OSINT for an Actual Dummy

Sorry for confusing ya'll with the Bad Guys; you're actually pretty cool

"Oh, what—" I will never forget the confusion, bleary-eyed, mumbling into my coffee, "the fuck?" 

It was the first time I'd ever seen the term "OSINT." 

For the better part of six years, I'd been hosting podcasts. I'd had two different shows and was in pre-production on a third with an American studio that would soon collapse under the weight of a plainly avoidable PR nightmare. 

When I'd woken that morning, I noticed an unusual amount of notifications on the Twitter account for the show I was actively hosting—an influx of new followers. Generally, we celebrate this. But this seemed odd. Every account had some measure of uniformity, something in common that I'd never heard of—OSINT. It was directly in a few handles. For others, it was in their bios.

This moment happened during the Trump administration when being gay on the internet had lost any of its charms. My joke about endorsing a straight pride hosted at Red Lobster or a half-hearted reply to a troll about finding his mom and becoming his step-mom if he didn't learn how to act right, they all became deep and imposing threats against entire political ideologies. And recently, I'd been doxxed by a supporter of a local political party. 

With a nervous system activated for nearly two years and a newfound paranoia, these sudden followers seemed to blend into the anonymous and threatening accounts who'd been in my DM's—what with all the magnifying glasses and detective emojis. 

"Great. Now, they want to demolish my work," I thought, "Tenacious."

I couldn't fight that faintly sick momentary panic. 

So, I scrolled back through our notifications and found the source of my alleged and supposed agony—Justin Seitz (classic). If you know him, you know I did not get what I was expecting. 

His tweet, the one that had drawn followers to our show, was nothing more than a simple vote of support and some encouragement to listen. His followers showed up and showed up well. Over the next few weeks, a quarter of our social media followers would become OSINTers. 

I never asked Justin about it, but we did become friendly. In that baffling moment, I Googled to discover this was not an imminent threat, finished my coffee, relaxed, and simply enjoyed the newfound community and a new Twitter friend to chat with about horror movies. 

Over two years later, our paths would converge professionally, and I would truly be thrust into the world.

In the circumstances we were in—government contracts, foreign and domestic interference, trafficking, mis and disinformation, it all felt unfamiliar, overwhelming, and inaccessible. "This cannot be what the fun people on Twitter are up to," I thought. 

I'd sauntered through a decade of work in broadcasting, journalism and communications strategizing. I was not cut out for this. I said as much, often, but was consistently met by kinder, patient community veterans who insisted that I was wrong. 

Ok, fine. I was wrong.

Navigating deeper into the world of OSINT, I realized the intimidating facade of the field was just that—a facade. The language used in these circles often feels impenetrable. Concepts masked by jargon and technicalities that create the illusion of something incredibly complex that you just can’t see. But at its core, OSINT operates on simple, logical principles—principles most people already use in their daily lives.

Previously on Bullshit Hunting, I discussed researching my friend's Tinder dates. Doing a quick Google search, sifting through social media profiles, cross-checking mutual connections—simple. How do you prepare for a job interview? Scour the company's website, read employee reviews, and browse LinkedIn to get a sense of team dynamics. Perhaps click through Reddit and other forums more than happy to discuss corporate corruption.

Buying a used car? You may use the VIN to check the car's history report, search for reviews of the make and model, and compare prices to ensure the deal is on the up and up. 

This is OSINT in its most basic form—collecting and analyzing publicly available information to make informed decisions. Using available data to build a picture of what we're walking into, ensuring we're as prepared as possible.

When these same actions are framed within the context of national security or large-scale investigations, they seem daunting, requiring specific expertise that feels wholly out of reach. And listen, there is a spectrum. It isn't all the same, ya know, locating terrorists vs. your friend's off-putting first date, but the core activities are—only the stakes differ.

The noise surrounding technology and OSINT often serves to obscure this simplicity. The layers of inaccessible language and the illusion of exclusivity creates barriers, convincing outsiders that they lack the knowledge or skills to engage with this work meaningfully. When, really, what you genuinely need is to be curious, methodical, and thorough.

I'd actually been in these waters for years. Journalism, with its emphasis on relentless digging and fact-checking, podcasting and its requirement to find new and niche information, all excellent training.

But as always, when there's a system in place, and you're asked to operate within it, there will be a hierarchy. Technology, as an industry, was never built equitably. Development and leadership have historically been driven predominantly by white men. I won't place blame, but I will point out that when you take up space in this world professionally, you're often welcomed into conversations with an unnecessary air of mystique or superiority. 

That's fine. 

I can't help but smile, because I know that behind the acronyms and technical speak, the work is built on principles many could grasp if they had the desire to. The fun people on Twitter—with the emojis I once, ironically, confused as a potential sign of danger—yes, they were doing this work. I was doing it, too. 

Understanding the language and broader implications of what we do, I also understand the stakes. I do understand the need for skilled practitioners and well-read and researched stakeholders. I deeply understand that I have the space to learn and indulge my curiosity because I have a network of expert investigators supporting me. I also understand that the power of OSINT doesn't come from its complexity—it comes from its simplicity. 

The real challenge isn't in learning how to do it, but in seeing through the noise to recognize that you can.

(Oh, and if you haven’t already, check out Kase Scenarios. We love them.)