Welcome back to the Deep Dive. I want to start
today by putting you in a specific headspace.
It's 2 .0 a .m., you can't sleep, you're in a
hotel room, maybe somewhere in the Midwest, and
the only light in the room is the blue glow of
the television. You start flipping channels.
I know exactly where you're going with this.
You go past the infomercials for nonstick pans,
past the reruns of sitcoms from the 90s, and
then you land on something. Yeah, there's always
something on. There's a guy. He's usually standing
on a stage that looks like it cost more than
my house. He's wearing a suit that shines under
the studio lights. He's holding a microphone,
maybe wiping sweat from his forehead. And he
is passionately, intensely asking you for something.
Usually money. Usually money, often in exchange
for a miracle. The classic American archetype.
It's almost a piece of folklore at this point.
Exactly. We are talking about televangelism.
And I think for most of us, it's a punchline.
It's the caricature of the greedy preacher or,
you know, the Sunday morning channel surfing
hazard. But when we actually looked at the stack
of research for this episode, I was honestly
floored by the sheer scale of this machine. It's
massive. And it's not just about the caricature.
Not really. This is a story about the evolution
of media technology itself. It is about how religion.
adapted, or I guess mutated, depending on your
view, to fit every new screen that entered our
lives. From crackly AM radios to... To global
satellite empires. It's a huge leap. So that
is our mission today. We are going to trace this
lineage. We need to figure out how we got from,
I don't know, street corners to private jets.
And we are going to unpack the controversies,
the theology, the massive financial questions,
and the investigations that tried to crack the
code of these organizations. And we have to talk
about the why. Why did this happen here? Why
is it such a uniquely American export? Because
it really, really is. Right. But before we get
to the jets and the scandals, let's settle on
the word itself. Televangelism. It sounds so
natural now, but it's a weird word, isn't it?
It feels like a corporate buzzword from the 80s.
It does, but it's actually a portmanteau, which
is a fancy way of saying it's just television
and evangelism smashed together. But the history
of the word is surprisingly twisty. You'd assume
it was a term coined by journalists to mock these
guys, right? That would be my guess. It sounds
like a critique. Oh, look at that televangelist.
But the first recorded use was actually by the
church itself. In 1958, the Southern Baptist
Convention used it as the title for a television
miniseries. They were trying to brand this new
method of reaching people. Wait, wait. So the
Baptists invented the term. They coined it themselves.
Effectively, yes. They were proud of it. But
it didn't catch on immediately. It took a while.
It wasn't until around 1981 when two sociologists,
Jeffrey Haddon and Charles Swan, published a
book called Primetime Preachers that the term
televangelist really entered the popular lexicon.
Primetime Preachers. That sounds like a heavy
metal album. It absolutely does. But here is
the curveball that I think really contradicts
the stereotype we all have. When you picture
a televangelist, who do you see? I see a Southern
guy, probably Baptist or Pentecostal. High energy,
maybe some big hair, depending on the decade.
Right. That is the image. But Time magazine actually
used the term televangelist way back in 1952.
52. And they weren't talking about a Baptist.
They were describing a Roman Catholic bishop
named Fulton Sheen. No way. A Catholic bishop.
The full robes and everything. A Catholic bishop
in full regalia. We will get to him later because
he is a fascinating character. But it just goes
to show that this phenomenon didn't start in
the way most people think. It's much broader.
That is a great reminder. We have these mental
shortcuts, but the history is always messier.
Also, the research mentions other terms like
radio evangelism or teleministry. I guess the
umbrella term is just using media to market religion.
Precisely. It is the utilization of mass media
platforms for the marketing of religious messages.
And I use the word marketing deliberately because
at a certain point, that's what it becomes. OK,
let's address the geography. Because I've traveled
a bit. And while you see religion everywhere,
this specific flavor, the independent broadcaster
buying airtime to solicit donations, feels deeply
American. Is that just my bias? It's not bias
at all. It is structural. The roots of televangelism
are uniquely American because of two very specific
factors. The first is our media environment.
You mean the fact that we watch too much TV?
Well, there's that too. But specifically, the
regulation of TV. In the U .S., the media landscape
has historically been largely deregulated compared
to, say, Europe. Here, airtime is a commodity.
