On March 7, 1965, millions of Americans watched footage from Selma, Alabama, as state troopers attacked peaceful civil rights marchers attempting to cross the Edmund Pettus Bridge. What had begun as a local struggle over voting rights suddenly became a national story. The images broadcast into living rooms across the country transformed public understanding of the barriers Black Americans faced at the ballot box and helped generate momentum for passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. The lesson was clear: communities that are seen are harder to ignore. Visibility creates accountability, and accountability creates the possibility of change.

More than sixty years later, that lesson remains relevant. The struggle for political change has always depended, in part, on the ability of communities to make their concerns visible to the broader public. While Americans continue to receive information through social media and digital platforms, local television continues to shape how communities understand the issues affecting their daily lives. Local broadcasters cover elections, public safety, schools, housing, economic development, and local government. They help determine which concerns receive public attention and which remain largely invisible. As ownership of local television stations becomes more concentrated among a smaller number of companies, the debate is often framed as a technical dispute about media regulation. In reality, it’s also a question about democratic power: Who decides what communities know, whose stories are told, and which concerns are deemed worthy of public attention?

Local television occupies a unique place within the American media landscape. Unlike newspapers, websites, or streaming platforms, broadcast stations operate using publicly owned spectrum. For decades, federal communications policy has recognized that access to this public resource carries obligations to serve the public interest. This understanding shaped ownership rules intended to promote localism, competition, and viewpoint diversity—principles grounded in the belief that communities benefit when multiple voices contribute to the production and distribution of local news. The objective was not simply economic regulation. It was to preserve a media environment capable of informing citizens, supporting civic participation, and strengthening democratic accountability.

Today, however, local television ownership has become more concentrated. The five largest corporate station groups now control about 700 stations across the country.  Supporters of consolidation argue that larger ownership groups can generate efficiencies that help local broadcasters remain competitive in a rapidly changing media environment, where growing competition from social media platforms, streaming services, and digital advertising markets have fundamentally altered the economics of local journalism. Yet, the conversation cannot end there. Local television is not simply another business sector. It is part of the democratic infrastructure upon which communities depend.  And “efficiencies” in the form of price hikes on TV viewers and major cuts to consolidated newsrooms does nothing to strengthen that infrastructure.

The significance of these questions is evident in contemporary debates over media ownership. The acquisition of TEGNA by Nexstar Media Group generated significant discussion among policymakers, advocates, and industry stakeholders about the future of local television. Supporters argued that consolidation would allow broadcasters to compete more effectively against large technology platforms and changing media markets. Critics countered that the transaction would lead to higher prices for cable and satellite subscribers and significant newsroom layoffs – in fact, Nexstar executives openly admitted as much – while further concentrating control over local television news and reducing the number of independent voices serving communities across the country. 

Those concerns intensified when the FCC Media Bureau waived a cap that had historically limited station owners from reaching more than 39 percent of American households. As a result, the transaction created a company that would eventually own or operate 265 television stations across 44 states and the District of Columbia, reaching approximately 80 percent of American television households. (The acquisition was approved and completed, however ongoing litigation has temporarily prevented Nexstar from fully integrating TEGNA’s operations). Whatever one’s position on the acquisition, the debate raises a broader question at the heart of media ownership policy: how much influence over local information should be concentrated in the hands of a single company?

Concerns about the Nexstar-TEGNA transaction are not merely speculative. Past experiences involving large station groups have illustrated why policymakers, advocates, and communities continue to debate questions of local control and editorial independence. Sinclair Broadcast Group drew national attention when stations across the country aired nearly identical scripts warning viewers about media bias, providing a visible example of how decisions made at the corporate level can shape content across multiple local markets simultaneously. Nexstar copied that playbook last year in forcing its “local” news to air segments parroting the company’s call to relax FCC broadcast ownership limits.  The issue is not whether viewers agree or disagree with these messages. Rather, this practice raises broader questions about the extent to which local news remains responsive to local priorities when ownership and decision-making become increasingly centralized. For communities that depend upon local journalism to understand local realities, that distinction matters.

For Black communities, these questions carry special significance because political progress has often depended upon the ability to make local realities visible. The civil rights movement offers powerful examples. Images from Birmingham exposed the violence of segregation to a national audience. Footage from Selma helped galvanize support for voting rights legislation. Before these events became defining moments in American history, they were local stories unfolding within local communities. Journalists documented what was happening, brought those realities into public view, and helped ensure that the concerns of Black Americans could not be ignored.

That same dynamic remains visible today. Many of the challenges confronting Black communities—including maternal health disparities, housing displacement, environmental justice concerns, unequal educational opportunities, and barriers to economic mobility—are fundamentally local issues. They are shaped by decisions made by city councils, zoning boards, school districts, county governments, and state agencies. Whether the issue is the closure of a neighborhood school, environmental concerns affecting a predominantly Black community, or redevelopment projects that reshape long-standing neighborhoods, meaningful public engagement depends upon access to reliable local information. Effective reporting on these matters requires journalists who understand the communities they serve, maintain relationships with local residents, and possess the resources necessary to investigate complex issues over time. When local reporting capacity declines, communities lose more than coverage. They lose visibility.

The consequences extend beyond journalism. A growing body of research has found that strong local journalism can encourage higher voter turnout, strengthen community engagement, expose corruption, and improve governmental accountability. Local news helps residents understand what is at stake in local elections, how public institutions operate, and how government decisions affect their daily lives. In doing so, it equips citizens with the information necessary to participate meaningfully in civic life. Conversely, when local journalism weakens or disappears, communities often experience lower levels of civic engagement, diminish political knowledge, and reduce oversight of public officials. For Black communities that have historically fought for political representation and equal participation in American democracy, these outcomes are especially concerning because access to reliable information has long been connected to political power, collective action, and community self-determination.

The debate over local television consolidation is therefore about far more than ownership structures or regulatory policy. It is about whether communities retain meaningful access to the information necessary for self-governance. It is about whether local concerns continue to receive sustained attention in an increasingly centralized media environment. Most importantly, it is about who possesses the power to shape public understanding of community needs and priorities.

The struggle for representation has never been limited to elected office. It has also been a struggle over who tells the story of American communities, whose concerns receive attention, and whose experiences are considered worthy of public discussion. Local television remains one of the institutions through which those decisions are made. As policymakers debate the future of media ownership, they should recognize that consolidation is not simply a matter of economics or efficiency. It is a question of whether communities—particularly Black communities—retain the ability to make themselves visible, advocate for their interests, and exercise power within a democracy that too often overlooks them.