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Sourcing the news

Sourcing the news

May 18, 2025

No easy or obvious solution will resolve one of the top and less-acknowledged crises in America, the collapse of local and regional news reporting. Whether Oregon Senate Bill 686 passes or fails, it should at least open a discussion about improving the ability of Oregonians to get the information they need to govern themselves.

The problem is obscured a little by the fact that most news outlets in the state haven’t disappeared completely, and a few new ones (the Oregon Capital Chronicle, for one example) have arisen.

Good journalism is still being done in the state, but much less comprehensively than two or three decades ago. But the newsgathering capacity is a sliver of what it was at the century’s turn, the number of journalists in newsrooms way down. Broadcasters have seen serious cutbacks too.

There’s little coverage now of local city councils, county commissions, school boards and more. Local angles on the work of legislators and state and federal officials is nearly gone.

The larger picture is of a balloon, once full, but now with its air mostly having run out.

This would be only a business problem except that it means we’re not getting the information about our government, our politics, our society, our problems and our successes as we did not long ago. That gap, and the rise of misinformation to massive levels, has become one of our great national crises.

Enter SB 686, which intends to at least provide some help. It is not a totally new idea, being a variation on similar attempts in other places (California and Canada for two), to direct public assistance toward civic journalism.

The operating idea comes from one of the (many) reasons for journalism’s economic collapse, the use of locally-created news reports with little or no compensation in online media platforms — think here of Google and Facebook, with others as well. The idea is to force those platforms, which have been swimming in profits in recent years, to help pay for production of local news either through fees to the organizations, or by way of arbitration, or a contribution to a new Oregon Civic Information Consortium.

The bill, which at this writing seems to be progressing steadily through the legislature, has understandably drawn lots of testimony. Critics, including the social media platforms, have raised legal questions about it, and the tech giants have suggested that Oregon news reports might be restricted or even banned on places like Facebook or Google. Other questions include how much money might be involved, and exactly how it would be spent. ($122 million has been one estimate noted, but that’s not at all definitive.)

Less discussed: What results Oregon news consumers might see, provided the bill passes and survives legal challenges.

If any of the big platforms — from Facebook to Google — did decide to block Oregon news, that might send most Oregon news readers elsewhere, and maybe back in larger numbers to Oregon news sites. Many of Oregon’s newspapers and broadcasters have highly active websites that could become a boon for those companies with an additional readership push.

A shift away from the mega-platforms also might reshuffle access to news. National news has had aggregate sites like Drudge or Memeorandum for years, and many people have used them. Oregon has some lesser-known aggregators too, such as the right-leaning Oregon Watchdog, and these might become more popular, or a new generation of them might be developed.

Suppose the platforms agreed to pay up? That’s a realistic prospect; California and Canada, after launching legislative efforts that loosely resemble Oregon’s, have extracted money from them for journalism. The platforms are understandably concerned about similar initiatives in 50 states and beyond, but the reality is they can easily afford it.

How much good would it do? In some cases, newsrooms might be beefed up somewhat, and in other places where newsgathering has collapsed, it might be reinvigorated, at least somewhat.

The upside looks good, and the downside risk doesn’t seem large.

Consider a small city in a small county whose newspaper has disappeared or has hardly any remaining presence. If two journalists were hired, with money for training and support, that could make a lot of difference, resulting in significant coverage of the area. The remaining questions would involve how to get people to check it out.

This column originally appeared in the Oregon Capital Chronicle.

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Whose civics

Whose civics

May 16, 2025

A public better educated on civics ought to be one of our top priorities, and the arrival of a bill this last session - which since has been signed into law - to revise Idaho state law on the subject was cause for immediate interest.

Interest, yes, but also concern. The opportunities for mischief here are almost limitless, and Idaho’s isn’t a legislature usually known in recent years for cautious self-restraint.

Welcome to House Bill 397, sponsored by Senator Cindy Carlson of Riggins and Representative Tony Wisniewski of Post Falls. The bill on its surface doesn’t seem especially problematic. The issues lie in the details and in what it easily can lead to.

Idaho for years has had a law on the books covering civics education which, as a description for the new one notes, requires “all secondary students demonstrate that they have met the state civics and government standards through the successful completion of the civics test as a graduation requirement.” That demonstration comes in the form of 100 questions drawn from the national citizenship test; the idea that American high school students should know as much about their government as newly-minted Americans do seems reasonable.

