Why book bans are bad (if you still can’t tell)

Here’s one little known thing about my long nights of writing on the couch with the laptop. I like to write small drafts of scenes to be added into a future story and context put in later. Here’s the spoiler-free version of one such scene draft…

The main character (MC) takes some allied mercenaries to what looks like a dealer, who stands leaning against a barrel-fire, cigarette dangling from his lip, eyes sharp behind a cracked pair of aviators. Behind him, two younger runners stood with slings across their backs, likely packed with more “product.”

One of the mercs stepped forward, duffel bag in hand. The dealer pulled a folded slip of paper from his coat and flicked it open.The bags were handed over. One of the civilians cracked one open, inspected the contents... and that’s when the MC’s expression changed.

Not pills. Not cartridges. Not anything illicit in the usual sense. But rather… Stacks of books, bound in threadbare cloth and faded covers. Some were new, printed on cheap stock, smuggled from makeshift presses in the countryside. Others were dog-eared survivors of some long-forgotten classroom.

The MC, still watching from a few paces back, squinted. “Are you seriously exchanging titles like they’re weapons?”

The dealer glanced her way. “Ma’am, these are weapons. Words cut deeper than bullets and they don’t run out of ammo…”

Another runner came forward holding a small crate reverently. He cracked the lid open.

“Here’s your payment. Two dozen primers for kids, banned folk tales, and ten copies of The Handmaid’s Tale.”

The Stalkers peered in, nodding. One took out a slim volume and thumbed through the pages with the reverence of a demolitions tech checking a live charge.

“Pages are crisp,” he said. “Bindings look stable. No redactions?”

The dealer held up three fingers. “Scout’s honour.”

“Alright,” the Stalker said, zipping up the duffel. “Pleasure doing business.”

“One more thing,” the dealer said, reaching under his coat. He produced a slim volume and handed it over like it was radioactive.

“What’s this?” the Stalker asked.

“I Know When The Caged Bird Sings. The last one I got.”

The Stalker stared. “You’re insane. That’s a heat score.”

“Call it a bonus,” the dealer said.

There was a beat of silence.

Then one of the younger Stalkers muttered, “This is the most poetic drug deal I’ve ever seen.”

The MC shook her head, a wry grin forming. “All this... for books.”

The dealer looked her way again and flicked his cigarette away. “Books got more power than any warhead. You just gotta know where to aim ‘em...”

So this draft was meant to be a satirical jab at real-life book bans. I took care to make it like they're doing a deal, but it's books instead. A humorous juxtaposition.

Why am I sharing this? Well…

We gather in a time when the freedom to read, to think critically, and to question has never been more at risk. Across the free world, books are being challenged, restricted, and outright banned. And I write this to make a simple, but vital argument: book banning is not just a social or political problem — it is morally wrong. It offends the very essence of human dignity, freedom, and the pursuit of knowledge.

There will not be any decorative imagery for this one. I need to get it out as soon and as seriously as possible, and do not want to mince words or misrepresent it.

Let us begin with a fundamental truth: every person has the right to access information and ideas. Books, whether they are fiction or nonfiction, poetry or prose, are vessels for stories, perspectives, and truths. When we ban books, we deny others the right to encounter ideas that could enrich their understanding of themselves, of others, and of the world around them. To limit someone’s access to books is to dictate what they are allowed to think and feel. It is an act of control, not protection. It assumes that only a narrow few get to decide what is “appropriate” for everyone. But moral decisions should never be dictated by fear, ignorance, or censorship — they belong to individuals, families, and communities engaging in honest, open conversations.

At its core, book banning is a war on empathy. Many of the books being challenged tell the stories of marginalized people — those from different races, religions, sexual orientations, or experiences that may differ from the so-called “norm.” These books invite readers to step into someone else’s shoes, to imagine lives beyond their own, and to feel compassion for people they may never meet. When we silence these voices, we shrink the moral landscape of society. We teach children that difference is dangerous and that it is better to ignore or erase what makes us uncomfortable. But moral courage lies in facing discomfort, not hiding from it. True strength comes from learning to see the world through someone else’s eyes.

Furthermore, banning books undermines critical thinking. Books challenge us — they raise difficult questions, expose us to uncomfortable truths, and present opposing views. These experiences teach us how to think, not just what to think. When we restrict access to books, we send the message that some questions are too dangerous to ask and some truths are too inconvenient to confront. But it is in confronting these hard questions that we grow, both as individuals and as a society. A democracy depends on informed citizens who can engage with complex ideas. How can we expect future generations to make thoughtful, ethical decisions if we shield them from the very ideas that encourage independent thinking?

