The Joan Shorenstein Barone Center

PRESS . POLITICS

. PUBLIC POLICY'

Harvard UniversityJohn F. Kennedy School ofGovernment

IrurnooucrroN

Glyn Davis, Commissioner for Public SectorEquity in the newly created Public Sector Man-agement Commission of Queensland, Australia,has taken a close look at what he calls the"chaos" of America's public broadcasting sys-tem. In this paper, which he prepared while hewas a visiting Fellow at the |oan ShorensteinBarone Center on the Press, Politics and PublicPolicy, Dr. Davis compares the United Statesdecentralized public broadcasting system to itsAustralian counterpart, which was built on theBritish government monopoly model.

Starting with a historical analysis of how thetwo different systems developed from their earlyradio days, Dr. Davis documents the variouspolitical assaults and supports for each systemand evaluates which is better organized forserving the public interest.

He addresses such questions as: Should publicbroadcasting seek to be an alternative voice toprogramming provided by the commercial

networks-or should it be expected to provide asense of nation/ a comprehensive range ofmaterial including the kind already providcd brcommercial radio and television? Which svs-tem-the loose federation or the centralizedmonopoly-involves the public more etiectrr'elland better resists partisan political pressurc-s:What difference does the organization of thcsystem make in its relationship to the audrence I

Dr. Davis's paper provides a valuable hrstc'n'and analysis for anyone interested in pubhcpolicy about broadcasting and, in panicular thechallenges posed by public broadcasting svstcms

Ellen HumeExecutive DirectorIoan Shorenstein Barone Center on the kers.

Politics and Public Policyfohn F. Kennedy School of GovernmentHarvard University

DIFFERENT STROKES: PUBLIC BROADCASTING IN AMERICA AND AUSTRALIA

Public broadcasting does not always get goodpress in America. Recent stories focus on budgetcrises, accusations of inefficiency or complaintsthat the nation's extensive network of publicradio and television stations lacks direction.Because it gets no leadership from Congress,suggests former CBS News President FrecFriendly, the public broadcasting system is"rudderless. There is no one in charge."rStephen White, who helped design public televi-sion in the 1950s, now feels the system "lacks

initiative and a creative spirit."2 He feels publictelevision is "going nowhere in particular."Great things were expected from public broad-casting. Today critics find much to fault, in anetwork which fails to excite.

American complaints echo similar concernsin other nations. The 1980s were not a gooddecade for public broadcasting. In Britain theThatcher government reduced the independenceand income of the BBC. Canadians decided torethink the whole basis of their public broadcast-ing system/ while in Italy a 4o-year governmentmonopoly of radio and television was finallybroken by the rise of Silvio Berlesconi's privatenetworks. That pattern is likely to be repeatedacross Europe, as Rupert Murdoch's Skychanneland its rivals promise a new and aggressiveinternational commercial television. Findingspace for public broadcasting amid this welter ofnew services is not eas); convincing govern-ments to keep paying the bills is more difficultstill. As one academic commentator concluded,national broadcasting everywhere is "under

siege. "3

Yet, in a generally unhappy time for publicbroadcasting, the American system has held upcomparatively well. Despite cuts under theReagan administration and occasional flurries inSenate committees, political and communitysupport for public broadcasting appears relativelystrong. The number of subscribers growssteadily, while PBS/Nielsen figures suggest thatnearly 70 million American households regularlyuse public television. The system may disap-point its founders, but its place in the nationallife of the United States appears secure.

This is not chance. On the contrary, Ameri-can public broadcasting has quietly prospered,where other national public broadcasters falter,because it is organized differently. When passinglegislation for public broadcasting back in 1967 ,Congress made some important and, it tran-

spires, wise choices. It avoided the Europeanmodel of a government-owned broadcastinginstitution, building instead on an existing loosefederation of educational stations. Becauselegislators declined to fund most public broad-casting directly, they ensured the system foundother sources of income. And because it encour-aged a diffuse, overlapping and fractious system/Congress invented a structure for public broad-casting which restrained politicians from easyinterference in program choices.

. . . American public bro adcastinghas quietly prospered, wherc

other national public broadcastercfalter, because it is organized

diff erently.

fournalist fohn Weisman argues that "public

broadcasting reflects, almost perversely, themessiest aspects of American democracy, whileeschewing many of those qualities of unity andsingle-mindedness that have made the Nationgreat." a This is perhaps unduly pessimistic. Nodoubt, as Fred Friendly observes, the systemlacks leadership or direction. And yet it isprecisely this rambling, unsatisfactory structure,with its internal squabbles, inefficiencies andoccasional descent into chaos, which has keptpublic broadcasting flexible and responsive.While the great public broadcasting institutionsof other countries languish, their Americanequivalents thrive-not in spite of, but becauseof the way they are organrzed. Public broadcast-ing in the United States has received worse pressthan it deserves.

Why should the design of a public broadcast-ing system matter? Surely it is programs whichare important/ not the details of how the systemis organized or funded? Not necessarily so.American public radio and television offer asimilar mix of programs to European counter-parts. And yet the difficulties of Americanpublic broadcasting have been quite modestcompared with other nations. A loose networkof stations can adapt and endure. The structureof public broadcasting in the United Statesreflects not iust the problems, but also thestrengths, of the American political system.

Glyn Davis 1

This paper ftaces how two na-tions selected different designs fortheir public broadcasting system,

and the implications of thosechoices for audiences and editorial

independence.

The importance of design is best illustrated bya comparison. America and Australia sharemuch in common-immigrant societies with afrontier history, both are federations with capitalcities built away from the great centers ofpopulation. Political similarities are reflected inthe economy: in both nations the media isdominated by commercial networks and privatenewspaper proprietors, with public broadcastingon the margin, rather than at the hub, of thebroadcasting system. Audiences in both coun-tries rely primarily on the familiar sights andsounds of commercial radio and television fornews, opinion and entertainment.

Yet despite these resemblances, America andAustralia have organized their public broadcast-ing systems in quite different ways. The UnitedStates Congress preferred an association ofrelatively independent stations, loosely bundledtogether under the label of public broadcasting.Australia chose the opposite: a highly centralizedstructure modeled closely on European lines,with all decisions controlled from a Head Office.By comparing the two systems we get a sense ofhow each design produces quite different prob-lems and outcomes. This paper traces how twonations selected different designs for their publicbroadcasting system, and the implications ofthose choices for audiences and editorial inde-pendence.

THE ORIG/NS OF PUBLIC BROADCAST/NG

At the start of this century, Marconi's "wire-

less" suddenly became a practical reality. Mili-tary, commercial and even political applicationsfor radio were soon proposed. Governments,caught by surprise, searched for appropriateregulations. Intemational conferences on thefuture of broadcasting were called as early as1903, and by the end of that decade many na-tions had passed laws to license this startlingnew technology.

The early responses of public officials are not

just quaint history, now long forgotten. For by1920 both America and Australia had establishedthe legislative framework which remains thebasis of each broadcasting system. Decisionsmade then set the character for all that followed.Long before the idea of public broadcasting arose,different national responses to the electric mediawere already apparent.

The United States ExperienceThe U.S. Department of the Navy saw radio

primarily as a military concern. With Americanentry to the war in Europe during 1917, the Navytook over operations of all domestic radiostations. Following the Armistice it soughtpernanent control of the medium. A bill autho-rizinga government monopoly of the wirelesswas introduced soon after the war, but proved tobe "badly drawn and ineptly defended by Navywitnesses at the hearings."s Now dominated byRepublicans returned in the mid-term electionsof 1918, Congress had little interest in retainingwar time controls. The Navy bill was defeated.

With govemment controls withdrawn, a rushto the airwaves followed. Everyone, it seemed,wanted to broadcast. Amateur wireless opera-tors were soon followed by radio stations ownedby electrical manufacturers, newspaper propri-etors and educational institutions. By 1922, over50 new stations appeared in America everymonth. Frequencies became crowded, strongersignals drowned out the weak, and a cacophonyof transmissions threatened to cancel each otherout. Indeed, officials of the British Post Officewould soon point to United States "chaos" asjustification for a government monopoly ofUnited Kingdom radio.6 Washington officials,however, were determined that American radiowould remain in private hands.

Government may wish to keep out of radio,but the industry itself needed help to imposediscipline in an unruly market. AJter muchpromptin& Secretary of Commerce HerbertHoover convened a series of conferences.Hoover advocated self-regulation for radio, butthe industry and Congress preferred the idea ofan independent commission to ensure uniformtechnical standards, and so allow orderly compe-tition. With the first radio networks alreadyappearing, the industry supported the Radio Actof 1927. This bill established some limitedrules, and an agency to implement them-theFederal Radio Commission, later under PresidentRoosevelt to become the Federal Communica-tions Commission (FCC).

2 Differcnt Strokes: Public Broadcasting in America and Austalia

Why did American politicians, unlike those ofalmost every other nation/ choose minimalregulation for radio? Early officials, includingSecretary Hoover, cited constitutional doubtsabout the extent of federal government jurisdic-tion. Probably more important, however, werelong-standing American understandings aboutthe proper role of government. Major servicesfrom electricity to gas to the railways had longbeen run by the private sector. Radio wastreated as a similar case-Washington, throughthe FCC, would set out some ground rules andthen let the market operate. In the relativelyprosperous Coolidge era, the business of Americacould expect to manage without undue govern-ment interference.

