The silent frequencies of TBS
Published: 31 Jan. 2025, 00:02
Updated: 31 Jan. 2025, 17:45

Kang Hye-ran
The author is a senior reporter on culture at the JoongAng Ilbo.
Perhaps it’s my age, but I still instinctively associate TBS with its original moniker: “Traffic Broadcasting System.” Despite shedding that title in 2020 when it officially became the “Seoul Foundation for Media Communication TBS,” the station remains, for many, synonymous with real-time traffic updates. Since its launch in 1990 as an FM radio channel (95.1 MHz), followed by the addition of a TV channel in 2005 and an English-language radio station (101.3 MHz) in 2008, TBS has long been a go-to source for drivers navigating the Seoul metropolitan area, particularly during peak congestion periods such as national holidays and the year-end season.
Yet, since late September last year, TBS has been in an unsettling state of dormancy. Listeners tuning in to its frequencies are met with an endless loop of pop songs or recycled old programs. Many travelers on this year’s Lunar New Year holiday road trip found themselves startled when they turned to TBS out of habit, only to realize that there was no DJ, no updates — just an eerily uninterrupted stream of music.
I have no intention of retracing the entire “TBS crisis timeline”— from the controversy over political bias in the current affairs program Kim Eo-jun’s “News Factory” to TBS’s official removal from Seoul city’s list of affiliated institutions last September. However, it is clear that the internal turbulence at the foundation has reached its peak, with rounds of voluntary resignations, unpaid leave and salary delays. In a desperate bid for financial survival, TBS has sought approval from the Korea Communications Commission (KCC) to revise its articles of incorporation. Yet, with the KCC’s operations stalled, even this request remains in limbo.
Despite the reinstatement of KCC Chair Lee Jin-sook following her impeachment trial, the commission continues to operate under an unresolved “two-member system,” raising doubts about whether key pending issues — such as terrestrial broadcasting license renewals — can be addressed swiftly.
Meanwhile, the normalization of TBS’s programming remains indefinitely postponed. A few days ago, I took a taxi where the driver had a YouTube channel playing at full volume — one hosted by a self-proclaimed traffic expert. When I asked why, he replied, “There’s no proper broadcaster covering transportation policies any more. I used to listen to TBS, but at some point, it became strange, and now it’s practically shut down.”
The decline of TBS’s English-language radio station, TBS eFM, is an equally pressing concern. A foreign professor I recently spoke with recalled how invaluable TBS eFM’s special coverage had been during the Covid-19 pandemic. “Nowadays, I can’t even rely on it to keep up with critical issues like North Korea’s balloon-borne waste campaigns,” he said. Previously, English-language radio stations in Busan and Gwangju had sourced their content from TBS eFM. However, in recent months, they have switched to broadcasting programs from Arirang English FM’s Jeju branch instead.
The real issue is that the Seoul metropolitan area — home to the vast majority of Korea’s 2.3 million foreign residents — now faces a glaring void in English-language radio programming.
Before transitioning into a media foundation in 2020, TBS secured its KCC license with the pledge that it would remain “committed to delivering comprehensive broadcasting services centered on traffic and weather information.” That license was due to expire at the end of last year. Now, as TBS seeks renewal, reports suggest that internal power struggles are intensifying over how to chart a path to survival. Some insiders have even hinted at a belief that “if there’s a change in administration, things will go back to the way they were.”
Whatever “the way things were” means, I sincerely hope it doesn’t refer to the era of TBS programs routinely facing mass regulatory penalties for violating broadcasting standards.
With a public broadcasting frequency now reduced to looping nostalgic oldies, it is time for a fundamental and sweeping reevaluation of what TBS should be — and whether it still has a role to play in Korea’s media landscape.
Translated using generative AI and edited by Korea JoongAng Daily staff.
with the Korea JoongAng Daily
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