Warner Bros. Discovery’s board stunned many when it picked Netflix’s mixed cash-and-stock offer over the Ellisons’ higher all-cash bids, a choice the company says preserves shareholder value by spinning off linear networks while selling the studio and streaming arm. The Netflix proposal values the assets differently and, according to insiders, the board concluded that shareholders would ultimately be better off with the structure Netflix presented than with Paramount’s straight cash approach.
On paper Paramount’s $30-per-share all-cash offer looked cleaner and immediately more lucrative, but Netflix’s $27.75-per-share mix included Netflix stock and a plan to separate the legacy cable networks into a public company — a math the Warner board evidently preferred. That financial gymnastics and the promise of future upside from Netflix’s platform convinced directors more than the short-term certainty of cash.
Yet the choice reeks of the same Silicon Valley-style dealmaking that has hollowed out American institutions — handing our cultural crown jewels to a streaming behemoth that already wields enormous influence over culture and content. Regulators and rival bidders have warned this marriage could draw antitrust scrutiny precisely because it markedly reshapes market share and bargaining power across Hollywood. Conservatives should be skeptical of any consolidation that concentrates entertainment, data, and cultural gatekeeping in fewer hands.
Complicating the drama, Paramount’s hostile bid was bankrolled by major Gulf sovereign funds and briefly featured financing linked to Chinese titan Tencent, which pulled back amid national security fears. Those foreign backers reportedly agreed to relinquish managerial rights to avoid additional regulatory review, underscoring how fraught and politicized the financing for a domestic media takeover has become. Americans deserve transparency when foreign capital circles our cultural infrastructure.
Let’s be blunt: Warner’s board chose a deal that lines up with the coastal, tech-first vision of media’s future instead of a straightforward cash sale championed by serious bidders who pledged to preserve and invest in the studio’s legacy. For shareholders this may be defensible on spreadsheet terms, but for patriotic Americans who care about healthy competition, independent studios, and a diversity of voices, it’s cause for alarm. The people running our biggest cultural platforms shouldn’t be insulated from public scrutiny simply because their spreadsheets are slick.
The Ellisons — led by real-pocketbook capital and decades of private-sector experience — repeatedly put forward all-cash offers that signaled a willingness to take the long view on studios and theatrical distribution, something streaming-only bidders historically undervalue. If Washington wants to preserve a robust American entertainment industry that isn’t completely reshaped by a handful of streaming platforms, the Ellison bids deserve a fair hearing, not a quick dismissal framed as “complex financial logic.”
This fight isn’t over and won’t be anytime soon: Warner expects the earliest conceivable closing only after a planned spin-off of cable assets in mid-2026, and the process will be littered with regulatory reviews, shareholder agitation, and political noise. Shareholders must demand straight answers from the board about why they rejected the higher-cash path, and lawmakers should make sure the lens of oversight is focused squarely on market concentration and national interest.
Patriots should watch this closely and refuse to treat media consolidation as merely a financial exercise. Our cultural sovereignty, artistic liberty, and the marketplace of ideas are at stake when a streaming titan swallows centuries of cinematic history. It’s time for shareholders, regulators, and concerned citizens to push back and insist that any blockbuster deal preserves competition, creative independence, and American values.