By the end of the 1920s, then, the characteris-tics of American broadcasting were in place. ACommission, appointed by the President, wouldestablish rules for thousands of private radiostations. Regulation would focus on technicalissues rather than content; revocation of li-censes was rare. Many of the emerging privatestations were already organized into networks-NBC appeared in November 1926, and CBS wasalready unified and growing under William S.Paley by September 1928. Commercial radioattracted large audiences, and national advertis-ers. While other c,ountries might choose closegovernment supervision of broadcasting/America had decided on minimum restrictionsand maximum diversity. What media historianErik Barnouw has called "the Golden Web,,, anera of commercial expansion and innovation,spinning radio and its voices around a continent,had begun.

Commercial networks may have quicklydominated the system, but they were not theonly broadcasters. When handing out licensesthe FCC remembered another interested party-educational institutions, often among the veryfirst to use radio. Many schools, colleges anduniversities supported small locai stations as anextension of teaching, or sometimes iust as anoutlet for volunteer programs and experiments.Educational stations were always marginal,surviving on grants and subscriptions. Manywere wiped out in the Depression, when educa-tional operators fell from 13 to 7 per cent of allradio stations. But despite perennial problems of"money and policy, educational radio,s champi-ons kept a foothold in American broadcastirtg.,,z

That foothold could at times appear tenuous.Educational stations remained poor and isolated.Commercial media attracted most of the audi-ence, and almost all sponsorship dollars. Even

the appearance of some educational televisionstations in 1952, again using frequencies re-served by the FCC, did not weld together educa-tional operators into an effective or cooperativenetwork. David C. Stewart, now Director ofInternational Activities for the Corporation forPublic Broadcasting, remembers driving aroundthe country in the early 1950s , tryingto geteducational stations to air.s The whole move-ment would never have worked, he argues, ,,butfor the Ford Foundation, which acted as chieffinancial support." The Foundation encouragednew stations, provided equipment and advice,and established the National Educational Radioand Television Center (NETI to share programs.Indeed between 1951 and 1977 the Ford Founda-tion donated $292 million to public broadcast-ing. Still, progress was slow. Nearly l0 yearsafter educational television began, half theAmerican states had yet to acquire a channel,while those on air typically broadcast for only 35hours a week.

It eventually required nearly 40 years for thefirst educational radio stations, their successors,and the new educational television stations toform even a loose national association. Thoughpeople within the system like David Stewart hadlong urged greater cooperation, the impetus fornetworking finally came from organizations andindividuals outside broadcasting. Philanthropicinstitutions were excited about electronicleaming and culture. The Department of Health,Education and Welfare wanted to sponsor someprogram production. And politicians, led byPresident Lyndon B. |ohnson, saw in publicbroadcasting the prospect for a new and innova-tive American institution.

...rcquired nearly 40 years forthe first educational rudio

stations, their successorc, and thenew educational televisionstations to form even a loose

national association.

The catalyst which brought together outsidesupporters and the educational stations was areport commissioned in 1965 by the CarnegieCorporation, following a private suggestion fromPresident |ohnson. A small group, chaired by|ames R. Killian |r., studied educational stations,principally those involved with television. What

GIyn Davis 3

became known as the Carnegie Commissionnoted the relative poverty of the educationalbroadcasting sector, argued a case for federalfunds, and suggested a radical new structure.When the Commission's report was released in

|anuary 1957 it attracted almost an entire page inthe New York Times, the support of the Presi-dent, and the interest of the public, who bought50,000 copies within a few days. New YorkTimes lead writer fames Reston described thedocument as "one of the quiet events that, in theperspective of a generation or even more, may berecognized as one of the transforming occasionsin American life."e Clearly, expectations ofwhat President Iohnson, in that year's State ofthe Union address, labeled "public broadcasting"were high.

Carnegie Commission plans built on theexisting decentralized structure. Public broad-casting would be a microcosm of United Statesdemocracy-a federation of independent sta-tions, rather than a single network controlledfrom Washington or New York. Income woulddepend on a coalition of Congress, philanthro-pists, corporate backers and individual subscrib-ers. Here was a uniquely American institutionaldesign, for as the Carnegie Commission reportproudly noted: "We found in many countriesserious and skillful attempts to provide superiortelevision programming, and in some countrieshighly successful attempts. But when such asystem was successful it met the special needs ofsociety in terms of that society's culture andtradition, and there was little or nothing wecould expect to import. We propose an indig-enous American system arising out of ourtraditions and responsive to our needs."r0

By Novemb er 1967 the Public BroadcastingAct was law. This legislation created a complexdivision of responsibilities to ensure checks andbalances. Congress insisted on a separation ofmoney, production and transmission to preventcentralization of control, and so preserve someautonomy for the hundreds of independent localradio and television stations which togethercomprise the American public broadcastingsystem.

To represent public broadcasting in Washing-ton, and to distribute federal funds to individualstations, Congress created the Corporation forPublic Broadcasting (CPB). The Corporationwould be an umbrella for the whole system. Itmust provide, as the 20th annual CPB reportnoted, "grants, professional services and leader-ship. The role is very much a catalytic one: tostimulate growth and development in all facets

of public broadcasting."rr The emphasis was oninitiative, rather than direction, for Congress didnot wish the CPB to dominate the public broad-casting system.

To restrict Corporation influence, actualdistribution and scheduling of programs acrossthe public network was entrusted to differentorganizations-the Public Broadcasting Service(PBS) for television, and the National PublicRadio (NPR) system. Yet even PBS could notforce its decisions on network member stations.For PBS is no more than a "trade association ofpublic television licensees, representing theircollecting interests and acting as their spokes-man."t2 Member stations arepart of a consor-tium; they can, but need not, buy PBS programs.Local stations retain control of their own bud-gets, including federal money/ and make choicesbased on local priorities. Many lobby separatelyfrom CPB and PBS representatives, through theNational Association of Public TelevisionStations {NAPTS), established by public licens-ees in 1980 to put their case before Congress andthe various communications agencies.

Public broadcasting operates through thesecomplicated instrtutional arrangements, butmost Americans know the system only by itsresults-the programs they receive. As aneditorial writer for the San Francisco Chroniclesuggested, after two decades public broadcastingis now: "... so pervasive, in fact, that it is hard torecall a time when there was no real, sustainedand universal alternative to commercial radioand television. The public network was a mind-broadening offering to consumers, available onsets they already owned. Even those who do notalways think fondly of LBf have to express a bitof gratitude toward what he and the Congresscreated for Americans of every age and everytaste. " l3

For those who work in public broadcasting,however, much of their time and energy is spentdealing with the maze of organizational struc-tures which are ap^rt of President |ohnson'slegacy. Scattered across America, the publicbroadcasting system has three contendingcenters of power: a national corporation, based inWashington, which represents public broadcast-ing but cannot control it; a program-commis-sioning operation, also based in the nationalcapital, which is funded by affiliate stations andmust persuade them to buy its product; and theradio and television stations themselves, amixture of former educational broadcasters,regional networks and operators sponsored bystate governments.

4 Different Strokes: Public Broadcasting in America and Australia

Each level has its own board of directors, itsown agenda and ambitions. Agreement is bynegotiation, if not by exhaustion. Whatever itsvirtues, this design for public broadcasting canseem confused and lacking direction. As oneCPB official put it, //the system is typicallyAmerican-chaotic, inefficient and wasteful.The price one pays for independence is veryhigh."

Th e Aus tr ali an Exp erienc eLike their American counterparts, Australian

officials in the early decades of this centurystruggled with the issue of radio regulation.While they argued, an infant commercial broad-casting industry took to the airwaves-if not onthe same scale as America, then at least withequal enthusiasm. More than in the UnitedStates, these early ventures were dominated byelectrical manufacturers, who sold radios as"sealed sets" able only to pick up a singlesignal-that of a station owned, not coinciden-talIy, by the manufacturer. The sealed setsystem soon broke down, but regulation alwaysstrictly limited the number of stations allowedto broadcast; the open frequencies of Americanradio were not repeated on the other side of thePacific Ocean. Why the difference? In partbecause the constitutional doubts about govern-ment authority which worried United Statesadministrations did not exist in broadcasting.From 1904 the Australian federal governmentenjoyed uncontested jurisdiction over radio.More importantly Australia, like America, madechoices consistent with its political culture.This tiny nation, newly independent fromBritain, stil l looked "home" for policy ideas.And British practice was the very opposite ofAmerican experience. The United Kingdom didnot allow commercial radio. Instead a govern-ment monopoly, regulated by the Post Office,run by a board of the "great and good," firmlycontrolled the airwaves from its London headoffice. This organization eventually became theBBC, an institution which dominated Britishbroadcasting until the 1950s, and still sets manyof the standards and expectations for the elec-tronic media in Britain.

The problem for Australian policy-makers wasthe already established commercial sectorwhose "o-po.r.nt institutions could not iirst beclosed down without provoking an outcry fromthe manufacturers/ newspaper proprietors andtheatrical interests which now owned increas-ingly profitable radio stations. Government

searched around for a compromise-some way olcombining the authority of British practice withthe commercial reality of American-style radio.

