Rising book bans: Grounds for moral panic?
| New York
Whether it鈥檚 the depiction in 鈥淢aus鈥� of the Holocaust, the discussion about puberty in 鈥淚t鈥檚聽Perfectly Normal,鈥� the LGBTQ perspective presented in 鈥淕ender Queer: A Memoir,鈥� or the presence of 鈥淭he Bluest Eye鈥� and 鈥淎dventures of Huckleberry Finn鈥� in the high school canon, books聽in schools and libraries nationwide increasingly have targets on their spines.
Experts say the challenges 鈥� fanned by the heated online 鈥渙utrage ecosystem鈥� 鈥撀燼re growing exponentially. Last year, reports the , brought聽the highest number of reported book challenges it has tallied in a decade.
Though the full year has not been finalized, there were roughly 476 challenges between聽September and the end of 2021, compared with 377 total in 2019, the last year schools聽and libraries were fully open before the pandemic, says Deborah Caldwell-Stone, director of the ALA鈥檚 Office for Intellectual Freedom.
Why We Wrote This
Books in schools and libraries increasingly have targets on their spines. The more partisan the battle has become, the more it manifests as a power struggle rather than an effort to find common ground on how best to serve children.
However, caution library scholars, clashes over books, not deliberative conversations聽make the news. But that doesn鈥檛 mean those conversations aren鈥檛 taking place in communities聽across the nation, with challenges resolved or compromises forged before they erupt in acrimonious headlines.
Ten years ago, challenges 鈥渨ere very local,鈥� says Ms. Caldwell-Stone. What happened聽in one school district did not significantly affect what happened elsewhere. Today, with聽activists exchanging tactics and information online, challenges are popping up聽everywhere.
In this increasingly polarized context, says Emily Knox, associate professor in the聽School of Information Sciences at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign and聽author of 鈥淏ook Banning in 21st-Century America,鈥� 鈥淭he books are kind of incidental.聽What we鈥檙e really arguing about is, what does it mean to be a citizen of the United聽States? How do we want our children to be educated? What do we want to say about聽our history?鈥�
Book 鈥渂anning鈥� in the U.S. almost always plays out in the public sector and聽particularly where children are involved. School curricula, school libraries, and the children鈥檚聽sections of public libraries have become 鈥渃ontested because we鈥檙e trying to figure out what the聽values of the next generation should be,鈥� Ms. Knox says.
But that is not what the public debate focuses on. As it plays out in the news and on聽social media, it is an us vs. them battle that makes little room for thoughtful discussion.聽The more tempers rise and the more partisan the battle has become, the more it聽manifests as a power struggle rather than an effort to find common ground on how best聽to serve children.
There are several contributing factors. Sometimes, people argue at cross-purposes聽because they don鈥檛 realize different rules apply to books in a curriculum, in a school聽library, or in a public library.
For example, when the McMinn County School Board in Tennessee drew international聽attention when it voted unanimously Jan. 10 to remove 鈥淢aus鈥� from its eighth-grade聽social studies curriculum, it was not removed from school libraries, l聽Daily Post Athenian.
Books taught in classes are required reading. Since school districts establish curricula,聽they can determine whether a book should or should not be taught. They evaluate it for聽age-appropriateness and pedagogical soundness.
Books in school libraries, on the other hand, are not required reading. They are there to聽support the curriculum but also to fuel a love of reading, address issues of concern to聽students, and offer a range of perspectives. If it is found to be erroneous, pornographic, or shown not to be age-appropriate, for example, it can be removed.
But in the 1982 landmark case of , the United States Supreme聽Court ruled that to remove a book based on its ideas and content alone violates聽students鈥� First Amendment right to read and be informed.聽This would apply, for example, to objections to a novel鈥檚 depiction of instances of racism聽or aspects of the LGBTQ experience.
