When Regulators Become Programmers: Nexstar, Paramount, and the FCC’s Quiet Capture
I’m not going to gaslight myself into thinking I’m the only one watching this happen.
There’s a pattern unfolding in front of us — and it’s one most people are too exhausted, too distracted, or too intimidated to name out loud. But I’ve been in abusive structures before, I know the signs, and I’m not going to gaslight myself into thinking I’m the only one watching this happen.
The Setup: Nexstar Pulls the Plug on Jimmy Kimmel
This week, Nexstar Media Group — the largest local broadcaster in the United States — announced it would indefinitely preempt Jimmy Kimmel Live! on its ABC affiliates.
The official reason?
Kimmel’s monologue went “too far.”
But let’s be real: this wasn’t about late-night comedy. This was about power. About showing deference.
About telling the FCC, “We know who’s boss.”
Because at the exact same moment, Nexstar has a $6.2 billion merger with Tegna hanging in the balance — a deal that requires FCC approval.
The Hidden Hand: Brendan Carr
Enter FCC Chairman Brendan Carr. The man who decides whether Nexstar’s empire grows or stalls. The man who publicly scolded Kimmel and then, almost theatrically, suggested broadcasters “consider” their obligations under public-interest rules. The man who said, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
That isn’t oversight.
That’s extortion by implication.
And Nexstar folded immediately.
We’ve Seen This Before: Paramount’s $7.7 Billion Pass
If this feels familiar, it’s because we just watched it play out with Paramount.
A month ago, Carr greenlit a $7.7 billion Paramount deal, despite antitrust concerns, despite market consolidation warnings, despite every signal that such a deal deserved scrutiny.
Why?
Because Paramount had powerful friends — including the President himself.
The message was clear: If you’re aligned with the right people, billion-dollar transactions sail through.
And if you’re not?
Well, maybe your late-night shows get pulled.
Maybe your licenses get reviewed a little harder.
Maybe your merger sits in limbo.
The Abuse Parallel: Gaslighting at Scale
This is where my own history comes into the frame. I’ve lived through abuse. I know what it feels like to be told:
“You’re overreacting.”
“That’s not what’s happening.”
“Everyone else is fine with this — why aren’t you?”
That’s exactly how systemic abuse sustains itself.
By isolating people who see it for what it is, making them feel like they’re the only ones who notice, the only ones who can’t just “go along.”
That’s what’s happening in media right now.
Anyone pointing out the capture of broadcasters, the chilling of speech, the billions flowing through regulatory favoritism, gets painted as paranoid or “too intense.”
But I refuse to carry my abuser’s voice into this moment.
I will not let the narrative convince me I’m alone in watching the FCC become both regulator and programmer.
The Broader Stakes: Local News as the First Casualty
Why does this matter so much?
Because local broadcasting is the backbone of civic life in America.
It’s where people still turn for storm warnings.
It’s where school closures and election results get reported.
It’s where communities hear themselves reflected back.
When those airwaves are conditioned by political loyalty tests — when content decisions are made with one eye on billion-dollar deals and another on a regulator’s temper — the public loses.
Communities lose.
Democracy loses.
If Kimmel can be yanked for jokes, what happens to investigative reporting that cuts too close to political power?
What happens when an election-night newsroom faces the choice between calling results honestly or pleasing the people who decide whether their parent company gets to exist?
From Watchdog to Lapdog
The FCC’s job is to safeguard the public’s airwaves.
Instead, under Carr, it has become a lever for consolidating power and silencing dissent.
Speak critically? Lose your airtime.
Play along? Your merger sails through.
Want to be acquired for $7.7 billion? Just make sure your friends are in the right offices.
It’s the capture of a regulatory body, playing out in broad daylight.
The Pattern Is the Point
The Paramount deal wasn’t an outlier.
The Nexstar–Tegna deal isn’t an accident.
Together, they form a blueprint for how the airwaves are being reshaped:
Billion-dollar media consolidations.
Regulatory approval conditioned on loyalty.
Content decisions bent toward political power.
This is how abuse scales: not with a bang, but with a normalization.
A wink, a nod, a “public interest” justification that masks the real trade-off underneath.
Refusing to Be Silent
I write this because I know what happens if I don’t.
Abuse thrives in silence.
It wants you to believe you’re alone, that no one else sees it, that speaking out is pointless.
But we are not powerless.
The act of naming what’s happening — clearly, publicly, without hedging — is the first refusal of that control.
Paramount.
Nexstar.
Tegna.
Jimmy Kimmel.
It’s all connected.
Not because of conspiracy theory, but because of a simple through-line: regulatory capture in service of political loyalty.
The Bottom Line
The FCC has become a political cudgel, and Nexstar’s decision to muzzle a late-night host is proof.
We should not let it pass as just another media story.
It’s the opening move in a consolidation of voice and power that makes the “public” part of “public interest” vanish.
I won’t stay quiet, and I won’t gaslight myself into thinking I’m the only one watching.
Because I’ve lived through abuse.
I know the signs. And once you see them, you don’t unsee them.