Key decisions were made between 1928 and1932. Parliament, newly moved to the federalcapital of Canberra, divided Australian broad-casting into two sectors. Private radio, financedby advertising, would offer popular entertain-ment. Its programs would often carefully imi-tate American material/ even American accents.This commercial sector would be balanced by apublic broadcasting institution, financed first bylicense fees and later from general taxation. TheAustralian Broadcasting Commission (ABC),later renamed a corporation, would follow theBBC model. Indeed, in the serious tone of thetimes, the first ABC board promised an institu-tion with a moral duty to "realize the taste andimprove the culture of the community, to spreadknowledge, encourage education, and foster thebest ideals of our Christian civilization.,,14 Ifcommercial radio looked to the United States,then Australian public broadcasting would lookto Britain; one critic later described the ABC as"an antipodean BBC-its programs imperial intheir focus and its accents British in their tim-bre. " ls

Like their Americancounterp arts, Austr alian officials

in the early decades of thiscentury struggled with the issue

of radio rcgulation.

The American and Australian responses toradio highlight different understandings of publicbroadcasting. In the United States president

|ohnson and Congress envisaged an altemative, achance for access to educational and otherprograms which might not get much attentionfrom the commercial networks. Public broad-casting would expand choice by complementingwhat was aheady on offer. Australian politi-cians, following Britain, took a different view.Public broadcasting should not be targeted butuniversal: it must provide a sense of nation,through quality programming which woulddignify broadcasting and achieve its potential.Parliament insisted that the ABC be ,,compre-

hensive"-it must offer a full range of programs,regardless of material available on commercialradio and television. In this view commercial,

GIyn Davis 5

not public, broadcasting is the narrow specialinterest; only a public corporation can presumeto speak to, and for, the whole nation.

Having copied the mission of the BBC, Austra-lian politicians also borrowed its organizationaldesign.t6 Like the BBC, the ABC would be acorporation, with a part-time board to makepolicy, a professional management to oversee thevarious functions, and production units to makeand broadcast programs. Everything would bedone within the organization-deciding whichprograms to make, recording them, and transmit-ting the results. This ensured centralizedcontrol of public broadcasting. Duties whichAmericans shared between the CPB, PBS andindividual stations were here combined in iustone institution.

Having copied the mission ofthe BBC, Australian politiciansalso borrowed its organizational

design. . . . Everything would bedone within the organization-

deciding which prcgrams tomake, rccording them, and

tr ansmitt ing the rcsuhs.

Transporting the British model did not pro-ceed without problems. It was all very well todirect the ABC from Head Office in Sydney, butin 1932 Australia did not possess the technologyto broadcast a single radio service across a vastand sparsely populated continent. So the ABChad no choice but to operate from branches ineach of the six Australian states. Here was thebasis for a loose federal arrangement along laterAmerican lines, but Head Office had no inten-tion of tolerating local autonomy. As soon astechnology caught up with organizational design,Sydney took over the production and distribu-tion of most programs. The branches survived,allowed modest local input, but remainingfirmly under central direction.

The greater problem, however, was not one ofequipment but of audience. The ABC mightwish to speak to the nation, but by and largeAustralians preferred the more light-heartedentertainment of commercial radio and televi-sion. This was not a problem for the BBC, sincemonopoly made it hard to avoid. The ABC,however, had no way of compelling people to use

its services. If audiences stayed away, theCorporation could do little. The iniunction to be"comprehensive" thus proved a serious limita-tion. The ABC could not pursue high ratings allthe time, since that would be to forsake its widermission of serving a range of interests. Yetwithout an appreciable following, the Corpora-tion found it difficult to justify its considerablepublic funding. Whatever the intentions oflegislation, the ABC remained ancillary tocommercial broadcasting, rather than an equalpartner.

Despite these problems, the institution hasendured. It achieved a special place in thenational life during wartime, when its authorita-tive news service relayed events in Europe, andthen described the long Pacific war closer tohome. The ABC has pioneered new forms ofbroadcasting in Australia, from serious docu-mentaries to the rock video program "Count-

down." If the Corporation believes governmentstill gives it too little money, after nearly 70years in business it at least feels secure about itsachievements and guardedly optimistic about itsfuture. Australian public broadcasting offeringsmay not have proved particularly popular; ABCsupport waxes and wanes. Yet within thepolitical system, as in the United States, there isa broad consensus that public broadcasting isworth supporting.

BALANCING AUDIENCE AND POLITICS

Though the philosophy underlying publicbroadcasting in America and Australia is quitedifferent, their functions have moved closertogether. Legislation in each country usesalmost identical terms: public broadcasting willfoster high-quality educational and culturalprograms which reflect the diversity of thenation and offer material of interest to all citi-zens. Both systems broadcast a similar mix ofservices-information and typically classicalmusic on radio, and a range of educational, newsand public affairs, nature, drama, history, sportsand arts programs on television. There aredifferences in emphasis, of course, reflectingnational tastes and styles. Yet convergence hasbeen particularly notable in the news and publicaffairs area. Both systems began with fewpolitical discussion programs. Gradually,though, they ventured into controversial topics.When PBS stations began investigative newsservices, they attracted criticism-indeed angryresistance-from the Nixon administration. And

6 Differcnt Strokes: Public Broadcasting in Ametica and Austtalia

when in Australia the ABC began its publicaffairs programs during the 1960s, an irategovernment sought to cut its budget. Like PBS,the ABC persisted, accustomed its audience topolitics as a legitimate subject for discussion,and made news and public affairs one of thedefining characteristics of the public broadcast-ing system.

Legislation in each country usesalmost identical terms: public

br o a dc asting will f osterhigh- quality educational and

cultural programs which rcflectthe divercity of the nation

and offer matefial of interestto all citizens.

So how do we compare these two very differ-ent, if converging, traditions? The usual tech-nique of weighing costs and benefits can bemisleading, since the population of America isnearly 15 times larger than that of Australia. Adocumentary made for public television in SanFrancisco can be sold to 322 public televisionstations and may reach 65 million Americanhouseholds; it costs the same to produce as anABC documentary broadcast on its one nationalnetwork with a maximum potential audience ofaround 5.5 million households. Consequentlymost standard efficiency tests, such as cost perthousand viewers and cost per transmissionhour, favor the United States public broadcastingsystem.rT Such statistics reflect economies ofscale, and say little that is useful about how thetwo systems are organized or operated.

Similarly, not much useful comparativeinformation about public broadcasting can begleaned from audience ratings figures. Bothsystems record relatively low Nielsen-typenumbers for individual programs, though theyscore better on cumulative audience-peoplemay not watch PBS or the ABC all the time, butthey will view selectively. Since the object ofpublic broadcasting is not simply size of audi-ence, however, the ratings measures used bycommercial media are of little help. Theycannot gauge whether public broadcasting hasachieved its goals in education, culture or publicaffairs. Ratings indicate the size of an audience,but not the value they derive from a program.

A comparison between the American and

Australian system based on purely technicalconsiderations is thus unlikely to provide aninformative or fair evaluation. How then can weexamine the strengths and weaknesses of thesetwo alternative ways of organizing public broad-casting-one a loose federation, the other atightly centralized national organization?

Fortunately there are two related characteris-tics shared across both systems-responsivenessto audience, and independence from partisandemands. Public broadcasting presumably existsfor the public, and should respond to the needs ofits audience. Yet we expect the PBS and ABC toresist political interference. So public broadcast-ing must perform a fascinating balancing act. Itmust respond, every hour and every day, in twocontrary directions-toward the needs of thepublic, yet away from the demands of politi-cians. Some constituencies can be listened to;others must be resisted. Public broadcastingmust show that it is open and responsive, yet notso open that politicians can use it to partisanadvantage.

Here then is a way of comparing Americanand Australian public broadcasting. We cancontrast how public broadcasting balances itsresponses to audience and politics. Is the UnitedStates system better at meeting the expectationsof its patrons than the Australian system? Andif so, can it still preserve its political indepen-dence? We expect public broadcasting to bepublic-minded yet autonomous, responsive yetindependent. That is not an easy role. So whatenables a public broadcaster to become im-mersed in the national life without becoming thevoice only of those in power? Luck? Goodmanagement? Or perhaps, as this account willsuggest, the design of the system is the key toremaining accountable to the public, yet inde-pendent of the government.

