Editor's Notes: Kan needs reform, not destruction—it’s both flawed and essential

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Kan’s budget is a hefty NIS 800 million a year - but public broadcasting isn’t about competing with commercial channels, it’s about amplifying voices.

By ZVIKA KLEIN NOVEMBER 28, 2024 19:42
 YONATAN SINDEL/FLASH90) Ultra-Orthodox Jews protest outside the studios of the Public Broadcasting Corporation KAN, in Jerusalem, on August 17, 2020 (photo credit: YONATAN SINDEL/FLASH90)

The Knesset voted this week on a bill that could dismantle Kan, Israel’s public broadcaster, and the timing couldn’t feel more surreal. We are still at war—soldiers are fighting in Gaza and Lebanon, and over 100 hostages remain in Hamas captivity. Yet, the government has decided that now is the time to argue over the fate of Kan.

The bill, spearheaded by Communications Minister Shlomo Karhi and Likud MK Tally Gotliv, proposes phasing out Kan’s public funding and transferring its operations to private owners within two years. “Why should we fund a product that already exists in the market?” Karhi asked, his tone more suited for a budget meeting than a discussion about the soul of Israeli democracy. “There’s no need for the public to pay hundreds of millions for something private channels already do better.”

It’s not an entirely baseless argument. Kan’s budget is a hefty NIS 800 million a year. But public broadcasting isn’t about competing with commercial channels. It’s about amplifying voices that wouldn’t otherwise be heard, providing content that doesn’t chase ratings, and reflecting the full spectrum of Israeli society.

In 2018, it was revealed that the budget for Kan's News Division amounts to NIS 160 million per year—roughly double that of the news companies at the commercial channels. For example, in 2015, the budget for Channel 12 News stood at NIS 88 million. It should be noted that the corporation allocates NIS 25 million of the News Division's budget for Arabic-language news, with some of the funds designated for various expenses such as infrastructure and real estate.

Aryeh Golan in his radio studio at Kan Israeli Public Broadcasting Corporation; ‘I call this being in the cockpit’ (credit: RAFI DELUYA)

Opposition leader Yair Lapid didn’t mince words, calling the bill “an attack on Israeli democracy, on Israeli freedom of expression, and on Israeli creativity.” And he’s right. At its core, this isn’t just about economics or efficiency—it’s about control. Public broadcasters like Kan don’t always sing the government’s tune, and that’s precisely why they matter.

Kan’s imperfect but vital roleKan was established in 2017, replacing Israel’s outdated government-run broadcaster. It was meant to be a fresh start, a chance to create a modern, inclusive media outlet. And for the most part, it succeeded.

Suddenly, we saw voices on-screen that had long been sidelined. Arabs, settlers, Haredim, and residents of Israel’s geographical periphery were given a platform. Kan produced dramas like Tehran that garnered international acclaim and turned social media influencers from the margins into cultural icons.

But let’s be honest: Kan isn’t perfect. Critics love to point out its inefficiencies and “extra fat.” Its editorial decisions often mirror those of private media outlets dominated by the secular Ashkenazi elite. For all its progress, the people deciding what’s “newsworthy” at Kan still come from a narrow slice of Israeli society.

That said, Kan’s flaws don’t outweigh its contributions. Its digital arm has redefined content creation, reaching millions of Israelis online. It covers stories and perspectives that would never make it to prime time on commercial channels. In a country as divided as Israel, having a media outlet that prioritizes diversity and public interest over profits is not just important—it’s essential.

The privatization pushKarhi and Gotliv’s proposal is part of a broader trend. In recent months, the government has pushed several measures that critics argue undermine press freedom. These include proposals to tie public broadcasting budgets to the state budget, take over television rating systems, and even stop government advertising in certain newspapers.


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The Attorney-General’s Office has expressed “serious concerns” about the Kan bill, warning that it could have a chilling effect on other media outlets. They’ve also pointed out procedural flaws, noting that the bill was introduced as a private initiative rather than through the government, likely to bypass legal scrutiny.

In its defense, the coalition argues that public broadcasting is a relic of the past, unnecessary in an era of multi-channel television and widespread internet access. But that argument ignores what makes public broadcasting unique. Private channels may dominate the ratings, but they also prioritize content that sells—often at the expense of nuance and depth.

Galatz: another battle in the media warThe government’s privatization push doesn’t stop with Kan. Another draft law targets Galatz, Israel’s army radio station. For decades, Galatz has been a training ground for the country’s top journalists—people like Channel 12 News's Amit Segal, Yonit Levy, and Kan’s Akiva Novick, who started their careers there.

Galatz isn’t without its flaws. For years, getting accepted often depended more on who you knew than what you could do. But it also brought diversity to Israeli media. Segal, a kid from Ofra, a settlement in Binyamin, and his neighbor Novick broke through the Tel Aviv media bubble to become household names.

Does the army still need a radio station in 2024? Probably not. Most soldiers don’t listen to Galatz anymore. But dismantling it would erase a unique training ground that has shaped Israeli journalism for decades.

Critics of Galatz argue that privatization would level the playing field, giving aspiring journalists from all backgrounds a fair chance. Galatz doesn’t just teach young reporters how to write headlines; it immerses them in the nuances of Israeli society, giving them tools they carry throughout their careers—which is also part of the problem. For three years, they are taught what is considered news and what isn’t. They adopted a similar culture of cynicism that affected all media in Israel.

Priorities in wartime

This brings us back to the timing of it all. Is this really what we need to be doing now? Israel is at war. Soldiers are fighting in Lebanon and Gaza. Families are anxiously awaiting news of over 100 hostages still held by Hamas.

At a time like this, we should focus on unity, winning this war, and bringing our people home. Instead, the government has decided to wage a separate battle over who controls the media and what it covers.

Public broadcasting isn’t perfect. It never will be. But dismantling Kan and Galatz now feels like a distraction, a sideshow when the main stage demands all of our attention. Israel’s strength has always been its diversity—the cacophony of voices that make us who we are. Kan and Galatz, for all their flaws, are part of that.

This new law feels like the judicial reforms all over again: Both sides have a legitimate point, but this is being done in a violent, insensitive, and not very smart way. Most of Israel’s Knesset members would have agreed until a few years ago that changes were needed to Israel’s judicial system. Still, the judicial reform caused such a mess that many have retracted these opinions. Instead of tearing Kan down, we should figure out how to improve them. Their budget should be cut and stopped if there is too much spending. Media outlets are a pillar of a democratic country. We need to hear as many voices and opinions as possible. We also need to create a common culture that a private, corporate media company cannot and should not, be tasked with.  

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