If you have the funds, you can buy the slot.
It doesn't matter who you are. It doesn't matter
if you're selling soap, cars, or salvation. The
network just wants the check to clear. Right.
Whereas if I go to the U .K. In the U .K., or
many other nations, broadcasting was historically
treated as a public service. It was heavily regulated.
Religious programming existed. But it was usually
a requirement placed on the broadcasters by the
government. So the BBC might film a nice, quiet
service at a local parish. Right. It's a documentary
approach. Here's what the church is doing. It's
not an appeal. Exactly. It wasn't a private interest
group buying an hour of prime time to fundraise.
Yeah. That is a crucial distinction. In America,
the pulpit was for sale to the highest bidder.
And the second factor. You said there were two.
Demographics. You simply had a massive Christian
population that was accustomed to giving money
to the church. The tradition of tithing was already
deeply ingrained. You combine a willingness to
donate with an open market for airtime, and you
create an industry. It's the perfect storm. Okay,
so let's get into the time machine, because you
made a point in the pre -show notes that this
didn't start with the television. It started
way before the screen. Oh, absolutely. If you
want to understand the DNA of televangelism,
you have to look at the wireless pulpit. We have
to go back to the 1920s. The radio era. The roaring
20s. The radio era. And to understand the motivation,
you have to look at the theology. Christianity
has this built -in imperative called the Great
Commission. Go ye into all the world and preach
the gospel to every creature. Exactly. It's a
command to spread the message. So for 2 ,000
years, Christians have been early adopters of
whatever technology helps them do that. The apostles
used Roman roads and ships. The reformers used
the printing press. And then in the 20th century,
you get the vacuum tube. You get radio. I try
to imagine what that must have felt like. For
a preacher in 1920, speaking to 500 people was
a huge crowd. Suddenly you turn on this box and
you can speak to how many? Millions. It was a
paradigm shift. It was as big a leap as the printing
press was from hand copying manuscripts. Radio
allowed them to bypass physical barriers. It
was low cost and it could penetrate borders where
missionaries were literally banned. So who was
the first? Who was the pioneer of radio preaching?
There were a few pioneers, but S. Parks Cadman
is a name you need to know. He started broadcasting
in 1923. 1923. That is right at the birth of
commercial radio. I mean, the first commercial
station, KDKA, was only in 1920. So they were
right there at the beginning. They were on the
ground floor. 1928, he had a weekly Sunday afternoon
broadcast on the NBC radio network. Now, I want
you to guess the audience size. Hmm. 1928. Radios
were still kind of a luxury, right? Maybe a couple
hundred thousand. A million if you're being generous.
Five million. Five million people in 1928. Are
you serious? Five million listeners tuning in
every Sunday. That is staggering. If you adjust
for population growth, that's like a Super Bowl
audience every single week for a sermon. It really
is. And it wasn't just individual preachers.
Churches realized this power immediately. In
that same year, 1923, the Calvary Baptist Church
in New York City became the first church to operate
its own radio station. Not just buy time, but
own the station, the whole infrastructure. Own
the infrastructure. Yeah. And talk about staying
power. They're still around. They still produce
a show called Tell It From Calvary. That is a
century of continuous broadcasting. That is wild.
But radio also gave us the first celebrity preachers,
right? The personalities. Because it's not a
visual medium, your voice is everything. Absolutely.
The medium rewards personality. You have to mention
Amy Semple McPherson. Oh, she is a legend. A
total force of nature. She was. She was a tent
revivalist, which is exactly what it sounds like.
traveling from town to town, breaching in massive
canvas tents. But she realized that radio could
take that energy and broadcast it nationwide.
She could put the tent revival in your living
room. She wasn't just reading a sermon, though.
She was performing. There were sound effects,
characters. She was a pioneer of the format.
She built one of the earliest Pentecostal megachurches
based on her radio fame. She understood that
to hold an audience on the radio, you had to
be engaging. You had to have drama. She gained
a nationwide notoriety in the 20s and 30s because
she made faith sound exciting. But there was
a darker side to this early radio era, too. It
wasn't all revival and hymns. The same tool could
be used for other purposes. No, not at all. We
have to talk about Father Charles Coughlin. He
was a Catholic priest in the 1930s. I remember
this from history class. The radio priest. Yes.