The bar for removal is still higher for public libraries. They serve the community in all its diversity, from age and sexual orientation to ethnicity, race, and political affiliation. In the聽eyes of the Supreme Court, a public library is a 鈥渓imited public forum鈥� and 鈥渢he聽quintessential locus of the receipt of information.鈥�
This very diversity helps explain why more than half of all book challenges are levied at public聽libraries, often by 鈥減arents wanting to protect their children,鈥� says Paula Laurita, who聽was executive director of the Athens-Limestone Public Library in Alabama from 2010 to聽2020 and has had a long tenure as the ALA鈥檚 Alabama chapter councilor. 鈥淪o what聽may be acceptable to one family is not acceptable to another family,鈥� she says.
In many cases, parents object to, say, a Gay Pride month display being too close to the聽children鈥檚 section, says April Dawkins, assistant professor in library and information聽science at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. Depending on the library, it聽might get moved, dismantled, or kept and followed later by a display of, say,聽conservative authors.
Listening for the success stories
Even when a challenge results in the removal of a book from a public school or library,聽however, it remains accessible. Other district libraries have it. Bookstores and websites聽openly sell it. The book is featured during Banned Books Week, the ALA鈥檚 鈥渁nnual聽celebration of the freedom to read鈥� which features book sales, author鈥檚 talks, panel聽discussions, and displays in bookstores and libraries across the country.
鈥淪o, the book isn鈥檛 banned, it鈥檚 censored,鈥� says Elliott Kuecker, a faculty librarian and聽researcher at the University of Georgia and author of 鈥淨uestioning the Dogma of聽Banned Books Week,鈥� a study published in the journal Library Philosophy and Practice.
When he wrote this in 2018, he says, 鈥渕y concern was that they were setting up kind of聽a friend-enemy relationship鈥� because the very word 鈥� banning 鈥� conjures the image of聽an attack on democracy. It sets up librarians as heroes fighting off that attack when聽what they are facing is nothing like the book burnings during the Third Reich or all-out聽bans imposed by regimes like the Taliban.
Opting for a more accurate description, he thinks, would lead to more productive聽conversations.
鈥淭he 鈥榗ensorship鈥� of an individual book,鈥� says Mr. Kuecker, 鈥渋s more someone聽expressing a problem with the morality of a text.鈥� This, he adds, might lead people to聽talk about what it means 鈥渢o read an amoral text? Can a text contain morality and ethics,聽or is it the reader who interprets for that?鈥�
This 鈥渇riend-enemy鈥� dynamic preempts other conversations as well.聽For example, Ms. Caldwell-Stone points to the underlying concern of challenges as聽being 鈥渨hat are young people reading about? What are they absorbing through the聽words they鈥檙e exposed to?鈥�
But, judging from reports of book challenges, the public debate seldom if ever delves聽into how children process difficult material or whether 鈥測oung readers are able to聽discern what the reading [is about] and to make good judgments about it,鈥� as Ms.聽Caldwell-Stone maintains. Nor is the question of how educators and parents can best聽guide children examined much in the debates.
Instead, people choose sides over who is better suited to control what children read:聽parents who know their child intimately or educators who are trained professionals?聽One side champions greater parental rights, the other counters with students鈥� First聽Amendment rights.
And the compromise that many educators and librarians suggest seems to get lost.
American Library Association
鈥淲e don鈥檛 often hear [about] the really, really thoughtful and successful stories,鈥澛燢ristin Pekoll, assistant director of the ALA Office for Intellectual Freedom told librarians聽during a recent webinar. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 because librarians addressed it according to their聽policies and they鈥檝e had really great conversations with their communities about the聽resources, and maybe things were deescalated and handled as conversations聽informally,鈥� she says.
鈥淚 believe any parent should be able to say 鈥業 don鈥檛 want my child reading a particular聽book.鈥� That鈥檚 completely fine,鈥� says Danielle Hartsfield, assistant professor at the University of North Georgia who has written about educators and controversial literature. But parents lack the professional training and knowledge of teachers and librarians to聽鈥渃ollectively say 鈥榥o child should read this book.鈥欌��
Ms. Knox, as most librarians, prizes the free flow of information, but she understands聽how fraught this can be.
