Monday Moan: Why Does Every Website Need an Account?

“I didn’t come here to start a relationship. I came to read a page.”

There was a time when you could visit a website, read an article, and go about your day. Simple, really. You clicked a link, found what you were looking for, read it and left. No fuss. No paperwork. No commitment.

Those days, apparently, are over.

Today, you want to read one article, download one document, or check one tiny detail. You click the link, and there it is: Create an account to continue.

Oh, for heaven’s sake.

I don’t want an account. I don’t want a profile picture, a personalized dashboard, or a carefully curated selection of content based on my interests. I want to know whether the information on this page is useful to me. That’s all.

But no. First, I must provide my email address. Then I must invent a password that hasn’t been used anywhere else, contains a capital letter, a number, and a symbol, and presumably has some connection to the mysteries of the universe.

Next comes the email verification.

I switch to my inbox, find the message, if it ever arrives, click the link and return to the website. Sometimes it works. Sometimes the link has expired. Sometimes I end up requesting a new verification email, which sends me back to the beginning of this ridiculous little adventure.

And we’re not finished yet.

There are the terms and conditions. A document longer than a Norwegian winter, written in language that suggests a team of lawyers has been paid by the word. Naturally, there is a box to tick confirming that I have read and accepted everything.

Have I read it? Of course not. Neither have you. Let’s not pretend otherwise.

I scroll to the bottom, tick the box and hope I haven’t accidentally signed away my right to own furniture.

And then comes the final indignity: the article itself turns out to be three paragraphs long, two of which are advertisements.

All that effort for something I could have read in thirty seconds.

And don’t get me started on genealogy websites

As a family historian, I encounter this problem regularly. You’re searching for a parish record, an old newspaper article or a reference to an ancestor who emigrated from Norway in 1872.

You find a promising result. Your heart gives a little leap. Perhaps this is the record you’ve been looking for.

You click.

Create a free account to view this record.

Fine. You create the account.

Upgrade to access the full record.

Ah.

Apparently, the free account lets you discover the record exists. Actually seeing it is a different matter entirely.

It’s rather like visiting a library where the librarian confirms that the book is on the shelf, then charges you extra to open it.

Fortunately, if you’re researching your Norwegian ancestors, there’s good news. Norway’s Digital Archives (Digitalarkivet.no) makes a wealth of historical records freely available to everyone. Census returns, parish registers, emigration records and much more can be explored without paying a subscription fee.

It’s one of the great resources for anyone researching Norwegian family history, and you don’t have to take out a second mortgage just to find out what happened to great-great-grandfather Ole.

I know that websites cost money to operate. I understand that some services need accounts to protect personal information, manage subscriptions or prevent abuse. I’m not suggesting that every website should hand over everything for nothing.

But surely there is room for a little common sense?

If I want to buy something, subscribe to a service or save my research, by all means, ask me to register. If I’m accessing private information, security matters.

But if I want to read a publicly available article about a historical event, download a free checklist or check a simple fact, why must I establish a digital identity first?

Not every visitor is a potential lifelong customer. Some of us are just passing through.

Why I keep my own blog free

Perhaps that’s why I keep my own blog, Norwegian Genealogy and then some, free for everyone to visit and read.

If you’ve taken the time to visit, I want you to be able to read an article, explore a topic or find something useful without having to create an account, hand over your email address or jump through a series of digital hoops.

You’re welcome to come in, have a look around and stay as long as you like. No strings attached. That’s how I think the internet should work.

Of course, you’re welcome to subscribe to my email list if you’d like to hear from me now and then. But let’s be clear: that’s an invitation to receive a newsletter, not a date.

I won’t ask you to create a password, verify your identity three times or promise me eternal loyalty. And you can unsubscribe whenever you like. No awkward breakup required.

And by all means, if you have a question, a comment, or simply want to say hello, I’m always happy to hear from you. You don’t need to make an appointment or pass a security check. Just drop me a line.

I’m a real person, after all, not a website demanding your email address before allowing you through the front door.

A small request to the internet

Here’s my modest proposal.

Let people read a page before asking them to join your community. Let them decide whether your website is worth returning to before demanding their email address. And if you advertise something as free, make it reasonably clear what free actually means.

I promise that if I find your website useful, I might come back. I might even tell someone about it.

But if you make me complete a seven-step registration process just to read 200 words, there’s a fair chance I’ll close the tab and find the information somewhere else.

No account required.

No password to remember.

No newsletter to unsubscribe from six months later.

Just information, freely available, as the internet once seemed to promise.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to create an account to read the instructions for cancelling an account.

Have a lovely Monday!

Your turn: What’s the most ridiculous registration hoop you’ve had to jump through just to access something simple? And have you ever abandoned a website out of sheer irritation before getting what you came for?

Tell me in the comments. I’d love to know I’m not the only one muttering at the screen.

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My book Scenes from a Life Left Behind A journey through memory, family, and the places that shaped a life are now available on Amazon https://amzn.to/3UlHM0N