The Death of Public Media — And Why We Must Fight to Save It
For more than half a century, U.S. public media has been one of the most quietly powerful democratic institutions in the nation. It is not flashy. It is not partisan. It does not exist to make shareholders rich. It exists to connect people — to each other, to their communities, to their country, and to the world. For over 50 years, public media has connected 99% of Americans to trusted local and national news, educational programming, and cultural content — backed by billions in community investment, a vast broadcast infrastructure, and the hard-earned trust of local communities across the country. From television to radio to even community newspapers, public media has been the voice of the community, no matter what. It has been there in times of crisis — hurricanes, wildfires, pandemics — when commercial broadcasters cut away to ads or entertainment. It has been there in classrooms, with PBS Kids and educational radio programs supplementing lessons for millions of children. It has been there for the elderly and homebound, for rural farmers and urban commuters, for immigrants learning English and for lifelong learners exploring the arts, science, and history. And now, that system is in crisis. A Manufactured Collapse The loss of federal funding through the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB) threatens to trigger a cascade of local station closures, starting with many rural and under-resourced stations. The consequences could cause irreversible damage to our civic and democratic life. The CPB will wrap up its business at the end of the month — not because the need has vanished, not because the system has failed, but because the House GOP and Senate GOP chose to bend the knee to Donald Trump instead of listening to their constituents. This is not a budgetary inevitability. It is a political choice. And it is one that will strip tens of millions of Americans of access to free, high-quality news, educational, and cultural programming. In our highly interconnected public media system, the failure of these stations will not be contained to the towns and counties where they go dark. The collapse will ripple outward, endangering distressed stations in other areas of the country and threatening services everywhere. Public media is a network — not just in the technical sense of transmitters and satellites, but in the human sense of collaboration, shared reporting, and pooled resources. When one part of the network fails, the rest strains to compensate. When enough parts fail, the whole system falters. The Stakes for Democracy Public media is not just about entertainment or nostalgia. It is about information equity — the idea that every American, regardless of income or geography, should have access to reliable, fact-based news and educational content. In an era of rampant misinformation, algorithm-driven outrage, and the collapse of local newspapers, public media has been one of the last bastions of journalism that is both trusted and accessible. When you cut off public media, you are not just silencing a few radio stations. You are silencing the voices that tell rural voters what’s happening in their state legislature. You are silencing the investigative reporters who uncover corruption in small-town governments. You are silencing the science programs that explain climate change in plain language. You are silencing the cultural programming that connects us to our shared history and to each other. And you are doing it at the very moment when Americans most need a shared set of facts. The Human Cost It is easy to talk about “stations” and “infrastructure” in the abstract. But the reality is that these cuts will mean people — journalists, producers, engineers, educators — losing their jobs. It will mean communities losing their storytellers, their chroniclers, their conveners. In rural Alaska, public radio is often the only source of emergency weather alerts. In the Mississippi Delta, public television provides free early childhood education to families who cannot afford preschool. In the Great Plains, public media covers agricultural policy that directly affects farmers’ livelihoods. When these stations close, those services vanish. And they will not come back. Once a transmitter is dismantled, once a newsroom is shuttered, once a community loses the habit of turning to public media, the loss is permanent. A Glimmer of Hope At least one good thing has come out of this god-awful decision. The John S. and James L. Knight Foundation, Pivotal, the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, Ford Foundation, the Schmidt Family Foundation, and the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation have committed nearly $37 million to provide immediate relief to public media stations at risk of closure following the federal funding cuts to the CPB. That says something — that foundations really do give a damn about public media. They understand that this is not charity; it is an investment in the civic infrastructure of the United States. But philanthropy alone cannot replace the scale and stability of federal funding. These emergency funds are a tourniquet, not a cure. They will keep some stations alive in the short term, but without systemic support, the patient will not survive. The Political Spin “We need to get back to fiscal sanity and this is an important step,” said House Speaker Mike Johnson in defense of the cuts. Mr. Speaker, what you have done is destroy public media at large with your policies. You have taken a sledgehammer to one of the few institutions that still serves all Americans equally, regardless of political affiliation, income, or geography. And let’s be clear: the CPB’s annual appropriation — about $465 million — is a rounding error in the federal budget. It is less than what the Pentagon spends in a single day. It is less than the cost of one high-end fighter jet. Cutting it will not balance the budget. But it will unbalance our democracy. The Narrow Window We have a narrow but critical window to protect these important community institutions — and to reimagine public media for a stronger, more sustainable future. We can be the new medium of public media. As Marshall McLuhan once said, The medium is the message. If the medium dies, so does the message. That means fighting for restored federal funding. It means building new coalitions between public media, libraries, schools, and community organizations. It means exploring new revenue models that do not compromise editorial independence. It means leveraging technology to reach audiences where they are — on smartphones, on streaming platforms, on social media — without abandoning the over-the-air broadcasts that remain essential for millions. What We Stand to Lose If we let public media die, we will lose: Local accountability: No one else will cover the school board meeting in a town of 5,000 people. Educational equity: No one else will provide free, curriculum-aligned programming to every child in America. Cultural preservation: No one else will record the oral histories, the folk music, the regional dialects that make up our national tapestry. Emergency communication: No one else will guarantee that a tornado warning reaches every household, even those without internet or cable. These are not luxuries. They are public goods. The Call to Action This is not the time for resignation. It is the time for mobilization. Call your representatives. Write letters to the editor. Donate to your local station. Organize community fundraisers. Demand that public media be treated as the essential service it is. And remember: once it’s gone, it’s gone. There is no private-sector substitute for public media’s mission, reach, and trust. A Final Word Public media has been there for us for more than 50 years. It has informed us, educated us, entertained us, and bound us together as a nation. Now, it is our turn to be there for public media. Because the medium is the message — and if we let the medium die, we will lose far more than a few TV and radio stations. We will lose one of the last threads holding our democracy together.