And he started out fairly standard, talking about
scripture, but he moved into very dark political
territory. He used his massive platform to broadcast
virulent anti -communist and eventually strongly
anti -Semitic rhetoric. And people listened?
Millions listened. His audience was estimated
at up to 30 million at its peak. It showed the
danger of the medium. When you have a charismatic
leader and a microphone and no one to fact check
you in real time, you can mobilize a massive
amount of hate just as easily as you can mobilize
love. It's a direct, unfiltered line into people's
homes. Exactly. By 1946, Time magazine estimated
there were 10 million regular listeners for radio
ministers in the U .S. The industry was established.
And the engagement. I mean, people weren't just
passively listening while doing the dishes. They
were writing in. The mail was a huge part of
this. The mail volume is the key metric here.
This is where we see the business model forming.
It's not just about preaching. It's about building
a database, a mailing list. A pre -digital CRM.
That's a great way to put it. Reverend Ralph
Sockman was getting 4 ,000 letters a week. 4
,000 letters. Imagine the logistics of that.
The paper cuts alone. And Archbishop Fulton Sheen,
who we mentioned earlier, was receiving between
3 ,000 and 6 ,000 letters weekly. Think about
what that requires. You need a staff. You need
a warehouse. You need a system to open, read,
and crucially process the donations inside those
envelopes. That is the birth of the direct mail
fundraising machine right there. The whole, send
us a dollar and we'll send you this prayer cloth
model. It is. And this industrial scale led to
the formation of the National Religious Broadcasters,
the NRB, in 1944. They realized they needed a
trade association, a lobbying group, to protect
their interests and manage this growing industry.
So radio proves the concept. It proves you can
build a national audience, you can raise millions
through the mail. But then the 1950s roll around.
The technology shifts. We get the picture. The
shift to the screen. TV had been around experimentally
in the 30s, but the 50s is when it took over
the American living room. It's the new shiny
thing. And religious broadcasters were right
there waiting. And we are back to Fulton Sheen.
The bishop. The man time called the first televangelist.
He successfully made the jump from radio to TV
in 1951 with his show Life is Worth Living. And
this is really important. He wasn't on some backwater
station. He was on primetime. He was competing
with Milton Berle. And winning. Right. I read
he was a huge star. He won numerous Emmy Awards.
His show ran until the late 60s. He had this
intense, hypnotic gaze. He would just stand there
in front of a blackboard, no fancy set, and talk.
He'd look right into the camera, and people felt
like he was looking into their soul. He proved
that religion could be entertainment. Compelling
television. That was the breakthrough. And then,
of course, the 50s gave us the biggest name of
them all. You can't talk about this subject without
him, Billy Graham. You can't tell this story
without Billy Graham. But what's so interesting
is that he didn't just preach on TV. He understood
multimedia in a way that was decades ahead of
his time. In 1951, he founded Worldwide Pictures.
A movie studio. A real movie studio. Basically.
He was producing feature films with Christian
themes to be shown in churches and on TV. He
was creating content. His televised crusades
from stadiums around the world became must -see
TV events for millions of people. He understood
spectacle. And at the same time, we see the format
of the televised church service starting to take
shape. Not just a sermon, but the whole show.
Right. Rex Humbard is the key figure there. In
1952, he became the first to broadcast a weekly
church service. And get this. He literally built
his church, the Cathedral of Tomorrow in Ohio,
as a TV studio first and a church second. Wait,
what do you mean? The seats were arranged in
a semicircle for the best camera angles. The
lighting was studio lighting. The pulpit was
a stage. The people in the pews were, in a way,
part of the set for the much larger audience
at home. That is a huge psychological shift.
The people in the room are props for the people
who aren't there. In a way, yes. And it worked.
By 1980, Rex Humbard's program was on 695 stations
in 91 languages. 91 languages. That is the internet
before the internet. It is global domination
via satellite. Another pioneer from that era
was Oral Roberts. By 1957, his broadcast reached
80 % of the possible TV audience in America.