It also feels incomplete, which is why the idea of improving on it makes some sense. But one advantage of the current naturalization test is that it’s of long-standing and broadly accepted. If you’re going to tinker with the requirements, you should be careful - that is, if your intentions are honorable.

The new law, which is intended to take effect with the 2026-27 school year,  replaces the citizenship test with “an assessment developed by the state department of education with the approval of the state board of education that includes but is not limited to the following components from the Idaho content standards in American government …” It goes on to list 11 specific items which must be included. These include “the influence of the history of Western civilization,” particular sections of the national constitution (not necessarily all of it) and the functions of state and local governments.

The bill also said “The state board of education may promulgate rules, subject to legislative approval” - which puts the legislature directly in the process of outlining and describing what students should think about their government.

None of those included items are necessarily wrong as a part of study, but they too feel incomplete, and people are likely to differ widely on what should and shouldn’t be included. They also seem grounded not in any kind of objective or scholarly standard but in a more ideological one, such as might appeal to (say) a Republican Idaho legislator.

Which brings us to the more subtle problem: The legislature now is getting into the question of what specifically must be taught in civics classes in Idaho high schools.

How long will it be until the learning requirements start to closely resemble the Idaho Republican party platform?

How long before civic education is used as a rationale for religious (Bible) instruction in classrooms, on grounds that the Bible was an influential document in national history? (Well, we’re pretty close to that right now.)

There’s a thin line here between education and indoctrination. The new law in itself doesn’t quite cross it, but it opens the temptation for legislators, starting in next year’s session, to dictate that Idaho students be taught - and formally accept as fact, as reported on tests - whatever it is their legislators want them to believe.

This is how you can move from a government responding to the will of its citizens, to telling those citizens what they must think - starting in school.

That is what is meant by a slippery slope.

 

Autonomous in Oregon

Autonomous in Oregon

May 11, 2025

The idea of Greater Idaho — splitting off most of eastern Oregon to join with the state of Idaho — isn’t going to fly. It won’t happen.

So here’s another idea:

The Autonomous Area of Eastern Oregon. And Western too, for good measure.

This concept was not invented in the deep recesses of a pundit’s mind. It comes from a recently introduced piece of legislation by a Republican lawmaker in the state of Washington.

Washington has a regional dynamic similar to Oregon. The bulk of its population is west of the Cascades and as a region votes clearly Democratic, while the geographically larger but less populated territory to the east votes Republican — with all the correlating social and economic considerations that implies. Washington’s east side hasn’t organized a highly visible join-Idaho effort the way Oregon’s has, but the proposal has surfaced occasionally.

A related but different idea emerged in this year’s Washington legislative session. Rep. Rob Chase, R-Spokane Valley in House Bill 2085 proposed keeping Washington state intact, and its congressional representation unchanged, but splitting most governing within the state.

The bill described it this way: “The legislature intends to divide the state into two autonomous regions, the Puget Sound region and the Columbia region, by constitutional amendment. Each region would provide regional governors, regional legislators, and regional judges. The state of Washington will remain a single state for purposes of federal election, as proposed in New York Senate Bill 2023-S3093.”

Presumably, that would mean splitting the key regional elections (both autonomous areas would have governors and legislatures, for example) while both vote under a common system for federal offices. Laws and regulations and finances would be affected as well.

Chase said of this, “We would have better representation that takes into account the ideals, principles, priorities, beliefs, and values found in the populace that it serves. Isn’t this what our Founding Fathers envisioned when establishing our Democratic Republic?”

This approach isn’t something familiar to American government: There are no formal “autonomous regions” in the United States. They’re more common in other parts of the globe, however, including the Caucasus, China and even a slice of Finland. Greenland, famously, is an autonomous region: Largely self-governing but under the national umbrella of Denmark.

On an American state level it’s an ambitious idea, but it may be within the purview of the state legislature. It probably would require a state constitutional amendment, but — because states do have some leeway in setting up their own governments — it might not require federal approval. If the legislature and voters approved, it probably (we’d have to see what the courts would say) could happen.

The bill didn’t go anywhere in the Washington legislature this year, nor should we expect any voter action. Chase said he introduced it now mainly to get a head start for a future push.

But the Greater Idaho folks have no doubt heard of it, and the idea of a similar bill introduction in Salem may be floated soon if it hasn’t been already. The process might even be simpler in Oregon: While Washington requires constitutional amendments to come from the legislature, Oregon allows them via citizen initiatives.

