At age sixteen, I vowed to become civically informed. I had just registered to vote, and the political jargon behind the plexiglass windows of newspaper boxes blinked out at me with pressing urgency. Soon, I would have to actually understand these headlines, and I would be trusted to cast my ballot accordingly.
I began in the most straightforward way I could imagine: I googled “New York Times.”
Within two seconds, my journey of civic literacy hit a wall — or more precisely, a paywall. From the “Los Angeles Times” to the “Atlantic,” each article I clicked was swiftly concealed behind a demanding pop-up.
Knowledge came at a price, and it was oftentimes upwards of $20 per month. Stingy as usual, I pieced together my understanding of world events from online trials and free newspapers from swanky hotel lobbies until I arrived at the University of Oregon.
My UO ID was a masterkey. With an institution attached to my name, I could bypass paywalls for the “New York Times,” the “Los Angeles Times,” the “Washington Post” and unlimited academic articles on JSTOR. My newfound access was dizzying, yet I was struck by the realization that I never should have lacked it in the first place.
College students pay hefty tuition fees for access to curated classes, professors’ instruction, tutoring and certifications for their field — but, unbeknownst to many, they are also paying for the privilege to teach themselves. Due to institution-wide subscriptions, knowledge hidden behind paywalls becomes an unspoken perk to college tuition.
Instruction, interaction and unique experiences make universities worthwhile, but access to raw information shouldn’t be gatekept for those who can afford a college degree. On the contrary, free scholarly materials are even more crucial for those who don’t have the wisdom of librarians, tutors and professors at their disposal.
This inequity only furthers the divide between college students and the rest of the world, promoting elitism and division — students who feel privy to exclusive information are quick to weaponize their “I’m-an-intellectual-and-you’re-not” attitude, a phenomenon which I have encountered all too frequently throughout my freshman year.
This predicament becomes even more important during election season, when misinformation can run rampant. As easy as it may be to mock your uncle who reposts falsified articles on Facebook or your neighbor who regurgitates fear-mongering “Fox News” features, how can we blame readers for getting their information from reactionary right-wing sources if those sources are free, yet more reputable newspapers charge prohibitive access fees?
In this instance, entire points of view are being gatekept, disseminated through articles written by and for the affluent and educated. There is no chance for dialogue or constructive conversation in a world of echo chambers, and people are unlikely to challenge their own beliefs if they can’t afford access to opposing viewpoints.
But how can we remedy this situation? Public libraries offer a promising solution.
As a paragon of open access, libraries have successfully implemented open-access programs like Kanopy, a streaming service that allows anyone with a library card to watch up to six free movies per month. While niche, Kanopy has found major success in the fifteen years since its release, providing education and enjoyment to thousands of users — but this trend doesn’t have to stop with cinema.
With federal funding, libraries could arrange subscriptions with prominent publications to grant cardholders access to a set number of free weekly articles from various sources, allowing readers to access a diversity of opinions and bridging the information gap.
After all, knowledge is a power that should not be gatekept by private institutions, but instead freely available to all those who wish to seek it.