STAYING CLOSE TO THE AUDIENCE

The title "public broadcasting" certainlyimplies some relationship with the audience.Commercial media offers a product, but publicbroadcasting is intended to be different. Itshould offer a sense that the broadcaster is notsome distant entity but a part of community life.Yet implicit in the American and Australianapproaches to public broadcasting are quitedifferent understandings about how broadcasterand audience should interact. The Americanpublic broadcasting system, in theory andpractice, provides scope for direct partici-

GIyn Davis 7

pation. The Australian model does not.Public broadcasting in America provides

direct and indirect ways for the audience to getinvolved. People can give money to publicstations. These subscribers are then polled abouttheir program preferences, and can get them-selves elected to the boards which run PBSstations. Volunteers contribute time and efforthelping public radio and television stations. In1986, for example, Americans donated a stagger-ing2,634,400 hours of volunteer labor to publicbroadcasting.ts

Above all, however, the local nature of PBSstations ensures some responsiveness. Becauseeach station decides its own schedules from theprograms offered by PBS and other distributors,there is considerable regional variation. WGBHin Boston is noticeably different from othercapital city public stations and from publictelevision in Arizona or Kansas. There areprograms in common, but the mix preferred bylocal boards and subscribers varies. Of coursethe choice is not unfettered. Individual stationscan only afford to produce a few programs oftheir own, and must rely mainly on materialsupplied from Washington or imported fromBritain. The CPB has some veto about what sortof productions it will underwrite, as do corporatesponsors for particular programs. Hence thewishes of subscribers are not the sole determi-nant of program selection. Deals are necessary,with local boards constrained by choices madeelsewhere in the public broadcasting system.

Yet if the influence of any individual oraudience in American public broadcasting islimited, it is at least allowed. Not so in Austra-lia. Such responsiveness to regional interest islargely incompatible with a highly centralizedpublic broadcasting institution. The ABC existsnot for any particular audience or place, but forideals imposed by Parliament. To accept thecommands of any minority-even those willingto contribute to the organization-would com-promise the logic of an overarching "national

interest." So there is no direct mechanism forpublic input in ABC program decisions. Insteadthe federal government appoints directors for theCorporation. These are usually drawn from arange of constituencies-a farmer, a trade unionofficial, an academic, a business executive and soon. This Board of Directors decides all ABCpolicy. The public therefore is excluded fromdirect influence over program choice. It isinstead represented by a board, appointed bygovernment, which looks to the overall goals ofthe organization.

Some unexpected consequences have flowedfrom the organization of the ABC as a highlycentralized body, run from Head Office inSydney, and presided over by non-elected direc-tors. Because Americans can subscribe to publicbroadcasting, there is a tangible relationshipbetween stations and audience. As long as PBScarr attract sufficient funds, the size of thataudience is not so important. The ABC shouldbe in a similar situation-since Parliament ispaying the bills, and so guaranteeing an income,the size of the audience should be irrelevant.Politics, however, is rarely that forgiving. AnABC used by no one would soon be consideredan expensive and pointless drain on the Trea-sury. Small audience figures are no problem ifsupporting diverse local interests is an acceptedobjective. When the task is to provide an "inno-

vative and comprehensive" service for " allAustralians," as legislation requires, the samelow ratings can look like failure.

So the ABC is caught in a bind. In theory itshould operate in the public interest and not bebeholden to crude measures of audience num-bers. In practice the Corporation must demon-strate to the government, its primary source ofincome, that it is providing value for money.Unfortunately the ABC possesses no alternativemeasure of success. It can hardly argue thatcommercial ratings are an inappropriate guide topublic broadcasting, and yet pursue such figuresas proof of achievement. Yet without quantifi-able measures of performance/ the Corporationhas no way of directly relating with its audience.Viewers cannot vote for particular programs/ asdo PBS station subscribers/ or get themselveselected to local boards of control. Circum-stances demand that the ABC respond to itsconstituency, but the design adopted by Austra-lian legislators provides few avenues for partici-pation.

Those appointed by government to the ABCBoard of Directors-nine or so individuals whoare meant to speak for the whole nation-mustmake the final decisions about how the Corpora-tion will pursue its objectives. Yet Directorshave no special insight into what the publicneeds or wants. The Board is selected for itspolitical affiliation, community standing orsymbolic value, not for expertise in broadcasting.To relate with the audience, Directors mustemploy several second-order solutions. Theycommission "audience profile" research, appointadvisory councils in each state, hold occasionalopen meetings, and have established a regular, iftrivial, "feedback session" on national televi-

8 Different Strokes: Public Broadcasting in America and Austalia

sion. All have limited possibilities. Surveyingsuggests the predictable: audiences like whatthey know. Advisory councils can be no morerepresentative than directors. And open meet-ings attract only those who care about publicbroadcasting, and not the large majority ofAustralians likely not to use Corporation ser-vices on any given day.

Without some form of participation, the"public interest// to be served by public broad-casting can only be guessed. Sometimes audi-ences are created, pulled together by a forcefulidea or an important innovation. The introduc-tion of current affairs programs for a long timeguaranteed the ABC a consistent audience,though commercial rivals have now moved intothe field. More often, though, the Corporation'sown traditions become the only reliable guide toits programming decisions. As one formerjournalist wryly noted, "people only complainwhen we take away their favorite program. Sothe organization is complaints-driven. We wantto keep what little audience we have."

The Amefican and Australianpublic bto adcastlng sy stems

thus differ greatly in theirrelationships with an audience.H owev er imp erf ectly, Americ anconsumers can speak with theitlocal PBS station, and becomepart of its governing sftucture.

Australians cannot.

The American and Australian public broad-casting systems thus differ greatly in theirrelationships with an audience. Howeverimperfectly, American consumers can speakwith their local PBS station, and become part ofits governing structure. Australians cannot.That difference has considerable implications.A structure which accommodates participationis more than a virtue; it speaks to the veryquestion of why public service broadcastingshould exist. Because American institutionshave mechanisms for participation they havebeen spared, in general, crippling uncertainty ofpurpose. within the framework established byCongress there is scope for responsiveness tolocal interests. Since subscribers lend not onlytheir ears but their cash, as the single largest

source of income for public radio and television,they provide legitimacy for the public broadcast-ing system. The ABC, by contrast, has spentdecades in debate about its purpose. Thisunfortunate characteristic of self-doubt it shareswith other centrally organized broadcastinginstitutions, including the BBC. Annual reportsspeak of how many awards particular programshave won, rather than justifying resource alloca-tion. Since money is scarce, why fund moreprograms on sport than on opera? The ABCcannot say, since it has no logic for its choices,only the opinion of unelected directors and theweight of institutional history. The ABC storycan thus appear as a chronology of crisis, as theCorporation struggles to make sense of itsmandate, to placate criticism about its decisions,and to reassure government that funds are wellspent. The very structure of the ABC, fixed bylegislation, prevents the interaction with audi-ence which is central to American experience-and so taken for granted that it usually passesunremarked in American descriptions of USpublic broadcasting,

There is a final dimension to public broadcast-ing and its audience which flows from organiza-tional design. And that is relations with thesurrounding broadcasting system. Americancommercial operators encouraged President

|ohnson to create a Corporation for PublicBroadcasting. A CPB offered no serious threat tothe networks, because it would provide impor-tant but not particularly popular programs.Public broadcasting rounds out the broadcastingsystem, rather than competing directly foraudiences. Networks did not object even topublic broadcasting accepting some cofporatesponsorship. Since American public broadcast-ing was designed as an alternative, there wouldbe little croSS-over; local PBS stations could notafiord to compete with the CBS or NBC affiliateand were unlikely to try. Public and commercialbroadcasting/ consequently, have co-existed withminimum contact. There has been little move-ment between the two of individual talent,program ideas or, presumably, of audience.re

The ABC has not been so fortunate. SinceParliament commands the Corporation to be"comprehensive," it cannot simply complementbut must cross sometimes into commercialterritory, and into ground usually occupied bythe Special Broadcasting Service (SBS), a publicfunded multi-lingual radio and television net-work. Consequently public and commercialbroadcasters in Australia have labored under apoor, and frequently strained, relationship.

GIyn Davis 9

Though the ABC cannot accept advertisementsor sponsorship, it can entice viewers and listen-ers away from commercial stations. As formerABC Managing Director Geoffrey Whiteheadnoted, "private sector interests know it willaffect the cost per thousand rate they chargeadvertisers if their audience drops only one ortwo per cent. They're very nervous. They'd bemuch happier if we were in a tiny ghetto ofpeople clutching their brows and being ex-tremely intellectual and not broadcasting to thebroad mass."2o

To prevent the ABC affecting advertisingrates/ commercial radio and television ownerspursue two strategies. The first is throughargument: in every forum from parliamentaryinquiries to ministerial lobbying, commercialrepresentatives argue that duplication funded bytaxes is wasteful and pointless-the ABC shouldbe restricted to specialized programming. As theFederation of Australian Commercial TelevisionStations (FACTS), the association representingcommercial television owners/ suggested at oneinquiry, the ABC should "concentrate on areasnot provided by or not available to the extentnecessary from the commercial sector to ensurea broadcasting service to all Australians."2r Themessage is simple-keep the ABC out of popularprogramming. The Corporation is forced tospend nervous energy and valuable resourcesresponding; commercial criticisms make itforever the subject of apparent controversy.

Yet governments have resisted this push tolimit the scope of the ABC. They remain com-mitted to the compromise reached back in the1920s of separate commercial and public broad-casting sectors. So commercial owners pursue asecond, more practical, remedy: they raid theABC for talent and ideas. Sometimes wholeprograms and their production units are lifted;"Beyond 2OOO," for example, began life as anABC television series until a commercial net-work bought the reporters, the sets and theformat and now sells the finished product aroundthe world. More often, though, it is individualABC announcers, journalists, producers, techni-cians, and engineers who are lured away by thehigher salaries and greater ratings of commercialbroadcasting. The Australian version of "Sixty

Minutes," for example, is based on reporters andproducers trained by, and then recruited from,the Corporation. From current affairs to com-edy, commercial networks use the ABC as apublicly-funded market tester. The Corporationachieves its role as an innovator only at theconstant loss of its audiences and staff.

