Even Top-Rated TVBS Can't Hold the Line: The Collapse of Traditional Taiwanese Television

When the wave of communication technology crashed ashore, newspapers were the first casualties. Now, that same "blood-collapse" storm has made landfall in Taiwan's television industry.

Taiwan's television sector is facing a structural crisis, brought into sharp relief by recent reports of layoffs and a potential sale at TVBS, long considered one of the island's most respected news broadcasters. Industry insiders say what is unfolding at TVBS is not merely one company's financial trouble — it is a warning bell that the traditional broadcast era may be drawing to a close.

Taiwan's cable television industry has been shrinking without interruption for more than eight years — over 30 consecutive quarters — according to the latest report from the National Communications Commission (NCC). The numbers tell a blunt story: at its peak in 2017, the island had 5.26 million cable subscribers, with a household penetration rate of 61 percent. By the third quarter of 2025, that figure had fallen to about 4.29 million, representing a penetration rate of just 43.64 percent. In less than a decade, nearly one million households cut the cord entirely.

Revenue has followed subscribers down. Over the past decade, total industry revenue contracted from about NT$39 billion (around US$1.2 billion) to NT$31.2 billion (around US$960 million). The advertising picture is starker still: in 2024, digital video advertising — platforms such as YouTube and Netflix — reached NT$18.6 billion (around US$573 million), surpassing traditional television advertising revenue of NT$17.16 billion (around US$529 million) for the first time.

Surveys indicate that nearly half of Taiwanese viewers find cable programming unappealing, while roughly 30 percent cite excessive advertising and a lack of viewing flexibility. Younger audiences have migrated to over-the-top platforms, leaving traditional broadcast channels increasingly associated with older demographics — little more than "a radio for the elderly," as one industry observer put it.

TVBS has long occupied a privileged position in Taiwan's media landscape. Veterans of the industry say the newsroom, built during the era of founding figure Chiu Fu-sheng (邱復生), operated with a singular focus on journalism rather than revenue targets — a culture that generated exceptional brand equity but left the organization exposed to financial risk.

The broadcaster reportedly posted a first-quarter loss this year and has since moved to cut field reporters and satellite news gathering (SNG) engineers. More striking are reports, circulating since late last year, that major shareholder Chen Wen-chi (陳文琦) is seeking a buyer at an asking price of approximately NT$7.8 billion (around US$240 million) — once likened in industry circles to a Hermès-tier broadcast license. Both TVBS and CTBC Financial Holding — whose chairman Wu Chung-liang (辜仲諒) has been named in sale rumors — have publicly denied the reports. Even so, industry observers note that in an era of uncertain industry prospects, Taiwan's most prestigious broadcast license no longer commands the frenzied interest it once did.

Despite the cord-cutting trend, potential buyers continue to surface around Taiwan's television stations. Industry analysts say this is because profitability from broadcasting itself has become largely irrelevant to the calculus of ownership.

The old prohibition on party, government and military ownership of media has long since dissolved in practice. In its place has emerged what observers describe as a tripartite fusion of business, media and politics. Acquiring a television station, sources say, is rarely about advertising revenue.

It is about political access, regulatory protection and the ability to shape public discourse. This is a form of "power leverage": the losses a television station incurs can simply be recovered through land development. As one former senior executive in the industry noted, a corporate group that ran into legal trouble once said privately that owning a broadcaster would have shielded it from far harsher treatment. Politicians need media as a tool for amplifying their voice, which means they must remain beholden to media owners; and those owners, in turn, use that influence to extract far greater returns from land rezoning and capital markets.

Industry insiders trace the origins of this dynamic to the lateLin Kun-hai (林崑海), the founder and chairman of​Sanlih E-Television, known in the industry as "Chairman Hai" (海董). Lin pioneered the model of media tycoon as political power broker, but was regarded as someone who — even as a rule-bender — still observed a code: maintaining a degree of separation between commercial interest and editorial control. Since his death, observers say that line has disappeared entirely.

Taiwan's television stations now drift between political factions and issues with fluid ease. Politicians rely on media owners to control the direction of news; business owners leverage their media holdings to hold sway over politicians' fortunes. The relationship is further reinforced by financial dependency: stations rely heavily on government subsidies and public procurement contracts, creating an umbilical cord between the political and media worlds that cannot be severed. News is no longer oversight — it is a service.

Five owners, five strategies: how Taiwan's major broadcasters are managing the crisis

Against this backdrop, the owners of Taiwan's major television networks have each developed distinct approaches, shaped by their backgrounds outside broadcasting.

Lien Tai-sheng (練台生), who owns both Era Television and Next TV, operates on a philosophy of extreme cost containment. With a background in land development and media distribution, he is widely regarded in the industry as the most disciplined manager of personnel costs among the major broadcasters.

