Substack has quickly established itself as a noteworthy development in the digital media landscape, offering writers, journalists and commentators a means to communicate directly with their audiences. As trust in established news institutions in the UK continues to erode—further compounded by budget cuts, closures, and the ongoing centralisation of mainstream media ownership—platforms like Substack have attracted professionals and independent voices seeking autonomy and sustainability. Its subscription-based model offers an alternative to traditional publishing structures, yet it also raises difficult questions about its inclusivity, accountability, and capacity to serve diverse communities, especially those whose experiences are frequently overlooked by the dominant media.
Substack, on first glance, appears to echo the aims of community media. Community media in the UK has long provided space for place-based and identity-led expression. Whether through community radio stations, local newspapers, or social enterprise-led podcasts, the focus has remained on facilitating access, building participation, and amplifying voices not commonly heard in mainstream discourse. In this regard, Substack’s emphasis on self-publishing and its low technical threshold seem to align with these values, offering writers from marginalised or underrepresented backgrounds the ability to communicate on their own terms.
This opportunity, however, is tempered by structural limitations that sit uneasily alongside the principles of community media. While one can imagine a Substack newsletter written by young LGB people in Northumberland or by housing activists in South Wales, such endeavours often depend on a level of resource, access, and audience connectivity that is not evenly distributed. Substack’s model, which encourages payment for subscriptions, risks excluding those with limited disposable income or those living in areas with poor digital infrastructure. This is particularly pertinent given that many people living in rural or economically deprived areas—who are often the intended audience for community-based communications—may struggle to access regular online content behind paywalls.
Whereas community radio services or local newsletters often prioritise accessibility through open formats and low-cost distribution, Substack remains tethered to digital platforms and a market-based model. The assumption that people are able—or willing—to pay for regular commentary, even from sources they value, places financial strain on both reader and writer. In turn, this creates a structural incentive for content creators to appeal to niche or paying audiences, rather than cultivating wider public dialogue.
Concerns about editorial oversight also complicate Substack’s promise. The platform is known for its hands-off approach to moderation and curation, which has attracted writers disillusioned with what they see as censorious or overly managerial environments in mainstream publishing. Yet, this freedom also comes with risks. The lack of editorial standards can lead to the spread of misinformation or the normalisation of extreme viewpoints. In the UK, this poses challenges in a context already grappling with distrust in news, politically polarised media narratives, and the absence of a strong local press infrastructure.
Community media organisations, by contrast, are typically embedded within the communities they serve. They operate within ethical and social accountability frameworks and are often regulated through their own governance arrangements or by licensing bodies like Ofcom. The balance between freedom and responsibility is handled quite differently. The absence of such frameworks on Substack means that while it can support self-expression, it can also expose vulnerable communities to harm—particularly when content reflects or encourages hate speech, misinformation, or ideological extremism.
There is also a cultural question about the nature of audience engagement. Substack allows writers to build followings and foster loyal readerships, which can support independent journalism. Yet the consequence of this model is that it encourages narrowcasting, not broadcasting. Readers subscribe to content that reflects their interests or values, potentially creating echo chambers rather than shared civic conversations. While this dynamic is not unique to Substack, it contrasts with the broader aspirations of community media in the UK, which often seek to bridge divides, build shared understanding, and encourage community cohesion.
The challenge of sustainability looms large. While a small number of UK-based writers have built significant subscriber bases, most independent voices—especially those outside the metropolitan mainstream—struggle to attract sufficient support. Writers addressing issues of class, race, disability, or rural poverty often find themselves speaking into a void, or working without the financial and institutional support available to their more established counterparts. The result is a patchwork system in which independence is only viable for a privileged few.
Nonetheless, Substack’s model is not fixed. There remains space for it to evolve into a platform that better supports the aims of public interest journalism and community storytelling. One direction might involve experimenting with different funding models, such as supporter-funded access or sponsorship mechanisms that allow those with greater means to subsidise access for others. Another might be to introduce editorial collaboration tools, allowing for team-based newsletter creation or partnerships between local journalists and community groups.
Substack could also take inspiration from UK initiatives such as the Independent Community News Network (ICNN) or the Public Interest News Foundation (PINF), which have developed frameworks to support independent, civic-minded media through training, networking, and ethical development standards. Integrating such principles into its design and governance could help Substack foster trust and ensure the platform serves more than individual reputations or marketable brands.
It might also consider how to support cross-audience dialogue by recommending content from different perspectives or communities. A reader following a newsletter about the Scottish housing crisis, for example, might benefit from exposure to related writing on rural land reform or decolonial activism in Wales. Rather than deepening divisions, the platform could act as a bridge—curating exchanges that develop mutual understanding and civic solidarity.
Ultimately, Substack’s rise should be understood not as an endpoint, but as part of a shifting ecology of media. Its promise lies not in its novelty, but in whether it can take meaningful steps to become more accessible, inclusive and responsive. If it wishes to position itself as a platform of public value, it will need to do more than replicate the market logics of commercial publishing. It will need to engage with the foundational ideas of community media—collaboration, ethics, accessibility, and social purpose—and apply them in a new digital context.
What Substack offers is not simply a new platform, but a set of possibilities. Whether those possibilities can be realised in the service of inclusive, dialogic, and civic media in the UK will depend on the choices made in its next phase of development. As the media environment continues to fragment and evolve, we should ask not only what new tools we have available, but also what kind of communication culture we want to support.
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