In responding to audiences, then, the design ofa public broadcasting system makes an impor-tant difference. The American system can bedefined by the wishes of those who will supportit financially. The ABC, on the other hand,cannot allow others to decide its role, but mustguess what is in the public interest. Centralizedpublic broadcasting is thus offered to the public,but can only indirectly be shaped by it. Yet whatof the other side to independence-the ability ofpublic broadcasting to resist political demands?Here too, the way public broadcasting is orga-nized proves to be of considerable significance.

POLITICS AND PUBLIC BROADCASTING

We expect public broadcasting to resist thedemands of politicians. Detached reporting isrequired by legislation. Title II of the PublicBroadcasting Act of 1967 requires the CPB to"assure the maximum freedom from interferenceregarding program content." A similar com-mand appears in the 1983 Australian Broadcast-ing Corporation Act. Directors must ensure the"independence" of the ABC, with a specialemphasis on the "objective and impartial"reporting of news and current affairs. Thoughestablished by politicians, public broadcastingmust not respond to partisan pressures. Politicsmust be presented, in the words of one formerABC Chairman, "without fear or favot."

Independence, of course, is a difficult ideal.There are pressures from without, slippageswithin. Government, interest groups, congres-sional committees, and public agencies all havelegitimate claims on public broadcasting. Thechallenge then is to create structures which offerat least minimum autonomy, so that publicbroadcasting can meet its accountability obliga-tions without becoming so enmeshed in politicaland bureaucratic demands that all scope forindependent action is lost.

The original Carnegie Commission Reportexamined at length the problem of assuringeditorial independence if public broadcastingrelied exclusively on Congress for its income.To provide an independent income for theproposed CPB, the Carnegie Commission consid-ered a levy on commercial stations, or an excisetax on new television sets. Both would attractopposition, so the choice was a political one. AsStephen White noted, it was " clear that broad-casters enjoyed more clout than manufacturers.The Commission decided accordingly. Theintent in either case was the same: to immunize

10 Differcnt Strokes: Public Broadcasting in America and Austalia

the system from political differences within theCongress which might lead to direct Congres-sional oversight of the operations of the systemand its member stations."22

The challenge then rs toueate structures which offer at

Ieast minimum autonomy, so thatpublic broadcasting can meet its

a c c ount ab ility ob li g atio n swithout becoming so enmeshed

in political and bureauuaticdemands that all scope forindependent action rs lost.

Congress, however, did not like the idea of anexcise on television sets. Instead the legislaturekept for itself the power to decide appropriationsfor the CPB and member stations. The CarnegieCommission also suggested that the Presidentappoint six "distinguished and public mindedcitizens" to the CPB governing board; they inturn would select six additional members.Congress demurred, and legislated instead for aboard of ten, all appointed by the White House.The CPB Board, complains White, was "therefore

firmly in the political areerrai appointments weremade to pay off political debts, and from admin-istration to administration the board of theCorporation was a political battleground."t3

Whatever the abstract promise of indepen-dence, the original legislation creating Americanpublic broadcasting included significant con-straints on autonomy-a budget decided andmonitored by Congress, and a Corporation forPublic Broadcasting Board appointed by theexecutive. As first CPB Chairman, Presidentfohnson chose Frank Pacelr., a former Secretaryof the Army and chief executive officer ofGeneral Dynamics. As one historian observes,Chairman Pace " at once expressed his enthusi-asm for his new post and said he had alreadycommissioned research on an important idea-how public television might be used for riotcontrol. The President/s support had createdvast expectations among supporters of noncom-mercial television. Now they wondered if it wasbeing hugged to death."24

Similar constraints are to be found in theABC's legislative mandate. Parliament, throughits annual budget round, provides the Corpora-tion with an appropriation. And ABC Directors

are appointed by the government, to 3 or 5 yearterms. So the American and Australian publicbroadcasting systems began with similar poten-tial obstacles to editorial independence-discre-tion for the legislature over the disbursement offunds, and executive control over board appoint-ments. In the 1970s both systems faced at-tempts by national leaders to alter the characterof public broadcasting. How each responded topolitical interference is bound up with the issueof organizational design.

The Nixon administration did not like theelectronic media. White House staff considerednetwork radio and, more importantly, televisiontoo ready to criticize the President and hispolicies. When Vice President Spiro Agnewdescribed the press in a November 1959 speech,as a " tiny, enclosed fraternity of privileged menelected by no one," he signaled an intention tofight back. Though Agnew's main targets werecommercial news and commentary, the currentaffairs programs funded by the CPB and sched-uled by PBS also came under scrutiny. Publicbroadcasting, argues historian G.H. Gibson/ wasparticularly vulnerable because of its "newness

and dependence on federal funding."25When President fohnson left the White House,

the CPB he helped create had legislation andsome initial capital but no guarantees of a secureand long-term income. His successor, RichardNixon, was not impressed by the expansion ofeducational stations into a national publicbroadcasting system sponsoring programs onpolitical and social issues. Administrationrepresentatives criticized salaries paid to CPBstaff and to PBS fournalists such as RobertMacNeil. The Nixon White House would notcommit itself to long-term appropriations forpublic broadcasting until significant "reforrr'"

occurred-specifically, until the CPB and PBSdevolved more decision-making to memberstations. Localism was now a major goal. Withregional audiences in control, the White Househoped, public broadcasting would lose its na-tional, liberal focus and return to local vaiues.Office of Telecommunications Policy directorClay T. Whitehead expressed the admin-istration's only offer: "there would be no perma-nent funding until public broadcasting becamewhat the administration wanted it to be."26

So what was reaily a battle about content wasactually fought out through the budget process.Nixon proposals required that a fixed percentageof congressional appropriations for public broad-casting go directly to regional stations. Attackson the CPB by House and Senate Republicans

Glyn Davis 11

broke down bipartisan support for the system.When a Democratic majority in Congress passeda 1972 budget bill ensuring public broadcastersat least two years guaranteed income, Nixonresponded with a veto: Congress must accept thePresident's more modest, single-year appropria-tion proposal.

The administration campaign producedresults. The CPB increased the percentage offunds routed directly to stations. Following theveto the CPB chairman, vice-chairman andpresident all resigned, allowing Nixon to appointa former policy adviser, Henry W. Loomis, as thenew chairman. Citing uncertainty about in-come, the CPB dropped funding for a range ofcontroversial public affairs programs. At thesame time, PBS restructured to allow localstations increased representation and authority.

. . . dispute between theWhite House and public

broadcasting left an enduringmark on financial arrangements.

Nixon successfully established theprinciple that a maiofity of CPB

funds must go direct to hocalstations, thus constr aining

cenftal conftoL over the system.

Yet events did not entirely favor the WhiteHouse. By 1973 scandal had begun to dominateall other political considerations. Nixon ac-cepted a Republican-sponsored two-year budgetallocation for the CPB-and then had to endurepublic television's gavel-to-gavel coverage ofSenate Watergate hearings. Indeed the congres-sional proceedings, argued one observet, "gaYe

public broadcasting a rare opportunity to demon-strate its value to the nation by providing fullercoverage than the commercial networks. rrzT Asthe prospect of a televised impeachment loomed,further vetoes seemed unlikely. A reluctantNixon finally agreed to support long-rangefunding for public broadcasting just a few weeksbefore resigning his presidency and flying hometo California.

This running dispute between the WhiteHouse and public broadcasting left an enduringmark on financial arrangements. Nixon success-fully established the principle that a maiority ofCPB funds must go direct to local stations, thus

constraining central control over the system.Republican pressure altered power structureswithin public broadcasting, shifting decision-making toward stations rather than the Washing-ton-based CPB and PBS. That change has en-dured. In 1986 nearly two-thirds of the CPBincome passed directly to station support, twoyears later an unsuccessful Senate finance billwould have required the CPB to surrender fully80 percent of its funds-a proposal "denounced bythe Corporation and by independent producers,who feared the stations would use the moneysimply to buy more mainstream programs."28

Although Nixon changed the funding mix,pushing authodty back to local stations did notalways produce a more conservative publicbroadcasting. Local stations continued to buyPBS programs such as the "MacNeil/Lehrer

Newshour." News and current affairs may havetemporarily diminished following the fundingveto, but they did not disappear from publicbroadcasting.