A former Era employee described the approach as straightforward: production equipment — cameras and the like — is expensive, so the strategy is simply to depreciate it and never replace it. The two channels share a single pool of staff, effectively running two stations on the headcount of one. The result is a media presence maintained at minimal expense, serving primarily as a defensive or strategic asset within a broader commercial portfolio.

Eastern Broadcasting Company (EBC) is owned by Chang Kao-hsiang (張高祥) a property developer by background. He has transplanted real estate management discipline into the newsroom, requiring each division to submit precise annual budget and profit targets. Politically, Chang has historically been associated with the pan-blue camp, but he has also brought in Lin Wen-yuan (林文淵) — a former chairman of China Steel with deep ties to the ruling Democratic Progressive Party — to serve in a senior role, using his extensive political connections (particularly with the green camp) to gather intelligence and act as a go-between across factional lines.

Insiders say EBC's media operation functions as a "protective talisman" for Chang's core property business, leveraging the station's influence to ensure smooth approvals for real estate projects and political relationships.

HTC chairwoman Cher Wang (王雪紅) and Chen Wen-chi bring a technology industry background to TVBS ownership. The station built its reputation as a professionally driven, editorially independent broadcaster — a premium position in a crowded market. Before the wave of layoffs, TVBS was actively pursuing "cross-platform integration," working to merge television and digital editorial operations to reduce costs.

But the station's advertising rates, once held as firmly as a luxury brand's pricing, are now under pressure, as the broadcaster is forced to cut field reporters and scale back physical infrastructure such as SNG vehicles.

Senior industry figures say the technology background that made Wang and Chen alert to structural trends means they have almost certainly recognized the irreversible decline of traditional television — and may be working to stem the bleeding through digital transformation and workforce reduction, while seeking an opportunity to exit at a high point before the brand deteriorates further.

Following the death of Lin Kun-hai, Sanlih E-Television passed to Chang Jung-hua (張榮華), described by those who know him as a pragmatic deal-maker who follows profit wherever it leads. Sanlih E-Television's strengths lie in entertainment programming and content production; the station is also regarded as the most competitive among the five major broadcasters in securing government procurement contracts.

But since acquiring the Pushin Farm leisure resort and recently moving aggressively to take a controlling stake in Tatung Company, Chang's strategic focus has clearly shifted toward land asset redevelopment. Industry sources say he has deliberately toned down the station's political radicalism in its news coverage, pivoting toward financial and business reporting to appeal to shareholders and the market — a shift interpreted by some as a bid to smooth the path for large-scale development approvals.

Taken together, these strategies reflect a harsh reality: in an era of collapsing viewership and ratings, pure media management is no longer viable on its own. For these owners, the television station has become a chip to be played in land deals, capital operations or political power.

The reduction of field reporters at TVBS points to a deeper structural shift in the media ecosystem. The standard of stationing at least one correspondent in each of Taiwan's counties and cities — once considered the basic minimum for credible news coverage — is now economically unsustainable. Industry observers predict a coming era of resource-sharing arrangements among competitors: my Miaoli correspondent for your Hsinchu one. The likely result is increased homogeneity in local news coverage.

A deeper crisis lies in the intervention of artificial intelligence. As tools such as Google's Gemini grow capable of drafting scripts and editing video automatically, the value of traditional newsrooms is greatly diluted. Reporters no longer have time to build "warm, human contact" with their sources — they are reduced to chasing page views online, trapped in a vicious cycle of mediocre content.

A veteran broadcaster argued that TVBS's core strategic error was failing to convert its brand equity into a sustainable business model before cutting staff. The station possesses the most seasoned minds and a reputation for high-quality international news coverage — a genuine asset for attracting white-collar professionals. But by choosing layoffs over guiding experienced talent through a transition, it has squandered its most precious brand asset.

The pattern playing out in Taiwan is not unfamiliar internationally. In February this year, Jeff Bezos — founder of Amazon and owner of The Washington Post since his US$250 million acquisition of the paper in 2013 — oversaw what staff called the darkest day in the publication's history. On February 4, 2026, the Post announced plans to cut roughly 300 jobs, including hundreds of the roughly 800 journalists in its newsroom. The cuts shuttered the sports and book review sections entirely, significantly reduced international and local coverage, closed multiple overseas bureaus and discontinued the flagship podcast Post Reports.

From the collapse of print to the erosion of broadcast, the arc of decline in legacy media is now unmistakable. As the stereotype that "kids who don't study grow up to become journalists" takes hold in the public imagination, journalism programs are losing their appeal to young people. More seriously, some media outlets have been reduced to bargaining chips in the hands of businessmen. The future of television stations is not merely a financial question — it is a question of the soul of journalism. The role of media as the "fourth estate" risks being handed back to the textbooks as nothing more than a memory.

（Related： IBM, Google, and Nvidia Define the Quantum Computing Map — Where Can Taiwan's Supply Chain Stake Its Claim? ｜ Latest ）