Our airwaves and digital spaces are saturated with the voices of podcasters and influencers who claim to challenge the status quo corporate establishment—exposing corruption, rank hypocrisy, moral scandal, and systemic injustice. These commentators portray themselves as beleaguered outsiders, independent thinkers forging paths to truth and accountability, and enemies of a corporate machine that prioritizes profiles over basic principles. But in reality, what have they become if not purveyors of passivity and the commodification of outrage? Rather than mobilizing their audiences for deliberate action and committed change, they encourage a culture of consumption—a cycle of listening, nodding, tossing a few dollars once in a while to keep the show going, and otherwise doing nothing much.
Exhibit A: the ongoing genocide they’ve failed to stop, nearly two years in—a slaughter that now reliably feeds their segments and sustains the outrage economy they depend on.
Consider the structure of this modern chattering class. Progressive-leaning podcasts like Glenn Greenwald's “System Update” and “Due Dissidence” may (and do) provide sharp and not seldom brilliant critiques with biting humor and merciless sarcasm. But what do they really achieve beyond entertainment? Their commentary, while often insightful, rarely inspires meaningful action. Instead, it pacifies listeners with the illusion of participation. Tuning in becomes an act of resistance in toto; subscribing becomes a substitute for solidarity.
These platforms pride themselves on their independence from corporate media. Fair enough. Yet, they have found a way to commodify dissent, turning resistance into a product sold through Patreon subscriptions, ad revenue, and branded merchandise. Dollars that could support grassroots movements, mutual aid networks, or direct-action campaigns are funneled into this perpetual content-churning machine. While the hosts critique inequality, environmental destruction, and political dysfunction, they do so from comfortable perches, sipping mugs of warm coffee or tea or bubbly soda, funded by their audiences’ donations.
The effect is pernicious. Potential activists—people with the skills, passion, and energy to drive change—are immobilized by the ceaseless consumption of commentary. These listeners, who might otherwise be organizing protests, attending town halls, or volunteering with local advocacy groups, are lulled into a sense of "enoughness." The catharsis of hearing their frustrations validated leaves them feeling as though they’ve done their part.
Take, for example, Greenwald’s “System Update.” Known for its scathing critiques of neoliberalism, the podcast attracts a loyal audience of listeners hungry for systemic change. But where does the energy of that audience go? It goes into likes, retweets, and subscriptions. Meanwhile, the transformative potential of these individuals remains untapped. Similarly, the “Due Dissidence” podcast excels at breaking down political complexities but stops short of pushing listeners toward grassroots engagement. Very rarely do they single out on-the-ground organizations that are focused on seeking political power or pushing for some structural change beyond protest and condemnation. These shows entertain and inform, but they demonstrably fail to point their audience to action.
This dynamic represents a misallocation of resources that movements for change can ill afford. Dollars spent on supporting podcasters often bypass grassroots organizations fighting for affordable housing, racial justice, or environmental sustainability. Imagine if even a fraction of the revenue generated by these platforms went directly and regularly to community bail funds, workers’ unions, or climate justice initiatives. The impact could be transformative.
Moreover, the chattering class—its sincere intentions to deliver the opposite notwithstanding—perpetuates a culture of cynicism and division. By fostering echo chambers, these platforms reinforce the belief that the system is too broken to fix, leaving listeners disheartened and disengaged from the action on the ground. The endless cycle of critique without solutions erodes hope and stifles collaboration, making it harder to imagine alternatives or take proactive steps toward change.
It really doesn’t have to be this way. The chattering class has the power to redirect its influence, to move from critique to construction. Podcasters and influencers can start by consistently pointing their audiences toward tangible actions. They can highlight organizations to join, mutual aid networks to support, or protests to attend. Regular segments could showcase success stories of activism, practical guides to organizing, or interviews with movement leaders who inspire action.
In other words, it is time for these podcasts to think strategically and to embed themselves in a value chain of change and action.
Redistributing resources is another critical step. Platforms should commit to channeling a portion of their income into grassroots efforts. For instance, a podcast like “The Majority Report” or “The MeidasTouch Podcast” could allocate a percentage of its Patreon earnings to local advocacy groups or disaster relief efforts. By forming partnerships with on-the-ground organizations, these platforms could amplify their impact and set an example for their audiences. And it’s important to remember: They are not engaged in a zero-sum game. Their partnerships with activist organizations will most probably grow their audiences with those who are engaged, creating a virtuous cycle where everyone wins in the service of the greater good.
My critique of the chattering class is not an exercise in cynicism. I watch these shows regularly, and I have deep respect for their energy and their intelligence. No, mine is a call to action and accountability. The progressive media landscape has the potential to be a powerful force for change, but only if it abandons its current entrenched performative resistance and embraces a commitment to strategic action. The challenge before us is to transform a culture of consumption into one of engagement, to channel the energy of frustration into the work of building a better world. Only then can the chattering class truly claim to be on the side of progress.
Ahmed Bouzid is the co-founder of The True Representation Movement.
