Why Losing Public Media Means Losing Democracy Itself

What a Burmese Monk Taught Me About American Democracy

Dear Friend -

I need to tell you something that's been consuming me since Congress voted to shut down public broadcasting in July.

It starts with a monk in Burma (now Myanmar) who risked his life to listen to Voice of America.

In 2007, I came across a Washington Post article titled "Citizens Wait, Worry in Junta's Climate of Fear" that completely shifted my understanding of the work I was doing. Published exactly one month after the military's violent crackdown on the Buddhist monk protests during the Saffron Revolution, the piece told the story of Burmese citizens living under military dictatorship in an atmosphere of heightened surveillance and fear. One quote has stayed with me for seventeen years: a monk, speaking about the dangers even within monasteries, described listening to Voice of America in secret because "too many plainclothes security officers have put on the robes and it's not safe to talk."

That monk understood something we've forgotten: democratic media isn't a luxury—it's a lifeline.

The Consolation Prize That Changed Everything

I didn't want Voice of America.

When I was placed with VOA instead of Meet the Press for my Washington, D.C. internship in 2007, I felt like the universe was trolling me. I was 21, chasing journalism dreams, and desperately wanted a flashy assignment at one of the major networks. Voice of America? What the hell was that? Shortwave radio didn't exactly scream "future anchor” of the 21st century.

Regardless, I showed up carrying all the confidence of a Miami University student—peak 2007 millennial business energy style with J. Crew pep in my step. Because, clearly, I wasn't going to cry over what felt like a consolation prize. So I went all in, editing audio and booking interviews with everyone from Ohio Congressman Dennis Kucinich to Syrian ambassadors who told me America lacked free speech. (I'll let that irony sit there.)

But I didn't grasp the significance of our work until I read that monk's story. Something fundamental clicked into place.

Voice of America wasn't just reporting news—it was broadcasting democracy itself.

What We're Really Losing

As I write this, both Voice of America and the Corporation for Public Broadcasting—the organization that funds NPR, PBS, and 1,500 local stations (including my hometown station WOSU)—are being systematically shut down. VOA's journalists have been locked out. CPB will close by January 2026 after Congress clawed back $1.1 billion in funding.

And it hurts. It really hurts.

The justification? Accusations of bias and "radical propaganda." In truth, these organizations were doing what healthy democracies require: creating spaces where we practice listening across difference.

We're not just losing media outlets. We're dismantling the infrastructure of democracy itself.

Maybe you're thinking, "Good riddance. I never listened to public radio anyway." Or maybe you're devastated, like I am, wondering where you'll get morning news without NPR and how the United States will continue to “support the frontlines of freedom” as even the Heritage Foundation once supported. All reactions make sense.

But here's what I've learned: this isn't about media preferences. It's about how we practice democracy when no one's forcing us to.

For millions of Americans, public media provided bridges across difference. A farmer in rural Alaska heard the same NPR programming as a teacher in downtown Portland. Conservative and progressive families might disagree about politics, but they both trusted PBS to educate their children. I know I did and still do.

My parents are immigrants, and I learned about American culture through shows like Reading Rainbow, Sesame Street, ZOOM, and Arthur.

Public media models the best of democratic engagement—how to ask hard questions respectfully, grapple with complex issues, discuss community problems without descending into tribalism. In rural areas, local public radio often provides the only emergency alerts during disasters. When that signal goes dark, people lose connection to life-saving information.

But we all lose something so much deeper when public media goes dark: the practice of listening to people who see the world differently without assuming they're enemies.

The monk in Burma risked his life for that practice. We're choosing to abandon it.

Start Where You Are

Okay. Deep breath. Here's where I need to be honest about something uncomfortable: we can't wait for institutions to save democracy.

(Again) We can't wait for institutions to save democracy.

We (you and I) must start to build the muscle of practicing democracy one step at a time.

And here's the permission I wish someone had given me at 21: you don't have to be perfect at this to start. You don't have to have all the answers. You don't even have to like the people you're trying to understand. (Yes, please read that last sentence one more time too…)

The simplest, most radical act we can do is start choosing curiosity.

The Practice: Once this month, have a real conversation with someone who sees the world differently than you do about something you both care about. Not to change their mind. Not to prove you're right. To understand their experience.

Start with shared values: "We both want our kids to be safe in school. I'd love to understand how you think we get there."

That's it. You just need to practice what that monk in Burma was risking his life to hear: the sound of people talking across difference without hatred.

It's not sexy. It's not going to help you go viral and place you in the Jubilee hotseat. But it's how democracy actually works—through the patient practice of connection across difference.

The Signal Still Broadcasting

Yes, we're losing these institutions. But we haven't lost each other—or our power to rebuild them.

The frequency of freedom isn't found on a radio dial—it's found in the choice to stay connected to each other, even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard.

The monk in Burma knew where to find that signal. Now it's our turn—not just as individuals, but as a democracy.

Yes, practice listening across difference in your daily life. But also: Call your representatives. Vote in local elections. Support public media financially. Demand that democracy's infrastructure be rebuilt, not just practiced.

Every time you choose curiosity over certainty, you're broadcasting democracy. Every time you vote, donate, or call your senator, you're keeping that signal alive. Every time you find common ground with someone who sees the world differently, you're doing what that monk in Burma risked his life to hear.

The frequency of freedom requires both personal courage and collective power.

Love + Light,

Sophia

P.S. - Comment 💙 if you believe democracy needs both individual practice AND/OR share your favorite public media program in the comments—let's celebrate what we're fighting to save. (Mine? It will always be Reading Rainbow.)