Life before electrification isn’t some dorm room hypothetical about the good old days of kerosene and character. It’s something my grandfather actually lived through. He spoke glowingly about the Rural Electrification Administration. In the 1930s and 40s, the REA brought power for production, radios for news, and watts for refrigeration and heat to rural South Dakota. In other words, REA lit this corner of the world.
Fast forward several decades, and I was a kid growing up on that same patch of prairie. Our farm had electricity, sure, but options? Not so much. On a good weather day, we might pick up the NBC or CBS affiliates from Bismarck, ND, over a hundred miles away. But even when those cut out, we could always count on three PBS stations. And thank goodness for that.
I spent hours parked on ropey shag carpet watching Sesame Street, Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, 3-2-1 Contact, Reading Rainbow, and dozens of others whose names I’ve forgotten but whose lessons stuck. Later, when helping Dad in the fields, I’d tune the tractor’s radio to NPR: Marketplace, Fresh Air, Prairie Home Companion - those shows were a lifeline of signal and sense in a static spectrum.
These weren’t just shows. They were oxygen. They were curiosity over noise, creativity over ratings, possibility over profit.
So naturally, the latest plan is to destroy it.
As of yesterday, President Trump signed an executive order demanding the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB) cut all direct funding to NPR and PBS. This after Trump previously failed to eliminate funding in the federal budget for the organization (Congress allocated the funds anyway) and fire the CPB’s board members (something he technically doesn’t have the power to do).
Because nothing says “limited government” like micromanaging Elmo.
Connection is Infrastructure
A country doesn’t stop at the edge of the suburbs. The REA knew that in the 1930s, which is why it didn’t throw up its hands and say, “Sorry, Dakotas; come back when you have your own Rockefeller or J.P. Morgan.” It brought electricity to the places that private industry couldn’t be bothered with. Because connection isn’t just about convenience. It’s about opportunity. It’s about building neighborhoods. It’s about saying, “You live here too. You matter.”
That same mindset is what made public broadcasting work. NPR and PBS didn’t show up in rural towns because there was money to be made. They showed up because we decided - as a country - that everyone should have access to stories, education, and the arts - not just the zip codes capable of subscribing to stream six subscription services only to complain that there’s nothing on.
That access is infrastructure. Not fiber optics or 5G towers; cultural infrastructure. It doesn’t just keep the lights on. It keeps the mind open.
Despite what Silicon Valley thinks, not everyone has “infinite content.” In countless rural towns, tribal lands, and underserved neighborhoods, CPB stations are still the only ones reliably broadcasting anything beyond conservative AM talk radio and reality television.
Do you want to cut that? Congratulations: you’re not shrinking the government. You’re shrinking our cultural appreciation to what’s popular at the local truck stop.
Windows, Not Mirrors
Most media today is a mirror, and not even a good one. It’s like one of those warped funhouse jobs, one that shows you the same outrage, the same playlist, the same algorithmic dopamine hits over and over until you’re convinced you’re America’s main character.
Public broadcasting doesn’t play that game. It’s a window.
When I was a kid, those windows opened to a world where spelling was fun, art was possible, and kindness was a virtue, not something worthy of derision. 3-2-1 Contact made me feel like a scientist. Mark Kistler made me believe I could draw a three-dimensional cube - and maybe, someday, a life beyond it.
As I grew older, the windows just got bigger. Great Performances aired ballet from New York. Austin City Limits introduced bands I’d never hear on Top 40. PBS NewsHour offered nuance, not noise. NOVA, Masterpiece Theatre, Live from Lincoln Center, Nature - shows that trusted you to be curious without clickbait.
And in the fields, driving the combine, NPR didn’t just fill the the gaps between static, it filled the gaps in my understanding. Marketplace, Fresh Air, Car Talk, and more - these were shows that made me laugh, made me think, and filled the void between horizons.
These weren’t just programs. They were public goods wrapped in broadcast signals.
Defund CPB and you’re not just pulling funding. You’re pulling the blinds.
Trusted Journalism for Less Than a Cup of Coffee
Some critics call NPR and PBS “state-sponsored media,” as if Wait Wait… Don’t Tell Me is a weekly psy-op and Antiques Roadshow is how the government launders vintage depression glass.
