For the better part of two decades, the story of journalism has been told almost exclusively through the language of decline. Newsrooms collapsed under the weight of shrinking ad revenue. Digital pivots promised salvation and instead ushered in an era of mass layoffs, unstable business models, and content strategies engineered to appease algorithms rather than communities. Readers grew numb; writers burned out; publishers scrambled for relevance in a landscape dominated by platforms that absorbed their labor while hollowing out their value.

And yet, amid this instability, something unexpected has happened. In 2025, print magazines—long considered the doomed artifacts of a bygone era—are experiencing a cultural reawakening. Not simply as luxury objects or nostalgia pieces, but as vibrant mediums of connection, intentionality, and resistance.

In Real Life Media founder Megan Wray Schertler has become one of the clearest voices articulating this shift. Her argument is simple but profound: print never disappeared because people stopped caring about it; it disappeared because the media industry misread what audiences actually wanted. Tech, she says, promised connection but delivered fragmentation. Print, surprisingly, is the medium now stitching together the pieces.

This renaissance is not accidental. It is the product of exhaustion—an entire culture reaching the end of its tolerance for the disposable, the infinite scroll, the content glut. But it is also the product of desire: desire for credibility, for community, for slowness, for something that feels human in a world optimized for machines.

radical

To understand the moment we’re in, it helps to understand where print came from. Print magazines have always thrived in periods of cultural turbulence. They were never just vessels for information; they were incubators for identity.

In the 18th and 19th centuries, pamphlets and small journals fueled political revolutions. In the 20th century, magazines produced subcultures—jazz, punk, hip-hop, skate culture, queer culture, rave culture—long before brands or institutions recognized them. The zines of the 1970s and ’80s created entire aesthetic and ideological worlds with nothing but a Xerox machine and a defiant point of view.

The through-line in all of this is clear: print empowers voices outside the algorithm.

What made print radical then makes it radical again now. The same forces that once drove underground presses—overcentralized control, gatekeeping, a hunger for authentic expression—have returned through different machinery. Today, instead of a restrictive publishing industry, we have monopolistic platforms that gatekeep attention. Instead of censorship from institutions, we have visibility controlled by recommendation engines. Instead of limited speech, we have an abundance of noise.

In that context, the physical magazine becomes a declaration:
This is what matters enough to exist in print.
Not because it will go viral, not because the algorithm favors it, but because someone believes it has weight.

stir

Megan Wray Schertler argues that digital media’s failure is not technological—it is philosophical. Platforms claimed they would connect us, but they connected us only superficially. They amplified expression but undermined intimacy. They delivered reach but not resonance.

Social media flattened distinctions between journalism, advertising, and self-promotion. Content farms replaced reporting. Clickbait replaced curiosity. Writers learned to write for machines, not readers. Publishers reorganized themselves around metrics designed by platforms that had no stake in their survival.

The result was an information ecosystem optimized for visibility, not meaning.

And meaning, it turns out, is what people missed.

flow

Unlike digital media—which demands velocity, constant updates, and endless novelty—print is an inherently slow technology. It requires intention. It invites absorption rather than distraction.

Readers often describe a magazine as a “place”:
a mental space that feels separate from the urgency of the world.

You cannot skim a magazine the way you skim a feed. You cannot multitask through it. The physical constraints—finite pages, fixed layouts, tactile sequencing—force a kind of editorial discipline that digital platforms discourage. Print creates boundaries around attention, and boundaries are something people increasingly crave.

Attention, once a commodity, is becoming a form of self-protection.

In that sense, print has emerged as a counter-technology:
a tool not for acceleration, but for restoration.

idea

Part of the resurgence of magazines comes from the renewed value placed on physical artifacts. After years of living primarily through screens, people are gravitating back to objects that feel grounded, material, and intentional.

A magazine is not simply read—it is held.
Its weight, paper texture, and print quality communicate something about its values.
Its design becomes part of the reading experience, not incidental to it.