It is also important to recognize that book banning is often a weapon of fear. It is used to maintain control — whether that be control over a narrative, a culture, or a population. Throughout history, authoritarian regimes have burned books to suppress dissenting views. They understood that controlling what people read is a way to control how they think. And yet, the banning of books never truly works. Ideas are resilient. Stories find ways to endure. For every banned book, there is a reader somewhere eager to discover what they were told to fear.

We must also confront the notion that banning books somehow “protects” children. Our role as a society is not to raise children in a bubble, but to prepare them to face the complexities of the world. Shielding them from literature that tackles real-world issues — like racism, identity, mental health, or injustice — does not protect them. It leaves them unprepared. Books can provide a safe space to encounter difficult topics and offer insight into questions young people are already grappling with. Denying them that opportunity does not make the world less complicated; it just makes them more vulnerable to it.

The moral failure of banning books lies in its message that ignorance is safer than knowledge, silence is better than conversation, and fear is preferable to understanding. But history has taught us again and again that the pursuit of truth, justice, and empathy begins with listening — listening to voices that are new to us, ideas that challenge us, and stories that make us uncomfortable. Books are not threats. They are bridges — bridges to knowledge, compassion, and understanding.

In closing, we must ask ourselves: what kind of society do we want to build? A fearful society that controls and censors? Or a society that embraces curiosity, encourages critical thought, and finds strength in diversity? The answer is clear: we need more books, not fewer. We need to trust in the resilience of ideas, the power of stories, and the capacity of individuals — young and old — to make sense of the world through reading.

Banning books is not just about taking words off shelves. It is about taking away possibilities — possibilities to learn, to grow, and to connect. And that, my friends, is a moral failing we cannot afford.

Why am I saying this now?

In fact, even Australia has not been immune to this trend. This particular moment is why I write this now…

The ABC reported that in May of this year, at Cumberland City Council in Sydney’s western suburbs, Councillor Steve Christou successfully convinced the council to ban books about same-sex parenting from its libraries.

However, the decision was short-lived. Public outcry followed, with over 40,000 people signing a petition demanding the ban be overturned. Just two weeks later, after passionate pleas from residents and protests in the streets, the council reversed the decision in a decisive 13–2 vote.

Librarians have been at the forefront of resisting book bans, often facing severe backlash. Cathie Warburton, CEO of the Australian Library and Information Association, reported alarming incidents:

“People are going into libraries, grabbing books off shelves, reading them aloud and declaring, ‘These shouldn’t be here,’ while calling librarians horrible names and threatening doxxing and physical violence. It’s incredibly distressing.”

Book banning efforts are frequently well-coordinated, with groups distributing lists of books — sometimes inaccurately — targeting local libraries. These attacks are often driven by cultural grievances against progress, particularly LGBTQ+ visibility, diversity, and inclusion.

At the heart of this recent ban in Sydney was a children’s book about same-sex parenting that conveyed a simple message: some people might be unkind to families who are different, but that behaviour is “not OK.”

Yet, the push to ban books extends beyond individual titles. It reflects a broader moral panic that poses a real threat to both individuals and society. Libraries become frequent targets because they are accessible to all and symbolize learning, imagination, equality, and unrestricted access to ideas and information.

Ironically, most would-be book banners haven’t read the books they challenge. When they do, bans are far less likely to occur.

Why is this happening?

The motivations behind book banning in the West are varied, but they generally stem from fear, control, and the desire to maintain certain social, political, and moral norms. There is just one problem with this motivations…

The motivations behind book banning — whether rooted in morality, the desire to protect children, fear of social change, or political control — are fundamentally misguided. Censorship not only undermines freedom of expression but also does more harm than good to the very people it claims to protect. Here’s why each of these justifications falls short:

Moral and Religious Concerns
Many challenges come from conservative or religious groups who object to books that explore themes like sexuality, LGBTQ+ identities, reproductive rights, and gender roles. Works that address topics such as abortion (The Handmaid’s Tale) or same-sex relationships are often labeled as “immoral” or “inappropriate” for young readers. These groups seek to restrict access to literature that conflicts with their worldview, fearing it could undermine traditional family structures or encourage behaviors they disapprove of.

While people have a right to their personal beliefs, banning books based on religious or moral objections imposes those beliefs on others. Public schools and libraries serve diverse communities, not just those who align with one set of values. Exposing readers to a variety of perspectives does not threaten personal beliefs — rather, it fosters empathy and allows individuals to understand other ways of life. The solution to differing viewpoints is open discussion, not censorship.

Protecting Children from “Harmful” Ideas
A common argument is that banning books is necessary to protect children from exposure to “adult” topics like sexual content, abuse, drug use, mental health issues, or racism. While it’s reasonable for parents to want age-appropriate content, many banned books offer nuanced discussions of these themes, helping young people navigate the complexities of real life. The impulse to shield children often overlooks the fact that many of them are already grappling with these issues — and need access to literature that can offer insight, understanding, or support.

