Recent weeks have shown – more starkly than many would wish – just how exposed the BBC has now become. The furore over revelations about Panorama’s clumsy edit of Donald Trump’s January 6 speech, and the astonishingly high-level resignations that followed, have put the UK’s public broadcaster under an intense and highly politicised spotlight.
Trump’s threat to sue the BBC has added further heat, handing fresh ammunition to those already opposed to the licence fee. It is hard to escape the sense that this could prove to be a decisive moment in the wider battle over the corporation’s future, just as the government prepares the ground for the public consultation phase of its review of BBC funding.
But moments like these are a reminder why the debate about BBC funding matters. For most of my working life, I have defended the licence fee. When I joined the corporation in 1980, I saw what shared public funding could build: a national institution paid for by all and available to all. I still believe in that ideal – even as the pressures on it intensify, and as we face the hard question of what comes next.
The BBC’s funding model, in its current form, seems unlikely to survive much longer. So viable alternatives must be considered that safeguard public service media. And many argue that the question now is not only how to fund the BBC – but also what kind of BBC we want to fund.
Former BBC director-general Tony Hall puts it neatly in the foreword to his 2025 study, The BBC: After the Licence Fee?. He argues that the debate is the wrong way round. Rather than how to pay for the BBC, we should ask what kind of BBC people want – and be honest about the trade-offs. The public needs more than headlines about BBC salaries or scandals – they need to understand what the BBC does, and what is at stake if it changes or shrinks.
A model under pressure
The licence fee was designed in a world of broadcast schedules, not personalised streaming. In 2024, 300,000 households did not renew their licence fee. Younger audiences increasingly watch TikTok, YouTube and Netflix rather than BBC channels, and many will never develop the attachment their parents and grandparents had.
Yet the BBC still plays roles that commercial services do not – and systems like this do not rebuild themselves if they collapse. You only realise their value when they are gone.
So what should replace the licence fee – and how do we protect what’s essential? In September the government published a research briefing on the future of the BBC licence fee. Here are three further potential models.
1. The hybrid subscription
This is a popular suggestion: “BBC-plus”, with core services such as news, children’s content, emergency information and so on, staying free to access by being publicly funded. Big dramas, live sport and premium content could then go behind a subscription paywall.
In theory that feels pragmatic. In practice, it risks a two-tier BBC with public service basics for all and premium content for those who can pay. And it chips away at universality – the principle that everyone, wherever they live or whatever they earn, can share the same programmes and conversations.
The BBC has always been strongest when it brings the country together. Splitting the audience into subscribers and non-subscribers weakens this shared civic space. And if the BBC becomes “just another app”, it will struggle to justify public support at all.
Whether it could compete with the big-budget dramas and films of the major streaming platforms is hard to predict. The BBC has a strong record of producing award-winning drama, and many of those global streamers now face challenges of their own. But the BBC often produces its best work when the competition is toughest.
2. The citizenship dividend
A more radical option takes inspiration from the concept of a universal basic income: each adult receiving publicly funded media credits to spend with any approved provider – from the BBC to local newsrooms, children’s media charities, Gaelic-language services and so on.
Instead of one broadcaster receiving almost all public money, the audience would decide where it goes. In theory, this could open space for regional voices, local journalists and independent creators. It would force the BBC – and others – to earn trust and to maintain what trust they’ve earned.
It also raises hard questions. Who counts as a public-service provider? Who accredits them? How do we stop political interference? But if these hurdles can be addressed, the model encourages pluralism and accountability. It matches the digital era’s instinct: people choose; institutions respond.
3. The BBC as digital public utility
This proposal moves away from treating the BBC as a content factory and revisioning it more as a form of civic infrastructure, like a public transport system or the NHS. As civic life migrates online, social cohesion may depend less on shared programming and more on shared infrastructure.
Instead of competing only on content the BBC could, for example, host civic debate spaces insulated from abuse and misinformation, invest in digital literacy and fact-checking and help rebuild local media ecosystems where “news deserts” now spread.
In this future, the BBC does not try to do everything itself. Rather, it enables others more – strengthening the democratic information system rather than dominating it.
What must not be lost
A bold BBC does not mean an uncritical one. It must be more transparent. It has to rebuild trust among audiences who feel ignored or misrepresented. It must become more open, more local, more global – and less comfortable.
But one thing must endure: the principle that trusted information and cultural life are public goods. Once lost to market logic, they do not return.
Defending the BBC as it is will not save it. Abandoning public funding will not save our public sphere. The task is more challenging than either of those arguments allow.
We must decide what kind of media future we want, and then build the system that protects it. If we get this right, the BBC can remain a shared national resource: independent, trusted and universal. If we get it wrong, it will shrink into a subscription niche – and we will all be poorer for it.
This article is part of The Conversation UK’s State of the Arts series. These articles tackle the challenges of the arts and heritage industry – and celebrate the wins, too.
Deborah Wilson David, Head of Journalism & Media, Nottingham Trent University
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
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