Perhaps the most significant long-term resultof the Nixon experience was a decisive shift insources of income. The five-year appropriationswhich the CPB had sought under Nixon wereapproved finally by President Ford in 1975.Federal funding for public broadcasting thenclimbed dramatically, peaked in 1978, and beganfalling during the first Reagan term.2' Thoughcontraction hurt, public broadcasting weatheredthe cuts of the 1980s with greater ease than itshandling of financial uncertainty a decade before.This was possible because funding had diversi-fied in the intervening l0 years, as public broad-casting sought other sources of reliable income.This reduced the importance of Washington tothe system. Indeed by 1986 federal funds ac-counted for only 16.3 percent of total publicbroadcasting revenue/ with the rest drawn from amixture of subscribers/ corporate sponsors/ stategovernments, educational institutions, founda-tions and fund-raising activities.30

With multiple sources of income, Americanpublic broadcasting is no longer iust dependenton Congress. By strengthening local stations,and encouraging them to find other sources ofmoney, Congress has created multiple centers ofauthority within the public broadcasting system.Stations now enioy some financial independencefrom the CPB, and from state governments. Inreducing the influence of a central CPB, Con-gress has also removed easy levers of control forfederal politicians. If the CPB cannot imposeuniformity or ideologv on public broadcasting,then neither can the White House or Capital

12 Different Strokes: Public Btoadcasting in Ametica and Austalia

Hill. Decentralization has emphasized thedynamics of a loose federation, making thePresident, Congress and the CPB Board all lessinfluential in public broadcasting choices.

With multiple sources ofincome, American public

broadcasting is no longer iustdependent on C ongress. . . Liketheir Amefican counterp arts,

Austr ali an public br o adc aster srecognize that a secure source

of income is essential foreditorial autonomv.

In Australia too, independence often comesdown to the question of money. Like theirAmerican counterparts, Australian publicbroadcasters recognize that a secure source ofincome is essential for editorial autonomy. Asformer senior ABC manager Clement Semmlernoted, "if the government pays the bills, it isreadily arguable that nothing is outside itscompetence."3r Over the years, then, the Corpo-ration has sought ways to reduce its reliance onCanberra. Yet it lacks the options available tothe Americans. Legislation prevents the ABCfrom accepting advertising, program sponsorshipor even long-term loans.

About the only money the Corporation canlawfully raise itself is by entrepreneurial activ-ity-primarily through "ABC Shops" in eachState capital. These shops sell books, recordsand merchandise associated with television andradio programs. ABC Bookshops have provedhighly successful, evoking wistful commentsfrom one CPB official after a visit to Australia."This sort of enterprise," he suggested, "is

impossible under the American system. Wecould never convince local stations to runsimilar shops. In the early days it was hard toeven get southern and northern public broadcast-ing representatives to meet in the same room."32Yet despite their success, ABC Shops and otherenterprises contribute only around 10 percent ofCorporation income. For most of its funds,around $470 million33 each year, the ABC muststill rely on the budget round. This dependenceon the federal government, as ABC chairmenhave often complained, leaves the Corporationpotentially vulnerable to political interference.

When government pays the bills, what pro-tects ABC independence? Sometimes theCorporation can rely on electoral pressure. InMay 1970, for example, about the same timePresident Nixon was criticizing American publicbroadcasting, the Australian federal governmentwas attacking the ABC. As in America, thesource of the complaint was public affairsprograms critical of administration actions. Theconservative Liberal/Country Party Coalitiongovernment felt its policies were subject topartisan scrutiny. Postmaster-General AlanHulme, the minister with responsibility forbroadcasting, advised the ABC that half a milliondollars would be cut from the ABC budget forthe coming year. Hulme indicated that at leasthalf this reduction "should be applied to currentaffairs on television."3a fust as Nixon used afunding veto to discipline the CPB, so theAustralian government applied financial pressureto alter the mix of programs produced for publicbroadcasting. Ministers felt they had beentreated badly by such ABC television offerings as"This Day Tonight" and "Four Corners," anddecided to remove the offending programs fromthe airwaves.

This tactic went badly wrong for the govern-ment. News of the funding cuts leaked to thecommercial press and electronic media. Protestsfollowed from the ABC board, staff, rival politi-cal parties, interest groups and hastily convenedpublic meetings of ABC viewers and listeners.The government/ caught in a rather heavy-handed attempt at censorship, backed down.The cuts were withdrawn.

Surveying the incident, ABC General ManagerTalbot Duckmanton called the governmentsurrender a "precedent of the right kind," whichwould prove "enduring value for the future."3sYet the incident had no long-term effect. It wasquickly forgotten. After President Nixon vetoedCPB funding, Congress rewrote the law to ensurelong-term funding for public broadcasting. Thesystem learned from the experience, and in-vented new rules to prevent a repetition. But inAustralia, nothing changed after Hulme'sthreats. Parliament did not rethink-or evenseriously discuss-the basis of ABC funding.The ABC may have won that time, but it re-mained dependent on government/ and sovulnerable.

The Liberals lost power in the Australianfederal elections of 1972, but were returned inlate 1975. They swiftly imposed restrictions onpublic broadcasting far more severe than thoseadvocated by Hulme. Though government

Glyn Davis 13

ministers criticized particular ABC programs,

they seemed less interested in influencingcontent or removing individual iournalists than

simply in punishing the ABC for its perceived

bias toward the Australian Labor Party adminis-

tration of the previous three years. Like Presi-

dent Nixon, Piime Minister Malcolm Fraser used

financial leverage. Yet Fraser sought to dimin-

ish, rather than fundamentally alter, public

broadcasting. Until the ABC became morepolitically "neutral" it must survive with less'

the cycle of annual budget cuts which followed

became self-reinforcing: less funding meant

poorer service, thus reducing audiences, which

itr trttt became justification for further cuts'

American public broadcasting, because of its

federal structure, had the flexibility to find

alternative support. The centralized ABC had no

such opportunity. It could not escape govern-

ment anger. The ABC budget was cut in early

1976, and then again evety year into the next

decade. Strict limits on hiring and salaries

reduced the ABC workforce, deprived the organi-

zationof technical expertise, and depressed

morale. The government imposed restrictive

new regulations and intervened in issues of

internal management. Existing Board members

were replaced by new government appointees'

Thus the ABC was forced to operate with re-

duced income, constraints on recruitment, the

loss of much talent to better paying commercial

stations, falling technical standards as outdated

equipment could not be replaced, and rapid

turn-over of leadership. Despite sporadic strikes

by ABC staff, and demonstrations by concerned

citizens, there seemed little general public

interest in the fate of Australian public broad-

casting, and so few constraints on Fraser and his

colleagues.ny t919, the government could argue that the

ABC appeared unable to carcy on, and so was rn

need of maior change. Ministers initiated a

major review, chaired by business executive Alex

Dix, to investigate the future of national broad-

casting. WhenHulme was Postmaster-General,the ASC resisted political intercession because a

constituency mobilized in its defense' By the

end of the decade, audiences were less moved by

the ABC's plight. The public had grown tired of

ABC failings, which it attributed to poor man-

agement rather than government action' Finan-

cial constraints had exaggerated all the

organization's faults-timid public affairsptogt"-t, confused objectives, and-an increasing

ieliance on British product rather than local

production. As it attacked the ABC, the Fraser

government created a case for substantial inter-

vention to remedy widely perceived difficulties;political interference in ABC operations was

iedefined as a solution rather than the problem'

The public had grown tited ofABC f allings...timid public aff airs

proSr ams, confused obi ectives,and an incteasing reliance on

British Uoduct rather than local

Ptoduction'

In America, Republicans in the White House

and Congress had a diagnosis and a prescription'

They believed public broadcasting was pursuing

the wrong obiectives because the CPB and PBS in

Washington were too influential within the

system. Their answer was to change the shape

of public broadcasting. Control and money were

pushed down the line to local stations. In

Australia, conservatives knew what was wrong

with the ABC-they considered some of its most

influential programs to be politically partisan'

But they lacked any teal agenda for change'

Imaginations failed when asked how to change

the RSC to obtain the desired results' The Dix

committee, reporting in 1981, dutifully blamed

the ABC, rather than federal government policy,

{or the dramatic decline in organizational morale

and effectiveness. Despite a thorough examina-

tion of the ABC, however, the review committee

could offer no alternative ways of designingpublic broadcasting. It simply endorsed the

traditional role and organization of public

broadcasting, and urged that it be better per-

formed.So despite years of government attacks on the

ABC, the changes imposed by the Fraser minis-

try were superficial.36 The ABC was renamed a

Corporation, some flexibility in stalfing and

budgeting were introduced, and a charter of

resplnsibilities was included in the legislation'

None of the fundamentals were questioned' The

ABC remains a highly centralized bureaucracy,

still modeled on the BBC, still subject to numer-

ous external controls'What do these very different histories of

politics and public broadcasters tell us? They

,..gg"rt, at the very least, that similar sorts of

pt"tt,tte are applied to public broadcastinginstitutions. In both countries politicians were

inclined to suggest that public broadcasting had

14 Different Strokes: Public Broadcasting in Ameilca and Australia

overstepped its "proper" role. Under Nixon inAmerica this argument justified significantchanges to the budget formula, while underFraser in Australia it permitted even moredramatic intrusions into the organization and itsadministration.

And yet, viewed with the perspective ofhindsight, there were clear differences in the wayeach system responded to these challenges.Despite many heated words, the decentralizedAmerican system was able to resist politicalpressure. President Nixon removed someoffending programs from public broadcasting, buthe also triggered important structural changes.This reduced the scope for future administra-tions to get involved in the detail of publicbroadcasting operations. Criticism of the Nixonapproach probably hastened passage of the PublicBroadcasting Finance Act under his successor,with its guarantee of five-year federal appropria-tions. Pushing authority downward in thesystem increased opportunity for local participa-tion, and perhaps also increased the willingnessof subscribers to donate funds. The outcomewas a diffuse set of institutions which are hardfor anyone to control. When the system'sdurability was next tested, under Reagan, Ameri-can public broadcasting weathered fundingcutbacks with much complaint, but relativelylittle damage. Experience now suggests thatfragmentation of control and funding allowspublic broadcasting to respond to its constitu-ency without falling under the sway of govern-ment.