He perfected the faith -healing format for television.
And then the model evolved again. It wasn't enough
to just buy time on a channel. The real power
was in owning the channel. Bingo. Enter Pat Robertson.
Founder of CBN. Pat Robertson founded the Christian
broadcasting network CBN in 1961. This was the
first Christian television network in the United
States. He bought a defunct UHF station in Virginia
and built an empire from it. And this is where
the 700 Club comes from. I feel like that show
has been on forever. It's one of the longest
running programs in television history. And the
name itself is a fundraising reference. He needed
700 partners to donate $10 a month to keep the
station on the air in the early days. That's
the mechanic again. The content exists to drive
the donation, which funds the content. It's a
perpetual motion machine. And the reach is staggering.
As of 2016, CBN was broadcasting in 39 languages
across 138 countries. This era, the 60s and 70s,
is when TV fully replaced radio as the primary
medium. This is the golden age of the names everyone
knows. Jimmy Swaggart, Jim and Tammy Faye Baker,
Jerry Falwell. The Bakers and the PTL Club. That
was a whole cultural moment in itself. It was
a phenomenon. They created a Christian version
of The Tonight Show. with celebrity guests, music,
and Tammy Faye's very emotional, very famous
makeup. They built a theme park. It's a complete
media ecosystem. And we also have to mention
the Trinity Broadcasting Network, TBN. Founded
by Paul and Jan Crouch, it's now the world's
largest religious television network. They took
Robertson's model and just scaled it up to an
incredible degree with their own satellite network
covering the globe. So that brings us to the
modern era, the 21st century. The hair is a little
less big, maybe, but the model seems the same.
The aesthetic is updated for sure. Now, in the
U .S., we have figures like Joel Osteen at Lakewood
Church, Joyce Meyer, T .D. Jakes. Joel Osteen
is interesting because he doesn't really do the
fire and brimstone thing. He's a very motivational
speaker. It's a much softer sell. That's the
modern evolution. The message has shifted to
be more about positive thinking and personal
success. But the structure is the megachurch
pastor. They have a massive physical church.
Lakewood is an old basketball arena. But the
majority of their congregation is watching remotely
on television or online. Now, before we get into
the heavy controversy, I want to pivot to something
I didn't expect. We think of this as an American
thing, but the Sork material says the fruit of
this is now global. It is. The roots are American,
but the model has been exported perfectly. The
technology, satellite TV, the Internet made it
possible to replicate this anywhere. And Nigeria,
for instance, is a massive hub for this now.
Who are the big names there? You have figures
like Enoch Attaboy and Chris Lyakalom. They are
superstars. They fill stadiums that make American
megachurches look like chapels. And they use
the same satellite and Internet strategies, often
with even more spectacular claims of miracles
and healings. And it's not just Protestants,
right? The model works for anyone. No. In Uruguay,
the National Channel 4 has been airing the Catholic
Mass since 1961. So the medium has been adopted
across the board by different denominations and
in different cultural contexts. OK, we have the
history. We have the reach. We see how it evolved
from a guy at a microphone to these global media
corporations. Now we have to talk about the money.
And the theology that drives the money, because
you can't separate the two in this world. No,
you can't. They are completely intertwined. And
this is where the friction really starts. Let's
talk about the prosperity gospel. I feel like
I know what it means, but can you define it properly
for us? Sure. The prosperity gospel, sometimes
called the health and wealth gospel or seed faith,
is a theological belief that faith. positive
speech, and most importantly, donations to religious
causes will increase one's own material wealth
and physical health. So God wants you to be rich,
and if you give me $100, God will give you $1
,000 back. That is the essential pitch. It's
not just that God wants you to be rich, but that
if you aren't rich or if you are sick, it might
be a sign of a lack of faith or, crucially, a
lack of sowing. Sowing meaning giving money to
the preacher. Exactly. The metaphor is a seed.
You give a seed offering and God will grow that
into a financial harvest for you. It turns faith
into a transaction, an investment. And I can
see why critics hate this. It seems so transactional.
The criticism is fierce. Secular critics obviously
see it as a scam, a way to prey on the desperate.
