Few topics generate arguments as reliably as the broadcasting licence fee. The positions are well rehearsed: one side sees a compulsory levy for programming they don't watch, the other a pillar of democracy.
Both camps mostly argue about the size of the fee, which is the least interesting question in the whole business.
Why the system exists at all
The historical starting point matters because it explains the structure. Public broadcasting in Germany was built after 1945 under Allied influence with a clear intention: broadcasting should never again be under state control, and never again dominated by a handful of private owners.
Nearly everything else follows from that. The federal fragmentation, the committee structure with representatives of social groups, the funding via a levy rather than the state budget — all of it serves the goal of distance from government.
The funding is deliberately constructed so that no government can apply pressure by cutting it. That's why the fee level is set through a complicated procedure involving an independent commission rather than by political decision.
Anyone criticising the system should keep that purpose in view. Much of what looks inefficient is the result of a deliberate choice against central control.
The problem that has changed
The original justification had an economic component: broadcasting frequencies were scarce. Only a few channels could exist, so it had to be regulated who could broadcast and what.
That scarcity no longer exists. Anyone can publish today, and supply is effectively unlimited.
Part of the justification therefore falls away, and the question becomes a different one: not "who may broadcast" but "what content wouldn't exist if nobody funded it."
What the market doesn't produce
That's where it gets interesting, because there are areas where the answer is fairly unambiguous.
Local and regional reporting. The economic collapse of regional newspapers is well documented. In many districts there's barely anyone left observing municipal politics. That has measurable consequences — research from various countries points to lower turnout and reduced scrutiny of local administration where local papers disappear.
Expensive investigation. An investigative story can take months and produce nothing. That's difficult to sustain on advertising-funded business models.
Foreign correspondents. Correspondent networks are expensive and generate little reach. Almost all private providers have reduced them over the years.
Programming for small audiences. Culture, education, sign-language provision, programming for minorities. Doesn't pay, doesn't otherwise exist.
If you argue honestly, that's the list at issue. And none of those items is especially expensive relative to the total budget.
Where the criticism lands
Conversely there are criticisms I consider justified and which defenders of the system dismiss too quickly.
The number of separate institutions and the resulting duplication is hard to justify. Administration, technology and rights purchasing exist many times over in parallel.
Entertainment programming that's barely distinguishable from private offerings is difficult to reconcile with the remit. The argument that you need broad reach to remain relevant has something to it — but it can be stretched indefinitely.
And the committees meant to reflect social diversity are, in composition, partly shaped by parties and established associations. Constitutional courts have addressed this and drawn limits, but the underlying tension remains.
The question nobody asks
There is a further dimension that has become more pressing and gets discussed less: reaching younger audiences.
The traditional distribution model was scheduled linear broadcasting. That model reaches an ageing audience and is not going to reverse. Younger people encounter media through platforms, on demand, in short form, and through recommendation rather than schedule.
Public broadcasters have responded with apps, media libraries and platform presences. But there is a structural tension here that is genuinely hard. Distributing content through commercial platforms means accepting their terms, their algorithms and their data collection — precisely the dependency that the whole institutional design was built to avoid. Refusing means being absent from where a generation actually is.
There is no clean answer to that. It is, though, the version of the legitimacy question that will matter in ten years, considerably more than arguments about the size of the fee. An institution funded by everyone that is watched only by people over sixty has a problem no accounting reform can solve.
What I miss in the debate is a discussion about the remit rather than the budget.
You could seriously ask: what content should exist that otherwise wouldn't? And then build a structure that produces precisely that.
The result would probably be a considerably smaller system with a much clearer profile — strong news, strong regional reporting, culture and education, little or no entertainment in the narrow sense.
Whether that's politically achievable is another matter. There would be massive resistance, from the institutions themselves, from regions worried about local employment, and from audiences who value exactly that entertainment programming.
But as long as the debate remains "too expensive" versus "indispensable", nobody gets near that question. Which is, frankly, quite convenient for both sides.