Does the New York Times actually want anyone to read Angelina Jolie's piece?

If the NYT wants to ensure its pieces are never sullied by the corrupting eye of a reader, it can lock them in lead-lined boxes and drop them in the Hudson. But if it wants to help Angelina Jolie in her mission to spread awareness about breast cancer, it

The New York Times is famous for being either serious or boring, depending on your viewpoint. It's not nicknamed "the Grey Lady" ("referring to its historical tendency to present a higher-than-usual proportion of copy to graphics") for nothing, and at heart this comes from a praiseworthy aim: to never put commercial considerations above editorial ones. That motivation drives the decision to avoid flashy graphics as much as it drives the courage to run an 8,000 word piece exposing corruption in one of the world's biggest companies (and one of America's biggest advertisers).

But sometimes it goes too far. Here is the New York Times' front page today. See if you can spot the story they have which is driving conversation worldwide, and which, doubtless, a huge number of their readers have come to their site to read:

In case you aren't sure, it's this one:

Angelina Jolie's decision to write about her double mastectomy, performed after discovering that she has a genetic marker which vastly increases the chance that she will develop breast or ovarian cancer, has been rightly hailed. Not only does it serve to spread awareness about the genetic test she took (one which can provide an early warning to women like Jolie with a family history of certain types of cancer), but it will help destigmatise her operation – still one which, for many, strikes at the heart of their identity.

Getting that piece read by as many people as possible isn't crass commercialism, it's an inherent part of the paper's implicit bargain with Jolie. There is no point in writing a piece to spread awareness and then burying it on the front page under a vague headline and a six-word sub-head.

That's not to say that the piece needs to be headlined MY BREAST CANCER HORROR and be accompanied by glamorous full-colour photos of Jolie; but it needs to be findable in a way that it simply isn't at the moment.

Good site design, just like good internet-friendly headlines (another thing painfully lacking at the paper) isn't editorial cravenly bowing to the demands of its marketing department; it is there to ensure that people who want to read stories can actually read them.

If the NYT wants to ensure its pieces are never sullied by the corrupting eye of a reader, it can lock them in lead-lined boxes and drop them in the Hudson. But if it wants to help Jolie in her mission to spread awareness and "open a conversation", it needs to get over itself.

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Jeremy Corbyn's Labour conference speech shows how he's grown

The leader's confident address will have impressed even his fiercest foes. 

It is not just Jeremy Corbyn’s mandate that has been improved by his re-election. The Labour leader’s conference speech was, by some distance, the best he has delivered. He spoke with far greater confidence, clarity and energy than previously. From its self-deprecating opening onwards ("Virgin Trains assure me there are 800 empty seats") we saw a leader improved in almost every respect. 

Even Corbyn’s firecest foes will have found less to take issue with than they may have anticipated. He avoided picking a fight on Trident (unlike last year), delivered his most forceful condemnation of anti-Semitism (“an evil”) and, with the exception of the Iraq war, avoided attacks on New Labour’s record. The video which preceded his arrival, and highlighted achievements from the Blair-Brown years, was another olive branch. But deselection, which Corbyn again refused to denounce, will remain a running sore (MPs alleged that Hillsborough campaigner Sheila Coleman, who introduced Corbyn, is seeking to deselect Louise Ellman and backed the rival TUSC last May).

Corbyn is frequently charged with lacking policies. But his lengthy address contained several new ones: the removal of the cap on council borrowing (allowing an extra 60,000 houses to be built), a ban on arms sales to abusive regimes and an arts pupil premium in every primary school.

On policy, Corbyn frequently resembles Ed Miliband in his more radical moments, unrestrained by Ed Balls and other shadow cabinet members. He promised £500bn of infrastructure investment (spread over a decade with £150bn from the private sector), “a real living wage”, the renationalisation of the railways, rent controls and a ban on zero-hours contracts.

Labour’s greatest divisions are not over policy but rules, strategy and culture. Corbyn’s opponents will charge him with doing far too little to appeal to the unconverted - Conservative voters most of all. But he spoke with greater conviction than before of preparing for a general election (acknowledging that Labour faced an arithmetical “mountain”) and successfully delivered the attack lines he has often shunned.

“Even Theresa May gets it, that people want change,” he said. “That’s why she stood on the steps of Downing Street and talked about the inequalities and burning injustices in today’s Britain. She promised a country: ‘that works not for a privileged few but for every one of us’. But even if she manages to talk the talk, she can’t walk the walk. This isn’t a new government, it’s David Cameron’s government repackaged with progressive slogans but with a new harsh right-wing edge, taking the country backwards and dithering before the historic challenges of Brexit.”

After a second landslide victory, Corbyn is, for now, unassailable. Many MPs, having voted no confidence in him, will never serve on the frontbench. But an increasing number, recognising Corbyn’s immovability, speak once again of seeking to “make it work”. For all the ructions of this summer, Corbyn’s speech will have helped to persuade them that they can.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.