Let’s clear that up.
The Corporation for Public Broadcasting receives about $500 million a year. That sounds big—until you stack it against the $6.9 trillion federal budget. CPB’s share? About 0.007%. If the federal budget were a dollar, CPB would be getting seven-tenths of a penny.
That works out to about three bucks per American taxpayer per year. You probably spent more than that this morning on a latte that tasted like toasted mulch.
For that, you get This American Life, the BBC World Service, PBS NewsHour, All Things Considered, and yes - Arthur. You get national news that isn’t chasing clicks, local radio that doesn’t have more ads than content, and investigative reporting that isn’t trying to get ratioed on X.
Defunding it isn’t about saving money. It’s about starving truth. It’s about ensuring the only voices left are the ones yelling… increasingly through megaphones they control.
The Cost of a Public Good Is the Cost of a Functioning Society
No one demands the fire department turn a profit. We don’t expect roads to pay for themselves via billboards and sponsored potholes. Amber Alerts don’t have “click to skip ad” buttons and the U.S. Postal Service doesn’t only serve zip codes with good margins. Public services cost money—because they’re worth it.
Rural electrification didn’t happen because private companies felt generous. It happened because the government had the guts to wire up the places Wall Street wouldn’t touch. And what happened? Productivity soared. Property values climbed. Infant mortality fell. According to economic historians, it was one of the best infrastructure investments in American history.
Public broadcasting operates on that same principle. It may not juice anyone’s quarterly earnings, but it boosts school readiness, civic participation, and basic media literacy - especially in places commercial media abandoned decades ago.
A PBS-sponsored study found that children who watched PBS Kids made significantly greater gains in math and literacy than their peers. That’s not “TV as a babysitter.” That’s TV as a classroom. A mentor. A portal.
CPB doesn’t cost much. But it does cost something. And it should. Because that’s what we do with good things—we invest in them.
Don’t Wait for the Obituary
This isn’t a drill. With the stroke of a pen, Trump ordered CPB to cut all direct funding to NPR and PBS. After failing to kill it in Congress and fire the board comes the slow strangulation by legally dubious decree.
Make no mistake: stations will go dark, especially in rural areas where the margins are thin and the signals are already faint. Some won’t come back.
That’s where you come in.
If you’ve got the means, donate to your local station. Don’t wait for a tote bag. Don’t wait for the guilt-trippy jazz saxophone interludes during pledge week. Do it because the lights are flickering and someone has to keep them on.
If you don’t have the cash right now, fair enough. But turn it on. Find your local PBS or NPR affiliate. Watch it. Listen to it. Let your kid stumble onto something beautifully weird between Sid the Science Kid and NOVA. Let yourself be surprised by something that wasn’t written by an algorithm or filtered through a for-you-page.
Try it for a week. You might find your new favorite show. Or at least remember what it’s like to be informed by something other than your feed. This isn’t just about programming. It’s about a shared belief that every zip code deserves signal.
If we let CPB go dark, we’re not just cutting costs - we’re cutting people out. And no one should need a streaming subscription to feel like a citizen.
Update 2024-05-13
Defunding the CPB isn’t new. I stumbled across this political cartoon by David Horsey from 2012. Several versions have been circulating online recently, albeit with “Elon Musk” replacing “Mitt Romney”.
Despite the age, the math still checks out: approximately six hours of what the U.S. spends on defense is the equivalent of an entire year of CPB funding.
Update 2025-05-14
At the beginning of this week, Minnesota Public Radio set a goal of raising $1 million during their spring pledge drive. It was an audacious amount, but one that was, seemingly, necessary in face of state and federal funding uncertainty.
Not only did they reach their goal - they smashed it. The million was raised by early Friday and then members continued shocking the on-air talent with the amount and speed with which gifts were matched - something that their 20-year veterans referred to as “historic”. These are are challenging times, and not every NPR or PBS station has the same community support as MPR. But seeing folks turn up and respond to this call overwhelmingly was a fantastic win to carry into the future.
My preferred MPR station is The Current, a non-commercial indie rock station. It is broadcast across Minnesota and can be streamed online. It recently celebrated its 20th anniversary and I’m thrilled that it’ll continue being around for the foreseeable future.
