What we’re seeing isn’t a gentle drift towards monetisation, it’s stacked monetisation, and it’s reached the point where it feels naked.
Once upon a time the deal was simple. You gave your time. They made something worth watching. YouTube ran ads around it. Everyone understood the trade. Then creators quite reasonably said adverts alone aren’t enough, so sponsorships crept in. Fine. A quick mention, thirty seconds, maybe a minute, crack on.
Now look at the current setup.
- You pay with your time through ads, or
- you pay with cash to remove the ads, and
- then you still sit through three minutes of VPN waffle, followed by
- a finance app pitch, followed by
- some wellness powder that looks like pond water.
That’s sometimes before the actual content starts.
And then, after all that, you’re told a big chunk of the conversation is being shown elsewhere.
- On Substack.
- On Patreon.
- Behind a paywall.
- For “supporters only”.
That’s where it tips from earning a living into taking the piss.
The Money Behind the Camera
The uncomfortable truth is this: many of these creators are no longer underpaid independents scraping by. They’re media businesses. Some of them pull in more in a week than most in their audience earns in a year.
But it’s never enough is it?
Ad revenue. Sponsorship revenue. Affiliate revenue. Brand deals. Speaking gigs. Merch. And now subscription revenue layered on top.
At that point, asking for “just another fiver” isn’t about survival. It’s about extracting maximum value from attention.
Big tech absolutely encourages this. Platforms don’t reward restraint. They reward volume, engagement, and upsells.
- YouTube makes money from ads and subscriptions.
- Patreon takes a cut.
- Substack takes a cut.
- Payment processors take a cut.
Everyone wins except the person at the bottom of the chain who already paid with time, patience, and cognitive bandwidth.
What’s Missing
What’s missing is any sense of appreciation for the audience as participants, not wallets. Watch time isn’t nothing. It’s the asset. Without it, there’s no algorithmic lift, no sponsor interest, no leverage. And yet it’s treated as the cheapest contribution, almost disposable.
Without our attention they don’t even have an audience but now they milk the very audience that put them where they are!
There’s a fair argument on the other side (sometimes if you dig).
Some creators genuinely do keep the core work free and use subscriptions to fund deeper or riskier stuff. Some are transparent about why they need it. Some don’t plaster every video with ads and sales pitches so some paid content is fair enough. That exists. But it’s no longer the norm.
The norm now is this quiet entitlement. You watched. You listened. You tolerated the interruptions. Now open your wallet again.
People aren’t stupid. They can feel when the relationship has shifted from “thanks for being here” to “how much more can we squeeze out of you before you notice“.
So yes, call it greed if you like. I certainly do. Or call it late-stage attention economics. Either way, when the middle finger comes out, it’s not because people hate paying for value. It’s because they’re tired of paying three times for the same ten minutes.
And if a creator can’t see why that leaves a bad taste, they’re too busy counting the money to notice who put it there.
Common Questions About YouTube Monetisation
Why are YouTube creators using multiple income streams now?
Platform ad revenue alone isn’t reliable or sufficient for full-time creators. YouTube’s algorithm changes constantly, demonetisation happens without warning, and ad rates fluctuate wildly. Multiple income streams (sponsorships, Patreon, merchandise) provide financial stability that ad revenue can’t guarantee.
Is it fair for creators to charge for premium content after running ads?
It depends on transparency and value. If the free content remains substantial and the paid tier offers genuinely extra work, it’s reasonable. The problem arises when the free version becomes a sales pitch for the paid version, or when audiences pay multiple times for what feels like the same content.
How much do successful YouTube creators actually earn?
Top creators can earn six or seven figures annually through combined revenue streams. Mid-tier creators with 100,000+ subscribers might make £30,000-£100,000 per year from ads, sponsorships, and memberships combined. Smaller channels often earn far less, sometimes not enough to justify the time invested.
Should I pay for YouTube Premium to support creators?
YouTube Premium does distribute some revenue to creators based on watch time, though typically less per view than ad-supported views. If you watch frequently and want an ad-free experience, it’s reasonable. But if your favourite creators rely heavily on sponsorships and Patreon, Premium won’t change their income much.
Are YouTube creators just being greedy?
Some are, some aren’t. The issue is when monetisation becomes so stacked that audiences pay with time, attention, and money repeatedly for the same content. Genuine creators who are transparent about costs and keep their core work accessible aren’t the problem. The problem is the entitled assumption that audiences owe them more after already sitting through ads and sponsorships.
