Dear Anki Developers,
Let me begin with a statement that may surprise you:
I do not object to paying for software.
I pay for software all the time.
I pay for games.
I pay for professional tools.
I pay for services that save me time.
What I object to is being singled out.
What I object to is looking at a pricing model and immediately feeling like I have been selected as the designated sponsor for everyone else’s free ride.
Let us review the situation.
Windows users: free.
Mac users: free.
Linux users: free.
Android users: free.
Web users: free.
iPhone users: congratulations, you have been chosen.
Not because you receive exclusive features.
Not because you receive superior service.
Not because you receive a dramatically better experience.
But because, apparently, you are the group most likely to pay.
That is not a premium product strategy.
That is a premium customer strategy.
The product stays the same.
The target changes.
And the target is you.
What makes this especially remarkable is the state of the software itself.
Anki is often defended as powerful.
And it is.
Excel is powerful too.
A tax filing portal is powerful.
A nuclear reactor control panel is powerful.
Power alone is not an argument for good design.
In 2026, Anki still manages to look less like a polished learning platform and more like a software engineering side project that accidentally escaped into the wild and achieved market dominance through sheer usefulness.
People do not recommend Anki because it is beautiful.
They do not recommend it because it is intuitive.
They do not recommend it because it delights users.
They recommend it because the underlying algorithm works.
That is an important distinction.
You are not selling a luxury car.
You are selling a tractor.
A very effective tractor.
But still a tractor.
And yet the iPhone customer is expected to walk into the dealership and pay admission simply for the privilege of using the same tractor everyone else received for free.
Whenever users question this arrangement, they are told that iOS revenue supports the entire ecosystem.
Interesting.
Imagine a restaurant where five tables eat for free and the sixth table receives the bill for the entire dining room.
Then, when the sixth table complains, the manager proudly explains:
“Ah, but you don’t understand. Your payment supports everyone.”
How inspiring.
How generous.
How community-minded.
How convenient for the people not paying.
The reality is simple.
This pricing model survives because it can.
Not because it is elegant.
Not because it is equitable.
Not because users admire it.
It survives because iPhone users have fewer alternatives.
And there is a meaningful difference between charging customers because they value your product and charging customers because they are trapped by market conditions.
One earns respect.
The other earns revenue.
Perhaps that distinction does not matter on a balance sheet.
But it matters to users.
No, this is not fraud.
No, this is not illegal.
No, this is not a conspiracy.
It is something far less dramatic and far more common:
A business decision that tells one group of users they are customers and another group they are beneficiaries.
And if iPhone users occasionally sound irritated, perhaps it is because they have noticed which group they belong to.
Sincerely,
One of the People Paying for Everyone Else