So how might this play out in Oregon?

Imagine the Greater Idaho group or some other organization petitioning for a constitutional amendment to be approved, or not, by the voters. This would have a considerable advantage over the kind of long-term and probably hopeless slog to change state boundaries. If structured carefully, the issue might be resolved in a single election through a change in the state constitution. If it passed, it would happen through the approval of the voters, which would give the idea powerful legitimacy statewide.

Getting most Oregonians to vote in favor, of course, would be difficult.

You’ll also notice the reference to “structured carefully.” Plenty of tricky issues would have to be addressed. We might be talking about three governors in Oregon, one for the whole state and one each for the east and the west. How do they relate to each other, and to the federal government, and what relative powers would they have? You could ask similar questions about the Legislature. Would there still be a statewide legislature, and if so, what could it and could it not do?

What might be the differences in tax and spending? What about federal money coming to the state of Oregon: How would it be divided? How would law enforcement and safety agencies coordinate? If criminal and other laws were different (which would seem to be part of the point of having an autonomous region), what about extradition? What would be the authority of whatever remained of a statewide Oregon government, because there would have to be one if only to deal with other states and the feds.

The autonomous idea is more complex than it first sounds. If Greater Idaho is watching the action across the Columbia, they may want to pay attention to how legislator Chase started to field the questions that are sure to multiply.

This column first appeared in the Oregon Capital Chronicle.

Who’s being undermined

Who’s being undermined

May 9, 2025

Here’s a peculiarity: The Trump Administration blasting down on a lawsuit filed by Idaho Attorney General Raul Labrador and two other Republican AGs on a hot-button issue with national import: Abortion.

Why would this happen? And no less significantly, what will Labrador do about it?

The legal case on abortion law emerged last October, though its roots run older. After Roe v. Wade was overturned in 2022, a group of anti-abortion organizations sued to require the Food and Drug Administration to overturn its long-standing approval of mifepristone, which is often used to induce abortion and is very widely taken nationally, by some estimates accounting for more than half of all abortions.

In June 2024 the Supreme Court unanimously threw out the lawsuit not on its substance but on the argument that the plaintiffs had no “standing,” or specific basis for a direct complaint. As Justice Brett Kavanaugh wrote, “The plaintiffs do not prescribe or use mifepristone. And F.D.A. is not requiring them to do or refrain from doing anything.”

Last fall, Labrador and counterpart AGs in Kansas and Missouri decided to take another crack at mifepristone from a slightly different standing angle, filing in a Texas federal court, before a judge who has ruled against the pill before. (He was the one who ruled in favor of the anti-mifepristone case the Supreme Court later rejected.)

The state AGs were careful to include a roster of rationales for why they - or their states - have standing. They had some, well, inventive arguments (you can see them starting on page 141 of the filing), arguing among many other points that they “have suffered injury to their sovereign interests in enacting and enforcing their laws” and regulations allowing the bill are “causing a loss in potential population or potential population increase.”

Given the Trump Administration’s stance against abortion, a first thought might be that it might drop the Food and Drug Administration’s legal defense against the AGs - meaning,  just cave on the case in a move toward banning mifepristone.

But that’s not what happened. Insead, the Trump Administration technically is continuing the Biden Administration's defense by asking the Texas court to dismiss the AGs’ case - a rebuff, apparently, to Labrador and his counterparts. And it did so in strong terms.

Or is that what’s going on here?

Probably not.

Here’s another take from the website The Cut that seems to cohere strategically: “By saying that Idaho, Kansas, and Missouri lack standing in the mifepristone case, Trump’s DoJ could set a similar precedent for the rest of these legal challenges. And if Trump does direct the FDA to restrict access to mifepristone, his administration could then argue that Democratic-led states have no standing to challenge those regulations.”

That’s not an unusual take. The substack, Abortion Every Day (which is on the choice side) put it a little more bluntly: “this isn’t just about good optics - it’s a legal strategy. The Trump DOJ is trying to establish a precedent that states don’t have the authority to challenge FDA rules. That way, when the Trump FDA restricts or bans abortion medication, pro-choice states won’t be able to fight back.”

What Trump has said - as during his 2024 campaign - is that abortion should be a state-run matter: "Many states will be different. Many will have a different number of weeks or some will have more conservative than others.”

