Time To Cut The Cord: Why Public Broadcasting No Longer Deserves Our Tax Dollars

The Public Broadcasting Act of 1967 should be repealed. Why should American taxpayers continue funding a relic of the past when today we have unlimited access to diverse media options at our fingertips? With more than 1,000 television channels, streaming services and endless online content, is there really a need for publicly funded broadcasting in this modern landscape? What was once seen as a necessary initiative for diversifying the media landscape has devolved into a relic of an earlier age—a $2 billion handout benefiting only a small, elite audience. When Lyndon B. Johnson signed the legislation, Americans faced a scarcity of options: four television channels and limited radio programming, often constrained by corporate interests or regional limitations. There was an argument to be made that there was a public need for diversified and educational content. Fast forward to today, the notion of scarcity is laughable. Americans enjoy an overwhelming array of choices, from the internet and streaming services to podcasts, YouTube channels and digital news outlets—all of which have replaced the once-venerated public broadcasting model.

And yet, here we are, funding a bloated Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB) that receives approximately $525 million annually from the federal government, sending most of it down the bureaucratic chain to National Public Radio (NPR), the Public Broadcasting Service (PBS) and roughly 1,500 local affiliates. For instance, local stations often receive funding that must then be funneled back to NPR or PBS to cover the costs of syndicated content, leaving little room for truly local programming or innovation. This results in a top-heavy structure where national priorities overshadow community needs and creativity is stifled by bureaucratic constraints. These taxpayer funds support an organization that’s become little more than a publicly subsidized echo chamber for liberal ideas—a taxpayer-funded sandbox for the rich, white liberal elite who can comfortably afford alternative sources of information. Statistically, the audience for public broadcasting is disproportionately affluent, overwhelmingly white and markedly liberal, with fewer than 17% of viewers identifying as Republicans. This means that 80% of America—including those struggling to make ends meet, those from minority communities and those who don’t share a progressive worldview—are effectively subsidizing the content consumption of a privileged minority.

The “public” spirit behind public broadcasting has clearly eroded. As audience demographics shifted over the decades, so too did the programming, drifting away from the balanced ideals that once defined it. This shift starts at the top, with leadership steering the ideological course. Take for example NPR’s CEO Katherine Maher, who has previously stated that “her biggest obstacle in her fight against disinformation is the First Amendment in the United States, which makes it a little bit tricky to censor bad information and the influence peddlers who spread it.” Such perspectives from top leadership reflect and perpetuate the current direction of public broadcasting. During the ’70s, ’80s and ’90s, shows like The McLaughlin Group, Firing Line and MacNeil/Lehrer Report actively cultivated an environment of political balance. William F. Buckley Jr. debated liberals with eloquence and vigor, while Jim Lehrer ensured his news programming gave equal weight to both sides of every political coin. This was public broadcasting at its finest: genuine dialogue, real debate and a respect for the full spectrum of American thought. Fast forward to today, and that ideal has been abandoned. Conservative voices are persona non grata in the public broadcasting realm. The transformation culminated with the election of Donald Trump in 2016, which seemed to shatter the public broadcasting model’s already fragile pretense of impartiality. Republican perspectives were deemed dangerous, and even the mere platforming of a Trump supporter was anathema. Public broadcasting became, and remains, an exclusive club for ideological uniformity.

Consider the case of Uri Berliner, a veteran journalist who dedicated 25 years to NPR, serving as a senior business editor. In April 2024, Berliner authored an essay titled “I’ve Been at NPR for 25 Years. Here’s How We Lost America’s Trust,” where he criticized NPR for adopting a progressive worldview and lacking viewpoint diversity. He cited instances such as the handling of the Hunter Biden laptop story and the origins of COVID-19 as evidence of bias. Following the publication of his essay, Berliner was suspended for five days without pay for failing to secure approval for outside work. Subsequently, he resigned, stating he could not work in a newsroom where he felt disparaged by the new CEO. This incident underscores the intolerance for internal dissent within public broadcasting. The message was clear: there is no room for dissent. If public broadcasting cannot uphold even the pretense of ideological diversity, why should it continue to be funded by taxpayers who don’t share its worldview?

Moreover, let’s scrutinize the opaque and convoluted way in which federal dollars flow through public broadcasting. The CPB receives around $525 million from the government, and this is merely the tip of the iceberg. Additional funding filters in through the Departments of Commerce and Education—amounting to another $500 million. These funds then disperse across various entities, obfuscating the total expenditure. What eventually trickles down to the American viewer is a complex web of grants, subsidies, and donations that ensures NPR, PBS, and their affiliates remain flush with cash. Yet, even with this largesse, their ratings remain woefully anemic, with only about 20% of Americans tuning in. Of those, the majority belong to the same cohort of wealthy, liberal and overwhelmingly white individuals who already have the means to afford premium news subscriptions. This isn’t public service; it’s public indulgence.

We must address the crux of the issue: why should taxpayers continue to fund a platform that serves such a narrow slice of America, particularly when that slice doesn’t represent the nation’s full diversity—neither demographically nor ideologically? Public broadcasting could easily adapt, were it forced to stand on its own two feet. It could charge subscription fees like HBO or Peacock. It could run more advertising, sell more memberships or, heaven forbid, even trim its bloated budget. Defunding public broadcasting doesn’t spell the end of NPR, PBS or their affiliates. It simply removes the unfair burden from those who receive nothing in return. In a market-driven landscape, those who value the service could sustain it, and those who don’t wouldn’t be compelled to pay for it.

Public broadcasting defenders often argue that this is about protecting the cultural commons—ensuring that educational and high-quality content is accessible to all. But this argument is no longer tenable. In today’s digital age, there is no shortage of educational content. If anything, the challenge is sorting through the deluge of material available at our fingertips. Podcasts, YouTube channels, MOOCs and countless other platforms offer educational programming across every conceivable discipline. If you want to learn, you can, and without a government handout.

I speak not from ignorance or disdain but from disappointment. I once supported my local public broadcasting station. I contributed to my PBS affiliate, valuing the balance and thoughtfulness that public broadcasting promised. But that promise has been broken. Now, each time I tune in, I’m met with bias, with narrative-driven content that caters not to truth but to ideology. The federal government should not be in the business of funding media—especially not media that functions as an arm of a single political faction. The Public Broadcasting Act of 1967 had its moment in history, and it served its purpose. But times have changed, and so must we. Public broadcasting as we know it today is unworthy of the American taxpayer’s dollar. Let the marketplace decide its fate.

Sponsored by the John Milton Freedom Foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to helping independent journalists overcome formidable challenges in today’s media landscape and bring crucial stories to you.

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