I am having a crisis of conscience about Substack

I stand here at the computer, half dressed, while the rest of the household sleeps. Why am I awake? Because I feel my young marriage to Substack is breaking.

I went to Substack to blog about amateur radio. I created a simple brand, crafted a simple logo (thank you, Canva), and bought a custom domain name. While making little effort to grow my subscriber base, I've watched it slowly grow from 1 person in August 2022 to 600 people today. I am still amazed that anyone would want to read what I write. I am humbled by it.

(Actually, I had more than 600 subscribers yesterday when I posted a brief note of concern on this topic to my Substack blog. Subscriber activity immediately appeared in my email inbox, with unsubscribes outnumbering new subscribers. This morning, my net subscriber base is 599 people. I've heard from several subscribers directly, with some expressing support and a few saying, essentially, if I don't want to read it, I don't, no big deal.)

I have enjoyed being an author on Substack, in the company of some great writers. I have felt emotionally attached to Substack simply because it has been such a facile, smooth platform for blogging. The uncomplicated interface makes it easier to focus on my writing. Publishing couldn't be easier: click a button to preview your work, and then click again to publish.

Perhaps because of that sense of emotional attachment, the position expressed last month by a co-founder of Substack cut deep. Substack's position crosses the line for me. It feels like betrayal, probably because I naively assumed that supporting free speech meant the same to Substack as it does to me. I was wrong.

I was raised to believe in free speech. Even when I don't agree with a person's views, I support their right to express them. But this situation with Substack makes it clearer to me that allowing any and all expression is the not same as supporting the freedom of expression.

Said United National Secretary-General António Guterres in May, 2019:

“Addressing hate speech does not mean limiting or prohibiting freedom of speech. It means keeping hate speech from escalating into something more dangerous, particularly incitement to discrimination, hostility and violence, which is prohibited under international law.”

A metaphor for my situation is, perhaps, knowing that an abusive spouse or a thief lived in your neighborhood. Once you know, then remaining silent makes you complicit in future crimes. You tacitly endorse and support those unlawful actions through inaction and silence.

Remaining silent makes you a party to the act. Remaining an author at Substack while a founder defends the monetization of hateful speech would mean I tacitly endorse his position. I don't think I can remain a Substack author while Substack chooses to not just allow hateful speech but to profit from it.

However, in my crisis of conscience, this is less about the legality of some kinds of speech and more about the morality of it. Whether or not it is legal to say hateful things, it is not right to cause harm to others. Say what you want, where you want, when you want, as long as it does not hurt others. Unlike the "sticks and stones" chant we learned as children, words do hurt. When wielded as weapons, words can cut deep. Words matter.

I've become much more aware of this over the past few years as my organization grappled with the concepts of diversity, equity, and inclusion. One of our leaders is a person of color, but not of one color, being part white, and part of a nationality founded on the other side of the globe. As we talked deeply over and over about diversity and inclusion, I learned that while this person has been able to navigate successfully in both worlds (white and not-white), feeling truly accepted by either world has never happened. This person feels they are "other" no matter where they go or who they are with. Code switching has become an embedded behavior, just to get along. In this context, words we may think of as innocent and supportive can be interpreted as hurtful and aggressive.

Words do matter, and as an author and a speaker, I must remain vigilant about how I use language. I must remain sensitive to the reality that I may, at times, say something without understanding how it affects others. It's my responsibility as a human seeking to become more aware, to continue striving to simply be and do better.

Remaining silent about a company that desires to monetize hate speech is something I cannot, and will not, do. What we say and do matters because people matter. You matter. I do a disservice to you, and to myself, if I continue to stand with Substack.

In the wee hours of this day, I find myself experiencing a crisis of conscience that seems to point to only one immediate resolution for me: leave Substack.

And so I come to Listed.to as a place I can express my thoughts. Structured more as a conversation with myself, writing this post has helped me come to grips with my own feelings about Substack's position on hate speech. I plan to act slowly, perhaps in the hope that pressure from other authors and entities will modify Substack's stance. This issue is very fresh and the Substack team deserves some grace while they wrestle with these pressures, too. Meanwhile, I'll continue to research other blogging platforms that will allow me to bring my 600 subscribers with me without requiring paid subscriptions.