Will the TV licence be replaced by the model which in 2008 is to be introduced in Iceland and which is called a poll tax (namely, a tax payment from each individual viewer, an individually based fee which can be adjusted by the finance minister)? A tax of this kind would be advantageous to the changeable needs of the national budget, but disadvantageous for the long-term planning of public service companies. It would also involve a more direct political dependence and inevitably influence public service activity. As regards the future of the public services, it is possible even now to identify an internal threat. This is to be found in the fact that SVT, like Swedish Radio, risks undermining its legitimacy—access for all—through its initiatives on the internet. These initiatives are regarded as self-evident for the survival of the business and not even the most explicit public service backbiters are attacking this obvious weakness.

Public service is, irrespective of market share, a quantity and frame of reference with which to make common cause, to despise or to challenge. For many people, public service is like the welfare state, a public childhood home, something to move out of or idealise—and for some people to shrug their shoulders at and ignore.

The former head of DR (previously Danmarks Radio, The Danish Broadcasting Corporation), Christian Nissen, compares today’s public service companies with a nun who has left the cathedral and begins to conduct business on the market square. This nun has with some success established herself in competition with the other sellers. Which is why various forces are now trying to drive her off, back into the cathedral. Yes, Nissen does actually use the words “cathedral.” As it was a question of nuns, “cloister” might seem to be more apposite. But the cloister metaphor would not work equally well, because that implies a closed world. The cathedral, on the other hand, contains many worlds; both the building and the activities within it command respect.

With the help of Nissen’s metaphor one could also see the TV licence fee as the taking of a collection. The broadcasting media, also a public service, is inevitably about larger and larger sums of money. And if one turns to the viewers, one could say that TV is a pleasure that most are prepared to pay heavily for, and more all the time.

At the end of the 1980s, when TV3 was introduced onto the Swedish TV market, we paid a total of about SEK 2½ billion a year to watch TV and listen to radio. Today we pay between SEK 12 and 13 billion a year, not including the indirect costs of advertising, despite the fact that TV viewing has not increased. This development with greater and greater sums of money is described in the recently published Radio och tv efter monopolet (“Radio and TV after the Monopoly”), compiled by Lars-Åke Engblom from the School of Education and Communication in the University of Jönköping, and Nina Wormbs from the Royal Institute of Technology KTH in Stockholm.

“The struggle for the TV audience is being waged not so much between the individual channels as between those ‘families’ with which the leading companies can be compared,” write Engblom and Wormbs. “SVT’s main channels have competed in leading the total audience ‘gang.’ TV3 and Kanal 5 compete to the be the biggest satellite channel, but the four families SVT, TV4, MTG and SBS are more and more going over to including all their channels in the audience figures. In this way they can conceal the smaller audiences registered by the main channels, as the four leading companies together, with their complementary channels, in 2006 still had 90 per cent of the audience, with SVT on 38 per cent.”

Deregulation has shifted the role of public service TV from something delicate and threatened with extinction to a market operator with muscles. The viewers in their turn have been transformed into spendthrifts, coveted by us in the said market.

The increased sums we lay out for TV are in the main for the selection we have agreed to pay for, apart from the TV licence. The choice is, however, not a particularly free one, but rather the result of the priorities of our landlord or housing co-operative. They in turn have no great opportunity or will to influence the choice offered by the distributors. The question of what the viewers get for their money seldom concerns technological solutions or the price of different basic selections or supplementary packages. For these we pay up rather meekly.

When it comes to public service and money, it is about something else and more than paying for access to TV channels. The TV media in itself is emotional, and the relationship to public service even more emotionally charged, so that quite a few people have need of spreading demonising myths about state television. Some believe that SVT, before the beneficial influence of advertising-financed television, only broadcast black and white documentaries, long political debates and feature films produced in Czechoslovakia; as if the TV of the 1960s and 70s was not full of entertainment and long-running series such as The Brothers, The Onedin Line and The Forsyte Saga as well. This strange re-writing of the history around public services is interesting for several reasons.

