I originally wrote this piece about Substack, but once I decided to publish it here, I realized it applies to HiveBlog just as easily. The same question comes up: what kind of “country” is Hive, and how do we bring more citizens in?
People migrate online the same way they do in the real world. They leave old places behind when the landscape shifts, when the economy changes, when something new calls them forward. This whole phenomenon fascinates me, so I’m pretty sure I’ll end up writing a part two.
I hope you enjoy the text.
I’ve started to realize that social media platforms are a bit like countries.
Each one has its own culture, its own unspoken rules, its own way of being.
Some people belong naturally in one place, some migrate restlessly from one to another. Some are old, some young, some full of promise, some quietly dying off. And like countries, they evolve. Sometimes peacefully, sometimes with drama.
Take Substack, for example. I haven’t been here for long, but it’s fascinating how emotional people get when the culture starts to shift. A single design change or a wave of new users can cause a full-blown identity crisis.
It reminds me of what happens when any place becomes unsustainable. People start leaving.
When the economy breaks, when the cost of living rises, when the “quality of life” (or, in this case, the creator economy) collapses, people migrate.
That’s what’s happening now with big creators leaving YouTube and TikTok. It’s not about trends. It’s about survival. It’s about money.
On TikTok, the competition has become gruesome. Millions of creators post daily, but once you finally cross that magical threshold where you can monetize, you realize it’s already too late. The money’s gone thin.
Because there are too many creators and not enough cash to go around.
Most of what platforms pay comes from advertising, the corporate money that trickles down through algorithms like crumbs on a table. When there’s more content than there is ad money, the crumbs shrink.
So creators are forced to ask: how do I actually make a living now?
That’s where Substack enters the scene. It offers something refreshingly direct. No ads, no brands, just people paying people. If you’ve got a loyal audience, they’ll pay for your words, your videos, your photos, for you.
It’s a fascinating creature right now.
Substack feels alive, morphing between writing, video, and photography, a creative playground.
But I can’t help wondering what happens when too many people flock in. How will that affect the economy of this space?
Right now, there are no ads, thankfully. It’s purely reader-supported, which is beautiful, but maybe fragile. Because no matter how romantic it feels, sustainability always catches up to idealism.
And somewhere out there, the next big platform is already being built.
The next TikTok. The next digital country waiting for migrants.
We’ve seen this story before. Facebook is already fading into the sunset, its user base aging, its culture stale. It’s like a country that’s stopped having children; the population simply won’t renew itself.
So what will happen here, on Substack?
In just a few weeks, I’ve noticed the front page shifting. Notes dominate. Articles sprinkle through like old villages between sprawling suburbs. There’s already a formula, a way to grow here. Even the “anti-performance” crowd, the ones saying close your social media and read 15 books, end up performing that message on social media.
It’s all a bit ironic.
And kind of poetic.
Maybe every platform eventually becomes a stage.
And maybe we’re all just performers looking for a new country to call home.
I have never been on substack, but if many users go there to create, there ends up being more creators than payers. I have never been on onlyfans either, but it is a good example of what happens, since all the articles of performers earning millions, hundreds of thousands and tens of thousands each month, the reality is that the average creator gets between $150-180 per month. That is the average, so once factoring in all the high earners, most creators get far less than the average.
And this is the problem with these platforms that have the only reason to be there is to earn, because once it is popular, it gets flooded and kills it for the majority of users. None if it is sustainable.
A platform has to be compelling enough for people to use it, without expecting to earn, or survive off it. Hive is pretty good at this, though it would be far better with a few more hundred thousands of users who are willing to put a little bit in, and interact a lot.
And as far as countries go, they don't die because people are invested into them. They have their houses, property, their family, their businesses there. On the majority of the platforms, the user owns nothing, not even their own content. And when it comes to earning, the platform can take that away with a click. So it is easy to move from platform to platform, because ownership isn't there for creator or audience. Everyone is a renter, beholden to the platform gods.
Again, this is why I like the concept of Hive, where everyone can be an owner.
You’re right that platforms can fail when they chase only earnings, but Substack works differently than the examples you mentioned. Most content there is free, and the whole system is built on long term relationships with readers, not mass monetization. That is why even creators like Dolly Parton use it. The ecosystem is built around trust, connection, and direct ownership.
Also, about the comparison to countries. Governments absolutely can destabilize a whole society and take everything from citizens. History has shown many times that national systems are not guaranteed safety or ownership either. So the difference is not that countries are perfectly safe and platforms are not. The difference is where real agency lies.
Substack gives creators more actual ownership and stability than most platforms, because the audience connection is direct and not dependent on algorithms or ads.