The new administration filing seems aimed differently, and shows why the reality could never be so simple: How could states realistically ban abortion if mifepristone is legal, or effectively be pro-choice if it is not? The new federal court action looks like an attempt to override the states with rulings from within his administration.

So, back to the local question: What does Labrador have to say about this? What will be the nature of his defense of state’s rights if the Trump Administration is on the other side of the question?

It presents a conundrum for the Idaho attorney general.

 

Whose responsibility is it?

Whose responsibility is it?

May 4, 2025

Possibly no place in Oregon has a more rugged, individualistic, even anti-governmental attitude than Burns, a small city in the middle of the state’s southeast desert country.

This is an area of old-style ranchers and resource industries, or at least has been. It votes as conservative and Republican as it can, and political people who argue for smaller government and less by way of cooperative efforts are those who get the votes. It’s a cowboy ethic kind of place.

The recent big event in Burns might not demolish that world view. But there’s a fair chance it could generate some second thoughts.

An absence of government action, regulation and ownership and of a strong mutual cooperative effort among people locally -— in contrast to what one person called “kind of a group-hug scenario” — is why, in late March and early April, a lot of Burns was overrun by a flood.

Such a disaster might have been notable in other places, but it overwhelmed Burns. According to the American Red Cross, the flooding abated only after several weeks, affected 952 homes (some of those may have been on Burns Paiute Tribe lands), and the flood area ran through most of the downtown area. Burns is home to just 2,736 people as of 2023, and there are just 1,438 total homes.

The city reported “a complete sewer failure” from the Paiute Reservation to the Triangle Park, and other infrastructure was hit too. Evacuation orders affected almost half of the people in town.

This was not damage to only a small part of the community but, directly or indirectly, to all of it. And it happened in a place more than an hour’s drive from any other city as large, and two hours away from any that are larger. Help is not close by.

Beginning the task of making sure this doesn’t happen again starts with understanding why this flood hit so hard.

Its natural causes are clear and not unusual. Although the Burns area is arid, heavy rains occur periodically, and the right timing for snowpack melt in the region can cause the Silvies River, which flows from the mountains to the north, to run high.

The river borders a residential area on the northeast side of town, and high flows there are intended to be contained by an old and informally developed system of levies.

Actually, there is no system in a comprehensive sense. The 2.4 miles of levees — barriers against the water, to keep it channeled — stretching across the north and east side of town apparently were built not by a government or formal organization but by local residents, and the approach was not thoroughly organized. Even the history is foggy: There are no clear records of when the levees were built, or exactly by whom.

A 2019 report submitted to Harney County officials warned that the levees needed upgrading and repair, but that didn’t happen. One reason is that no one specific person or group had the specific obligation to respond: No federal, state or local agency or private entity, and none had the specific authority to enter the private property along the river to make improvements. Everyone could pass it off to someone else.

The do-it-yourself approach remains in place today. During the flooding, a public notice from the city asked residents to stop diverting water onto other properties.

“Do not erect barriers in the streets to divert the water,” the city’s notice said. “This can be a hazard as these are evacuation routes and you could be charged with disorderly conduct in the 2nd degree in addition to being liable for any damages to the neighboring property or properties by that diversion. We understand that these are very scary and unsure times and people are wanting to save their homes and property, but please do not put yourself or other people in danger or damage someone else’s property by trying to do so.”

This isn’t unique to Burns.

Colin Rowan, planning director for the Urban Flood Safety and Water Quality District in Portland, told Oregon Public Broadcasting that the kind of levee system Burns has had can be found in many places all across Oregon including the Willamette Valley, many built a century or more ago.

“There’s not clear responsibility,” Rowan told OPB. “There’s also sometimes unclear funding. How would you actually pay for it? Even if it was privately-owned land or publicly-owned land, they might not even know that repairs are needed.”

Sometimes organized and expert help is what’s needed. Even in communities like Harney County.

This column originally appeared in the Oregon Capital Chronicle.

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Watch it closely and warily

Watch it closely and warily

May 2, 2025

Years after the fact, Phil Batt would recall that when he became Idaho’s governor In 1995, “the nuclear waste issue hit me right between the eyes.”

It sure did. He was taking over the office and the issue from Cecil Andrus, who had gone to court and taken other action blocking shipments of nuclear waste from entering the state, primarily around the Idaho National Laboratory (as it’s now called) site. That status was unstable and untenable for long, the legal and political case eventually likely would have been decided against the state, and Batt spent several of his early months in office figuring out how to deal with it.

