My relationship with the New York Times online has gone stale. Once, he opened doors for me, and we together engaged in free-wheeling exploration of science news, arts reviews, Maureen Dowd’s latest rant, and even lesson plans for my students.
Now the chemistry’s all wrong. When we do get together, I broach new topics with anxiety. Do I really want to read that? I think. I never quite know when he’ll slam the door. Is the article limit now ten, or twenty per month? If I bookmark an article, or save it to Instapaper, and then try to return, will it count again? Who cares, I think, I’m done.
I’m usually through the first few paragraphs by the pay wall emerges. I know that he’s savvy that way, and he’s planned for us to be through the appetizers before he goes in for the sell. The writing’s good. He is an old friend, after all. I’m tempted. But, no.
I don’t come up against pay walls too often, for the simple reason that I read fewer and fewer sites with pay walls.
As the number of New York Times’ digital subscribers reaches nearly half a million, some are withdrawing their initial criticisms of the pay wall. The New York Times has made strategic concessions to keep the site open and relevant. Intentional holes through linking and social media make it such that access is not under lockdown, and the newspaper has yet to go after twitter streams and add-ons that take advantage of these loopholes.
What the pay wall does effectively shut down is the kind of playful, exploratory interaction that emerging readers might have directly shared with the New York Times brand. As a long term strategy, a pay wall’s exclusionary measures diminish the New York Times, putting it one step behind sources that are building loyal readers through a consistent availability of “free.” I'd rather give my money to NPR. You won't leave me, right buddy?