The most successful new magazine launches of the last five years—from niche cultural journals to independent fashion titles and hyperlocal papers—have leaned heavily into material design: unusual paper stocks, inventive layouts, print-only features, illustrations, and photography meant to be savored rather than scrolled past.

In an era defined by impermanence, the magazine stands as a document.
A record.
An artifact of a particular moment and perspective.

Digital content is designed to disappear; print is designed to persist.

commune

A recurring theme in Schertler’s work is that print magazines are fundamentally social objects—not in the algorithmic sense, but in the communal sense. They circulate. They are shared, borrowed, discovered on coffee tables, read in cafés, traded in studios. A magazine becomes a touchpoint—a literal one—through which people encounter new ideas and each other.

This is what tech platforms misunderstood.
A “share” button is not community.
A “like” is not dialogue.
A “comment” is not connection.

Community is built through context and continuity, both of which print uniquely supports. Issue by issue, a magazine constructs an ongoing conversation with its readers, not because it wants to maximize their time spent on platform, but because it wants to deepen their relationship with the content and the world it describes.

Many independent publishers report that readers engage with print far more deeply than with digital issues. They read more stories, finish more features, and spend more time with each page. The value is emotional, not transactional.

fwd

Ironically, the media industry’s collapse has made print more viable for those who approach it with a clear vision. During the 2000s, mass-market print depended on large advertising budgets and huge circulation numbers that have since evaporated. But the era of the “vanity metric” is over. Today’s successful magazines are built on smaller, highly engaged audiences willing to support creators directly.

Print runs are intentionally limited. Issues sell out. Subscribers invest in the publication as a cultural object, not a disposable commodity.

This economic model mirrors the broader cultural shift toward premium, intentional media consumption. The same audience that pays for Substack newsletters, Patreon memberships, or boutique streaming services is the audience willing to pay $18, $25, or even $50 for a beautifully crafted magazine.

Print has become a form of membership—a token of belonging.

style

Crucially, the resurgence of print does not signal a rejection of digital media; rather, it signals a rebalancing. The most dynamic publications today choreograph both mediums strategically.

Digital platforms extend reach and enable immediacy.
Print anchors depth, permanence, and intimacy.

Some magazines release digital-first stories that later become print features. Others use print exclusively for long-form work while maintaining digital newsletters for timely updates. Many build around events—launch parties, panel discussions, reading groups, community gatherings—that reinforce the social dimension of the publication.

This hybrid strategy reflects a new understanding:
print is not the opposite of digital. Print is what digital cannot be.

reclaim

Perhaps the most compelling argument for the return of print is that it offers something digital media is structurally incapable of offering: a space free from algorithmic control.

In print, nothing is optimized for engagement.
Nothing is pushed up or buried down based on user behavior.
Editors—not algorithms—decide what deserves attention.

This editorial autonomy is a form of resistance against a media ecosystem that prioritizes speed over substance, controversy over rigor, and consumption over comprehension.

In a moment when AI-generated content floods the internet, the physical magazine becomes a declaration of human authorship—proof that the work was made with intention, labor, and care.

Print is not efficient.
And that inefficiency is precisely the point.

why

Schertler’s argument ultimately returns to a simple idea: in a fragmented world, print offers coherence. Not the false cohesion of a social feed, but the considered coherence of a curated whole. A magazine is an argument about what matters. It is a worldview bound between covers.

Print magazines remind us that information has texture, that stories have weight, that culture is built not only through what is said but how it is arranged, framed, and held.

Tech promised to connect us, but often left us isolated within our personalized bubbles. Print connects us through shared experience—something read, passed on, returned to, remembered.

It is connection not as convenience, but as craft.

fin

The comeback of print is not a retro fad. It is a recalibration of our relationship to media, culture, and each other. It signals a growing recognition that the things we value—clarity, trust, focus, storytelling—are not easily engineered into digital platforms driven by scale and automation.

Touching paper means touching intention.
Touching history.
Touching community.

It reminds us that media is not just information—it is an experience.

The promise tech could not fulfill, print quietly, defiantly, is fulfilling again:
Connection.

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