In September 2006 SF writer Greg Egan (Quarantine, Permutation City, etc) wrote the piece here questioning whether New Scientist's descent into shoddy, tabloid reporting could possibly be arrested. Given the size of its readership, he argued that it was in the interests of all scientifically-literate individuals to push, at this last ditch, for a change in course. Of course, nothing whatsoever happened.
The New Scientist of today - fashionably-green, woolly-minded, sensationalist, muddled, politically-correct, contemptuous of the educated portion of its readership, missioned to increase sales at any price rather than understanding - is far removed from the Reithian journal of my youth. On almost a weekly basis I ask myself whether my subscription should get junked this time around or not.
At time of writing, renewal chances are not good, particularly after reading the gibberish of the cover story this week: 'Time Wars'.