You’ve probably watched, with a mix of frustration and déjà vu, as another government tries to force tech giants to pay for news. Australia just passed a law that levies companies like Google and Meta if they don’t cough up. It sounds noble—save journalism, hold Big Tech accountable. But if you’ve been paying attention, you know this is a disaster waiting to happen.
Here’s the uncomfortable truth that lawmakers refuse to see: Tech platforms don’t need your news. Your news needs them. The entire structure of the internet is built on distribution monopolies. When you demand payment from a platform that controls 90% of search traffic or social feeds, they have a simple, brutal response: delisting. They’ll cut off your traffic, and your news organization will die faster than any government subsidy can revive it.
This isn’t speculation. Canada tried this in 2023 with the Online News Act (Bill C-18). Meta immediately blocked news for Canadian users. Google threatened to do the same. The result? The biggest legacy publishers—the ones with the best lobbyists—got paid. The smaller outlets, the independent journalists, the local papers? They got delisted and erased. The law didn’t save journalism; it protected the monopolies that killed it.
Now Australia is repeating the same mistake, but with a twisted twist. The law functions less as a protector of journalism and more as a cartel-enforcement mechanism. It funnels money to the top 3-4 legacy media giants who lobbied for it, while actively harming the very outlets it claims to help. The little guys—the ones doing real investigative reporting—get their traffic cut off because they can’t afford a deal with Google.
Let me be blunt: this is the frustration of watching outdated, lobbied government interventions fail to grasp modern digital power dynamics. The emotional hook here is real. You’ve seen it before—the 2008 financial crisis bailouts that saved the banks, not the homeowners. The data privacy laws that gave us pop-ups, not protection. The AI regulation talk that will likely end up protecting incumbents.
Why does this matter to you? Because the next battle is over AI training data, digital markets, and platform governance. If we don’t learn from Australia’s mistake, we’ll repeat it at scale. We need to stop pretending that leverage works the same way it did in the 20th century. Tech giants hold structural leverage because they control distribution. You cannot tax your way out of that power imbalance. You can only negotiate from a position of strength—and news organizations are not in that position.
The real lesson? The law doesn’t save journalism. It creates a cartel with a government stamp, enriches the already-rich publishers, and squeezes the independent voices that actually need protection. The next time you hear a politician promise to ‘make Big Tech pay for news,’ remember: they’re not fighting for the little guy. They’re fighting for the lobbyists who bought their pen.
FAQ
Q: What would a skeptic say about this article's claim that the law is a cartel?
A: A skeptic might argue that the law is necessary to redistribute value from platforms that profit from news without paying. They'd say it's not a cartel because it's government-mandated, and that legacy publishers are simply the most efficient at negotiating. But the evidence from Canada shows that smaller outlets lose access, and the law's design favors those with lobbying power—exactly how a cartel works.
Q: What is the practical implication for journalists and news startups?
A: If you run a small or independent news outlet, this law is a threat. You likely won't get a deal with Google or Meta, and your content will be delisted, cutting off your primary traffic source. The practical move is to diversify distribution channels—newsletters, direct subscriptions, community platforms—and to lobby against laws that look like help but actually concentrate power.
Q: What's the contrarian take on this article?
A: The contrarian view is that this law is a necessary first step in rebalancing power between platforms and publishers. Even if it benefits big players initially, it sets a precedent that platforms must pay for content. Over time, the framework could be adjusted to include smaller outlets. But the article's point stands: the current design is structurally flawed, and without changes, it will harm the journalism it claims to save.