Late night television is not what it was. The desks are the same. The bands still play. The applause sign still blinks on command. But the cultural gravity has shifted, and even the hosts can feel it.
When Stephen Colbert told viewers that CBS lawyers advised him not to air an interview with Texas Senate candidate James Talarico because of the Federal Communications Commission’s equal time rule, the moment landed with unusual force. Not because an interview was delayed. That happens. It landed because it exposed how much of late night now runs through legal review before it reaches the audience.
Colbert said he was also instructed not to explain the reasoning on air. He explained it anyway. Then he uploaded the interview online, where the equal time rule enforced by the Federal Communications Commission does not apply in the same way it does to broadcast license holders.
The rule itself dates back to an era when broadcast spectrum was scarce and tightly controlled. Stations that used public airwaves accepted certain obligations, including offering comparable opportunities to competing political candidates. In theory, it protects fairness. In practice, it can make a late night booking decision feel like a zoning dispute.
Colbert’s guest history adds another layer of irony. Critics have long argued that his show tilts left, with 176 left-leaning guests. The only Republican he has interviewed in recent memory is Liz Cheney. If equal time is coming for the couch, the booking department may need a wider net.
The Texas Democratic primary at issue includes Jasmine Crockett, among others. Airing one candidate on a broadcast network could invite requests for similar exposure from rivals. Network counsel appears to have decided the safest path was to avoid the broadcast altogether.
This episode unfolded as Colbert’s tenure itself approaches an end. His version of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert is slated to conclude in May. The closing of a nearly decade long run arrives at a moment when late night audiences are fragmented and digital clips often reach more viewers than full episodes. The show that once competed nightly for ratings now competes with algorithms.
The timing matters. A host nearing the end of his run has less incentive to play it safe. A network navigating a shrinking broadcast audience has more incentive to avoid regulatory risk. Between those pressures sits the old idea of liberty.
The liberty angle here is not theatrical. No federal official ordered Colbert to remain silent. No censor appeared on screen. Instead, the structure of broadcast licensing created a preemptive calculation. If airing a candidate interview could trigger equal time obligations, better to step back. Speech narrowed itself in anticipation of compliance.
Supporters of the rule argue that public airwaves justify public responsibilities. If a broadcaster offers one candidate exposure, others deserve access. Critics respond that a comedy program is not a public utility and that editorial discretion is part of free expression. They question whether applying broadcast era fairness doctrines to modern political satire advances voter knowledge or merely chills conversation.
Colbert’s workaround illustrated the new reality. Broadcast is regulated. The internet is not regulated in the same manner. The content moved. The audience followed. The rule stayed in place.
As the show heads toward its final episodes, the incident feels like a fitting coda. A late night host built his reputation on political commentary. His final season features a live tutorial on communications law. The desk remains. The jokes continue. But the boundaries are clearer than ever.
When the curtain falls in May, the equal time rule will still exist. Broadcast licenses will still carry conditions. And future hosts will still decide how much risk they are willing to assume for a guest segment.
The late night wasteland has not vanished. It has been reorganized. And for one moment near the end of a long run, the paperwork became part of the punchline.