After a major disaster, there is a certain kind of silence. Not the kind of quiet that makes you feel good. The phones say “No Service.” Calls for help stop going through. It’s at that point where most people feel helpless.
But across the country, people of a different type are already turning a dial, adjusting an antenna, and making contact in their yards, basements, and small home radio shacks. These people are amateur radio operators, or “hams,” and it’s interesting that their time comes when everything else stops working.
It’s simple to think of ham radio as an old thing. Something that your grandfather played around with in the 1970s. For older people who have too much free time and too many antenna towers in their backyard. It makes sense to have that instinct, but it’s also getting more and more wrong.
There is more to the numbers than what they say. The FCC said that there were over 761,000 licensed amateur radio operators in the US alone by the middle of 2023. That is not a community that is dying. That is a comeback. At least some of it seems to be caused by growing worries about how weak our everyday communication systems really are.
Hurricane Maria made it very clear what was at stake. When the storm hit Puerto Rico in September 2017, it did more than just cut off power. It also cut the island off from its own voice. Damage was done to every cell tower. The Internet’s infrastructure broke down. Normal ways of talking didn’t slow down. Stopping.
There wasn’t a government emergency broadcast or a satellite service from a tech company that filled the gap. They were amateur radio operators who could get to remote areas with just a radio, some wire, and a generator in thirty minutes. An ARRL member named Joe Bassett went to Puerto Rico to help with the recovery efforts. He used powerful language to describe it: they were the light infantry of communication, holding positions until stronger systems could come back online. That picture looks almost like something from a movie, but in reality, it was hard, boring work done by volunteers without any fanfare.
From the outside, it’s easy to miss that. The best thing about ham radio is not nostalgia, but the ability to adapt. When voice communication isn’t enough, operators can send digital files and emails over improvised networks. For long-distance communication, they can switch to VHF and UHF frequencies. The tech adapts to the situation. It doesn’t need a cell tower that works, an internet connection, or a company server that stays online in a different state.
Structured volunteer networks run by groups such as ARES, SATERN, and RACES can do this. They work with the Red Cross, FEMA, and local emergency management teams. The National Weather Service gets information from SKYWARN operators about severe weather in real time. Behind the scenes at the New York and Boston Marathons, amateur radio volunteers handle communication. They do their jobs quickly and quietly, and most people who watch the races never even notice them.
Also, getting a license is easier than most people think. The FCC fee is about $14, and the Technician Class exam covers the basics. Most people can get their license in a month of focused study. It’s possible that the exam isn’t really the problem; it’s the way most people think of ham radio: as a hobby, something strange, or something optional.
That frame is changing. People who are concerned about being ready for emergencies feel that the question “what happens when the grid goes down” is no longer just a thought experiment. Communities have had to deal with that silence for long enough because of things like wildfires, hurricanes, ice storms, and broken infrastructure.
In grid-down situations, the rise of ham radio isn’t really about radio. Realizing that strong communities need ways to talk to each other that don’t depend on everything working perfectly is important. And since not everything works perfectly all the time, being able to talk to each other when the towers go dark might be one of the most useful skills someone can have.