But the harshest criticism often comes from other
Christians. Right, because traditional Christianity
is usually about... You know, blessed are the
poor. It's about humility and suffering. Exactly.
Critics point to the story of Jesus and the rich
young ruler, where Jesus tells the man to sell
all his possessions and give the money to the
poor. The prosperity gospel completely flips
that on its head. It says acquiring possessions
is a sign of God's favor. I have a quote here
from John MacArthur. He is a very prominent,
very conservative pastor. This is from 2009,
and he's talking about prosperity preachers.
Okay, let's hear it. He calls them shameless
frauds. greedy imposters, charlatans, and enemies
of everything holy. He is not holding back. Enemies
of everything holy. That is serious beef. That's
not just a theological disagreement. It is. And
there are watchdogs like Ole Anthony from the
Trinity Foundation who spent decades digging
through televangelist trash, literally, to find
evidence of them faking miracles and living these
incredibly lavish lifestyles. And that leads
us to the lifestyle, because if you are preaching
that God wants everyone to be rich, you better
look the part, right? That's the justification.
That is the justification. They argue that their
wealth is proof that their message works. Look
at my mansion. God bless me. He can bless you,
too, if you just have enough faith and send in
a donation. But the opacity of the finances is
the real issue. We don't actually know how much
money they have or where it goes. Right. And
this is a key point about U .S. law. Religious
organizations are tax exempt. But unlike other
nonprofits like the Red Cross or a university,
churches do not have to file a Form 990 with
the IRS. They don't have to show the public their
books. So it's a complete black box. It's a total
black box. There is an organization called the
Evangelical Council for Financial Accountability,
the ECFA. It's a voluntary group that churches
can join to commit to financial transparency.
So it's sort of good housekeeping seal of approval
for church finances. A great analogy. And do
the big name televangelists join? A 2003 survey
by the St. Louis Post -Dispatch looked at 17
major televangelists. Only one belonged to the
ECFA. One out of 17. That tells you everything
you need to know about their desire for scrutiny.
They operate as independent fiefdoms. They aren't
answering to a bishop or a board of elders in
the traditional sense. They are the top of their
own pyramid. And this lack of oversight leads
to the stories we always hear. The gold faucets,
the fleets of car. Private jets. The jets are
always the headline. Always. Jesus didn't have
a private jet. And look, they have a defense
for that. They say, I need a jet to travel efficiently,
to spread the gospel around the world. But when
you have fleets of rolls races or palatial estates
listed as parsonages, it becomes very hard to
justify that as a ministry expense. And this
high -flying lifestyle requires a constant, massive
influx of cash. That is the trap. High production
values, satellite time and jet fuel are incredibly
expensive. So the fundraising has to be relentless
and aggressive. They have to sell the miracle
water, the prayer shawls, the DVDs. They have
to keep the donor list churning. This brings
us to the most dramatic attempt to rein this
in. The Senate probe. The Grassley investigation.
This is a pivotal moment in the history of televangelism.
Set at stage. It's 2007. It's 2007. Senator Chuck
Grassley. a Republican from Iowa and the ranking
member of the Senate Finance Committee, launches
an investigation. Now, this is significant because
Grassley is a conservative. This wasn't a liberal
attack on religion. This was a fiscal conservative
looking at potential tax abuse. And he targeted
six specific ministries, the Grassley Six. Yes.
The list reads like a who's who of the prosperity
gospel at the time. You had Kenneth and Gloria
Copeland in Texas. Crayflo and Taffy Dollar in
Georgia. Crayflo Dollar is quite a name. It is.
Then there was Benny Hinn, also in Texas. Eddie
L. Long in Georgia. Joyce and David Meyer in
Missouri. And Randy and Paula White in Florida.
These are the heavy hitters, the biggest names
in the game. They are. And Grassley's questions
were not about theology. He didn't care what
they preached. He cared about the assets. He
had reports of fleets of Rolls Royces, multi
-million dollar homes, personal use of ministry
-owned jets, and very questionable credit card
spending. all funded by tax -exempt donations.
There was a specific detail about a bathroom
fixture, wasn't there? That got a lot of press.
