When John Logie Baird (from the Logie Awards) transmitted the first recognisable television image in October 1925, he launched a technology that would shape the next century more profoundly than radio, newspapers or even the early internet. For decades, television unified societies. Today, as it turns 100, it increasingly mirrors our divisions. And with the rise of AI-driven video, it is not at all clear that the next century of “television” will strengthen democracy rather than undermine it.
A medium that once united
Television’s early decades were defined by a sense of public trust. In Australia, the ABC’s arrival in 1956 created a national focal point in a rapidly modernising country. News presenters were authoritative. Election nights represented shared civic rituals. Even commercial channels helped forge the cultural references that gave Australians a sense of common identity. Television was not perfect, but at its best it was a democratic medium.
This consensus did not survive the digital revolution. Cable and satellite fragmented the mass audience, but it was broadband streaming that broke the monoculture entirely. Netflix’s international expansion in 2010 marked the transition from a shared public sphere to a world of personalised entertainment. Instead of a nation gathered around a single broadcast, we now inhabit separate algorithmic bubbles where no two households receive the same cultural diet. Young people may never again experience the collective shock of a major breaking news event or the communal joy of a grand final watched in real time nationwide.
The result is a subtle but measurable loss of cultural cohesion. Television once anchored public understanding; today it competes with an unregulated torrent of online video where facts, fiction and political manipulation blur. Traditional broadcasting still commands trust, but its influence is diluted in a sea of hyper-personalised streams designed to keep users clicking, not keep societies informed.
The rise of AI-driven television
Artificial intelligence is accelerating this shift. A recent ITU article marking the centenary of television notes that AI now excels at cataloguing content, personalising guides and creating accessibility tools such as automated captioning and sign-language avatars, it triggered me to write this article. Is see them as genuinely important advances, particularly for ageing populations and people with disabilities. But the same technologies also power deepfakes, synthetic newsreaders and political persuasion engines. They enable micro-targeted propaganda, algorithmically tailored misinformation and the erosion of baseline reality.
This is no longer science fiction. In several countries synthetic political videos are already circulating with minimal transparency. AI-generated commentary, doctored footage and fabricated live broadcasts are becoming easier to produce and harder to detect. Unlike earlier forms of media manipulation, AI video can be created at scale, in real time, and delivered directly into personalised media feeds without any editorial oversight. If the last century of television taught us the importance of public trust, the next century is shaping up to test whether trust can survive.
The future of a fractured medium
Meanwhile, the technical form of television is undergoing its own transformation. Hybrid systems such as Brazil’s TV 3.0 and the ATSC 3.0 standard in the United States merge broadcasting with broadband in the same device. Japan’s NHK is experimenting with real-time AI-generated sign language. European trials of Native IP Broadcasting are exploring fully internet-based public channels. These innovations promise flexibility and inclusiveness, but they also reinforce a shift from universally transmitted broadcasts to individually shaped experiences. When every viewer receives a customised version of the same programme, what happens to the shared narrative that once held societies together?
Australia faces this dilemma acutely. While our traditional broadcasting networks remain strong, they coexist with global platforms whose algorithms are optimised for engagement, not democratic health. A century ago, television was a communal medium; now it is a contested one. The battle for attention is also a battle for truth, and the platforms delivering video to our screens are increasingly opaque about how decisions are made.
Holding on to what matters
Television’s first century was a story of connection. It informed, entertained and, at critical moments, held democracies together by providing a common view of the world. Its second century risks becoming a story of fragmentation unless governments, regulators and citizens confront the forces reshaping the medium. The challenge is not simply technological. It is political and cultural: how to ensure a resilient public sphere when personalised media constantly pulls us apart.
Yet television still offers hope. In moments of crisis, people still turn to live broadcasts for clarity. Public broadcasters continue to play a crucial role in maintaining democratic accountability. Accessibility technologies promise to widen participation, not narrow it. And the basic human need for shared stories remains unchanged.
Television at 100 is both a triumph of engineering and a warning about the future. If it is to remain a democratic force rather than an algorithmic battleground, we must treat media integrity as a public good. Otherwise the screen that once connected societies may become the tool that fractures them beyond repair.
Paul Budde