Time to stop casting public participation as censorship

Another Banned Books Week has come and gone, subjecting us to the annual round of horror stories about all the books that have been outlawed in the last year.

We've been warned of the deep and evil threats in our midst, of those pernicious moralists (mostly conservative, mostly Christian) who threaten not only our right to read what we wish, but our very way of life. Fading photos of Nazis burning books in 1930s Germany are trotted out anew to remind us of what kind of people ban books.

In response to all the book bannings, we've heard the solemn pledges to the First Amendment, the pious dedications to free speech, the heartfelt vows to stand up to censorship in all its many forms.

It's all quite uplifting and inspiring.

The only problem is there are no banned books. Not in the United States, anyway.

To the best of my knowledge, there are no books – outside of child pornography – that a bookstore owner could be prosecuted for selling. Every one of the supposedly banned books trotted out by the American Library Association and the People for the American Way is readily available either at your local bookstore or at one of the many online bookstores on the Internet. It's perfectly legal to buy them, to own them, to read them – every last one.

So why the fuss over "censorship"? Why the annual Banned Books Week?

Power.

When the cry of censorship is raised in this country, take a closer look and what you'll usually find instead of censorship is citizens trying to involve themselves in the decision-making process of their local library or school district. Parents seeking a voice in their children's curriculum. Readers trying to help shape the purchases of their local library.

Taxpayers all, hoping to have their voices heard in the necessary process of deciding which books are to be found on the shelves, which ones not.

When teachers or librarians decide not to purchase a book, no one cries censorship. Instead, this is accepted as an editing decision. Libraries and schools have limited space and money; every book cannot be purchased, and someone has to make these decisions.

But why should the opinions of the hired help carry a moral authority denied those of the folks who actually pay the bills? How can a democracy label its citizens' involvement as censorship?

If citizens come forward and say they do not think a book is appropriate for the local elementary school or public library, how is that substantively different from a librarian or principal saying the same thing?

These are not efforts to ban books, to criminalize their publication, sale or possession. It's a simple attempt to see that the community's values are reflected in the books our libraries and schools make available at public expense, to ensure that children are not harmed through exposure to materials inappropriate to their level of development.

Schools are the worst at crying "censorship" where none exists. Whenever parents question a book's appropriateness for a certain age group, the immediate knee-jerk reaction is a self-righteous cry of censorship. The parents in question are almost always condemned as right-wing zealots (or, if they're black parents complaining about Mark Twain's use of the "n" word, dismissed as hopelessly ignorant if well-meaning), and the books stay right where they are.

If the schools are the most likely to cry wolf, then librarians are the most prolific censors on Earth. On a daily basis, they decide which books the rest of us will read and not read. Their personal taste and political biases certainly shape their purchasing decisions to some extent, despite their sincere efforts to conduct purchases according to professional criteria.

The fact is that no library on Earth stocks every book written. Tens of thousands of new titles are published every year. Trying to decide which books ought to be ordered and which ones ignored is no easy task, and no two librarians will ever agree on the exact same list.

Why, then, should the public's attempts to involve ourselves in this difficult juggling act be dismissed as censorship? Certainly, all librarians have some books they find inappropriate for their (our) shelves. It might be racist literature from white supremacists or instructions on building your own bomb.

So the argument isn't really over whether some books are inappropriate for our libraries and schools, but rather who should get to decide what those books are.

And the librarians don't want to give up that power; not even share it.

Of course, it's really up to the rest of us to make the point that public participation is not censorship. It is democracy in its purest form, and local school districts and public libraries would do well to spend as much effort at public outreach – at really listening to those they claim to serve – as they do in trying to frighten the rest of us with false cries of censorship.