from
the July 1997 issue of
Z Magazine
The
FCC and
Community Radio
By
Charles Fairchild
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As
part of his arguments submitted to the FCC regarding the
possibility of low-power radio in the U.S.,
Free Radio Berkeley founder
Stephen Dunifer suggested that low-power broadcasting in Canada
could act as a model for licensing-related efforts in the U.S. The
arguments used by commissioners to counter Dunifer fell into one of
three categories: wrong, irrelevant, or not true. The central
argument made by the Commission against low-power radio is that
such operations would inevitably cause interference with existing
broadcasters. While the evidence supporting this argument is
limited at best, as Alexander Cockburn noted in The Nation in 1995,
"in its role as the rich folks' cop the FCC has been soliciting
complaints from licensed broadcasters to buttress its specious
claims about interference." Also, the FCC argued that since there
are far fewer Canadian radio stations, using more or less the same
number of frequencies as in the U.S., interference is not a
consideration in that country, an argument that is not entirely
accurate or in some cases even relevant. Perhaps the most
compelling evidence to contradict the protestations of the FCC is
the fact that "low-power" radio stations exist all across the U.S.
and Canada, and not just in small isolated communities.
The spurious arguments put forward by the FCC are mere contrivances
designed to obscure the real reasons for the lack of a thriving,
vital, and truly national community radio sector in the United
States. These are the disastrous spectrum management policies of
the FCC and the collusion of the commercial and public radio
establishments in their continuation. These policies include the
supposed prohibition of any radio broadcasting below 100 watts. It
is often useful to compare the spectrum management policies of the
FCC with its regulatory counterparts in other countries. Canada is
a particularly striking example as such a comparison highlights
exactly why the FCC has banned low-power radio and continues to
ignore the ongoing identity crisis which has enveloped public
access and community radio over the last decade or so. This story
also clarifies exactly why community radio stations in the U.S.
have been so mired in an apparently endless series of crises while
at the same time the form has been flourishing to our north.
Numerous aboriginal communities began to experiment with unlicensed
low-power radio stations as early as 1958 out of economic and
cultural necessity. Many found that radio could save lives and ease
the harsh necessities of the trapline. Others were spurred into
action in part by the Canadian government's Accelerated Coverage
Plan which, in the 1950s, began beaming an enormous amount of
satellite programming to people who did not ask for it and did not
want it. The use of locally controlled radio equipment was in part
a reaction to a tide of English-language television and radio which
engulfed the north and continues to aggressively push aside local
expression. These experiments eventually grew into full-fledged
radio stations and later into a large number of aboriginal radio
and communication societies which represent hundreds of
communities. Some print newspapers and many produce radio and
television programs in varying amounts of Inuit, Ojibway, Cree,
Micmac, English, French, and some local languages and dialects.
Currently there are over 300 aboriginal communities using low-power
transmitters and other community access radio equipment. While
suffering from dramatic budget cuts made early in the 1990s, most
still manage to produce programming, provide much-needed
communication services, and distribute information in a variety of
media. More importantly, they do so in the languages spoken by the
people they represent.
In addition to the hundreds of low-power stations used in northern
Canada, low-power radio exists in some of the most crowded radio
dials on the continent, including those in southern Quebec,
Ontario, and even Metropolitan Toronto. These broadcasting
operations would be considered illegal in the U.S. due to
insufficient wattage. For example, CHRY is a 50-watt station which
operates from the campus of York University, set in the far
northwest corner of Metropolitan Toronto. The campus and the
station are set in the much-maligned Jane-Finch corridor, a low- to
middle-income neighborhood named for the intersection of Jane
Street and Finch Avenue which is one of the most ethnically diverse
areas in Canada. The station's signal reaches about eight miles or
so and, as a result, its programming is largely reflective of the
community in which it is situated, including programs by and for
students and the West Indian and Asian communities in the area.
Another low-power station in Toronto is CKRG 800 AM on the campus
of York University's Glendon College which specializes in French
language programming.
Apart from these actual radio stations, the FCC ignored other
equally obvious facts in its rebuke of Dunifer. Canadian regulators
have long had to account for the huge number of U.S. radio stations
whose signals have extensive reach into Canada and which have
constrained domestic development for decades. This is hot a
reciprocal concern for U.S. stations because of long-standing
international agreements that guarantee control over the vast
majority continental and regional "clear channel" frequencies. In
cities like Windsor, just across the river from Detroit, as well as
Montreal and Toronto, the radio and television bands are more
crowded than those of comparably sized U.S. cities, precisely
because of allowances made for U.S. broadcasters. Yet despite this
imposed reality, in Windsor, Toronto, and Montreal Canadian
broadcast regulators have found room for several radio stations of
50 watts and under, including CKHQ at Kanesetake and CKRK at
Kahnawake, native reserves near Montreal, as well CFRU at the
University of Guelph (near Toronto) and CJAM at University of
Windsor. Unlike U.S., however, the Canadian regulatory regime
governing community radio does not apply arbitrary blanket
prohibitions on types of radio stations based only on
considerations like their radiating power but takes into account
the social context and function of a particular radio station. In
most countries this is called "public policy. "
Perhaps most surprisingly, a large number of low-power AM
broadcasters exist all across U.S. as well, but these are "correct"
kinds of low-power broadcasters, the kind which "offer travelers
news and information on attractions and parking weather at
airports, along highways, and in parks all across country,"
according to Broadcasting Magazine. Further, the number of
applications by local governments for these kinds of services have
increased dramatically in recent years. The AM band has even
increased in size recently to accommodate these local information
services and new commercial stations. No consideration has been
given to competing possibilities, as the imagined realm of the
"public interest" isn't nearly as inflexible as the FCC's logic.