Those who paint the old Sveriges Television as so boring and free of frivolity or glamour, may, it seems, be the same individuals who consider that today’s public service TV should be “slimmed down.” Then it should broadcast only so-called serious programmes and no entertainment whatsoever. The discussion on content, what “is” public service, is often political and ideological. Above all it is eternal and has just as many answers as the concept of public service has definitions. Public service is like “democracy”; the concept can be used with pretty well any meaning you choose. Exactly like democracy, individuals, interest groups and special interests may have detailed expectations and demands.

Politicians from different camps assure us of the importance of public service and their own “defence” of it, but what kind of public service they mean is seldom crystal clear. There are specifically, particularly among Moderates and Liberals, advocates of public service funding. One imagines an outsourcing of the concept itself, that public service should not exist under one roof, that the public service cathedral should be replaced by a number of small chapels and places of devotion, interspersed with the crowds of the marketplace, that is to say among other TV channels.

The strategy on SVT’s part is to assert legitimacy by harbouring both the broad and the limited. What that means is really not crystal clear either. But, if one were to continue with Nissen’s imagery, then one might see it as being offered for sale in the marketplace, not in the cathedral itself. Growing “sales trends” within SVT and the arrogant habit of complaining that SVT had “too many” elderly viewers has in recent years aroused anger and incredulity. With Eva Hamilton as its MD the fixation on rejuvenation (of the viewing public) seemed, however, to subside.

One autumn evening last year SVT’s then newly-appointed MD took the stage at The Swedish National Press Club (Publicistklubben) in Stockholm and gave what could be described as a policy speech. This was not planned. With just a few hours warning, Eva Hamilton appeared as a replacement for Cecilia Stegö, who had dropped out of the evening debate because she had that day resigned as Minister for Culture. Hamilton’s role as substitute had a symbolic value. The—for ideological reasons—licence-dodging Stegö, who never had time to develop her media policy, was regarded by many people as an enemy of SVT, or at least unreliable in her relation to public service. But it was, despite the auspicious conditions, a good speech. Eva Hamilton succeeded skilfully, later also in a larger public forum, to communicate the fact that SVT’s pursuit of target groups (young viewers) had been dropped. I am not alone in thinking that this was a turning-point of journalistic self-confidence and quality. It was considerably more convincing than the campaign of self-promotion called Free Television. We might hope to avoid painful pilots such as Bingo Royale, an ”experiment” in form, content and lack of TV professionalism rapidly branded a fiasco. But things are seldom so unequivocal, intentions not so easy to interpret. Is (the failed) pursuit of target groups over?

This autumn, a year after Hamilton’s speech, Jonas och Musses religion (“Jonas and Musse’s Religion”) is being shown. The presenters have particularly emphasised that they are not working in the old “moth-eaten” SVT manner. Representing something other than SVT is therefore regarded as a particular quality.

One might imagine that the need to do something completely against the grain of SVT’s image is a result of public service TV’s role as a welfare state authority. As something that has always been there, and of which everyone can make demands, a kind of media parental and grown-up role. And to “dare to” defy and rebel against this entity can even feel courageous, daring to swear in the TV cathedral. At the same time being cheeky in relation to religiosity brings extra brownie points, of course, to people who like to kick the authorities on the shins.

When I ask Eva Hamilton to elucidate their thinking, she refers to Peter Nyrén, responsible for the programme. He himself did not want to use the word “moth-eaten.” But he describes Jonas och Musses religion as a result of people within SVT being aware that people exist who regard SVT in this way, namely moth-eaten. And among these SVT detractors there is also, according to Nyrén, a great interest in questions of the philosophy of life, which SVT therefore wished to satisfy. Jonas och Musses religion is also, according to Nyrén, an “experiment” in narrative form: no one knows at the outset what the programme will amount to. Does SVT, therefore, dare to resist and draw attention to itself as an authority on quality TV in something of the same way that Hamilton promised last autumn? Indications and trends are not unambiguous here either. The new programme director Annie Wegelius’ advent to SVT was edged with suspicion and apprehension, because she has a background in the commercial world. But it was she who stopped the project Ballar av stål (“Balls of Steel,” whose programme idea was among other things to spray water on the Prime Minister) with reference to the fact that it did not belong on STV. Not any longer, it might be best to add. It was after all SVT who had commissioned that very programme idea from Strix.