A more centralized organization, such asAustralia's ABC, also has some protectionagainst government interference. The ABC canspeak with one voice, make strong representa-tions to Parliament and appeal to its own tradi-tions of independent broadcasting. Yet there areimportant constraints. A single organization,with just one Board of Directors, is easier toregulate than a scattered federation of largelyautonomous units. And an Australian govern-ment enjoys the crucial advantage of controllingthe ABC budget. This enables government todefine the limit of ABC services. In 1974, f.orexample, the Whitlam government offered theABC more money on condition it be spent inways acceptable to the Cabinet. The ABCdutifully established the two new radio servicessought by government.3T In 1977 came thecorollary: the Fraser government used its powerof the purse to close down an ABC multilingualradio station of which it did not approve. Withno other source of income, the ABC could do

little but comply. As funding for Americanpublic broadcasting has become more diverse,the influence available to politicians has dimin-ished. The ABC, dependent on a governmenthandout, remains at risk.38

Successive ABC chairmen have sought waysaround that reliance on government. Some haveurged that the Corporation accept programsponsorship, as do PBS stations. Yet the sugges-tion is always resisted by the ABC audience,which does not want advertising of any sort, andby the influential commercial networks, whichare less than enthusiastic about additionalcompetition. Others have advocated a system oftelevision license fees, of the sort which supportsthe BBC and some European public networks.The problem here is one of scale. The Australianpopulation is too small, and too scattered; feeswould have to be high, and the costs of collect-ing them would be considerable.

In any case, license fees do not deliver finan-cial independence. Until 1948 the ABC wasactually funded by license fee, but the amountcharged was fixed by government. In 1940, forexample, following a campaign by KeithMurdoch's newspapers, the Menzies governmentreduced the cost of a radio license and the ABCfound itself in serious financial difficulties. TheBBC has discovered much the same. For someyears it has complained that the level of thelicense fee set by ministers is inadequate. Nowthe Thatcher government has advised the organi-zation that from 1991 it must raise more of itsown income through pay television. License feesdo not provide a secure, stable or sufficientincome.

There is a final option for financing theABC-and that is through subscribers, on thePBS model. This idea, however, has been littlediscussed within Australia, for the centralizedstructure of the Corporation precludes followingAmerican practice. Local PBS stations providescope forparticipation, audiences can donate theirtime, enthusiasm and cash in retum for a vote onprogram choice and station direction. The ABCstructure/ and its charter, deters such participa-tion, for the organization would no longer beserving the whole nation, just those interested andwealthy enough to buy a share in the decisionprocess. The ABC would be asking people tosubscribe, but could offer them nothing in retum.The Corporation remains shackled to govemment,with all the risks that financial control will allowpolitical influence over program choices.

The different designs for public broadcastinghave thus proved important in the development

GIyn Davis 15

of the two systems. American public broadcast-ing, like the American political system, hasemphasized tug and pull between different levelsof governance. This may sometimes producepolicy inertia, as critics of federalism sometimesargue, but it does ensure flexibility. Followingthe Nixon years, the system has changed insubtle but important ways. The power to makedecisions has devolved to individual stations.This can be frustrating for system managers/who want stations to pool their resources forexpensive program production. As the first CPBchairman complained, "I can't make anythingstick." The necessary bargaining is expensiveand exhausting. But whatever its disappoint-ments/ this diffusiveness protects the systemfrom central political control. It has enabled thesystem to profit from its experience.

Am efic an public br o a d c a sting,like the American politicalsystem, has emphasized tug

and puII between different levelsof governance.

The ABC, on the other hand, can learn but itcannot apply the lessons. The problems of acentralized structure-the inability to relate toaudience, and the reliance on government forincome-have been demonstrated over and overagain, yet little has changed. A repeat of theFraser years/ or even of the Hulme threat, ispossible. Because the government and not theorganization sets goals and structures for theCorporation, only government can release theABC from its bind.

THE COSTS OF DIFFERENCE

The American system of independent sta-tions may provide greater responsiveness toaudiences and an important ability to resistpolitical interference than public broadcastingorganized along centralized lines. But at whatcost? Conversations with those who work inAmerican public broadcasting almost alwaysturn on the same themes-waste, duplicationand a sense that the system is hopelessly cha-otic. Complaints follow a predictable pattern:those in the CPB cite problems in PBS or thestations, while local employees and volunteersclaim resources are squandered primarily in

Washington. Charges of inefficiency are echoedin the commercial media. |ohn Weisman,writing in TV Cuide, caught the sentiment ofmany when he quoted assertions that money forpublic broadcasting supports "a structure withenormous overheads ... It's dissipated before itever gets into a single program."3e The cost ofindependence, it appears, is high.

Yet, as always, the problem is finding reliablemeasures for comparison. Despite claims ofprofligate spending the CPB actually uses lessthan 5 percent of its total operating budget oncorporate administration, travel and salaries.a0Public television station WGBH, usually praisedas one of the best run public stations in theUnited States, spent by contrast some 22 percentof its operating revenues on support services.alSuch figures, though often cited, may not meanmuch-the division o{,labor between organiza-tions involves a local station in expensiveadministration not demanded of the CPB.

If few reasonable indicators of efficiency areavailable, how is Congress to judge the perfor-mance of public broadcasting? If it suspectswaste/ Congress should look to its own regula-tions. Under the terms of congressional appro-priation, the CPB must consign most of itsincome to local stations; any inefficiencies robthe CPB's own projects rather than the rest ofthe system. The PBS, in turn, relies for much ofits income on its ability to sell programs toparticipating stations. So any inefficiency hurtsthe CPB or the PBS, rather than the system.This imposes some discipline on PBS spending.It is the 295 radio and 322 television stationswithin the public system which have been themain beneficiaries of congressional largesse.Stations enjoy income they do not have to coaxfrom subscribers or corporations-federal moneywhich will be available again next year even ifthe station is less than efficient in serving itscommunity. Waste therefore is most likely atthe bottom of the system.

Perhaps some inefficiency is the unavoidableprice of the American set-up. Professor MarilynLashley, an expert on budgeting fromWashington's Brookings Institution, notes thatpublic broadcasting is treated as a "true publicgood. The Office of Management and Budgetconsider it too small to fuss over while Congresssees it as all-American. Nobody wants to be onrecord as cutting funds."a2 So while the CPB andPBS sometimes encounter the careful eye ofrepresentatives, local stations tend to attractfunding whatever their performance.

Yet waste in public broadcasting-or, at least,

16 Differcnt Strokes: Public Broadcasting in Ameilca and Australia

accusations of waste-is hardly confined to aloose federation of public stations. For despite ahighly centralized structure, with its promise ofgreater efficiency, the ABC too long has been thesubject of criticism about its financial perfor-mance. The Dix Inquiry into the ABC found aconfused organization which failed to produce"effective management of staff and resources."a3Centralization of control was blamed for suchprodigality. Senior managers felt responsible forevery decision made within the institution. Thecommand lines which evolved were long, rigidand frustrating. Choices took valuable time toratify as management sought to supervise everystep of the production and administrative pro-cess. Overlaid on these internal difficulties wasresponsibility to Parliament, which required apublic service-style structure to ensure account-ability. The result sounded suspiciously likecriticisms heard in America: an organization atwar with itself, with management divertingresources from production, periphery resentmentof directives from the center, and frequentinternecine disputes over jurisdiction.

As in the United States, claims of extrava-gance in Australian public broadcasting are notalways supported by the limited available data.The ABC spends just under 15 percent of itsbudget on corporate administration. Only 801 ofover 6000 Corporation employees are managers.Indeed the problem has not been too manybureaucrats, but a structure which placed toomuch responsibility on too few people. Recentyears have seen reorganizations which recognizethat heavy workloads at the top slow decision-making, isolate the Head Office from the produc-tion staff and produce no great savings. TheABC has moved toward decentralization, withgreater autonomy conceded down the line tobranches and production units. Yet there arelimits to the devolution possible within a singlenational organization. Those at the top cannotyield all power without also surrendering theirmandate to decide what services are in the"national interest."