The situation was not simple, and Batt understood that. He said in his memoir that he was persuaded national military capabilities were implicated, and “I believe Congress would have soon dictated our acceptance of this small amount of spent fuel rather than to idle any ships or submarines. However, I admired Governor Andrus’ actions that got the attention of both the Navy and the Department of Energy, and that generated almost universal support among Idahoans.”

What Batt negotiated over a period of months - recognizing that INL was already home to significant amounts of waste - was a complex deal intended to minimize the volume of nuclear waste in Idaho. He maintained that the agreement was the best he could get at the time, and that may be true. It was not a clean-cut or easily described decision even then, and Batt pragmatically would say of it, “I got every ounce of flesh I could get.”

That’s the backdrop to the news last week that the state agreed to a waiver of key elements of that 1995 deal. It allows for shipping a nuclear fuel cask from Virginia to the INL, and for research at the site on nuclear waste.

On the surface, the new agreement sounds reasonable, and it may turn out to be.

There’s plenty of nuclear waste in the country and we still don’t fully understand (as well as we should) what we can or should do with it. INL is a logical place to research the question, or rather continue researching it.

No one wants to store nuclear waste, and no state including Idaho wants to be known as a dumping ground, but there’s an increasing amount of it that has to go somewhere. A new study on the subject from Ohio noted, “Around the U.S., about 90,000 tons of nuclear waste is stored at over 100 sites in 39 states, in a range of different structures and containers. For decades, the nation has been trying to send it all to one secure location.”

Andrus got sideways with the federal government over nuclear waste in large part because he sensed a tendency by federal agencies to roll over the state, and concluded a sharp response was called for. After Batt negotiated his deal, he concluded that the state’s best posture was to keep an eagle eye on the proceedings. And in fact, over the 30 years since, the feds have from time to time pressed against the envelope, sometimes, possibly, breaching the agreement.

But a steady watch from all parties has averted what Andrus and Batt were most trying to avoid, the turning of eastern Idaho into a nuclear waste junkyard. It hasn’t been perfect, but it’s more or less worked.

So might this new agreement, probably the most significant development in the field for quite a few years. Only a limited amount of waste is supposed to be imported, and its purpose is supposed to involve research.

What Andrus and Batt also knew was that such agreements have to be closely monitored so they don’t become the proverbial camel’s nose under the tent.

Idaho state officials may have been right to sign off on the latest deal, but they should not take their eyes off the bottom of the tent, lest more of the camel try to ease inside.

 

Canaries in the chair

Canaries in the chair

April 27, 2025

In recent weeks, both of Oregon’s major political parties have changed leadership, under very different circumstances. Party leadership is only a small part of what makes the candidates under their banner successful, but it can be a coal mine canary of sorts, an indicator of underlying issues or strengths.

Over the last generation, Democrats have been faring gradually better in Oregon, and Republicans less well. What might we learn from a look at party leadership?

Start with the Democrats.

They have had three chairs in this decade. Carla “KC” Hanson, following five years leading the Multnomah County Democrats, was elected to two-year terms in 2019 and 2021. In 2023, she departed and the party’s vice chair, Rosa Colquitt, who also had worked for years in various positions in the party organization, was elected to the top spot.

This year, the state Democratic Central Committee met in Corvallis on March 16 and in a contested election replaced her with a new chair, Nathan Soltz, who at age 27 happens to be the youngest person to hold that job. He isn’t a newcomer to the party organization, however.

Soltz started work with the Democrats in Jackson County (one of Oregon’s most competitive) a decade ago, has worked in labor organizing and in the Legislature and was elected state party secretary two years ago.

There’s something to be said for injecting new blood in leadership positions from time to time (and Soltz may well provide some of that). But party organizations also can benefit from leaders who know how things work and understand how to get along with the various interests and groups that make up a large party, and manage to avoid conflict and controversy (other than when directed at the opposition).

Over to the Republicans.

Six people have led the Oregon Republican Party since 2020. These years opened with a period of some stability under Bill Currier, a mayor of Adair Village who had worked in various party positions for years before his election as chair in February 2015.

Six years later, shortly after releasing a statement (that many party leaders had backed) saying the Jan. 6, 2021 attempted insurrection in Washington, D.C. was a “false flag” operation (drawing complaints from within and outside the party), he lost a re-election bid to state Sen. Dallas Heard of Myrtle Creek.

