Sam Healey leaving The Dice Tower was never going to be as clean or uncomplicated as Tom Vasel may have hoped. Not after Sam’s recent public statements that went far beyond ordinary political disagreement. Not after he openly praised authoritarian force, including saying that the boot of authoritarianism “tastes like freedom.” Not after he defended lethal ICE actions in ways that dismissed the deaths of people killed during enforcement operations, despite the fact that ICE is not actually empowered to carry out extrajudicial killings of American citizens.
That context didn’t evaporate just because Sam stepped away. If anything, it made his departure heavier.
And then Sam chose to post his exit statement directly in the comments section of The Dice Tower’s own crowdfunding campaign, the literal storefront where the channel asks its community for support. In that message, he made some pretty passive‑aggressive declarations in which he refused to apologise for anything he had said. He framed himself as a burden, nobly removing himself “for the good of his friends.” He insisted he had not been let go, but had left voluntarily, as though this were an act of self‑sacrifice rather than the predictable fallout of the fascist rhetoric he chose to amplify.
He also brought religion into it, saying he had prayed over the decision. This also felt crass and self‑absolving. It framed the whole situation as a spiritual weight he had nobly carried, rather than the consequences of his own public statements. For many, it read less like sincerity and more like a rhetorical shield: a way to sanctify his choice while sidestepping any responsibility for the harm his words caused.
Dragging all of this to the doorstep of his coworkers, on their platform, during their campaign, was a massive issue. In any other professional environment, this sort of behaviour in front of customers would require an immediate, clear statement from leadership. Not necessarily a political statement. No sweeping, detailed manifesto. Just the bare minimum of “The opinions of this individual do not reflect those of the organisation.”
That’s it. That’s all it would take. But The Dice Tower said nothing.
Tom Vasel stated that he would not comment on “how I deal with my employees,” and that the situation “has been dealt with”. That framing implies an organisational decision, a managerial process, a resolution behind the scenes. But Sam’s own statement insists he left entirely of his own accord. Both narratives cannot be true simultaneously, and the contradiction only deepened the sense that the channel was trying to tidy up a situation that was never tidy.
Layered on top of this is The Dice Tower’s long‑standing insistence on being “apolitical.” But choosing to be “apolitical” is itself a political choice; one that determines what gets acknowledged, what gets ignored, and whose comfort is prioritised. When a long‑time contributor publicly praises authoritarian force and dismisses the deaths of people killed during enforcement actions, silence isn’t neutrality. It’s avoidance.
And in this case, it wasn’t even effective avoidance. The attempt to stay above the fray didn’t shield the channel; it exposed it. By refusing to address the substance of Sam’s statements, or the harm people felt in response, The Dice Tower created a vacuum that the community filled themselves, with frustration, disappointment, and a sense that the people in charge either didn’t understand the issue or didn’t want to.
The farewell they offered – polite, brief, antiseptic – treated the situation like a scheduling change rather than a moral rupture. It asked viewers to pretend the context didn’t exist, to smooth over the dissonance, to move on quietly.
But the community – the customers – aren’t obligated to participate in that erasure. People are allowed to feel conflicted, disappointed, or even relieved. And they’re allowed to expect more honesty from a channel that has built its brand on trust, transparency, and a sense of shared enthusiasm.
As someone who genuinely enjoys a lot of their content, and who has particularly enjoyed Sam Healey’s contributions to that content, it’s hard not to feel let down. This goodbye was never going to be simple, but the silence that followed has made it far more complicated than it needed to be.
No Rerolls 