As soon as Crikey broke the story on Thursday 4 September, reaction was swift. Social media lit up. Other news outlets fell over themselves to find out why one of Australia’s most important cultural institutions was ceasing publication. Clearly, Meanjin means a hell of a lot – to a hell of a lot of people.

Professor Marcia Langton was one of many eminent writers and academics to make their feelings known, writing on LinkedIn that, “This is a significant loss to the literary community. As a contributing author, I cannot fathom why this journal, steeped in Australian literary traditions, innovations, and history, cannot be rescued.”

On the same platform, longtime supporter Copyright Agency wrote that it was “saddened by the announcement” and that “the closure of such an essential journal represents a great loss to the Australian literary sector.”

For over 80 years, Australian writers, academics, poets and essayists have found in Meanjin a crucible for pushing creative boundaries and expressing challenging ideas. Past contributors include not only West Australians such as Tim Winton and John Kinsella but other literary giants like Alexis Wright, Helen Garner, David Malouf and Patrick White. 

Founded in 1940 by Clem Christesen in Brisbane, Meanjin – the name derives from a word in the Turrbal/Yuggera language for the land on which Brisbane is located – was initially a journal of poetry before expanding to include a broad range of contemporary thinking on literature, art, and broader social issues. It moved to Melbourne in 1945 at the invitation of the University of Melbourne.

Since then, it has provided an important forum for critical discussion, a foil to perceived anti-intellectualism, a vital space for conversations around national identity, colonialism, and the championing of marginalised voices including First Nations writers.

Published as a quarterly print edition, Meanjin’s contents are also freely available in digital form. All these literary treasures, many of which evolved into larger stand-alone publications, are therefore available to everyone, any time. What a legacy.

In an open letter to University of Melbourne Vice Chancellor Professor Emma Johnston AM, the signatories of which are mounting exponentially, WA novelist and poet and Book of the Year winner in the recent WA Premier’s Book Awards Alan Fyfe wrote: 

“We, the undersigned writers and literary workers, are saddened and distressed by the closure of one of Australia’s longest standing literary journals, Meanjin. Many things could be said about the continuing quality and esteem the journal is held in, but one simple truth remains: in a shrinking circle of chances for publication and exposure for writers in this country, we can’t afford to lose any outlets for our work, let alone one of the best.”

Here is MWP’s official statement on Meanjin’s website:

“Melbourne University Publishing (MUP) announced today (Thursday 4 September) that Meanjin will cease publication after its final issue in December 2025.

“This is a matter of deep regret for all at MUP, as Meanjin has reached its 85th year of a distinguished history, the past 17 years as an MUP imprint.

“The decision was made on purely financial grounds, the MUP Board having found it no longer viable to produce the magazine ongoing.

“The two part-time staff of Meanjin were not involved in the decision, which led to their being made redundant this week.”

Such reasoning might appear to some as specious at best, at worst disingenuous. For few literary journals have ever turned a profit, instead relying on funding and subscriptions to continue their important work. Moreover, their running costs are usually marginal and can easily be absorbed by larger institutions such as universities.

It is more likely that the forces of shifting institutional and cultural priorities, along with administrative expediency, may have contributed to Meanjin’s untimely demise.

As Alexander Howard notes in The Conversation, “the coexistence of (two) developments – a state-sponsored national literary initiative (the launch of Writing Australia in July) on the one hand, the managed destruction of a historic literary periodical (Meanjin) on the other – invites a difficult, if necessary question.”

Indeed. Let’s consider the work of Meanjin and other Australian literary magazines such as Westerly, Overland, Southerly, HEAT, Griffith Review, Sydney Review of Books and Australian Book Review. And broader-based arts magazines like Seesaw, Artshub and Limelight.

Almost all face financial challenges. Yet they persist. Their editors and contributors continue to fight the good fight. Because one cannot put a price on the telling of our stories, of our histories, not just to each other but for our children and all posterity.

Nor can one put a price on cultural preservation and innovation, which our shared prosperity makes not only possible but a moral imperative. If politicians and bricks-and-mortar cultural institutions care more about profits, optics and vibes, be it on their heads. Future generations will judge them harshly. 

As First Nations author Claire G Coleman posted on Bluesky:

“Meanjin Journal is 85 years old; older than the Sydney Opera House. Closing it down is cultural vandalism of the highest order, roughly equivalent to demolishing the above-mentioned opera house. I am disgusted.”

Simply put, we cannot afford to lose Meanjin.