After serving just over a year, Heard departed after complaining about conflict within the party, including “communist psychological warfare tactics.” (Others in the party said a flashpoint was debate over whether to open the party’s primary to non-Republicans.) The vice-chair, former legislator Herman Baertschiger, served as acting chair for about four months but then quit.

The job next went to Justin Hwang, a Gresham restaurant owner and former legislative candidate who had become vice-chair of the state party only three months before. He held the job until February of this year, providing some stability. During Hwang’s tenure, Oregon Republicans won in 2022 — and then lost in 2024 — a second congressional seat and legislative races that temporarily ended Democrats’ supermajority control in the House and Senate.

When the post came open for election early this year, a range of candidates contended, including former Senate candidate Jo Rae Perkins (the incumbent party secretary), Washington County Republican leader Gabriel Buehler, as well as a legislative candidate and a city councilor.

It was won from outside: A Columbia County pastor and insurance agent, Jerry Cummings. He prevailed after saying the party should focus less on hot-button issues to “reach beyond the Republican base and do a better job of presenting a message that makes us contenders around the state.”

But on April 8, the Oregon Journalism Project reported on court records from a long-running divorce and custody case and more recent lawsuits filed by creditors. The legal records included accusations from Cummings’ ex-wife that he engaged in sexual violence, allegations Cummings denied.

He soon resigned, and the job once again went to the party’s vice chair, Connie Whelchel of Deschutes County.

Considering that the party chair takes the lead in party organization, hiring, planning for campaigns and more, these rapid-fire turnovers, frequent controversies and overall lack of stability could have contributed to the party’s gradual weakening in the state during the last couple of decades.

That’s not all, of course. A great deal of political strength in the party is held by people and groups outside the Oregon voting mainstream.

But problems with stable leadership aren’t helping the party either. They may do well to consider why the job seems hard to fill with the kind of leaders they need.

This column originally appeared in the Oregon Capital Chronicle.

 

Out in the desert

Out in the desert

April 25, 2025

For all the change Idaho has seen in its larger metro areas there’s been little or none in most of the state, and you can find no more dramatic example of that than the great empty of the 35 or so desert miles between Boise and Mountain Home.

For the half-century I have driven I-84 between those communities, there’s been some change in the city of Mountain Home (sometimes up, sometimes down) and strong - sometimes explosive - growth on the other end at Boise. In between, except for some barely-settled windswept ranch country and the Boise Stage Stop center partway through, there’s been and still is only open landscape. At times through the years someone would come up with a big development idea, but nothing ever came of it.

That may be about to change.

The catalyst would be a planned new casino being developed by the Shoshone-Paiute Tribes (which are based at the Duck Valley Reservation on the Nevada-Idaho border) together with the Coeur d’Alene Tribe in northern Idaho, which has decades of experience successfully running their casino near Worley. The Sho-Pai bought 557 acres along the Ada-Canyon border, located not far from the Stage Stop, and about 40 acres of it would be used for the casino.

The tribe said, “The fully envisioned project may include: Luxury hotel, Gaming floor with the latest tribal gaming machines, Spa and fitness center, Fine dining restaurants, Food hall with multiple vendors, Event and entertainment center.” The project also would give them a link to off-reservation lands associated historically with the tribes.

Since less than a tenth of the land area presumably would be occupied by the casino, there would be space for other developments too. If this project - which still needs federal approval, a sign-off from the Idaho governor’s office and local government okays - does go forward, the large desert area east of Boise could be transformed.

There are obstacles: One of the big problems blocking major development in the area up to now has been water, which locally is in short supply;This is dry country. Services generally have been limited too.

And there could be another challenge. The Shoshone-Bannock Tribes of eastern Idaho (between Pocatello and Blackfoot) have proposed another casino project, a $300 million center located in Mountain Home. They have been working on economic development in the area ever since buying the land in 2020, and appear ready to make a major investment in it. Federal review of that project is already underway. (And the Sho-Bans too point to historical links to the land where they plan to build.)

While that one probably would lead to some economic expansion at Mountain Home, it probably wouldn’t change the territory between that city and Boise. Probably.

Some opposition to any of this also could materialize. Certainly not everyone in Idaho likes gaming or its expansion. And the Nevada operators at Jackpot and Elko are sure to militate against the developments; they currently get a lot of traffic from fast-growing southwest Idaho.

