We don't want to go back there.
In Prague, thousands of public media workers paused their broadcasts to ask a question that echoes across democratic history: who ultimately controls the story a society tells itself? The Czech government's plan to replace licence fees with direct state budget allocations may read as fiscal housekeeping, but the country's journalists — and their international allies — hear in it the older sound of political hands reaching toward editorial rooms. The strike at Czech Television and Czech Radio is, at its core, a reckoning between institutional memory and present power, between a society that remembers state media and one that has spent three decades building something different.
- Thousands of Czech Television and Radio employees walked off the job in the largest escalation yet of a months-long standoff with Prime Minister Babiš's government over a funding overhaul that would cut tens of millions from public broadcasting budgets.
- A coalition MP from within Babiš's own government openly stated the ambition to move beyond financial control toward influencing broadcast content, giving concrete shape to fears that had until then been treated as hypothetical.
- The proposed shift to state budget funding would effectively return broadcaster finances to 2008 levels despite two decades of inflation, threatening hundreds of jobs and the elimination of regional desks, children's programming, and foreign correspondent posts.
- Opposition parties and international press freedom organisations escalated in parallel — referring the legislation to the European Commission and the Venice Commission, and drawing explicit comparisons to Slovakia's outright dissolution of its public broadcaster.
- The government held its position, with the Culture Minister insisting editorial independence would be legally preserved and Babiš framing the entire dispute as a simple matter of fiscal efficiency rather than democratic principle.
On a Monday morning in June, thousands of employees at Czech Television and Czech Radio walked off the job — the sharpest moment yet in a months-long confrontation with the government of billionaire prime minister Andrej Babiš. The trigger was legislation, freshly approved by cabinet, to scrap the licence fee system that had long sustained public media and replace it with direct annual allocations from the state budget.
The financial consequences alone were severe. Czech Television would lose £35.8 million a year; Czech Radio, £14.3 million. Funding would effectively revert to 2008 levels despite nearly two decades of inflation. Hundreds of jobs would go. Regional reporting, children's programming, and foreign correspondent positions were all on the line. Czech Television said all channels except its children's service would go dark for the day; Czech Radio would alter schedules and explain on air why — a deliberate demonstration of what audiences stood to lose.
But the strike was never only about money. Pavla Kubálková of Czech Television's strike committee named the deeper fear plainly: much of Czech society still remembers what the news looked like when politicians chose the content before 1989. The concern was that state budget dependency would make editorial independence negotiable. That fear found uncomfortable confirmation when an MP from the far-right Freedom and Direct Democracy party — part of Babiš's coalition — told Czech Radio that the government wanted to move beyond financial control toward a broader discussion of what public media should broadcast, and to "control not only the financial side but also the content side."
The government denied any threat to independence. Culture Minister Oto Klempíř insisted the broadcasters' legal status and governing structures would remain unchanged. Babiš was blunter, telling a public broadcaster journalist at a press conference that the dispute was simply about saving money.
Opposition parties were not persuaded. The chair of the parliamentary media committee invoked the language of the barricades; the Pirate party's leader warned the plans would drag the country back 36 years to the era of state media. His party referred the legislation to the European Commission and the Venice Commission. International press freedom groups, led by the International Press Institute, warned the bill risked violating the European Media Freedom Act and called for Commission scrutiny. The comparison that haunted the debate was Slovakia, where the government had dissolved its public broadcaster entirely. For Czech journalists, that precedent was not a distant warning — it was a present one.
On Monday morning, thousands of employees at Czech Television and Czech Radio walked off the job. It was the most dramatic moment yet in a fight that had been building for months—a confrontation between the country's public broadcasters and the government of billionaire prime minister Andrej Babiš over how those broadcasters would be funded, and whether they could remain independent.
The government had just approved legislation to scrap the licence fee system that had long sustained Czech public media. In its place would come direct annual allocations from the state budget. On paper, it sounded like a simple administrative shift. In practice, the broadcasters said it would devastate them. Czech Television would lose £35.8 million annually. Czech Radio would lose £14.3 million. These cuts would bring funding back to 2008 levels, despite nearly two decades of inflation. Hundreds of jobs would disappear. Regional reporting would shrink. Children's programming would be cut. Foreign correspondents would be pulled home.