What should be clear is that much of the evidence cited by the FCC
to buttress its claim that low-power radio operations would cause
unacceptable interference with existing broadcasters remain at best
unsubstantiated, selectively applied, and in some cases entirely
irrelevant.
The
Politics of Policy
The
FCC has another more subtle reason for its refusal to allow the
existence of low-power radio: the near-total policy vacuum
regarding community radio in the U.S. This vacuum has ensured that
the development of community radio in this country has only been
allowed within the limits determined by the existing public radio
establishment. This is largely responsible for the legal
difficulties low-power radio advocates are now facing. In the late
1970s and early 1980s, organized political pressure on the FCC
regarding community radio did not come from grassroots activists,
but from an institutional alliance between National Public Radio
(NPR) and the National Federation of Community Broadcasters (NFCB).
Laboring under the impression that the available slots on the FM
band were rapidly disappearing, the NPR/NFCB alliance pushed for
what they called the "professionalization" of public and community
radio. In 1978 both organizations convinced the FCC to constrict
the activities and number of 10-watt stations and give preferential
treatment to their wealthier higher-wattage counterparts. To
accomplish this policy triumph, NPR and the NFCB presented a series
of recommendations to the FCC regarding the future of community
radio. In their 1980 book, Radio in the Television Age, Peter
Fornatale and Joshua Mills note the content of these
suggestions:
"(1) stations of less than 100 watts will be required to move to
the commercial spectrum, if any room is available. If not, they
will be allowed to stay in the non-commercial band only if they can
prove that they will not interfere with any other stations.
(2) Low-power stations will no long be protected from
interference, in effect losing all practical spectrum-use
rights.
(3) Low-power stations must operate at least 36 hours a week
and at least 5 hours a day.
(4) Stations broadcasting less than 12 hours a day will be
required to share their frequencies in agreements created and
enforced by the FCC. As has been noted elsewhere, the FCC has gone
well beyond even these strident provisions. "
The most unexpected consequence of the attempted consolidation of
non-commercial radio in the U.S. has been the low-power radio
movement. A movement was created comprised of precisely those
operations whose existence the public radio establishment aimed to
prohibit, founded by those whose interests this same establishment
repeatedly claimed to serve. Most interesting is the adoption by
the FCC in the Dunifer case of the core concept which propped up
the arguments used by the public radio alliance in their palace
coup: spectrum scarcity Representatives of NPR and the NFCB argued
that since FM frequencies were scarce, the limited space in the
noncommercial portion of the FM band should not be taken up by
"unprofessional" operations with the kind of limited range and
(implicitly) limited appeal of low-power radio. 0f course, spectrum
scarcity, where it can be said to exist at all, is not a natural
condition, but an imposed one. It has been created by the spectrum
management and use policies of the FCC, not by the activities of
10-watt broadcasters.
More specifically, it has been the deregulatory policies the FCC
has followed since 1980 which have put the most pressure on
remaining frequencies.
Deregulation has resulted in drastic over-licensing of the FM band
and a subsequent and predictable wave of station bankruptcies These
are convenient facts those who are now building continental
networks by scooping up large number of stations at
bargain-basement prices from overextended entrepreneurs trying to
get out of a business in which monstrous economies of scale
predominate. The most important fact understand in relation to the
arguments of spectrum scarcity adopted by the NPR/NFCB alliance is
that, as deregulation began in earnest 1980, those claiming to
represent public and community radio did not fight the policy or
offer any practical alternatives for the independent development of
non-commercial radio, but instead enter into a tactical alliance
with the FCC and in the end became beneficiaries of a disastrous
policy. The legal inadmissibility of low-power radio is not due to
any potent interference problems that might arise or a crowded
radio spectrum It is due to the self-interest those who are most
able to divide non-commercial spectrum space between themselves and
influence policy-makers to transform this self-interest into
law.
In contrast the Canadian experience with unlicensed and low-power
radio has been made possible only by an arduous decades-long
process of policy development, refinement and implementation, a
process that early unlicensed experiments helped to initiate. The
result has been a community radio sector which has steadily
expanded from a few stations the late 1960s to several hundred
today. More importantly true public access community radio has been
legitimized by the state as despite the occasional factional
domination of one station or another and the chronic financial
difficulties many stations face, community radio is legally
recognized, clearly defined, and firmly established in almost every
region of the country. The process of policy development has not
occurred in the United States and recent developments have made any
possibility of a workable policy defining and solidifying the
limits of the community radio even more remote.
The main lesson for U.S. activists to take away from Canadian
community radio is that nothing is as important as a clear and
practical working definition which sets the terms through which
community radio can find its voice and govern its everyday
operations. This definition doesn't necessarily have to be
sanctioned by the state nor must it be enshrined in law, but it
must exist and it must sooner or later come to define the
agreed-upon limits of the form. The kind of collective definition
found in Canada has allowed for change based on consensus, not
force and this, in turn, has built solidarity between stations. All
stations who have accepted the general definition of community
radio are now implicitly allied with one another. If one station is
attacked all stations are attacked; what happens to one can happen
to all. The range of possible responses to the inevitable
encroachment of blind power and destructive capital is wider and
stronger. With this in mind it becomes less difficult to imagine a
series of low-power storefront radio operations across the U.S.
whose only responsibilities are to register for the use of regional
frequencies set aside for community access and to reflect and
record the needs and desires of their participants, listeners, or
detractors.
Charles Fairchild has written extensively about the media in
Canada and the U.S. A longer version of this article appears in
Seizing the Airwaves Ron Sakolsky, Stephen Dunifer, eds (AK Press,
Fall 1997).