But it could happen. The Duck Valley Reservation has had a challenging history, and the Sho-Pais have a compelling and sympathetic story to tell. The Coeur d’Alenes, with their background in developing highly successful operations up north (and a history of developing smart leadership) could be an excellent partner for steering the project through difficult paths.

If it does happen, there’s a real chance the landscape and the use of it between Boise and Mountain Home could change significantly. Casino developments most often do not spin off large numbers of nearby start-ups, but the long-standing interest in developing housing and business operations out in the desert - and away from Boise’s high prices and regulation - could be irresistible for people who have given up on, or been interested in, earlier ideas for the area. A whole new community - even a city? - might be the result.

The announcement of this new casino project didn’t get the top-rank headlines around the region it should have. But in time to come, there’s a good chance it will.

 

Too much communication

Too much communication

April 20, 2025

What do you do with legislation that cuts into the middle of how Oregonians live their lives, when most people want it but many are sharply opposed?

The short answer: Test it, when that’s possible. Launch a suggested solution, but keep specifics general enough that details emerge through trial and error. That can mean requiring local governments to act but encouraging them to become the laboratories where we learn what works well or not.

Today’s subject is cell phone use in schools, during school hours, for which Oregon House Bill 2251 passed the House on a mostly party-line 36-21 vote this week. It is aimed at banning cell phone use throughout the school day, and for the moment, it seems well positioned to become law.

A House committee already considered more than a half-dozen amendments and more are expected in the Senate, but the suggestion here is to simplify.

This is one of the hottest subjects this year in the Oregon legislature. It goes right to the heart of how Oregon’s school children and their parents have been accustomed to organizing their days.

At the same time, many parents and children are accustomed to being able to communicate instantly, and many students would not like the idea of giving up their phones for so many of their waking hours. The first submitted testimony on the new Oregon bill, in opposition to it, declared it “a solution in search of a problem. Let the school districts govern themselves.”

But the large number of people saying the problem is real, and the limited action on it by local districts, suggest that isn’t enough. Gov. Tina Kotek and the state Department of Education have registered support for restrictions; the department last year issued proposed model policies, without specifically imposing any.

Pressure is strong for kicking the phones at least partly out of the classroom. A Pew Research Center survey from last October found that more than two-thirds of American adults favor banning the phones during class. Just over a third support the prohibition for the whole school day. That’s a tell: Most Americans favor some restrictions, but with nuance. School employees are more lopsided; almost two-thirds of American high school teachers said cell phones have become a major distraction and impediment to learning.

Oregon’s Legislature is hardly alone considering bans. As of the end of last year, 11 states regulated (not necessarily banned outright) cell phone use during school hours, and at least 27 other states had introduced legislation on the subject. Since then, Idaho has added to the numbers, in the last few weeks enacting a cell phone limitation bill. In still other states, governors or agencies have imposed orders on the subject. School cell restrictions are becoming standard around the country.

The districts around the state are a policy jumble. Some have prohibition policies of various kinds in place; others do not. Portland Public Schools on Jan. 7 approved a rule similar to the current bill. Some are studying options. The Reynolds School District put together a work group which concluded, “We recommend an all-day ban on personal device use for grades K-12.” The state does not track comprehensively what the local districts do about this.

HB 2251, which is intended to require districts to ban use of “personal electronic devices”  would be more specific. It requires school districts to adopt a cell phone policy, and sets requirements for elements that must be included, and a lengthy list of exemptions (mainly medical, emergency and educational) to phone bans.

How all those specifics will play out is unclear. What the Oregon legislature could do, possibly ratcheting down the heat, is something like what the Idaho Legislature just did.

The Idaho measure, Senate Bill 1032, was simply a broad mandate to create local rules on the use of cell phones. Its key section said, “The provisions of this section shall not be construed to require a local school board or public charter school to adopt a policy that prohibits all use of electronic communications devices by students. However, local school boards and public charter schools may adopt a policy prohibiting students from carrying electronic communications devices in school buildings and on school grounds or premises during school hours. A local school board or public charter school that adopts such policy shall be considered to have met the requirement to adopt a policy under this section.”

Presumably, that will generate a good deal of action and discussion in school districts statewide, and by the time of next year’s legislative session, educators and legislators will have a clearer sense of what’s working and where the glitches are.

Oregon may also find that simpler, for now, is better. A legislature that requires local districts to set up rules will get a much clearer answer by next year than they could get from evaluating reactions to a one-size-fits-all bill.

This column originally appeared on the Oregon Capital Chronicle.

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