Sophie Cunningham’s Telegram Presence Sparks Dialogue On Literary Activism In The Digital Age

In an era where writers are increasingly navigating the intersection of literature and digital discourse, Australian author and editor Sophie Cunningham has emerged as a compelling voice—not through traditional media, but via an unexpected platform: Telegram. Known for her incisive essays on climate change, urban life, and cultural identity, Cunningham has cultivated a growing following on the encrypted messaging app, where she shares unfiltered commentary, reading recommendations, and urgent reflections on environmental collapse. Her Telegram channel, active since early 2023, has quietly become a nexus for Australian intellectuals, young writers, and climate activists seeking a space beyond the noise of mainstream social media. Unlike the performative nature of Instagram or the algorithmic chaos of X (formerly Twitter), Telegram offers Cunningham a rare sanctuary for long-form thought and intimate dialogue—echoing the legacy of literary salons, but reimagined for the post-digital age.

What sets Cunningham’s Telegram presence apart is not just the medium, but the message. She uses the platform to critique the commodification of writing in the attention economy, often juxtaposing excerpts from her latest reads—say, a passage from J.M. Coetzee—with sharp observations on Australia’s policy failures on bushfire management. This blend of literary depth and civic urgency resonates with a generation disillusioned by superficial online discourse. Her subscribers, many of them emerging writers and environmental advocates, treat her updates like dispatches from the front lines of cultural resistance. In this way, Cunningham mirrors figures like Margaret Atwood, who leveraged Twitter to amplify climate advocacy, or Ta-Nehisi Coates, whose Substack essays revived long-form political commentary. Yet Cunningham’s choice of Telegram—less public, more curated—suggests a deliberate retreat from spectacle, favoring substance over virality.

The trend of literary figures migrating to alternative digital platforms reflects a broader shift in how intellectual engagement is being redefined. As mainstream social networks prioritize engagement metrics over depth, writers like Cunningham are reclaiming narrative control. Telegram, with its support for channels, file sharing, and relative privacy, allows for a kind of literary intimacy that feels increasingly rare. Her approach also aligns with a global movement among authors—such as Arundhati Roy and Ocean Vuong—who are using digital tools not for self-promotion, but for radical pedagogy and collective consciousness.

Cunningham’s influence extends beyond her subscriber count. She has inspired a cohort of Australian writers to experiment with independent publishing models, including newsletters and small-run digital zines. Her insistence on linking ecological crisis with cultural memory challenges readers to see climate change not just as a scientific issue, but as a narrative one. In a country still grappling with the aftermath of the 2019–2020 bushfires, her voice carries moral weight. By choosing Telegram—a platform associated more with political dissidents than literary figures—she underscores the idea that writing, at its best, is an act of resistance. In doing so, she reclaims the role of the public intellectual in an age of fragmentation, proving that the quietest channels can carry the loudest messages.