Introduction
In late 2018, Uku Taht was a developer at an Estonian tech company when the marketing team asked him to put Google Analytics on the company website. It was a routine request, the kind every developer has handled a hundred times. But Taht stopped and looked at what he was actually being asked to install: a heavy script that tracked every visitor, dropped cookies, and fed personal data into an advertising machine. He thought there had to be a lighter way to answer a simple question — how many people visited, and what did they look at? — without surveilling anyone.
So he started writing his own analytics tool. The first line of code was written in December 2018. He called it Plausible: a simple, lightweight, open-source alternative to Google Analytics that collected no personal data and used no cookies. It was, on paper, a terrible business idea. The incumbent was free, made by the biggest company on earth, and already installed on most of the web. Charging money for a simpler version of a free product sounds like a joke.
Three and a half years later, the joke was doing $83,637 a month. On 2 June 2022, Plausible passed $1 million in annual recurring revenue, with more than 7,000 paying subscribers, stats running on more than 50,000 websites, and over a billion monthly page views — all with a team of four, no investors, and, in the founders' own words, "never paid to advertise." By 2026, the subscriber count had passed 21,000, the team was still only about ten people, and the company still had not taken a cent of outside money.
Taht's story is not a story about beating Google on features. Plausible has fewer features than Google Analytics, on purpose. It is a story about selling the one thing the free giant cannot sell: the absence of surveillance. And about what happens when a developer who is bad at marketing admits it early enough to matter.
The Story
Taht built the first version alone, in his spare time, and launched a public beta on Indie Hackers in January 2019. The product was completely free — there was not even a way to pay for it. Sixty beta users signed up. That was the easy part. Turning a free tool into a business meant asking people to pay for something they were used to getting for nothing, and Taht's answer was to price it like a utility: in May 2019 he started charging by page views — $6 a month for up to 10,000 page views, $12 for up to 100,000, $36 for up to a million. A handful of the beta users took him up on it. The first month of paid subscriptions ended at $64 in monthly recurring revenue.
Then almost nothing happened for a year. Taht posted his progress on Indie Hackers and made the code public, going fully open source under the MIT licence in September 2019, so anyone could read it and verify that it really collected no personal data. Building in public brought the first users, and the open code brought trust. But trust is slow. It took 324 days to reach $400 a month. By early 2020, revenue had been flat for months. Taht was a developer with a good product and no distribution, and he knew it. In February 2020, he did something most solo founders avoid: he publicly said he was looking for a marketing partner, so he could go back to writing code.
The partner found him through a blog post. Marko Saric, a marketer and blogger, had written about de-Googling his own website — removing Google's tools from his life, one by one. Taht read it, liked it, and cold-emailed him. Saric joined as co-founder on 16 March 2020. The two had never met in person, and they started working together the same week the COVID lockdowns began. The split was clean: Taht on product, Saric on positioning, content, and communication. It became the operating model for everything that followed.
Saric's first move was to write for people who already knew they had the problem. His first Plausible blog post, published on 8 April 2020 and titled "Why you should stop using Google Analytics on your website," went to the top of Hacker News the same day. It did not try to convert happy Google Analytics users. It spoke to the people who were already angry about cookie banners, privacy regulations, and the surveillance business model — and offered them an exit. That post set the template for the next two years: write the argument the frustrated user is already having in their head, publish it where those users gather, and let the product be the obvious next step. The company never paid for an ad or an affiliate. Its growth came from word of mouth, search, and a blog that kept saying what its readers already believed.
There was one more decision that made the whole thing defensible. In October 2020, Plausible switched its licence from MIT to AGPLv3. The reason was practical, not ideological: companies much larger than Plausible were taking the open-source code, selling it to their own customers, and contributing nothing back — while asking the two founders for free help setting it up. The AGPL licence still lets anyone self-host Plausible for their own use, but it stops a company from selling the software as a service without sharing its changes. The commercial cloud product remained the only source of funding, and the code stayed public, so every privacy claim could be checked rather than believed.
Then the outside world started helping. In January 2022, the Austrian data protection authority ruled that using Google Analytics violated GDPR — the first of several such rulings across Europe. Suddenly the privacy argument was not a preference, it was a compliance question, and Plausible was standing in exactly the right place with exactly the right product. The numbers followed the same curve as the attention: $10,000 a month in January 2021, $250,000 ARR by April 2021, $500,000 ARR by October 2021, and $1 million ARR on 2 June 2022. The team was still four people. The product was still simple on purpose: page views, sources, countries, devices — the numbers a site owner actually checks — and nothing else.