Shielding children from difficult topics is not realistic or healthy. Many young people already face challenges such as mental health struggles, bullying, or identity crises. Books that explore these themes offer guidance, validation, and hope. Instead of banning these stories, we should trust educators and parents to help young readers engage with them critically. Literature can be a safe space to encounter and process complex realities.

Fear of Challenging Social Norms and Change
Books that center marginalized voices — whether they focus on LGBTQ+ identities, racial justice, or feminist issues — are often targeted because they challenge dominant cultural narratives. Efforts to ban these books reveal a desire to suppress discussions of social inequality, identity, and systemic oppression. Many parents and policymakers fear that exposure to these ideas will encourage critical thinking, activism, or challenge traditional hierarchies.

Progress is impossible without questioning old norms and learning about marginalized perspectives. Books about race, gender, and identity don’t create division; they reflect the world as it is and encourage understanding. Silencing these voices perpetuates ignorance and inequality. Social change comes from confronting discomfort and engaging with ideas that challenge us — avoiding these conversations only delays the resolution of deep-rooted problems.

Political and Ideological Control
Some book bans are driven by political motivations, particularly in polarized environments where topics like race, history, and identity have become battlegrounds. Works that address systemic racism — such as The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison or Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You by Ibram X. Kendi — are banned under the guise of being “divisive” or promoting guilt in young readers. In reality, these bans serve to control narratives about history and race, often to avoid confronting uncomfortable truths about inequality and injustice.

Education should empower students to think critically, not indoctrinate them with one-sided narratives. Banning books for addressing racism or inequality undermines efforts to teach students about justice and fairness. Critical thinking requires exposure to multiple perspectives, even those that make us uncomfortable. Students are capable of handling these discussions and should not be deprived of the opportunity to develop their own informed opinions.

Fear of Empowerment and Critical Thinking
Books that invite readers to think critically or question authority are often censored because they empower individuals to challenge the status quo. Many dystopian novels, such as 1984 by George Orwell or The Handmaid’s Tale, are targeted precisely because they encourage readers to identify signs of authoritarianism, censorship, and repression in the real world. The fear is that exposure to these ideas could inspire resistance or push young people to demand change.

The fear that books will encourage resistance to authority only underscores how important those books are. Literature that challenges oppression and censorship empowers people to recognize injustice and demand better systems. Far from being dangerous, this kind of critical engagement is essential for the health of a democracy. A society that cannot withstand criticism is a fragile one — and a society that censors literature creates a more obedient, but ultimately weaker, population.

Maintaining Cultural Hegemony and Tradition
Some groups advocate for book bans as a way to maintain cultural or national traditions, fearing that the inclusion of diverse perspectives might dilute what they consider “core” values. In this sense, banning books becomes a way to preserve a specific narrative of American identity — one that often excludes the experiences of people of color, LGBTQ+ individuals, and other marginalized groups.

The strength of a society lies in its diversity, not in the rigid preservation of outdated traditions. Trying to maintain control over culture by banning books is a losing battle — human progress and curiosity cannot be stopped. Children and adults alike benefit from encountering perspectives that differ from their own, as it broadens their understanding of the world. Traditions that cannot survive in the presence of other ideas need to be questioned, not protected by censorship.

Censorship undermines education, personal growth, and societal progress. The goal of literature is not to provide easy answers or reinforce existing beliefs — it is to challenge, provoke thought, and expand our horizons. Book banning does not protect people from harmful ideas; it limits their capacity to understand and address the complexities of life. A free society must embrace difficult conversations, not hide from them, because it is through open dialogue that we grow as individuals and as a community.

In essence, the motivations behind book banning reflect a fear of change, diversity, and disruption. It is an attempt to control not just what people read but how they think — restricting the narratives they encounter and the empathy they can develop. However, history shows that banning books rarely succeeds in silencing ideas; instead, it sparks greater interest and fuels the very conversations censors hoped to prevent.

It is a dangerous step towards authoritarianism…

Book banning is a hallmark of dictatorships because it serves as a powerful tool of control, suppressing dissent and erasing perspectives that challenge the regime’s authority. Authoritarian governments understand that ideas are dangerous — they spark critical thought, inspire rebellion, and cultivate empathy for marginalized voices. By banning books, dictatorships attempt to monopolize the narrative, ensuring that only state-approved ideologies are accessible to the public. This stifling of intellectual freedom keeps citizens in a state of ignorance and conformity, making it easier to manipulate them. History offers countless examples, from Nazi Germany’s book burnings to modern regimes censoring literature critical of their power. In silencing books, dictatorships don’t just attack words on a page — they attack freedom of thought, individuality, and the very possibility of resistance.

