The Death of Inclusion at Paramount

Paramount’s merger shows what’s lost when compliance replaces courage

On July 25, 2025, the Federal Communications Commission approved the $8 billion merger between Paramount Global and Skydance Media. The headlines focused on consolidation, debt relief, and the installation of a younger, tech-savvy CEO. But beneath the official filings and corporate press releases, something deeper and far more consequential was being traded: not just a change in ownership, but a shift in values.

As part of the merger, Skydance made sweeping ideological promises. It pledged to eliminate all diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programs across the company. It offered to install a two-year “ombudsman” to monitor for bias in journalism. And it quietly aligned itself with a presidential administration that has made demonizing the media, and especially Hollywood, a central pillar of its messaging.

These weren’t minor concessions. They were political offerings delivered to a federal government led by a president who has repeatedly used his position to shame, silence, and financially punish media institutions that defy him.

And now, under the guise of financial survival, one of the country’s most influential media conglomerates has agreed to play along.

This is the story of what Paramount gave up to survive, and what it says about the future of American media.

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What Was Promised and What Wasn't

To secure regulatory approval for the Paramount–Skydance merger, the companies submitted a letter to FCC Commissioner Brendan Carr outlining their commitments. The promises weren’t just financial or operational; they were political.

The letter emphasized a full elimination of all DEI-related programming and policies across the new company. This included employee training, internal hiring targets, supplier diversity programs, and divisions such as the Office of Global Inclusion. In place of these initiatives, Skydance pledged to uphold “viewpoint diversity” and “unbiased journalism.”

It also offered a new position: a two-year ombudsman, reporting directly to the company’s president, tasked with reviewing editorial standards at CBS News and its affiliates. This wasn’t a response to public outcry or internal demand. It was part of a merger condition, delivered to the federal government as reassurance that the network would remain ideologically compliant.

What wasn’t detailed—at least not publicly—was the growing suspicion of a second deal, that in addition to paying $16 million to settle a Trump-era defamation suit, the company also committed to providing up to $19 million in free advertising or public service announcements aligned with Trump’s messaging.

Trump, now the sitting president, has repeatedly claimed this was part of the deal. Paramount has denied it. But they haven’t released the full settlement agreement. And congressional inquiries are now underway.

The details are murky. The implications are not. At the core of the merger was not just a question of money or scale, but of ideological submission. And it raises a fundamental question: What happens when surviving a merger means surrendering a mission?

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The DEI Purge and What’s Still Legal

Before the merger, Paramount Global had a well-established framework of DEI initiatives. These weren’t fringe policies; they were embedded into the company’s workforce, supply chains, and greenlighting processes. Writers’ rooms were held to targets for racial and gender diversity. An internal Office of Global Inclusion managed hiring pipelines, mentorship programs, and demographic tracking. Internationally, the company adopted a “No Diversity, No Commission” policy that made representation a precondition for production.

Skydance eliminated all of it.

The promise to the FCC was clear: no DEI. No diversity quotas. No inclusion metrics. No training programs. And unlike the two-year ombudsman role, this purge came with no expiration date. The dismantling of DEI wasn’t temporary; it was structural.

And yet, federal law still applies. Under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act and various state anti-discrimination statutes, Paramount remains legally obligated to hire fairly, without regard to race, gender, religion, or other protected characteristics. They can’t turn away a qualified applicant because they are Black, queer, or disabled.

And so, the company walks a quiet, careful line.

Diverse hiring isn’t banned; it’s just no longer supported. On-screen representation isn’t forbidden, but its future depends entirely on what executives choose to greenlight. In this new landscape, inclusion must be incidental, unspoken, and above all, deniable.

It’s possible for Paramount to operate without official DEI programs, as long as they don’t explicitly label it as such, while still seeking diverse audiences. A Black-led series might still get funded. An immigrant family drama might still make it to air. But they will do so without institutional backing, and under the shadow of a merger that has declared their very presence a liability.

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Too Diverse to Survive? The Programming Fallout

The end of DEI at Paramount doesn’t just affect internal policy. It shifts the entire creative ecosystem. With no inclusion mandates, no diversity benchmarks, and no structural incentives, a quiet transformation begins: one where the types of shows that get made, the stories that get told, and the people allowed to tell them all start to narrow.