In short, the different organrzational designsof public broadcasting in America and Australiahave produced characteristic criticisms of waste.In America, the system is often portrayed as"bottom heavy," while reports in Australiaemphasize inefficiencies at the top of the organi-zation. Such complaints, however/ are rarelysupported by evidence. They tend to the apocry-phal, with horror stories about particular casesrather than hard data. No doubt sometimesmoney is unwisely spent/ as it is in the commer-

cial media. Few studies, though, support theassertion that public broadcasting is inherentlyinefficient. Indeed, one of only few availablecomparisons of Australian public and privatebroadcasting found, perhaps to the surprise of itsauthor, that the ABC operates stations andproduces transmission hours "at lower cost thancommercial management. "aa

"American public broadcasting," argues oneCPB manager, "is inefficient because it has anoverlapping, duplicating, fragmented structure.Yet for all its faults, this structure providesresilience: because of the independent nature ofthe stations, because money comes from somany different sources, because public broad-casting depends for its livelihood on a democracywhere the most persuasive rules the day, theAmerican public broadcasting system will standfor a longer time than many of the one sourcefunded services like that of Britain or Austra-lia." ot

This succinct appraisal of the differencebetween systems goes to the heart of any com-parison between public broadcasting in Americaand Australia. The different ways they areorganized matter: design shapes the ability ofpublic broadcasting to respond to its audience,and to secure editorial independence. It is notjust a question of preference or circumstance-afederal structure, with multiple sources offunding, consistently provides protection andautonomy not available to a highly centralizedorganization such as the ABC.

The diff erent ways they areorganized matter: design shapes

the ability of public broadcastingto rcspond to its audience, and to

s ecur e editorial indep endence.

It seems unlikely that American politicianscarefully designed the CPB and PBS system toavoid the pitfalls experienced in other countries,including Australia. Rather, because separateeducational stations were only slowly drawninto any sort of network, American publicbroadcasting has always exhibited a federalcharacter. Stations worked as a consortiumrather than a single organization. Authoritycould not be centralized, but remained diffuseand often elusive. The federal design was notchosen because of its advantages in allowing

GIyn Davis 77

participation or constraining political interfer-ence. These are unintended consequences of theparticular history of the system. Yet this federalsystem, for all its frustrations, has also provedthe great strength of American broadcasting.

Similarly, Australian politicians did not createa single ABC because they wished it to beremote from its constituency, or unable to resistpolitical pressure. On the contrary, in carefullycopying British practice, the Australian Parlia-ment was seeking the very best possible publicbroadcasting. They wanted an institution whichwould, to quote a politician of the time, ,,be

more potent in reaching out to the distant partsof this great country, and in exerting an influ-ence for good or for evil, than any other agency,including our educational system and ouruniversities. "a6

Yet the ABC never quite lived up to the mys-tique, the reputation or the influence of its model,the BBC. It was given much the same mandate-to enlighten, educate and entertain-but its settingwas very different. The BBC enjoyed a monopoly,but the ABC had always to work within a com-mercial broadcasting industry. Competition foraudiences undercut ABC attempts to pursueserious public service broadcasting; most audi-ences preferred the popular, largely Americanbased, offerings of the commercial networks.

In similar circumstances, American publicbroadcasting stations could choose to comple-

ment rather than compete-to provide an alter-native range of programs and experiences. ThePBS network looks after, and is itself, a specialinterest. But that choice to be different wasnever open to the ABC. The ABC mandate to becomprehensive required a full range of services.The ABC design-unitary, controlled from HeadOffice to ensure uniform programs across thenation-precluded participation by audiences insetting new goals. And the ABC's dependenceon government funds restricted its ability toresist political interference.

Time and chance have favored American publicbroadcasting, by giving it a form which allowsflexibility and resilience. The ABC has not beenso lucky. Choices which seemed appropriate backin 1932 have proved a considerable restriction onflexibility and resilience. The highly centralizedABC design, required by its mission to speak tothe whole nation, has proved an unfortunatelegacy. Comparing the two should qualify thecomplaints of some critics who complain thatpublic broadcasting in the United States is disorga-nized and fragmented. Whatever the costs of afederal design, the advantages include responsive-ness and editorial independence-precisely thosecharacteristics we are likely to most highly valuein public broadcasting. To follow Churchill ondemocracy, the American public broadcastingsystem is the worst possible-until you considerthe altematives.

18 Dif'ferent Strokes: Public Broadcasting in America and Australia

Endnotes

l. Quoted in fohn Weisman, "Public TV: Can ItSurvive?" TV Guide, I August 1987.

2. Stephen White, "Our Public Television Experi-ment," The Public Interest, No. 88, summer 1987,p . 9 2 .

3. Eva Etzioni-Halevy, National Brcadcasting (JnderSiege, Macmillan, London, 1987.

4. Weisman, 1987, p. 4.

5. Head, S.W., (1975), Broadcastingin America,Boston: Houghton Mufflin, third edition, p. 103.

6. Briggs, Asa, (1961), The Birth of Broadcasting, "The

History of Broadcasting in the United Kingdom,Volume 1," London: Ox{ord University Press, p. 97.

7. Sterling, Christopher, and Kittross, fohn, (1978),Stay Tuned: A Concise History of American Brcad-casting, Belmont CA: Wadsworth, p. I 12.

8. Interview, CPB, Washington, 20 September 1988.

9. Quoted by a disappointed Stephen White, 1987p . 7 9 .

10. Carnegie Commission on Educational Television,11967l, Public Television: A Program for Action, NewYork: Harper and Row, p. 4.

l l. Corporation for Public Broadcasting, (1988),Report to the People, " 1987 Annual Report," CPB:Washington, p. 2.

12. Branscomb, A., 11976l, "A Crisis of Identity:

Reflections on the Future of Public Broadcasting," inCater, D., and Nyhan, M.f., (eds), The Futwe of PublicBroadcasting, New York: Praeger, p.27.

13. San Francisco Chronicle,7 November 1987.

14. Thomas, Allan, (1980), Brcadcast and BeDamned, "The ABC's First Two Decades," MelbourneUniversity Press, p. 18.

15. Harding, Richard, (1985), "Australia: Broadcastingin the Political Battle," in Kuhn, R., (ed), The Politicsof Brcadcastirg, New York: St. Martin's Press, p. 241.

16. Inglis, Ken, (1983), This Is the ABC, MelboumeUniversity Press, pp. l9-20.

17 . ln 1986, for example, taxes to support publicbroadcasting cost every American around $5.00, whilein the same year each Australian paid approximately522.5O for a similar servrce.

18. Corporation for Public Broadcasting ll987l, PublicBroadcasting Statistics in Brief, CPB: Washington.

19 . Wh i te , 1987 , p .91 .

20. Davis, Glyn, {1988), Breakingup the ABC,Sydney: Allen and Unwin, p. 23.

21. Davis, 1988,p.24.

22. White, 1987, p. 85.

23. White, 1987, pp. 86-87.

24. Barnouw, Erik, (1970) , A Towet In Babel, " AHistory of Broadcasting in the United States, Volumel-to 1933," New York: Oxford University Press,pp.294-295.

25. Gibson, G.H.,11977), Public Brcadcasting: theRole of the Federal Government 1912-76, New York:Praeger, p. l7l.

26. Gibson, 1977, p. 175.

27 . Cater, D., ll975l, "TheHaphazard Business of

Institution Building," in Cater, D., and Nyhan, M.f.,(edsl, The Future of Public Broadcasting, New York:Praeger, p.2.

28. New York Times, 13 October 1988.

29. Figures measured in constant dollars. See Ster-ling, C.H., (1984), Electronic Media, "A Guide toTrends in Broadcasting and Newer Technologies,1920-1983," New York: Praeger, p.95.

30. The CPB in 1987 reported the following income:federal funds 16.3 percent, subscribers 21.5 percent,state governments 18.8 percent, business l5 percent,colleges and universities 10.2 percent, local govern-ment 4.3 percent, foundations 3.4 percent and a

GIyn Davis 19

smattering of fund-raising auctions, private institutions, and a range of other sources 10.4 percent.

31. Davis, 1988, p.63.

32. David C. Stewart, interview, CPB, Washington/ 20September 1988.

33. Around $US 356.6 million at 1989 exchange rates.

34. Inglis, 1983, p.327.

35. Ingl is , 1983, p.328.

36. The Fraser government fell from power before itsrevised ABC legislation was passed by the Parliament,but the subsequent bill introduced by the new LaborSovernment was different only in some points ofdetail. It retained the basic structure and formatsuggested by the Liberals.

37. Davis, Glyn, (1984), "Government DecisionMaking and the ABC: the 2ll Case," Politics, Volume19 , No .2 .

38. In 1988 the government promised ABC appropria-tions for three years, rather than one. The followingyear, however, saw a bitter dispute about the fundingformula, with the ABC claiming to be $28 million

behind its promised appropriation. Clearly triennialfunding is little more secure than an annual budget.

39. TV Guide, I August 1987, p. l l .

40. cPB, 1988, F-3.

41. WCBH, (1988), Annual Report 1987-88, WGBH:Boston.

42. Interview, the Brookings Institution, 19 Augustl 988.

43. Dix, A., et. al, {1981), The ABC in Review:National Broadcasting in the 1980s, "Report by theCommittee of Review of the Australian BroadcastingCommission," five volumes, Canberra: AGPS,Volume 2, p.7I7.

44. Withers, G., 11982), "Public Enterprise in Broad-

casting: The Australian Broadcasting Commission,"in Webb, L.R. and Allan, R.H., lEdsl, IndustrialEconomics, Sydney: Allen and Unwin.

45. David C. Stewart, interview, CPB, Washington, 20September 1988.

46. The Hon. W.M. Hughes, Commonwealth Parlia-ment Debates, Volume 133 p. 959, March 1932.

20 Differcnt Strokes: PubLic Broadcasting in America and Australia