Pseudo-Intellectualism: The Superficial Writer Uprise

I have been a user of Substack for nearly three years, and I have developed a love-hate relationship with the site. The app sits dormant on my phone, waiting for my once-a-month login and quick scan for any new articles that might be of interest. I enjoy articles that dig a little deeper than a piece on "Wintering: the Art of Hibernation." Launched in 2017, Substack was founded to give writers a platform to monetize fairly from their work. Built on the idea that writers should be in control of their own work, Substack was advertised to be a direct connection between writers and their readers, bypassing the idea of an algorithm. Now, Substack has surpassed 50 million active subscribers.

The idea of Substack once felt revolutionary: it is an easy way to consume content, free of ads, content stagnation, and inauthenticity. However, there is another side to Substack that can be found after only a small amount of research; a side riddled with literary impostors and pretentious writing. So, is Substack really a platform that showcases genuine talent, or is it just another way for the common dilettante to make a profit?

I can appreciate a decent article title. It is the hook that catches a reader's eye. Substack writers have perfected this art, with "Unrot your brain," "You Don't Need to Document Everything," and "Your Phone Is Why You Don't Feel Sexy" being in my top three. But any Substack user has to ask themselves a question before committing to the site wholeheartedly: Is reading an article a day really making me "disgustingly educated," as TikTok has recently made popular? Or is it just a sign of a rise in pseudo-intellectualism? The truth is, to become genuinely educated on the world's happenings, a person doesn't need to consume an article on "The Top 10 Baby Tees for Summer," they need a subscription to The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, or The Washington Post.

Journalism isn't always reading articles done by a performative Carrie Bradshaw about the experience of being the independent older daughter; it is often reporting on the poverty-stricken state in South Sudan, or the DOJ. Becoming educated goes beyond a few Substack articles and interviews. You have to spend years reading true literature and broadening your personal identity, learning critical thinking, and gaining deeper knowledge. Substack gives people the illusion that they know more than they do, spurred on by superficial writers who use buzzwords and complex references in an attempt to appear wiser. Alas, Substack has become what TikTok is for the film and video industry: a substitute that banks on the fact that society's attention span is waning. Substack is the TikTok for writers.

The platform, although oversaturated with a plethora of people who are inspired by the romance of journalism (fast-tracked by 90s movies), does feature some writers who are covering current events. These figures, such as Julie K. Brown, are covering topics such as Jeffrey Epstein's sex trafficking network and the institutional failure of the criminal justice system. Amongst the general empty content on Substack, you can find writers just like Brown, who are utilizing the platform as a way to bring awareness to global events. This is the critics' greatest argument: that it is better to have 50 million active writers than no writers at all. But the question must be asked, is the general amount of writing being published bettering the world as a whole, or just contributing to the information that has been circulating for decades, under the guise of new, novel ideas? Is Substack a place where aspiring writers go to regurgitate topics that have already been written about a million times over?

There is a fine line between passion for writing and reporting, and just sharing opinionated pieces based on something inspired by a TikTok. If someone has a firm enthusiasm for writing, shouldn't we normalise having personal websites where the writing is posted directly to an audience who is invested in the writer's work and talent? Substack has the potential to be an incredible tool for those who really want to write, but it must first be distinguished from those who view it as just an aesthetic, like any other media platform.

Traditional media, such as articles in The New York Times, can be up to twenty minutes long to read. Podcasts under The New York Times can be double that length, proving the amount of genuine media there is to consume. It comes down to attention span. It is a step in the right direction to broaden your sights on reading two or three Substack articles a day, but if they all equal thirty minutes combined (at most), you are only consuming the equivalent of not even a quarter of an average book. I know people who are unable to sit through a film that is over two hours long, simply because they get uninterested. This is one of the world's problems (albeit a small one, I know), and it is important for the feeling of delayed gratification to be normalised once more. The craving for instant gratification will be the death of long-form media.

Substack isn't the problem: how we use it is. Ultimately, it is just another site that can be directed by those who use it, either as a platform for serious writers or as proof of shrinking attention spans. Substack does showcase genuine talent, but it can also lack a certain type of depth and discernment. It comes down to what the consumer deems as relevant and educational. Maybe we need to redefine what it means to be "disgustingly educated," and focus on bringing back media that forces us to sit with ourselves for longer than thirty minutes.