These rural radio stations are the lifeline of their communities. Trump’s cuts threaten their future | US News

Since Republicans last month Cut over $100 million Of the funds designated for public broadcasting, non-commercial television and radio stations across the country have been reel.

The cuts resulted in the company Public Broadcasting Corporation (CPB), a nearly 60-year-old organization that has long supported local television and radio stations in the United States, Completely close the operationleaving over 1,500 local TV stations nationwide without a critical source of revenue.

For rural radio stations that rely heavily on federal grants and matching funds, this is often the only source of free and reliable programming in their areas – the consequences are especially terrible. Often, these stations are not only a reliable avenue for news and cultural programs, but also local health and public safety information, including emergency alerts.

To understand what this programming means for rural Americans and the difficulties the community may face, if the broadcast becomes quiet, the guardian speaks on two radio stations for different groups of people.

This is what they share.

Arriving at Spanish-speaking farm workers in rural Washington

Wildfires are often threatened in Yakima County, Washington. The poor air quality in rural, dry, agricultural areas can face several days, which is an occupational hazard to thousands of farm workers working outside, many of whom speak completely Spanish.

National broadcasters like NPR have issued emergency announcements in English, but their information, information about evacuation or unsafe breathing conditions may be unheard of by Spanish-speaking people.

Local public radio station KDNA has found a solution to this gap. The county is built specifically for Spanish-speaking farm workers in the region, and more than half of the county’s population is identified as Latino, the station has developed a system in which DJ converts British emergency notifications into Spanish-Broadcast. It’s one of many ways the site has, and its operations director Elizabeth Torres said the only 24-hour Spanish-language public broadcaster in the region meets the needs of its unique audience base.

“Over the years, it has developed a sense of trust in the community,” Torres said.

This is not the only public service offered by KDNA Radio Station. Since 1979, the station has run a public health-focused program highlighting Spanish-language clinics and vaccine drives. Occupational health, guests talk about specific issues of people working outside and on the farm; education, hosted by local community colleges; and children’s entertainment, designed specifically for the work and parenting of many parents in the community.

Torres said every week, Yakima Valley Farm Workers’ clinic airs for an hour to discuss the services they provide. Community health workers will share information on diabetes prevention. Sometimes, doctors will discuss the importance of heart disease as guests, or maintaining routine flu and co-vaccination. They even run a Spanish special on Long Covid. “We focus on information that helps our community make better decisions,” Torres said.

The station produces its own news segment three times a day, two of which are completely alive. In today’s dynamic political environment, these broadcasts are particularly valuable to immigrants who face information about attacks and deportations every day and need help explaining facts from rumors. KDNA also works with immigration services organizations that provide legal advice and detention tracking services.

“We don’t put any information on the ice until it’s verified,” Torres said. “We are trying to minimize error messages.”

Considering its listener-based lifestyle and literacy rate, KDNA’s broadcast and audio serve as a medium designed to access. “You can receive and go out while you’re working or driving,” she said. “All our programming is developed in ways that people understand.”

It’s not cheap to do such an operation, Torres said federal funding plays a major role in the station’s ability to do the job, with 40% of KDNA revenues coming from CPB each year. Torres said the station’s budget was already tight and staff wore multiple hats. If the average engineer is not available, the news director Moonlight serves as the audio technology; the underwriter (who coordinates the payment of the sponsorship) is also the construction manager.

She fears that cutting funds could greatly limit what is viable in terms of output. She said KDNA may need to reduce staff, reduce community activity, and limit external broadcasts it pays to NPR’s Spanish-language programs. Her biggest concern is that if real-time programming is limited, there may be no air DJs that convert critical alerts.

“Families that need to be evacuated may not receive information,” she said. “This will have a real impact.”

“Only Available Sound” in the Navajo Region

Listening to the radio was an important part of Richard Gray’s childhood in the 1960s. He remembers that he went to school in the morning when it aired and heard the BBC on air. Not many people living in rural Arizona Navajo people have television. Broadcasting is how they get information about the community and beyond. “It brings the world to us,” Gray said.

Today, with limited broadband access and a wide range of residents driving to physical resources such as libraries or post offices, public broadcasting remains an important resource for the Navajo Nation, the country’s largest Indian reservation, with over 27,000 square miles. Since 1989, residents have adjusted to KGHR Navajo Public Radio to get everything from indigenous cultural programs to political commentary to world news. The station broadcasts with more than 100,000 watts of electricity and has access to almost all residents on the west side of the reservation, which is no small matter in areas defined by the challenged geographical location.

Gray, who has been working at the station since 2011, said it was a very valuable service: “The cell phone can’t get into the canyon or near the countertops, but the radio does.”

In terms of infrastructure, KGHR is a bare bone. It shares its facilities with Greyhills Academy, a high school in Tuba, and is mainly run by part-time contractors. Its only full-time staff announcer Keri BlackRock was on board a year ago.

But the output of the station is very powerful. KGHR offers Indigenous cultural programs, including music curated by audio engineer Michael Begay, and daily performances coordinated by students at school. It combines a wide range of national and international news programs such as local voice 1, NPR and BBC World Service. It generates coverage of its own local sports games, parades and community events.

“It makes a lot of sense to hear the plays of community members and tribal members – and a tribal member,” Betay said, noting that announcer Blackstone is a Navajo native. “The audience can go, ‘This is one of us, a familiar face, a familiar voice.'”

According to himself, Baiga was a struggling high school student at Gray Hills College when he strolled to the station in the mid-1990s. As a student DJ gave him a sense of purpose and his grades began to improve when he realized he wouldn’t be able to air if he wasn’t in school. He suggested that without KGHR, his life would take a completely different path – and might even be shortened. “I’m going to be a statistic,” he said.

The station also protects public safety. As part of the country’s emergency alert system, it broadcasts important information about heat waves, wildfires and floods. For many reservations, KGHR is their only way to understand the evacuation order – just like last month, wildfires swept 100,000 acres near the New Mexico border. Understand that rural residents may not have reliable internet or cellular services, the latest news from BlackRock broadcast comes from local tribal police, and the information shared by residents posted on Facebook.

“Broadcasting events is our job so that the community can be understood and safe,” Betay said.

Now, this critical service is under threat. Gray said nearly all stations are funded from federal sources, and CPB is the main source of revenue for KGHR. Going forward, they may need to completely venture into new areas, such as hosting live events, playing paid ads for sponsors or creating digital content for paid subscribers. “I don’t believe we’ve ever really asked for donations,” BlackRock said.

Without KGHR, radio waves will lack a local perspective on politics and culture, while underrepresented issues in mainstream media such as missing and murdered indigenous peoples will be less concerned. For these reasons, they are not going to be up in the air – at least not without a fight.

“Tribal radio stations will continue to serve as an important platform for the protection of indigenous languages and cultural traditions,” Begay said. “Our work is to ensure that these aspects remain critical and exist for future generations.”