In a recent article, [Lit Mag News](https://litmagnews.substack.com/p/q-whats-your-reaction-to-the-nea) summarized an unusual trend of online support within the poetry community for DOGE’s cancellation of federal grants to prominent literary magazines. The abrupt revocation of NEA funding from many prominent lit mags, such as *American Short Fiction*, *ZYZZYVA*, *Electronic Literature*,* n+1*, and *The Paris Review, *was easy to see coming, given the wave of grant cancellations leading up to it. And as it came amidst [hundreds of cancellations](https://substack.com/redirect/3104218d-6f15-4cd1-88e3-23e9093f7a5b?j=eyJ1IjoiMWNldzN4In0.FHtn2I8kX-pixi11F-mn4XANdkpgXEwPwdtxhqP_htQ) for lesser-known arts organizations, it’s jolting to find writers willing to openly applaud the cuts. Elite journals are the gatekeepers of literary prestige, and if you’re reading this, you’ve likely never had a piece accepted by one of them, and not for a lack of trying. These mastheads boast substantial budgets built on long-running, diverse income streams. In addition to the grants, they draw from subscriptions, advertising, contests, and submission fees. It’s that final line-item that draws the most ire. If these journals only published fee-based writers, and made everyone wait in the same 9-month long queue, that would be one thing. But they also have a VIP list. Those writers skip the line and the fee because they—or their agents—know the right people. Such double-dealing is bound to create resentment, and in our 47th presidential era, trust in meritocratic institutions is not exactly in vogue. It’s ([with apologies to Frost](https://archive.dartmouthalumnimagazine.com/article/1963/3/1/robert-frost-on-extravagance)) about the grievance, not the grief. During the COVID lockdowns, many of us lonely writers sent out a flurry of submissions while trapped in our basements and apartments. The combination of isolation and rejection is a toxic one. Still, it’s heartbreaking to see an otherwise progressive-minded person, such as some of the indie publishers quoted in the piece—the kind who would readily decry the loss of grants to science and medicine—touchdown-dance the same thing when it happens to literature. Many of us have long wondered why so many Americans gleefully vote against their own self-interest. Wonder no more! I am not going to defend the status quo nor will I argue that with just a little bit of tinkering, these literary journals could be reformed. But I am also agnostic as to how *relatively *unfair the current system is as compared to others. Does anyone really want to go back to the days of open exclusion of Blacks, gays, Jews, and women? And is literary publishing any less shady than other comparable segments of the arts and entertainment industry? Compared with Sean Combs and Harvey Weinstein, our moguls are pretty tame. The “elite” editors I’ve met have all been dedicated and humble in the face of long hours, low pay, and largely thankless work. The overriding reform mandate for the past twenty-odd years has been to diversify the backgrounds of the writers and editors themselves—and whether you believe they have made enough headway in that department now appears to be increasingly irrelevant. Counterintuitively, opening up the playing field, combined with rising electronic submissions, has made the submissions game significantly more competitive, and cultivating favors is now as important as it ever was. *Mutatis mutandis*. The end of the 20th century gave rise to a legion of purportedly “value-neutral” journals in the *Ploughshares* mold—ones with no stated ideological or aesthetic axe to grind that just so happened to be very good at raising grants. They also published some exceptionally fine writing. Perhaps, come President 48 (should we ever manage to get there), things will return to business as usual. But reading the tea leaves of populist disgust, I can’t possibly imagine it. So why dwell on these literary mastodons? A new generation of writers demands more transparency from their journals, while readers crave a more frank articulation of the mission. Publishers and editors need to build the case that their journal serves some purpose besides buttering the bread. “Art for art’s sake” doesn’t cut it anymore. It’s too cosseted, too insular, and yes, more than a little condescending. Ironically, many of the canceled grants were focused on outreach and expanding audiences for the arts, not on lining the pockets of establishment writers and editors. Poets and literary publishers will need to keep fighting to communicate that our art matters.