The BBC: A Giant Membership Body That Struggles to Belong to Anyone

If you were asked to name the world’s largest membership body, you probably wouldn’t think of the BBC. But with over 23 million households funding its existence through the TV licence fee, it effectively functions as just that. Year after year, it collects compulsory dues from an enormous base of “members”, people who may not see themselves that way, but who collectively pay over £3 billion annually to sustain a national institution.

Yet despite this scale, the BBC often seems to satisfy almost no one. Politicians criticise it. Licence payers grumble. Young people disengage. Cultural critics either accuse it of bias or blandness; and in many ways, it offers a cautionary tale about what happens when you build a membership model on obligation rather than belonging.

For traditional membership organisations (professional bodies, non-profits, associations) there are lessons worth heeding.

The BBC’s membership is unlike any other. You don’t apply. You don’t opt in. You’re not offered a welcome pack or a personalised dashboard. You’re simply told that if you watch live TV or use iPlayer, you must pay the fee. For many, this doesn’t feel like membership at all but like taxation. And while that model made sense when the BBC was one of the only games in town, the world has changed. Choice is now the default. Netflix, Disney+, YouTube and TikTok don’t require loyalty, just attention.

That shift has exposed a widening crack in the BBC’s model. In the past five years, more than two million UK households have opted out of paying the licence fee. Last year alone, 300,000 households didn’t renew. Among younger audiences, only about a third engage with BBC content weekly. This isn’t just a drift in viewership, it’s a sign that people no longer feel connected to what the BBC offers. And when you don’t feel connected, it’s much harder to feel like a member.

At its best, membership means more than a transaction. It’s about shared values, mutual benefit, and having a say in how things are run. It’s about feeling part of something, and that is exactly where the BBC is struggling. Most licence fee payers have no meaningful influence over programming, priorities, or direction. There’s no voting, no representative assembly, no advisory forum.

The BBC speaks often of public service, but it rarely asks its public what that service should look like.

Some argue that it’s time to make BBC membership feel like actual membership. Ideas have been floated, such as mutualisation, where licence fee payers become co-owners with a voice in governance; subscription-based models that offer tiered access based on interest; or a hybrid model with a core publicly funded service and optional add-ons. None are simple. All are political. But they share a common instinct, to move from passive compliance to active participation.

And this is where traditional membership organisations can learn the most. Because if the BBC can lose trust, loyalty, and relevance despite having the biggest “membership” in the UK, so can any organisation that forgets what members actually want - to belong, to be heard, and to see value.

Many associations, too, fall into the trap of seeing membership as a financial arrangement: pay your dues, receive your benefits. But in a world where people expect choice, voice, and agency, that’s not enough. People want fair pricing. They want to know their contribution matters. They want influence, not just access, and they want to feel aligned with the mission, not just listed on a spreadsheet.

The BBC also reminds us that size doesn’t guarantee satisfaction. Having millions of members means little if most feel indifferent or disengaged. That’s why associations need to constantly rearticulate their value proposition.

• Why do you exist?

• What does membership mean?

• What is the emotional return, not just the transactional one?

Another lesson is that one-size-fits-all funding models rarely serve everyone well. The BBC’s flat fee is regressive, costing the same whether you’re a low-income household watching one programme a week, or a family streaming all day. That’s led to mounting resentment and real reputational harm. Associations, too, must revisit their pricing models. Sliding scales, usage-based tiers, or differentiated offers can better reflect the realities of their member base, and signal empathy as much as efficiency.

Above all, the BBC is a reminder that membership must be earned. A licence fee might be enforced, but trust can’t be. Loyalty must be nurtured. Value must be proven, again and again. And as people grow more sceptical of large institutions, transparency, fairness, and participation aren’t just nice-to-haves, they are essential.

The BBC has immense strengths - global reach, cultural significance, editorial independence - but if it wants to thrive in a world of choice, it must start treating its licence payers not just as funders, but as stakeholders. As members. And not just in theory but in practice.

For every other membership body watching from the sidelines, the message is clear, if the BBC, with all its prestige and visibility, can struggle to connect with its base, then none of us can afford to take our members for granted.

Membership is no longer about access to services. It’s about voice. Identity. Community. If we don’t build those things into our models now, just like the BBC we may find that we have plenty of members on paper, but not many left who feel like they belong.