Last July, Congress rescinded federal funding for public media. In the months that followed, much of the conversation understandably focused on budgets, stations, and what the loss of federal support would mean for the future of local broadcasting. Those conversations are far from over, and for many of our members, the financial challenges remain very real.
What has surprised me over the past year, though, is how often I’ve found myself returning to a different question—not what community radio lost, but what this moment helped clarify.
For years, those of us in community broadcasting have described our work with words like hyperlocal, community-centered, and trusted. Those descriptions are still true, but they feel incomplete. Increasingly, I find myself drawn to a different phrase that has been appearing across philanthropy, journalism, and civic life: civic infrastructure.
We usually think of infrastructure as something physical—roads, bridges, water systems, or broadband. Yet every community also depends on institutions that help people understand what is happening around them, preserve local culture, connect neighbors, and provide reliable information when everyday life is interrupted. The more I think about it, the more community radio seems to belong in that conversation alongside libraries, schools, community centers, and other institutions that quietly help communities function.
Over the past year, NFCB stations have continued doing what they have always done. They have remained on the air during floods, wildfires, severe weather, and power outages. They have translated emergency information into multiple languages, introduced listeners to local musicians and artists, covered town meetings and community festivals, and provided a place where people continue to hear voices that sound like home. Those contributions rarely make national headlines, yet they shape how communities experience daily life.
That idea was reinforced this summer by the Listening Post Collective’s new report, Signals from the Airwaves: Community Radio, Rural Audiences, and the Fight to Stay Heard. Reflecting on two years of work with five rural community stations, Grace Northern writes that, “In places where community radio isn’t competing for attention but is often the only signal in reach, that shift matters. This cohort reminded us why protecting it is some of the most important work we do.”
The report isn’t simply about radio. It’s about what happens when stations begin by listening. Four of the five participating stations conducted formal community listening for the first time, all identified concrete information gaps, several developed new partnerships—including collaborations with emergency management agencies—and multiple stations translated what they learned into successful fundraising efforts. Perhaps most importantly, listening itself became an ongoing practice rather than a one-time project.
That resonates deeply with the work NFCB has undertaken through our Rural Research Study. We launched the project because we wanted a better understanding of how people living in rural communities experience today’s information landscape and where community radio fits within it. As the findings continue to emerge, they point toward something our members have understood intuitively for decades: people are looking for information that reflects where they live, comes from people they recognize, and acknowledges the unique strengths and challenges of their communities.
The Listening Post Collective has observed a similar pattern across its broader information ecosystem work. As Grace Northern wrote earlier this year, “trust travels through relationships, not platforms.” Communities consistently point to familiar local institutions and trusted neighbors as the places where reliable information begins. Radio, especially in rural and Tribal communities, is often part of that trusted network—not because it is the loudest voice, but because it has spent years building relationships.
That may be one of the more important lessons to emerge from the past year. As our sector continues to discuss rebuilding local journalism, strengthening civic engagement, and restoring trust, it may also be worth broadening the conversation beyond media alone. Community broadcasters are not simply producing programming; they are helping sustain the civic fabric of the places they serve. That is work shared with libraries, arts organizations, schools, volunteer organizations, and many others whose contributions often become most visible only when they are threatened.
Perhaps that’s why the language of civic infrastructure feels increasingly useful. It recognizes that the value of community radio extends beyond a broadcast schedule or a transmitter. It reflects the relationships, cultural connections, local knowledge, and public trust that have been built over decades—assets that cannot be replaced overnight.
One year after the rescission, I don’t think community radio has become something different. If anything, this past year has simply given many of us better words to describe what our stations have been all along.
For those of us at NFCB, that language matters because it helps explain why investing in community radio is ultimately an investment in stronger, more connected communities. And that is a conversation worth continuing.