Before the merger, Paramount was part of an industry-wide push to diversify storytelling. From Star Trek: Discovery to The Equalizer to Yellowjackets, its platforms showcased BIPOC leads, queer storylines, immigrant narratives, and feminist arcs. These weren’t always labeled as DEI programming, but they were products of a culture that had institutional support for inclusion.

That support is now gone.

Without a mandate to seek diverse perspectives, creative decision-making defaults to “neutral,” which often means white, male, straight, and familiar. New creators from underrepresented communities will find fewer doors open to them. Storylines that challenge conservative values or simply highlight lived realities outside the dominant cultural norm may get flagged as “risky” or “divisive.”

The merger doesn’t ban representation. It makes it optional. And in a corporate climate increasingly shaped by political caution, the optional quickly becomes avoidable.

Even successful franchises are not safe. Reboots and revivals, once praised for expanding representation, such as Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies or Warrior Nun, have been quietly canceled or forgotten. Others, like Willow, were not just pulled from platforms, but scrubbed from marketing, search engines, and promotional reels—as if inclusion itself were a misstep best forgotten.

What’s at stake isn’t just future content; it’s the rewriting of the archive. Without DEI infrastructure, inclusion becomes a fleeting phase, rather than a solid foundation.

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The Advertising Allegation: PSAs, Propaganda, or Political Payoff?

In the days following the merger’s approval, President Trump boasted that Paramount’s $16 million defamation settlement with him was only part of the deal. He claimed the company also agreed to provide an additional $16 to $19 million in advertising or “public service announcements”, ostensibly for projects aligned with his causes or political messaging.

The implications were explosive. If true, it would mean that one of the nation’s largest media conglomerates offered tens of millions of dollars in free airtime to the sitting president, a figure already seeking re-election and increasingly hostile to critical media.

Paramount has denied this. Or rather, it has not confirmed it. The company has declined to release the full terms of the settlement, and its public statements have been carefully noncommittal. Multiple credible outlets, including The Wrap and The Los Angeles Times, have reported on the existence of the advertising pledge. Congress is now investigating.

Meanwhile, the damage is done. The idea that a sitting president extracted airtime from a media company to help launder a defamation payout and spun it as a victory lap has already landed.

Even if the PSAs never air, the chilling effect remains. Other media companies are watching. Other executives are taking notes. The line between editorial independence and political appeasement is no longer hypothetical; it’s a bargaining chip.

And that’s the point.

Whether Trump exaggerated or not, his claims are designed to publicly punish dissent and privately incentivize submission. And in this case, the silence from Paramount isn’t just defensive. It’s telling.

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Accountability Theater: The Two-Year Ombudsman

On paper, the creation of a two-year ombudsman role at Paramount might appear like a step toward journalistic integrity. In reality, it’s a performance, an appeasement gesture with no legal authority, no editorial influence, and no precedent in commercial news operations.

The person in this role reports directly to the company's president, not to a newsroom or board. They have no power to revise coverage, intervene in reporting, or challenge executive influence. There is no transparency regarding how complaints will be handled, what constitutes “bias,” or how dissent within the newsroom will be protected. This isn't oversight. It’s optics.

And it’s worth asking: Why now?

The answer lies with ownership.

David Ellison, son of billionaire Oracle co-founder Larry Ellison, now leads Skydance and the New Paramount. Larry Ellison is a major Trump donor and, according to reporting, made one of the largest single gifts to Trump’s presidential library foundation. David Ellison has positioned himself as a generational bridge—media-savvy, tech-oriented, and politically strategic.

In that light, the ombudsman isn’t about fairness. It’s about signaling. It tells regulators and culture warriors alike: We are watching the newsroom now, and we are watching for “bias.”

This brings us to the deeper, more precarious truth: while Paramount could, in theory, still quietly follow the goals once outlined by DEI, such as targeting diverse audiences and funding inclusive content, it’s increasingly unlikely.

Not because it’s illegal, but because the people now in charge aren’t motivated by those goals. Unless diversity becomes a profit driver so overwhelming that it cannot be ignored, ideological caution will prevail over cultural relevance. The goal isn’t fairness. It’s compliance.