After the $1 million post, Plausible stopped publishing its revenue. Saric has said the early numbers were shared to motivate and inspire other founders, but at some point publishing them starts to look like bragging. What is public since then is the shape of the business: roughly $100,000 a month by September 2022, about $150,000 a month and nearly 10,000 subscribers by March 2023, and then steady, quiet growth — 15,000 subscribers in March 2025, past 20,000 and then 21,000 in 2026, with more than 2,400 teams now paying for five years or longer. Third-party trackers estimate revenue around $3 million a year, but that is an estimate, not a company figure; the company has not confirmed a number since 2022. The team has grown to about ten people, all remote, all in Europe. Nothing about the model has changed: subscriptions pay the bills, the code is public, and the company answers to its customers instead of advertisers.
Lessons
Uku Taht's run offers three mechanics worth stealing:
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Sell the missing feature, not a better version of the same feature: Plausible did not try to out-build Google Analytics. It removed things — cookies, personal data, cross-site tracking, the 45-kilobyte script — and charged for the removal. The mechanism is that a free incumbent's weakness is priced at zero by definition, so the gap it leaves is the only space where a paid product can live. Google could never copy Plausible's promise, because its business model is the data collection Plausible refuses to do. The executable version is a one-page gap sheet. Write down what the free tool costs its users in non-money terms: the cookie banner their visitors hate, the GDPR risk their lawyer worries about, the page-weight that slows their site, the trust they lose. Then price your product at a fraction of that cost. Taht's original prices — $6, $12, $36 a month — were deliberately low, because the pitch was never "pay for analytics." It was "pay a little to stop paying with your visitors' data." If you cannot name what the free option costs, you do not have a product yet.
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Make your claims checkable, and let the checking do the marketing: Plausible's code is public, its own website statistics are public, and for three years its revenue was public too. The mechanism is that transparency converts scepticism into distribution: every time someone verifies a claim, they become a witness for it, and witnesses write blog posts, answer forum questions, and recommend the product to friends. That is why a two-person company with no ad budget kept landing on the front page of Hacker News — the audience did the verification work, and the verification was the marketing. The executable version is to publish one thing your competitors hide. Your real revenue, your real churn, your real traffic, or your source code — pick the one you can defend and put it where your customers can see it. Then write about what the numbers teach you, not about how good they are. Taht and Saric published their $400-a-month plateau as openly as their $1 million milestone, and the plateau post earned as much trust as the milestone post. Transparency only works if it includes the bad numbers.
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Hire your opposite before you need them: Taht spent more than a year stuck at a few hundred dollars a month, not because the product was bad but because he was doing a job he was not built for. The turn came when he admitted it in public and recruited the person who was. The mechanism is that a solo founder's bottleneck is rarely the product — it is the missing half of the company, and the missing half is usually a skill the founder does not enjoy. Saric was not an employee; he was a co-founder with the opposite skill set, found through a cold email about a blog post, and the complementary split — developer on product, marketer on positioning — is what turned a flat $400 a month into a growth curve. The executable version is a two-line audit. Write down the one job in your business you keep avoiding, and the name of one person who visibly loves doing it. Then contact them with something specific — a post they wrote, a project they shipped — and offer them a real stake, not a task. Taht's email worked because it was not a job offer; it was an invitation to own half of a problem that mattered to both of them. If you wait until the business can afford a hire, you will wait through the flat year.
Closing
Uku Taht's career can be read as three numbers: 64, the dollars of monthly revenue in Plausible's first paid month; 324, the days it took to reach $400 a month; and 1,000,000, the annual recurring revenue it passed on 2 June 2022. But the number that explains him is not a dollar figure. It is zero: zero ads bought, zero affiliates paid, zero investors taken, zero cookies set, zero personal data collected. The lesson is not that privacy sells. It is that a product which refuses to do the profitable thing — track people — can still become a profitable business, precisely because the refusal is the product. Build the thing the giant cannot copy without breaking itself. Prove every claim in public. And when you hit the flat year, do not build another feature — find the person who is good at the half you are not. The $64 month was not a failure. It was the price of learning that the product was ready and the company was only half built.
Sources
- How we built a $1M ARR open source SaaS (Plausible)
- Marko Saric: Plausible Analytics from Cold Email to 21k+ Subscribers (Indie Founder)
- They Made $1 Million+ Going Against Google (Indie Hackers)
- Plausible is Paving the Way for Ethical Analytics (HackerNoon)
- Plausible Interview (The Craft of Open Source, Flagsmith)
- Marko Saric: How Plausible Grew to $1M ARR Without Investors (Subscription Heroes)
- Plausible Went From $64 a Month to $1 Million a Year in 3 Years (Rapid Flow Automation)
Portrait: Uku Taht on X (@ukutaht).
