Censorship Didn’t Start With Kimmel:

Jimmy Kimmel is off the air. ABC suspended Jimmy Kimmel Live! after his monologue criticizing the political reaction to Charlie Kirk’s killing. The network, under pressure from conservative outrage, FCC threats, and nervous affiliates, caved. Suddenly, liberal commentators are outraged. Suddenly, people who considered themselves guardians of democracy are crying censorship. But here’s the uncomfortable truth: their tears are 700 days too late.

The silencing of voices did not begin with Kimmel. It has been happening all along, in classrooms where burning books was occurring under a democratic leadership, in newsrooms, in publishing houses, in theaters and comedy clubs. It has been happening quietly, steadily, almost imperceptibly—until the silence was too loud to ignore. Karen Attiah, one of the most important voices at The Washington Post, was recently fired. Writers have lost contracts. My own book was shelved by my publisher and literary agents for political reasons. Academics have been dismissed from universities, and journalists pushed out of their jobs. Each case is framed as an exception, but together they reveal a pattern: dissent is increasingly treated as a liability, not a public necessity.

Nothing of this is an isolated punishment of individuals but it is a structural effort to narrow the bounds of what can be said. It is McCarthyism repackaged for a new century, only this time its reach extends beyond the Cold War paranoia of communism into the broader realm of political dissent. What we are witnessing is censorship as part of a larger effort to reshaping of the public sphere itself.

The Illusion of Democratic Protection

Many still cling to the idea that democracy, by its very nature, will protect us. That the courts will intervene, that the institutions will hold, that the First Amendment will somehow enforce itself. But democracy is not self-executing. Rights written on paper mean nothing if the institutions that carry them — universities, newsrooms, publishing houses, even late-night television — are captured or hollowed out.

The so-called “marketplace of ideas” is an economy owned by corporations, hedge funds, and media conglomerates. What we read, what we watch, what we hear is already shaped by the profit motive and the political pressures of advertisers and owners. When Disney owns the network, when billionaires own the newspapers, when Silicon Valley decides who gets amplified and who gets shadow-banned, it is naïve to think the First Amendment alone will safeguard us. Democracy does not protect its people when its most basic infrastructure has already been sold off.

The Long Erosion

What happened to Kimmel is not shocking; it is predictable. The erosion of free expression has been slow, but steady. It shows up in grant applications denied for being “too political.” In canceled contracts and disappearing op-eds and governmental information wiped out of governmental websites. In comedians who decide not to say something, not because they don’t believe it, but because they know the cost of saying it. In students who fear speaking out, lest it follow them for life. In social media platforms quietly throttling reach under vague “community guidelines.”

For over 700 days, genocide has been live-broadcast to the world, and yet the people who speak most clearly about it have been punished — whether by suspension, firing, or erasure. It’s by design, silence is the product of systems working exactly as designed. Even when Arab voices work tirelessly behind the scenes, they are surely to be erased on the world stages. Most convenient to have their message co-opted by palatable influencers or celebrities, who take up space with little critical thinking. This too is a form of censorship.

The Role of Independent Media

This is why independent media is not a luxury. It is a necessity. The survival of democracy depends not on the myth of neutrality in corporate media but on the ability of independent voices to hold power accountable. Independent outlets can say what others cannot, not because they are more radical, but because they are less beholden to greed and power. They exist outside the corridors of corporate profit and political pressure.

Independent media tells the stories that otherwise disappear — the stories of people on the margins, the stories of communities under siege, the stories that advertisers would rather you didn’t hear. Acting both as a living archive and the public’s voice, it does more than just document: it builds the collective resilience we need to withstand propaganda. In a landscape flooded with misinformation, independent outlets give people the tools to see through the fog. They are not divisive; they are connective. They create solidarity across differences, reminding us that liberation is never zero-sum.

The Structure of Suppression

When we talk about censorship, it’s tempting to imagine it as a blunt act: a book banned, a show canceled, a journalist jailed. But most censorship is quieter, structural, and bureaucratic. It looks like funding cuts that suffocate small outlets. It looks like corporate consolidations that shrink the diversity of voices. It looks like algorithms that bury dissent under oceans of entertainment. It looks like lawsuits, defamation threats, and regulatory red tape designed to exhaust those who dare to challenge power.

These forms of suppression rarely make headlines, but they are precisely how freedom dies: not with a bang, but with a spreadsheet.

Building Cultural Infrastructure

If we are to survive this moment and outlive fascism, we must recognize independent media as cultural infrastructure. It is as essential to democracy as clean water is to life. Without it, we cannot breathe politically. Without it, we cannot resist.

This requires resources — not just clicks, likes, or shares, but real investment and independent platforms that can survive Silicon Valley’s censorships. Subscriptions and memberships from everyday people matter, but so does the responsibility of philanthropists and foundations. For too long, they have hidden behind the veil of “neutrality,” funding depoliticized projects while democracy itself collapses. To defend free expression requires courage — the courage to support media that tells uncomfortable truths.

Independent media is not disposable content. It is the bedrock of collective survival. And if we allow it to be starved, silenced, or crushed under the weight of corporate monopolies, then we should not be surprised when democracy fails to save us.

The Crossroads

We are at a crossroads. Either we continue to wring our hands as one voice after another is silenced, or we begin to treat the media as the public good it has always been. Either we accept the narrowing of what can be said, or we invest in the broad chorus of voices that democracy requires.

Censorship did not begin with Jimmy Kimmel, and it will not end with him. But it can end with us, if we choose to build and defend the cultural infrastructure that outlasts fascism. The choice is simple, but urgent: fund the voices that tell the truth — or watch them disappear. Not tomorrow. Not when it’s convenient. Not when the damage is already done. Now. Thank you for being a member. Invite your peers.

Write for EIP.