The ombudsman is just the most visible symbol of that shift.

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Too Valuable to Muzzle: The South Park Exception

There’s one place in Paramount’s vast content empire where creative freedom still appears untouchable: South Park. It’s not because of principle. It’s because of paperwork.

In 2021, Paramount signed a massive multi-year, $900 million deal with South Park creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone, commissioning new content and specials for Paramount+. But after a prolonged legal dispute with Warner Bros. Discovery over streaming rights, the deal was renewed and expanded in July 2025. The updated agreement grants Paramount full, exclusive rights to the South Park library and future installments.

That contract may now be Paramount’s most unintentional act of resistance.

Within days of the merger’s approval, South Park aired a scathing episode mocking the deal itself and skewering the President and the Epstein files debacle. The episode lampooned the decision to end Stephen Colbert’s contract, the merger itself, and the ongoing pedophilia headlines, framing it all as dystopian theater. It wasn’t subtle, and it wasn’t an accident.

What makes South Park unique is not just its satire, but its immunity. It’s one of the few pieces of content too expensive, too profitable, and too contractually protected to cancel. The creators have full license to say what they want, because the alternative would be a multi-million-dollar breach of contract.

In a media landscape where most creators are expendable, Parker and Stone remain dangerous because they’re irreplaceable. And that says everything about where power really lives now: not in ideas, but in assets, not in values, but in value.

For Paramount, South Park is a case study in what happens when a company can’t muzzle its talent, and what that freedom might still look like if it weren’t sold off piece by piece.

And here lies the contradiction, one that may offer a glimmer of insight into Paramount’s true motivations. The decision to renew the South Park deal, knowing full well that its creators would mock the merger and lampoon Trump, wasn’t ideological. It was financial.

Despite the posturing, the pledges, and the performative neutrality, Paramount fought to retain South Park because it drives subscriptions, brings global recognition, and protects a billion-dollar investment. That choice, made amid merger scrutiny and political pressure, suggests that even in this new era of ideological constraint, profit still holds sway over purity.

It’s a telling reminder that the market may yet demand what politics would silence. And as long as satire sells, there may still be space—however narrow—for truth to slip through the cracks.

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A Media Company Without a Mandate for the Future

The Paramount–Skydance merger will be remembered not for what it created, but for what it surrendered.

In exchange for regulatory approval and short-term survival, one of America’s most iconic media institutions agreed to abandon its own inclusion commitments, open its editorial policies to political scrutiny, and submit to oversight from a newly installed ombudsman whose sole function is to monitor the watchdogs.

It didn’t happen behind closed doors. It was done in broad daylight, with press releases and celebratory statements, as if ideological compliance were just another box to check on a corporate checklist.

Paramount could still produce diverse content. It could still elevate new voices, support complex storytelling, and serve the breadth of its audience. But under new ownership, and with political pressure looming over every decision, those possibilities are no longer a matter of mission. They’re a matter of risk tolerance.

The reality is that media doesn’t need a mandate to include marginalized communities. It needs the freedom to do so without fear of political retribution. However, in today’s landscape, freedom is the first thing to be negotiated away.

This isn’t just Paramount’s story. It’s a warning. When media survival depends on ideological surrender, journalism becomes performance, inclusion becomes tokenism, and the stories we see are shaped not by what’s true, but by what’s safe.

Bibliography:

• Shepardson, David. “FCC chair pleased with Skydance vow to make changes at CBS,” Reuters, July 24, 2025.

• “US FCC clears way for $8 billion Paramount‑Skydance merger,” Reuters, July 24, 2025.

• “Skydance to FCC: Paramount Will End DEI, Impose Controls to Ensure 'Unbiased Journalism',” TV Technology, July 24, 2025.

• “Trump’s FCC approves Skydance‑Paramount merger — with conditions about the company's content,” Business Insider, July 24, 2025.

• “Paramount gets green light for $8 billion merger. But what is the psychic cost for company?” AP News, July 26, 2025.

• “‘South Park’ creators reach $1.25 billion streaming deal with Paramount, LA Times reports,” Reuters, July 22, 2025.

• “Paramount+ wins ‘South Park’ library and new episodes after prolonged negotiations,” Reuters, July 23, 2025.