LBJ Called It a “Miracle.” Trump's GOP Just Voted to Kill It.

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In November 1967, President Lyndon B. Johnson added a monumental new institution to his Great Society: the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, a “ miracle in communication ” that LBJ compared to the United States' first telegraph line. “This Corporation will assist stations and producers who aim for the best in broadcasting good music, in broadcasting exciting plays, and in broadcasting reports on the whole fascinating range of human activity,” Johnson remarked, as he approved the nonprofit that would birth National Public Radio and the Public Broadcasting Service . “Today we rededicate a part of the airwaves—which belong to all the people—and we dedicate them for the enlightenment of all the people.”

Nearly 60 years later, Congress has done all it can to obliterate that mission. This week, the Senate narrowly approved a legislative package that rescinds $9 billion in formerly approved spending for various federal programs—including but not limited to the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. About $1.1 billion of that money had been directed to support CPB over the next two years. The corporation would then have delegated the bulk of it to its over 1,500 affiliate radio and TV stations—many of which are the only free sources of basic information available to millions of Americans in rural regions as well as underfunded communities like Native reservations. These primary sources of news, emergency alerts, educational programming, arts coverage, and stories from your neighborhood are to be severely curtailed.

This rescissions package, the first of its kind in 30 years, is not yet law; the House of Representatives will vote Thursday before the bill goes to President Donald Trump's desk. But it's unlikely the House will preserve public media funding either. Historically, Republicans from states with significant rural and Indigenous populations have often fought to preserve and even expand public media funds, even when other GOP legislators opposed such efforts. (Past recipients of the Champion of Public Broadcasting Award include reliable conservatives such as West Virginia Sen. Shelley Moore Capito , Idaho Rep. Mike Simpson , and Oklahoma Rep. Tom Cole .) Polls conducted over the years have consistently demonstrated major support for public media and its government funds from the populace — including GOP voters . Trump, during his first term, consistently attempted to zero out public media budgets, yet was often stymied by fellow Republicans.

This time, Sens. Susan Collins and Lisa Murkowski were the only real GOP holdouts, with the latter pointing to a Wednesday earthquake in her home state of Alaska as an example of public media's necessity. “Local residents and summer visitors alike were able to evacuate thanks to federal tsunami advisories relayed through local public broadcasting stations,” Murkowski tweeted that day , echoing a speech she made on the Senate floor. “Their response to today's earthquake is a perfect example of the incredible public service these stations provide.”

What changed for their colleagues, then? There are two main factors here: a yearslong culture-war campaign to reduce Americans' trust in NPR and PBS, and the far-right Heritage Foundation's successful effort to install the architects of its Project 2025 agenda in the White House. After a former NPR senior editor published a screed last year accusing his employer of having been compromised by “wokeness,” right-wing activists leaped on the controversy to undermine the radio network's then recently installed CEO, Katherine Maher, by pointing out her past anti-Trump and pro-Biden tweets. The attacks on Maher extended to her affiliations with other nonprofit services like Wikimedia and Signal , and she was called up to testify to Congress this March alongside PBS CEO Paula Kerger.

But it was less a hearing than a moment of Republican bellyaching , having been organized by well-known conspiracist Marjorie Taylor Greene, given the title of “Anti-American Airwaves,” and rounded out with a Heritage Foundation fellow as a witness. The ridiculous sideshow saw Republicans falsely claim that PBS had introduced drag shows into children's programming and transformed themselves into propaganda machines. This served as an addition to Project 2025 co-author and Federal Communications Commission Chairman Brendan Carr's ongoing crusade , in which he baselessly accused PBS and NPR of “ violating federal law by airing commercials ,” something public broadcasters are prohibited from doing. And that was all on top of Trump's efforts to fire three CPB board members who had been appointed by President Joe Biden.

This was nothing like the forum where Fred Rogers brought a PBS-skeptical lawmaker to tears with an impassioned case for the value of public programming. Rather, it was the cheap justification for widespread cuts to “ far left ” public media proposed by DOGE and by Russell Vought, the Project 2025 leader now serving as Trump's Office of Management and Budget director. Late last month, pro–public media senators grilled Vought in a less sensational hearing about how slashed CPB funding would starve rural neighborhoods of a much-needed public resource. He excused the move by vaguely promising that emergency services and rural stations would be fine no matter what, while adding that the budget cuts wouldn't take effect until the next fiscal year, giving CPB member stations “ ample time to adjust .”

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That's not quite the case. NPR and PBS are well prepared to adjust, as national brands that use a only minimal amount of their federal dollars —2 percent of NPR's budget and 15 percent of PBS's budget , respectively—and earn ample revenue from corporate sponsorships, viewer donations, distribution fees, and special endowment. However, even though CPB gives the bulk of its government appropriations to local stations, it does get some money in turn—namely, programming fees that Michigan Public pays for the rights to broadcast NPR shows like All Things Considered , just as Missouri's Ozarks Public Television pays for the rights to broadcast PBS NewsHour . Local public radio and TV stations don't have the same wider recognition that NPR and PBS do, and if they serve low-income areas ( as many of them do ), their listeners are less able to gift substantial donations. Overall, NPR and PBS will take a hit, but they have a much better chance of adapting than Alaska Public Media does. Which means such stations are likely to trim costs further, lay off staffers, or even close altogether.

It's obviously true that radio and TV are no longer the dynamic, widely indispensable media they were in the preinternet age. But car drivers and long-haul truckers still love their NPR, and rural areas without high-speed internet can still depend on public airwaves. Plus, CPB has done a valiant job of adjusting to the digital age, bringing more PBS shows to streaming , on its own app and on other services ( see also: Sesame Street ), while NPR still produces some of the most successful podcasts of the modern age. PBS has noted in its own stats that nearly 60 percent of American television households—about 130 million people—tune in to local and national public stations on a yearly basis, and that 60 percent of those viewers hail from rural areas. The TV network's kids' programming in particular remains the gold standard in terms of healthy and legitimately educational screen time for millions of children in the US At the very least, it's a more than worthy substitute for YouTube brainrot .

Also, for pundits and members of Congress to decry CPB as some leftist indoctrination factory is laughable. The corporation has multiple Republican board members, including current President and CEO Patricia Harrison, a George W. Bush appointee. Throughout their lives, NPR and PBS—along with their member stations—have employed several conservative hosts, including William F. Buckley Jr., Milton Friedman, Rich Lowry, and Sarah Isgur. And all hosts frequently bring on right-wing voters, legislators, and commentators to share their views—including those politicians who directly inform radio and TV anchors why they want to halt federal support.

And if I can get personal for a second: I don't know what I would be today without NPR, PBS, and their locally tailored Michigan programming. Even as a youth of the computer age, I learned so much and found endless value in Mister Rogers' Neighborhood reruns, classical-music broadcasts , and specialized podcasts like Microphone Check . Such free-to-consume treasures opened up my world and exposed me to ideas I would never have encountered otherwise.

This is not the end of public media, to be clear. At least three dozen states also provide direct monetary support for local public stations, and there are other nonprofit groups not backed by the federal government, like American Public Media and Pacifica. Still, the local and national media ecosystems will suffer a steep injury, and there will be a far narrower range of programming and opportunities than before. Lyndon Johnson's dream of dedicating America's channels to the enlightenment of the public has been shattered.