But the strike was not really about money, or not only about it. Pavla Kubálková, a member of Czech Television's strike committee, articulated what lay beneath the dispute: a fear rooted in living memory. "A large part of society remembers what the news looked like when politicians chose the content before 1989," she said. "We don't want to go back there." The concern was that moving to direct state funding would expose the broadcasters to political pressure, that independence would become negotiable, that editorial decisions would eventually flow from government preference rather than journalistic judgment.
That fear was not abstract. Just days before the strike, Josef Nerušil, an MP from the far-right Freedom and Direct Democracy party—part of Babiš's governing coalition—had made remarks that seemed to confirm it. "The point is to change the funding," Nerušil told Czech Radio. "But if we're talking about what public service media should broadcast, then of course, in a further step, we want to get to a broader discussion." He wanted, he said, to "control not only the financial side but also the content side." He accused the broadcasters of political bias.
The government's response was to deny the threat. Culture Minister Oto Klempíř insisted that moving to state budget funding changed nothing about editorial independence. The legal status of the broadcasters would remain the same. Their governing councils would be appointed as before. Editorial freedom guarantees would stay in place. Babiš himself was dismissive. "We want you to save money, and you're not," he told a journalist at a public broadcaster during a press conference, as if the entire dispute were simply about efficiency.
The strike itself was sweeping. Czech Television said all channels except its children's service would go dark. Websites, streaming platforms, and social media would go silent. Czech Radio would merge some stations and alter schedules, with on-air explanations of why. It was a way of showing audiences what they stood to lose, as one strike committee member put it. Media scholars noted the rarity of the moment. Czech Television had not experienced a comparable strike since 2001, when journalists protested political interference in the appointment of the broadcaster's director general.
Opposition parties treated the moment as a line in the sand. František Talíř of the Christian Democrats, who chairs the parliamentary media committee, invoked the language of resistance: "We're going to the barricades because this is a direct attack on Czech Television and Czech Radio." Zdeněk Hřib, leader of the opposition Pirate party and a former mayor of Prague, said the funding plans would take the country back not one year but 36 years, to the era of state media. His party referred the changes to the European Commission and the Venice Commission, arguing they violated European standards for media independence.
International media freedom groups joined the alarm. A coalition led by the International Press Institute warned that the bill risked "financially weakening the broadcasters, eroding safeguards for their financial independence and violating the European Media Freedom Act." They called on the European Commission to scrutinize the plans. The comparison some drew was to Slovakia, where the government had dissolved the public broadcaster RTVS entirely. The fear was not paranoid. It was historical. And it was present.
Citações Notáveis
A large part of society remembers what the news looked like when politicians chose the content before 1989. We don't want to go back there.— Pavla Kubálková, Czech Television strike committee member
The aim is to control not only the financial side but also the content side.— Josef Nerušil, MP for the far-right Freedom and Direct Democracy party
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does it matter how public broadcasters are funded? Isn't money just money?
Because whoever controls the money controls what gets said. A licence fee comes from viewers directly. State budget funding comes from politicians. When you depend on politicians for your paycheck, they have leverage over your editorial choices.
But the government says the legal independence guarantees stay the same. Doesn't that protect the broadcasters?
That's what they say. But an MP from the coalition just said out loud that they want to "control not only the financial side but also the content side." Why would he say that if the independence guarantees were real?
So this is about what happened before 1989?
Exactly. Before the fall of communism, the state controlled the media completely. People remember what that looked like. They don't want to live through it again, even in a softer form.
Is the strike likely to work?
That depends on whether opposition parties can block the bill in parliament and whether international pressure from the EU matters. The government has the votes to pass it. But a strike this big, this public, sends a message that people are willing to fight.
What happens to the broadcasters if the bill passes?
Hundreds of jobs disappear. Regional reporting shrinks. Children's programming gets cut. Foreign correspondents come home. The broadcasters become smaller, weaker, more dependent on the state. That's the trajectory.