There were reports of a ministry paying for a
$23 ,000 marble commode for a bishop's mansion.
A $23 ,000 toilet. Allegedly. And these are the
kinds of details that get the public's attention
and eventually a senator's attention. And Eddie
Long, there was another layer of controversy
there, too, beyond just the finances. Yes. The
source notes that a 2011 docuseries episode focused
on Bishop Long's alleged sexual misconduct, which
was a separate and very serious scandal that
unfolded around the same time. So for some of
these figures, the financial issues were just
the tip of the iceberg. So Grassley sends these
letters. He demands their financial records.
What did they do? Did they open the books? Most
of them said no. Flat out. They just said no
to the United States Senate. Effectively. They
hired high -powered lawyers and argued that the
inquiry violated their First Amendment religious
freedom. They claimed it was government entanglement
with religion and that the government has no
right to inspect the internal finances of a church.
That is a bold strategy. You can't audit us because
we're a church. It was a standoff. To be fair,
Joyce Meyer and Benny Hinn did cooperate to some
extent, providing some records and making changes
to their governance. But others, like Kenneth
Copeland, basically stonewalled the committee
and were very defiant about it. So how did it
end? Did people go to jail? Were there massive
fines? No. The final report was released in January
2011. And honestly. It was a bit of a dud in
terms of enforcement. It was more of a summary
of what they found, which was very little because
most didn't cooperate. Really? After all that,
all the headlines? Grassley essentially threw
his hands up. He called for further congressional
review of tax exemption laws for religious groups.
But he realized that legally, the wall of separation
between church and state is so high in the U
.S. that it is incredibly difficult for the IRS
to audit a church. without looking like they
are persecuting religion. So the jets kept flying.
The jets kept flying. The laws didn't change.
That is frustrating. But I guess it highlights
how uniquely protected religious institutions
are in America, for better or for worse. It is
the double -edged sword of freedom of religion.
It protects the little neighborhood church, but
it also protects the guy with the $23 ,000 toilet.
Now, money isn't the only place where these guys
flex their muscles. We have to talk about politics.
Oh, yes. The intersection of televangelism and
the ballot box is huge and has shaped DeMorgan
politics for the last 40 years. We've seen this
for decades. Pat Robertson ran for president.
He did in 1988 and did surprisingly well in the
early primaries. And Jerry Falwell founded the
Moral Majority in the late 70s, which was instrumental
in electing Ronald Reagan. These televangelists
became kingmakers. They could mobilize millions
of voters, their donors, their viewers, to support
specific candidates. Usually conservative candidates?
Historically, yes. The source material also mentions
John Hagee, who is very active politically, particularly
regarding support for Israel. They can get on
television and frame a political election in
stark moral terms. But wait, if they are tax
-exempt 501c3 organizations, aren't they supposed
to stay out of politics? Technically, yes. There
is a law called the Johnson Amendment passed
back in 1954. Explain that to me. What does it
do? The Johnson Amendment bans 501c3 organizations,
which includes all charities and churches, from
explicitly endorsing or opposing candidates for
political office. If you do, you're supposed
to lose your tax -exempt status. But I feel like
I see pastors endorsing candidates all the time
on TV. They might not say, I endorse so -and
-so, but... It's pretty obvious. You do. And
this is the controversy. Critics argue that when
a televangelist uses donor paid airtime to tell
people to vote for candidate X or to attack candidate
Y, they are breaking the law. But they use coded
language or they endorse a platform rather than
a person. Has anyone actually lost their tax
exempt status over this? Almost never. The IRS
is terrified of enforcing it because it inevitably
leads to a massive political fight and accusations
of targeting religion. So the law exists, but
it's rarely used. It's a paper tiger. It seems
like televangelists operate in this special gray
zone where regular rules, financial transparency,
political neutrality just don't apply. That is
a very accurate assessment of the situation.
