Take Down Your Walls

A letter to the Left on Substack

The second Trump administration is deploying political strategist Steve Bannon’s “flood the zone” technique even more viciously than it did the first time around. “Flooding the zone” is no doubt inspired by Putin’s “firehose of falsehood” propaganda tactic which aims to overwhelm citizens with information and disinformation so as to impeach meaningful attempts to create a cohesive understanding of what is going on and, of course, opposition. Trump’s playbook, though, is not merely about information, but active policy attacks across multiple sectors, institutions, groups and even the constitution itself so that organisers are forced to split their attention, thus reducing the potential swell of collective response.

And that is exactly what they’ve achieved. When, more than ever, we need a grounded understanding of what is going on — coordinated through collective dialogue — the intellectual opposition to egomaniacal fascistic oligarchy is fractured. The opposition is flooding the zone as much as the bastards in power.

It’s understandable, of course, that people want to grasp at a sense of understanding in what is perhaps the most destabilising event in recent Western history. We are desperate to know what the fuck is going on because it seems a-historical, as if we’ve jumped from a timeline of civil progress into one of authoritarian oppression. But while this desire is normal the result is a snowstorm of analysis from thousands of individual voices attempting to fill the gaps which are so threatening we feel we could fall into them. It’s making it hard to parse what is going on, especially as so much of this analysis is couched in hierarchies, with pundits offering the reason rather than acknowledging their role in adding a piece of information to a necessary ecosystem of information.

A few things in particular have exacerbated this. Since January, former social media users have flooded to Substack, likely because the enclosure of those platforms feels imminent. Since Musk bought Twitter, he has actively suppressed Leftist voices, penalised article links, and rampaged to turn Twitter into the digital public square it can never be with a King at its helm.

Journalists, too, are under attack in the United States and while layoffs have been commonplace for a few years now, Trump is actively undermining national broadcasters and legacy media. Many are now drastically trying to build up their own audience in the event they lose their jobs for voicing dissent.

This means that, rapidly, Substack is home to what feels like everyone. That should be a good thing. It could be a good thing. But given the expectation that paid newsletters produce something original at least once per week, the deluge is enormous. Those that produce news are more valuable than ever before, but they are being drowned out in a chorus which would perhaps be better suited to organising on the ground against material threats and taking a step back until all the pieces come into view, achieved by cross-pollinating dialogue. But that doesn’t generate revenue in the subscription age.

You know what does? Paywalls. I am personally quite dismayed to see voices who preach collectivism and wealth redistribution hide their analysis behind paywalls. Often, it’s the bigger names who can afford to do this because their reputation precedes them. This means that only those who can afford the information can access it, which, to me, seems quite antithetical to anti-capitalist values. It also means that subscribers are having to choose between the writers they support. The big names are sucking up the available resources.

I got lucky by joining Substack some years ago and building up a solid audience. Despite the millions of users I am only one of 17,000+ who earn money from their newsletter. It has allowed me to put a great deal of effort into it, take time to write a book, and launch a self-funded documentary series. All of which, to be clear, is possible because I don’t have any debt (including a mortgage), base myself in countries cheaper than the one I hail from, and don’t have dependents.

But, while Planet: Critical’s earnings are healthy, its revenue growth has stalled over the past three months. This is despite having more free subscribers sign up then ever before, about 3000+ per month. I am not the only journalist who is reporting the same thing. In quiet conversations, we note how we work for donations to ensure the information we’re producing is available to everyone, no matter their income. There has never been, and will never be, paywalls on Planet: Critical. Nobody will ever be priced out. Substack likes to remind me regularly I am losing out on revenue because of this. That lost revenue is less important than my politics.

There are some hugely important Substacks which paywall the occasional article to drive necessary revenue, others which paywall old news articles. There are others where everything is paywalled, even more where most is paywalled and, in these cases, I find it difficult to understand the logic. If you believe you are a critical voice producing important analysis or news which will help people make sense of what is happening — then open up and let people in. Doing so won’t only help more readers, it will help the wider chorus of voices who have valuable information to share. It will foster more dialogue, more community and more cohesive, collective analysis.

The subscription era will surely come to an end if we continue as such. Who can afford 10 different $8 subscriptions to different newsletters? Let alone on top of a paper subscription, streaming services, music libraries, and then all the bills necessary to survive? Scarcity is only hastening the crisis of subscriptions, meaning that what could have been a phenomenal ecosystem of collective information — moulded by a true “hand of the market”, so to speak — will become monopolies of individual voices who drive diversity out of the square.

From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs. I hope that, by being open access, the reader who loves Planet: Critical but can only afford one $8 per month subscription can instead support a smaller but equally valuable newsletter. I consider my work in relationship with everyone else who is working to shine a light in the dark. Knowing no single person can ever hope to illuminate everything, I understand the other writers and thinkers — and our shared readership — as vastly important in driving collective consciousness and thus buttressing the work I do. If I was the only person banging on about how the planetary crisis intersects with our economic system, for example, nobody would pay any attention! Our voices implicitly carry one another. I would like to see our newsletter ecosystem do the same.

If independent media treats itself as independent from that wider web of knowledge then the web will come apart. I understand, and firmly believe, that people should be paid for the work they do (at least in this economic system). But if you think your work is of value then remove your paywalls and believe in your community’s ability to see its value. You will probably earn a bit less money than before, yes. But if you can afford to take the hit you’re opening up avenues of resources for other writers here whose voices are just as important as yours.

I am deeply proud of Planet: Critical’s commitment to the ecosystem. I earn less than I could but more than I need. That’s how I launched Planet: Coordinate, self-funding a series of documentaries about communities across the Global South who are organising for a world in crisis. I have been blown away by the Planet: Critical community’s willingness to pay for something that is free, and the awareness that, by doing so, they are supporting those who could not afford to get past a paywall. Our community is across 184 countries and we have readers with very little purchasing power. By investing in this platform, my community invests in their brothers and sisters around the world, people I can now directly redistribute to by platforming their voices and struggles with the documentary series.

All that to say, it is possible —“it” meaning community, redistribution, belief and support. And it is wonderful because there are so many wonderful people out there, including the writers with paywalls. But we cannot build a wonderful world with a pay-to-play ethos. Liberation, surely, is about taking down the walls that divide us. In the world of newsletters, that means paywalls, too.

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