Substack is Still Social Media
And so let's treat it as one
For myself, Substack is a paradox.
On the one hand, Substack has liberated writers from having to submit to vain and conformist traditional publishers, who happily constrict our creative or intellectual message for political reasons. We can now find our own audience, even in obscure niches, and monetise our work. Though few can make a living, the pathway to writerly independence does exist. For readers, no longer must we sit frustrated at the propaganda of mainstream journalism, or shake our heads embarrassed at the infantile expressions of ‘modern art’. Here, we see an online group consciousness flourishing due to the harmonic tensions between the raw individuality allowed to be expressed. As life degrades into the flat mundane of a post-meaning world, Substack has provided foundations for vertical growth, connections that might inspire a new artistic and intellectual revolution.
For all the above, and much more, I am incredibly grateful.
On the other hand, Substack, while being far and away, at least to me, the most elegant and least invasive, still employs techniques typical of Social Media. It uses algorithms, based on taste, to present you content which can push you into cyber-silos. It has ‘likes’, ‘comments’ and ‘shares’, expressed as notifications, which satisfy our basic dopaminergic urges in a thoroughly unnatural manner. It promotes the controversial and political over the considered and nuanced, thus encouraging clickbait. It has analytics, like subscriber count and viewership over time, that pander to your insecure writer-ego. There are more, but all of these, are designed to keep you on the platform in different ways, to keep you here instead of doing other things that may be far more beneficial to your psychological health, and therefore your life and the people close to you.
As someone who has always been critical of smart-phone technology and social media, years before any data existed that their overuse can damage individuals and society, who as a late teens to mid-twenties ‘socialite’, deactivated my Facebook, and lived three years without a phone entirely, it was clear to me that Substack, for all its benefits, needed to treated as the thing it actually is: A Social Media. A relatively good Social Media, yes, but Still A Social Media.
Within less than a month of posting regularly, I was scrolling the notes feed like a fiend. I tried to alleviate the cognitive dissonance in my mind: For so long I had mocked doom-scrollers, labelling them as indistinguishable from drug addicts. Instead, I told myself Substack was different. My scrolling was important. I needed to react to things, to comment, share my insights - to develop my brand. And if I didn’t scroll, how would I see that incredible article or short story that would blow my mind?
It was all bullshit. I was addicted to the scroll, just like the neck-broken instagram scrollers on the bus or the plane. Just like those weird families I saw who wouldn’t talk to each other at restaurants. I was reading books less, my sleep was disturbed, I was more irritated because I was more aware of how barely anyone read my articles or was subscribing to my Substack. It effected my day to day living. I hate being dependent on anything, after being dependent on several substances throughout my life, and so understanding that my dopamine system had become intertwined with the inherent features of Substack, was essential to changing my relationship with it.
And let’s be clear: It’s not like it was a bad addiction. Likely, no one beside from myself, even noticed the negative consequences. However, I wondered what would happen if I lacked this awareness - what if instead of spending two or three hours a day on Substack, it was five, six, seven? What if when I posted an article that no reads, it destroyed my motivation for weeks, instead of being minor irritation that lasts less than a day? I could imagine myself becoming dependent on the platform in a psychologically damaging way, like any heavy user of Social Media.
I have deleted Substack from my phone, like all the other Social Media and Entertainment apps. Instead of going on Substack before bed, I have returned to reading books, that frankly, nourish my intellectual and artistic curiosity more than 99% of the articles on here. While I do now read less articles overall, I still read the very best ones, those that intrigue me the most, often from those writers I value the most. My own likes, comments, and shares, are far more selective as a result. To minimise scrolling and time-wasting, my home page is my inbox, not the notes feed. This change alone, along with a conscious effort to not look at notes, has done wonders for my ‘Substack experience’. I see far less peacocking and political nonsense - just like the old days of Substack. The largest drawback is having ‘less of a presence’. It may harm my growth, I’m not sure, but I feel if I use the platform efficiently, it shouldn’t matter too much.
Overall, my decision to somewhat withdraw from Substack, to use it less, and when I do so, more efficiently, has definitely improved my day to day life.
I am highly suspicious of smart-phones and social media. I believe they harm individuals and society, despite their benefits. If they weren’t here, people would be happier and living more fulfilling lives. I have gone to marked lengths in the past to eradicate the negative consequences of their use on my life. Yet, Substack has risen as an online protectorate for the artistic and intellectual dissident, and has enabled the experience of beauty and insight I thought not possible in an online world. As such, my dream is somewhat bound to its fate. As I write these words, I am torn from within by a paradox: The paradox of using a social media despite despising social media.
Blindly using Substack seems a fool’s errand, yet forgoing taking advantage of such a liberating online platform is as foolish, if not more so.
If Substack is here to stay, then I, and whoever else feels the same, needs to treat it as what it is: A Social Media.
We need to stay wary.
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Chur, and have a good day and night,
The Delinquent Academic
This was a timely read for me. I’ve started noticing how being on notes feels similar to the other social media I intentionally limit or avoid.
In my opinion, Substack has two disparate experiences: notes, which are often accompanied by regret; and reading articles which I rarely—if ever—regret, instead, I tend to feel ‘nourished’ and/or glad afterwards.
I also have the protective mechanism against notes—loading my inbox by default—which provides some added friction.
It’s a shame notes make me treat Substack like typical social media apps. I wonder whether my usage will decrease due to aiming to limit—or avoid—notes.
I wrote an article which has a similar theme to this one which you may enjoy or get something from (although it sounds like you have already enacted much of the advice): https://oliweatherall.substack.com/p/add-friction-get-unhooked
A timely reminder.