It’s Time to Gut and Rebuild It

By Travis Dhanraj Growing up in Calgary, I admired many of the same things my peers did—hockey heroes, national icons, and big dreams. But while others imagined themselves lifting the Stanley Cup or soaring through the skies in fighter jets, I found myself drawn to something else entirely: the power of storytelling. My most vivid childhood memories aren’t just of the games themselves, but of what came after. Sitting on the living room carpet beside my father, I’d watch The National—first with Nolton Nash, then Peter Mansbridge—anchormen who spoke with authority, balance, and an unwavering commitment to public service. They didn’t just read the news. They explained it. They made sense of Canada, night after night. That was the spark. That was the dream. Not fame, but public trust. Not celebrity, but service. That early reverence for journalism—and for the national broadcaster as its vessel—shaped the trajectory of my life. I pursued a career in media because I believed in its democratic function: to inform, to interrogate, and to serve. And I joined the CBC believing it was still the place where that mission lived. That belief is why I now feel compelled to speak out. There’s still a place for public broadcasting in this country. Canada is vast and often fragmented. CBC plays a vital role in reaching remote communities, uplifting Francophone & Indigenous voices, and telling stories that might otherwise be ignored. But the institution we rely on to tell Canada’s story is no longer telling it fully—or fairly. The CBC has lost its way. And if we care about the future of journalism in this country, we need to confront that truth. This isn’t about grudges. This isn’t about bitterness. It’s about accountability. Because for all the CBC’s talk about diversity and inclusion, my experience revealed a very different reality—one in which editorial control is carefully policed, ideological conformity is expected, and those who challenge the status quo quickly become expendable. When I became the host of Canada Tonight, I believed the network wanted exactly what they had advertised: “a bold voice in journalism.” I took that to heart. I tried to broaden the spectrum of political voices, introduce tough but fair questions, and push for conversations that reflected the actual range of opinion in this country. What followed, however, was a slow but unmistakable realization that those promises were largely cosmetic. While the CBC routinely trumpets its commitment to diversity, the form it embraces is often surface level and aesthetic rather than ideological. Diversity of thought—particularly when it challenges internal orthodoxy—is viewed not as a strength but as a liability. Efforts to bring a broader spectrum of political viewpoints to the show were routinely met with resistance. Editorial independence, once sacrosanct, became conditional. I was privately cautioned about tone, about subject matter, about being on “a crusade” to fix the CBC—something I was told was not in my control. It became increasingly clear that my presence was welcome only insofar as it conformed to a narrow consensus. When I raised these issues—internally—I did so not out of grievance, but out of duty. Journalism requires courage. It requires us to ask difficult questions, even when those questions implicate the institutions we serve. For this, I was met with professional retaliation, a culture of internal marginalization, and eventually, removal. The irony is profound. A public broadcaster—whose very mandate is to enable open discourse—had become hostile to dissent. When I interviewed Peter Mansbridge last year, I asked him what he thought about the calls to defund the CBC. His response stayed with me:

“There are arguments about defunding the CBC. I don’t agree with defunding it entirely—but I do think it needs to be gutted and rebuilt. It’s not working the way it should. There’s a lack of accountability and a real loss of connection with Canadians.”

He’s right. And it’s not just the dollars and ratings that are at stake—it’s trust. During my time at CBC, I witnessed first-hand how tokenism can be mistaken for progress. Eventually, I became a target for refusing to play along. The institution that once inspired me—where I dreamed of spending my career—became a place that actively eroded my confidence, my health, and my sense of professional purpose. What started as a job turned into a daily test of resilience. And yet, I still believe in the idea of the CBC. That’s what makes this so painful. I believe in a national broadcaster that informs without bias, that amplifies all voices—not just the ones that fit an approved narrative. I believe in what the CBC could be—if it were willing to confront what it has become. That’s why I’ve filed a complaint with the Human Rights Commission and believe there needs to be a full public inquiry into the CBC. Not because I want a fight, but because I want answers. Because I believe Canadians deserve better. Because young journalists watching The National right now, dreaming the same dream I once had, deserve a newsroom that values courage over conformity. To be clear: I am not calling for the CBC to be scrapped. But I am calling for it to be gutted and rebuilt. Here’s what that must include:

• Independent, external oversight that ensures transparency and accountability—especially on matters of editorial direction and internal equity.
• Editorial reform that encourages—not punishes—ideological diversity.
• Clear safeguards against retaliation for whistleblowers and internal critics.
• A fundamental reset in the culture of leadership, prioritizing journalistic integrity over institutional protectionism.

The CBC can serve this country again—not just some of it, but all of it. But not without a reckoning. Not without bold reform. Not without listening to the very voices it claims to represent. Let’s stop pretending otherwise. Let’s fix it.