MEDIA BEAT
ASSAULT ON KPFA RAISES NEW ISSUES
It could become a notable media crime of the century--the killing of the strongest progressive radio station in the United States. Or it may turn out to be a case of attempted murder, ultimately averted by the determined struggle of a vibrant 50-year-old named KPFA.
With its back against the wall, the nation's first listener-supported radio station is fighting for its life. Days ago, sources confirmed what many supporters of KPFA Radio have suspected for a long time: KPFA's parent company, the Pacifica Foundation, is moving toward sale of the station. The foundation could gain $60 million or more from such a sale. But the loss to much of Northern California--which has received the unique political and cultural offerings of the Berkeley-based station since 1949--would be incalculable.
KPFA has overcome many big obstacles. During the McCarthy era, pseudo-patriotic zealots tried to shut it down. Financial problems and internal strife often afflicted the fiercely independent station while its unabashed leftist politics and diverse cultural programs clashed with the mainstream mush dominating the radio band.
With escalating ruthlessness in recent months, the Pacifica Foundation--which also owns noncommercial radio stations in Los Angeles, Houston, New York City and Washington--has subjected KPFA's staff to repeated attacks on free speech. Journalists have been harassed and fired for the content of their on-air reports. One evening in mid-July, longtime staffers were among more than 50 people arrested for "trespassing" at the station after management interrupted a newscast in mid-sentence and imposed a lockout.
In the words of a spokesperson for Pacifica board chair Mary Frances Berry, on the night of July 27 she "emphatically denied" that selling KPFA is "an option being seriously considered."
But the next day, the latest deception fell apart. "I take no pleasure in being here today," board member Pete Bramson told a noon press conference on July 28, "but I cannot remain silent while Pacifica's national board holds serious discussions in secret about selling KPFA." In fact, during a phone meeting of the national Pacifica board--only hours before Berry's denial on the evening of July 27--the board vice chair had proposed taking out a $5 million loan against the value of KPFA's license. And, as Bramson noted, the proposal involved "selling the KPFA frequency, which has an estimated value of $65-$75 million."
In the tradition of gutsy whistleblowers, Bramson spoke openly about the private meeting. He provided chilling details of a discussion in which leaders of the board talked about selling a precious and beloved radio station as if it were a tract of barren real estate.
"We do need our radio station back," Bramson said at the Berkeley news conference. "I call publicly on my fellow board members to do the right thing and give KPFA back to its community." Such pleas resonate with people across the country who have often lost their favorite radio stations to gradual corporatization or outright sale.
On the night of July 28, with tensions soaring still higher and a mass demonstration set to fill the streets of Berkeley a few days later, it appeared that Pacifica chair Berry was suddenly beginning to offer some concessions. The details were murky as the station's thousands of active supporters waited to see her offer in writing. But one overarching reality remained clear: Whether or not KPFA's staff would be back inside the station's building on Martin Luther King, Jr. Way at the start of August, the key issues of the huge dispute were sure to remain. Can KPFA revive its tradition of free speech and fearless challenge to corporate power on the air? Can the station, after half a century, turn back the authoritarian forces eager to crush its most vibrant characteristics?
The answers that emerge from the struggle to save KPFA are sure to reverberate far beyond the range of the station's transmitters. Several decades ago, across America, the noncommercial portion of the FM band was explicitly set aside for the public-but few of the radio stations that call themselves "listener supported" have been willing to open their decision-making process to direct community participation.
Public radio's evocations of democratic values on the airwaves are undermined when stations treat democracy as a concept that should not intrude past their own front doors. In such a context, the governance of the medium is the message.
RADIO, DEMOCRACY, AND PACIFICA
Is it really possible for broadcasting and democracy to mix? In theory, yes. But right now, the prospects look bleak. Most Americans live in areas where just a few media conglomerates dominate. Overall, what's on the airwaves is more like centralized monotony than democratic discourse.
Over 4,000 commercial radio stations have been sold since the bipartisan Telecommunications Act of 1996 became law. Radio mergers occur almost every day. The major media firms keep getting larger in size and fewer in number.
For three years, we've had no national limits on how many radio stations a single corporation can own. In a big city, eight radio stations can belong to the same firm. And the Federal Communications Commission just ruled that one company can own two television stations in the same city.
Media moguls are thrilled about the new ruling. The owner of the PAX TV network, Lowell Paxson, told a reporter: "I can't wait to have a glass of champagne and toast the FCC!" And so it goes. Lobbyists for broadcasting firms continue to prevail.
Causes of deregulation mania are similar to its effects: Democracy has very little to do with what's on the air. The last thing we're likely to hear on networks owned by General Electric (NBC), Westinghouse (CBS), or Disney (ABC) is in-depth debate about the wisdom of surrendering the nation's airwaves to unabashed profiteers.
Millions of Americans, eager for news coverage, depend on "noncommercial" stations. But National Public Radio affiliates, like their TV counterparts with ties to PBS, are so corporatized by now that the public has little voice---even at stations that call themselves "listener supported." Actually, there's a direct connection between how a station is governed and what it airs. When decision-making is insulated from real public participation, the bottom-line priorities that emerge are predictable--and audible.
Meanwhile, the public's designated role in "public broadcasting" is usually confined to sending in money, as if democratic processes would undermine broadcast outlets. But some community stations around the country (such as KBOO Radio in Portland, Ore.) have proven that "democratic media" need not be an oxymoron.
In this context, a key battle is continuing in the San Francisco area as thousands of KPFA Radio supporters struggle to protect their station against its owner, the Pacifica Foundation (which also owns noncommercial radio stations in Los Angeles, Houston, New York City and Washington). Pacifica has yet to apologize for its indefensible actions during the past few months--including repeated attempts to throttle the free speech of KPFA journalists, placement of armed guards inside the station to harass and intimidate staff, cutting off a newscast in mid-sentence on July 13, ordering the arrests of KPFA journalists in their own workplace and then locking out all of the station's employees.
The lockout lasted 23 days, until Aug. 5 --nearly a week after 10,000 station supporters marched through the streets of Berkeley. The situation remains dire. Pacifica's national board chair, Mary Frances Berry, has denied the well-documented truth that the board considered a proposal last month to sell KPFA's frequency.
In Northern California, the enormous support for KPFA throughout the region is a historic instance of grassroots activism on behalf of community radio. KPFA's battle with Pacifica is a struggle for democratic possibilities at a time of rampant go-along-to-get-along homogenization and centralization. For anyone familiar with the facts, strong support for KPFA would seem to be a no-brainer. But ambivalence about the option of democratic media can be found in many places, including some prominent liberal quarters.
In its Aug. 23 edition, The Nation magazine took an editorial position. Well, sort of. The Nation's hierarchy could not muster any outrage about Pacifica's outrageous actions. Instead, the editorial merely described them as "a series of heavy-handed moves."
In contrast, The Progressive magazine is forthright in its September issue. "With these actions," writes editor Matthew Rothschild, "it became clear that Pacifica management was violating the sacred trust which all of us in the alternative media are honor-bound to uphold. That trust is not just to preserve our institutions, but to uphold the principles behind those institutions."
In a media world where opportunism and economic power often prevail, there is still something sacred about the vision of democratic media. Some ideals are worthy of passion and commitment.
Norman Solomon's latest book is "The Habits of Highly Deceptive Media."