NPR’s discontents

Essential voices are being left out of the conversation

If an anthropologist from Mars were to visit America and listen only to NPR for one year, they would have to conclude that there are no conservatives among us; no people of faith, no people who live in the South, no people who want stricter immigration laws and no people who oppose gun control or abortion. Yes, these people do exist, our anthropologist would concede, insomuch as their existence contradicts prevailing liberal orthodoxy.

Understanding that public radio disciples are just as snug in their confirmation cocoons as the conservatives they condemn would go a long way in explaining to our researcher the deep polarization of our media. Instead of presenting the nation with a true reflection of the intellectual diversity and character of our society, our taxpayer-funded public radio provides the narrow view of the metropolitan elite.

NPR pursues an ideal by applying the subtlest of moral pressure. Consider the latest fashion of referring to Hispanics as the gender-neutral “Latinx.” Never mind that only 2% of Hispanics polled want to be given this designation, according to a November poll by market research agency Think Now; the hosts and guests of NPR repeatedly use the term, demonstrating a fundamental misunderstanding of the largest growing demographic group in America.

To utter, uncritically, whatever new cultural pieties come out of the academy is a sure way to alienate yourself from the rest of the country. Furthermore, if “This is the Sound of a Free Press,” as NPR likes to reiterate, implying that it is free of external influence or control, why then are we also reminded of the usefulness of the “Alexa Smart Speaker?” Naturally, Amazon, a trillion-dollar company that financially supports NPR, is keen to inculcate public radio listeners with a slavish obedience to this surveillance technology.

A dedication to intellectual diversity will get us further than moral nudging. We’d do better with longer, slower, more thoughtful interviews with people who have devoted their lives to studying the problems that plague us. Journalist Yuval Levin was given seven minutes on NPR last month to discuss his excellent new book, “A Time to Build.” Mr. Levin’s thesis on the power and importance of institutions in our daily lives is a manual for social repair. Alas, the author did not even have time to settle into his seat — and explain to the interviewer why his argument was relevant to NPR’s mission as an institution in American life — before he was whisked off the air.

Compare his seven minutes to the 40 minutes devoted to a comedian on “Saturday Night Live” and a rhythm guitarist on a recent episode of NPR’s much-lauded program “Fresh Air.” This proves the point that Mr. Levin makes in his book about the grip of celebrity and entertainment culture on our national conversation to the detriment of more pressing issues.

Who do we not hear from in longform interviews on NPR? Anyone who would actually challenge, rather than reinforce, the assumptions of liberals.

It’s almost inconceivable to imagine a conservative host on NPR, or a host who has a Southern accent. But why not? There are more conservatives in the electorate than liberals (incidentally, the reported share of Americans who say they are liberal declined in 2019), and there are hundreds of millions of people who live in the Southern United States. If NPR were strongly committed to a pluralistic vision, we would certainly hear a wider range of views.

This does not mean sending more reporters from New York City or Washington, D.C., into the American hinterland to “tell the story of conservative America.” It means giving these men and women a seat at the table to tell their own stories and ask their own questions.

Reflecting upon 1930s America, the historian Jill Lepore wrote that “with radio, more than with any other technology of communication, before or since, Americans gained a sense of their shared suffering, and shared ideals: they listened to one another’s voices.”

These voices have been my companion on many nights. I am a devotee of public radio; therefore, “I make no apology for being critical of what I love,” to borrow from theologian Reinhold Niebuhr. In that spirit, I argue that there are essential voices being left out of the conversation and I wonder what NPR thinks it will lose by giving them air.