It was also Wegelius who publicly her foot down over the matter of the actor Hans Mosesson’s participation in På spåret (“On the track”). One detail, at least curiously interesting, is that the left winger Mosesson who has become Ica-Stig (promoting the food chain Ica in a long series of TV ads) and in this way is commercially tainted, was stopped by Wegelius, “the commercial TV queen,” now the defender of public service. “Defending” public service manifests itself in many ways. Approximately a year after that evening at the National Press Club, when many people have had time to forget the Free Television campaign, it was time for the next phase of self-promotion. Among others, MD Eva Hamilton appeared in a kind of sketch together with Janne Josefsson; the message wass that SVT broadcasts on several channels, in principle all the time. Being used to the cameras does not help; neither Hamilton nor Josefsson are convincing actors. And who is Janne Josefsson supposed to be portraying in the sketch with Hamilton? The “courageous” journalist who “dares” to call those in power (Hamilton) to account? At the risk of reducing investigative journalism to the level of slapstick and clowning?

Other SVT advertising showed apparently sleepy presenters. They were acting tired because programmes were being broadcast round-the-clock. The fumbling figures were complemented by the legend: when you want, where you want and how you want. Nothing about what SVT wants, more than, as it were, to be everywhere.

One can interpret this as the replacement of the pursuit of target groups by a pursuit of everyone, round-the-clock. That the SVT strategy involves making themselves as wide a target as possible, one that no one can miss, making themselves inescapable rather than indispensable.

A propos of being everywhere around-the-clock: Janne Josefsson, who by the way, is happy to leave his role as a journalist in favour of promoting his own brand, is also to be seen in the Saturday entertainment Doobidoo. The evening after this appearance viewers could see him on Agenda. The programme showed a clip from SVT24, in which Josefsson in a media discussion “has the feeling” that another member of the panel, State Secretary Lars Danielsson, is lying. Josefsson adds that he would admittedly never say this in a live broadcast. The TV veteran Josefsson therefore does not understand that it is actually live on TV24 and later on Agenda. Completely in accordance with the little sketch that he and Hamilton perform, SVT is everywhere and is broadcasting all the time. There is no reason to judge public service TV on the basis of individual programmes or individual presenters, but one cannot get away from the fact that Janne Josefsson’s increasingly extrovert “methods” can be said to personify the trend of replacing content by form, compensating with tone of voice (hysterical!) and indignation (foaming at the mouth!) for what is lacking as regards doing their homework, logic and relevance.

Renewal through a stress on “appeal” is also noticeable in that a great deal is being made of announcing in advance that the content of Aktuellt offers “greater detail.” Can they not trust the viewers to decide that? Or is it their own content they did not trust—“if we say that there is greater detail, then perhaps it appears more like…er… greater detail?” Whatever, from November 19th SVT will fulfil Aktuellt’s greater detail concept. Two subjects will be explored “in greater detail” every day, combined with a short news summary. The similarity with, for example, Agenda and KG Bergström’s show sounds striking. But a magazine programme with studio guests giving their opinions is clearly what SVT wants more of instead of traditional news reporting. And like those who want to change SVT into something very narrow, they consider that it is enough to have one more substantial news programme, Rapport.

Renewal, the holy media mantra irrespective of whether we are in non-commercial cathedrals or in the marketplace, is in TV practice not particularly easy. Or more precisely: they can therefore make it easy for themselves by renewing programme titles, studio decor and the famous Appeal. And to be found on the internet is not least counted as a renewal of the old TV medium. By, as it is called, sending the signal, one is no longer the same boring old TV screen. And precisely here, in the outsourcing from screen to site, is what SVT should beware of, the aforementioned internal threat to legitimacy. I do not mean that people talk every broadcast and plug into the ground with “internet references.” Nor do I mean that the ambition to be somewhere other than on the screen, where you want, anywhere at all, any way at all, can look as though SVT wants to dismantle its own cathedral. This is reminiscent of the public service funding idea, the one that proposes dismantling the companies, but retaining the concept. The advocates of the fund think precisely that—that public service should be easily available pretty well everywhere.