Now, we're coming into the final stretch of the
deep dive, and I want to pivot to something that
I think will surprise a lot of people. We spent
most of our time talking about Christians, but
the source material highlights that this is not
just a Christian phenomenon anymore. No, the
medium of television is neutral. The model works
for anyone with a message and a means to broadcast
it. And we are seeing a significant rise in Islamic
televangelism. This makes perfect sense if you
think about it. If the goal is to spread the
faith, why wouldn't you use the most powerful
communication tools available? Exactly. In Islam,
there is a concept called Dawah. Dawah. How do
you spell that? D -A -W -A -H. It effectively
means inviting people to Islam. It's the Islamic
equivalent of evangelism. Traditionally, a Dayi
caller might speak in a mosque or a public square.
But now, they have satellite channels and YouTube.
Who are the stars of this world? The source lists
a few key figures. You've got Moez Massoud, who
is Egyptian, Zakir Naik from India, Amr Khaled,
another Egyptian. And do they copy the American
style, the production values, the format? They
draw clear inspiration from it. Moez Massoud,
for example, has been described as having a very
modern, approachable style, not unlike a younger
Western preacher. But Zakir Naik is perhaps the
most famous and controversial example. His whole
thing is massive public debates where he quotes
scripture from memory. And just like the Christians,
they have their own networks. Yes, Muslim Television
Ahmadiyya, the Islam Channel, ARYQ TV and Peace
TV, which was founded by Zakir Naik. These are
major global broadcasters reaching millions of
homes. You mentioned controversy with Zakir Naik
and Peace TV. Is it the same kind of stuff? Financial
questions, private jets? It's financial, but
it also goes into much deeper political and social
territory. And what's interesting is that regulators
in other countries have come down much harder
on them than U .S. regulators ever have on American
preachers. For example? In the U .K., the regulator
Ofcom has censured the Islam Channel and Peace
TV multiple times. What for? Things like biased
political coverage, sure, but also much darker
things. The source material mentions broadcasts
that were homophobic and what Ofcom deemed incitement
to illegal acts, specifically including justification
for marital rape and murder. Wow, that is intense.
That's way beyond a fancy toilet. It is. Peace
BB is actually banned in India, Bangladesh, and
Sri Lanka because of government concerns that
its programming promotes extremism and religious
intolerance. So while the American televangelists
get investigated for money, these figures are
getting banned from entire countries for concerns
about radicalization. Although the financial
critique is there too. Critics argue that some
Islamic televangelists are also building personal
wealth and empires, capitalizing on the devotion
of their followers. The dynamic of charismatic
leader plus mass media plus donations equals
power and wealth seems to be a universal one.
It's the medium, isn't it? TV demands a star.
Stars get power, and that power can be abused
in different ways depending on the context. It
creates a structure that rewards performance
over substance, regardless of the holy book you
are holding. So let's try to synthesize all of
this. We've gone from S. Parks Cadman's crackly
radio mic in 1923 to these 24 -hour global satellite
networks broadcasting in dozens of languages.
It's been a century of explosive technology -driven
growth. On one hand, you have to admit. They
did it. They fulfilled the Great Commission in
a way the apostles could never have dreamed of.
They got the message to every corner of the earth.
Technically, yes. The reach is undeniable. You
can't argue with the numbers. But the cost. The
commercialization, the scandals, the political
entanglement, the materialism. It feels like
the medium warped the message. That is the core
tension of this entire story. The tool that allows
you to reach the world also tempts you to sell
out to the world. The constant need for money
to feed the machine can end up corrupting the
mission the machine was built for. I want to
leave our listeners with one final thought, something
I found in the notes that really stuck with me.
This is the echo chamber point. Right. Televangelists
always claim they are saving souls. We reached
a billion people, so many new converts. But some
of the research suggests that religious broadcasting
is primarily viewed by existing Christians. They
are preaching to the choir. Or, more accurately,
selling to the choir. Exactly. If you aren't
a believer, you probably aren't watching TBN
at 2 a .m., you're watching Netflix or a sports
replay. That is the reality of a fragmented media
landscape. So here's the question for you to
think about. If the medium wins very few new
converts and is mostly consumed by people who
already believe, then does this massive multi
-billion dollar financial engine really serve
the faith or does it just serve the broadcaster?
That is the multi -million dollar question, isn't
it? Is it a mission or is it just a very expensive
subscription service for validation? Something
to chew on. Thanks for listening to The Deep
Dive. We'll see you next time.