The proposition that publicly funded research should be made openly accessible to all has gained considerable traction in recent years, championed by advocates who invoke principles of equity, transparency, and the democratisation of knowledge. Yet a closer examination reveals that this seemingly benevolent policy harbours significant drawbacks that outweigh its purported benefits. The stronger position is no: publicly funded research should not become openly accessible by default. A persuasive argument must weigh practical consequences alongside ideals, and on balance, this position offers the sounder path.

First, publishing systems still require funding and quality control. The peer-review process, editorial oversight, and the maintenance of digital archives are not costless. Currently, subscription-based models allocate these costs across institutions, ensuring that journals can sustain rigorous standards. Transitioning to open access would not eliminate these expenses; rather, it would shift them onto authors or their funding bodies through article processing charges (APCs). This creates a perverse incentive: researchers with substantial grants can publish freely, while those from under-resourced institutions or disciplines may struggle to afford APCs, effectively creating a two-tier system. The immediate effect on students, families, and institutions is not one of liberation but of hidden burdens. For example, a university that previously subscribed to a bundle of journals might now face reduced access if it cannot pay the APCs for its own researchers' publications. This point matters because it shows that open access can exacerbate, rather than alleviate, inequality in scholarly communication.

Second, open models can shift costs rather than remove them. The reasoning becomes stronger when we ask who benefits, who carries the cost, and what kind of scholarly ecosystem this decision would encourage. Proponents argue that open access allows the public to read research they funded. However, the public already benefits indirectly through applications in medicine, technology, and policy. The real beneficiaries of free access are often commercial entities—pharmaceutical companies, tech giants, and consultancies—that can exploit publicly funded knowledge without contributing to its production. Meanwhile, the costs of APCs are borne by the same public purse that funds the research, leading to a situation where taxpayers pay twice: once for the research and again for its dissemination. This is not a matter of convenience but of principle and long-term consequence. A system that prioritises openness without addressing cost redistribution risks undermining the very institutions that produce high-quality research.

This creates a perverse incentive: researchers with substantial grants can publish freely, while those from under-resourced institutions or disciplines may struggle to afford APCs, effectively creating a two-tier system.

Third, specialist knowledge is not automatically more useful just because it is open. A persuasive case must consider structural consequences, and this point shows why the decision matters beyond one isolated example. The assumption that open access leads to greater innovation and public understanding is flawed. Most lay readers lack the expertise to interpret complex scientific papers, and raw data without context can be misleading. The proliferation of open-access journals has also given rise to predatory publishers that exploit the model for profit, undermining quality control. Furthermore, the shift to open access may reduce the incentive for researchers to publish in prestigious subscription journals, potentially diluting the signalling value of publication venues. This wider effect helps explain why the position against mandatory open access deserves support: it preserves a system that, despite its flaws, has sustained scholarly quality for decades.

A serious counterargument is that the public should not pay twice to see knowledge it funded. That objection should not be dismissed. However, it does not outweigh the stronger case once fairness, evidence, and long-term consequences are considered together. The current system, while imperfect, allows for a diversity of publishing models—some open, some subscription—that can coexist. A blanket mandate for open access would stifle this diversity and impose a one-size-fits-all solution that ignores disciplinary differences. For instance, humanities research often lacks the grant funding to cover APCs, making open access a financial burden rather than an opportunity. The counterargument, though valid in principle, fails to account for the practical realities of scholarly publishing.

Overall, the negative case is stronger because caution, fairness, and real-world limits matter as much as good intentions. The push for open access, while rooted in admirable ideals, risks creating new inequalities and undermining the quality control that underpins reliable knowledge. A more prudent approach would be to encourage hybrid models, support institutional repositories, and invest in sustainable publishing infrastructure rather than imposing a rigid mandate. The decision to keep publicly funded research behind paywalls is not a rejection of openness but a recognition that openness, without careful design, can do more harm than good.