No, it is worse than that. The internet expansion, regarded as the future and as renewal, lying behind the when-where-how you want motto, runs directly against the indisputable role of public service companies. Namely accessibility. The internet is not in the service of the general public. There is, in principle, no debate about this; web-wise media debaters do not even think about it. Responsible public service bosses take it on board, furrow their brows, but are largely powerless. Because, what would it look like if SVT were not on board the internet train? Where all the other media are putting their investments, and a whole lot of the journalistic content.

But that does not help. If public service is to have a special position and be given money for work in the service of the public, then TV viewing and radio listening cannot presuppose access to a computer. Quite simply because almost 2 million people (20 per cent) do not have access to a computer at home. These are not merely the very old. And even if they were, a public service television cannot, however much some people want it, put an upper age limit to its audience. There are, in all age groups, those who cannot afford to buy a computer. Anyone who thinks that one solution is to go to the library reveals a painful ignorance about access to libraries. But even if there were more libraries and they were open in the evenings, does anyone really imagine that TV viewers encouraged by the presenter of the 9 o’clock Aktuellt news programme to “watch the rest of the interview on the internet” should then take themselves off to the library? It is even doubtful how many would feel like getting out of their sofa and going to their own computer in the same room.

And what are those viewers doing who live in places where there is no broadband or reliable internet connection? The media and media debaters centralised on Stockholm cannot really entertain that idea. It clashes so clearly with all the interactive projects, all the new sites, with how one wins market share through the internet. And this is actually lucky for SVT; as long as lack of access to the internet continues to be a non-issue, that the computerless viewers’ frustration is not noticed in public. As long as this continues they can boast of the fact that a broad public service means broadening out, also outside the TV screens, out of sight of the traditional viewers’ sofas. You do not need to sit still and watch, you can run around where you wish, we promise to come running after you. The question is, of course, whether they really mean that. Annie Wegelius refers to new viewer habits, and says that we are on our way away from Campfire TV. Unfortunately there are still a few campfires about, such as those that attract large audiences and produce media attention such as Melodifestivalen (to choose the Swedish entry for the Eurovision Song Context) or Community Singing from Skansen. Indeed it is actually campfires that people want to create hereinafter, the internet will then be further fires to warm up the viewer figures. And it is by these internet fires that the viewers will also vote, express their opinions, squat, chat, be noticed and become visible.

It is, of course, an exaggeration to compare this “mediathink” with Ray Bradbury’s dystopian vision of the future in Fahrenheit 451, where an interactive TV in every living room monitors and controls every citizen. Today such a scenario is presumably not even particularly frightening. To appear on TV—irrespective of what situation you happen to find yourself in, irrespective of what you are talking about—is, on the contrary, much coveted. And there is, on the part of STV and other broadcasting companies, good reason to keep a check on the public. Engblom and Wormbs express one of their conclusions thus: the struggle between public service and the market will become a struggle between the audience and the market.

Reviewers have, of course, shown that we are prepared to pay. A TV licence fee of the Icelandic kind would perhaps therefore be met by fewer protests from the viewers than from the public service companies. And politicians’ interest in public service can, of course, also be seen as purely financial, something akin to the Swedish Alcohol Retail Monopoly Systembolaget; the idea itself may not be popular, but on the other hand one should consider the income to the Treasury.

The new system in Iceland will nevertheless be followed closely in political circles. Financing of public service is something tangible, and most politicians know better than to begin to make a fuss about the content itself, related to legitimacy and commission. And public service expansion on the Internet will probably also be shielded from political objections. The price of doing battle on the subject of the lack of real access means appearing to be someone who is standing in the way of renewal and the future, to be a reactionary, “moth-eaten”. An image that is just as plague-flagged in politics as it is in the media.