Efforts to censor what children read 鈥渁re really demonstrating to us why reading is聽fundamental. We say things like critical thinking and that kind of thing but, actually,聽reading聽changes who you are as a person,鈥� Ms. Knox says.
鈥淟ibraries are not labyrinths to truths; they鈥檙e gardens of truth,鈥� she says. In online聽explorations, algorithms progressively channel searches. Libraries, by contrast, are聽鈥渙rganized chaos,鈥� says Ms. Knox, where 19th-century Jane Austen sits next to post-modern Paul Auster. 鈥淵ou pick up something here and you pick up something there 鈥撀爐hat, in fact, makes a library a very dangerous聽space, because it鈥檚 true that your children will stumble upon something that does not聽necessarily reflect your values.鈥�
And mechanisms exist that can help people talk about how best to help children聽navigate that space and thrive: detailed and transparent procedures to review whether a聽particular book belongs in the curriculum or library. This involves a multi-step process聽beginning with an informal conversation with a teacher or librarian on up through a聽written complaint based on a reading of the text and ending in a school board or board of聽trustees meeting.
Did they read the book?
Yet the atmosphere is so charged, the procedures are sometimes bypassed.
Ms. Caldwell-Stone is seeing 鈥渟chool districts that have policies for reconsideration聽ignoring the policies and removing books from the school library.鈥�
At the same time, Ms. Dawkins reports that complainants 鈥渁re not receptive to聽conversation.鈥� Rather than follow the steps, they jump 鈥渢o the school board and public聽fora and use inflammatory language鈥� that provokes outrage. 鈥淭he other thing that聽happens is [complainants] not willing to read the book in its entirety to see what the聽merits are,鈥� she says.
The inaccuracies in the challenge of 31 books on the English Language Arts curriculum聽of the Williamson County School District in Tennessee illustrate Ms. Dawkins鈥� claim.
is, for example, described as containing the n-word and聽portraying all聽white people as angry. In fact, no racial slur is in the text and some of the white聽characters were聽supportive of Ruby.
The reconsideration process took six months, during which representatives of parents,聽teachers,聽and school board officials read the books and met with complainants. They聽agreed to聽remove one book because the curriculum did not allow time enough for it to be properly聽taught.
The local chapter of Moms for Liberty, an advocacy group that started in opposition to聽mask聽mandates in schools and has grown explosively into what it says is a 60,000-plus member force across 33 states, has filed an appeal.
It is impossible to know whether the concerns of these complainants could be assuaged聽through dialogue. But certainly others鈥� have.
A case resolved before eruption of headlines
Ms. Laurita used to tell her library staff, 鈥渨hen people come up and start complaining聽about a book, the first thing to do is take a breath. Don鈥檛 get defensive, and listen,聽because sometimes they just need to hear that their concerns are understood.鈥�
When graphic novels first came out, a patron asked Ms. Laurita to rid the collection of聽some because of the sexualized way they portrayed women superheroes. So Ms.聽Laurita showed her that they hadn鈥檛 grouped all graphic novels together, but placed聽each one with books appropriate for readers of the same age.
As a result, she says, 鈥淭here was no formal challenge; it was a discussion.鈥�
Ms. Dawkins recalls a similar situation when she worked in a high school library in rural聽North Carolina. A teacher objected to the inclusion of 鈥淏oy Meets Boy鈥� in a display of聽new acquisitions.
鈥淪o it became a conversation,鈥� she says. The teacher didn鈥檛 see the need for the book because he thought the school had no gay students.
鈥淥h,鈥� Ms. Dawkins recalls saying, 鈥淚 went to this high school and I assure you, there聽were gay students here. They might not have been open about it, but they are now, as聽alumni.鈥�
The conversation broadened to Ms. Dawkins feeling strongly about having books that spoke聽to the Muslim and Jewish students, as part of the library鈥檚 mission of speaking to and聽about all students.
According to the ALA, a small percentage of books are challenged by administrators聽and faculty. But this teacher was not among them.
Nobody called a reporter. Nobody doled out an Intellectual Freedom award.