There are several historical examples of dictatorships and authoritarian regimes using book banning and censorship as tools to suppress dissent and control their populations:

1. Soviet Union (1917–1991)
The Soviet government strictly controlled literature, banning books that were considered counter-revolutionary or critical of Marxist-Leninist ideology. Writers like Alexander Solzhenitsyn, whose works (e.g., The Gulag Archipelago) exposed the brutality of the Soviet prison camps, were exiled or imprisoned. Censored authors were labeled “enemies of the state,” and samizdat — self-published illegal literature — circulated underground, at great personal risk to readers.

2. Nazi Germany (1933–1945)
The Nazis organized large-scale public book burnings in 1933, targeting works by Jewish authors, communists, socialists, and any literature deemed “un-German.” Books by figures like Sigmund Freud, Albert Einstein, and Helen Keller were destroyed. The goal was to erase ideas that did not conform to Nazi ideology, fostering a culture where obedience to the state was paramount.

3. Maoist China (1949–1976)
During the Cultural Revolution, the Chinese Communist Party under Mao Zedong banned books that promoted “bourgeois” or “reactionary” ideas, including classical literature and Western philosophy. Schools, libraries, and bookstores were purged of such material. Citizens were encouraged to read only The Little Red Book, which contained Mao’s ideological teachings, in order to reinforce loyalty to the Party.

4. Fascist Italy (1922–1943)
Benito Mussolini’s regime censored newspapers, books, and plays critical of fascism. Works promoting democracy, socialism, or liberal ideals were banned, and intellectuals who opposed the regime were exiled or silenced. The goal was to create a single national identity aligned with fascist ideology and suppress any form of political opposition.

5. Apartheid South Africa (1948–1994)
The apartheid government banned hundreds of books that criticized institutionalized racism and segregation or promoted liberation movements. Authors like Nelson Mandela, Steve Biko, and Chinua Achebe were censored. The regime feared that access to these ideas would inspire resistance among oppressed communities and undermine its authority.

6. Francoist Spain (1939–1975)
Under Francisco Franco, censorship was rampant. Books, films, and newspapers that criticized the regime, promoted democracy, or contained “immoral” themes — like discussions of sexuality — were banned. Writers such as George Orwell and Ernest Hemingway were prohibited because their works challenged authoritarianism.

7. Military Dictatorships in Latin America (1970s–1980s)
During the Dirty Wars in Argentina and Chile, the military regimes censored books and burned literature they associated with leftist ideologies. In Argentina, works by Marx and others viewed as subversive were banned, and intellectuals and authors were often “disappeared.” Books were seen as dangerous tools capable of spreading revolutionary ideas.

Each of these regimes understood that knowledge is power. By banning books, they sought to isolate their populations from ideas that could inspire resistance, foster empathy for the oppressed, or question the legitimacy of the regime’s authority. But in doing so, they also revealed their deepest fear: the unstoppable power of free thought.

A lot of these bans target books about marginalized groups, such as LGBTQ+ subjects in particular.

Banning books that explore LGBTQ+ topics is morally wrong because it denies people — especially young readers — the right to see themselves reflected in literature and deprives others of the opportunity to cultivate empathy for different identities. These books often provide crucial validation and support for LGBTQ+ individuals, who may feel isolated, misunderstood, or invisible in their communities. When a society suppresses these stories, it sends the harmful message that certain identities are shameful or unworthy of recognition. This contributes to a culture of stigma and exclusion, which can have devastating mental health consequences for LGBTQ+ youth, who already face higher risks of depression, bullying, and suicide.

Furthermore, banning such books robs all readers — regardless of their identity — of the chance to learn about the diversity of human experiences, fostering ignorance and prejudice. Moral development thrives on understanding and accepting others, not hiding from what makes us uncomfortable. By censoring LGBTQ+ literature, society limits conversations that could build bridges between communities and promote respect for human dignity. Everyone has a right to explore questions of identity, love, and belonging through literature. Denying that access to books about LGBTQ+ themes isn’t just an attack on free expression — it is an attack on the fundamental worth and humanity of the individuals those stories represent.

For example…

For me, the censorship of The Handmaid’s Tale is deeply ironic because it mirrors the very themes of repression, control, and authoritarianism that the book warns against. In Margaret Atwood’s dystopian world of Gilead, the ruling regime censors knowledge, restricts education, and suppresses voices — especially those of women — in order to maintain absolute control over society. Literature, free thought, and personal agency are viewed as dangerous because they foster resistance and threaten the regime’s power.

When The Handmaid’s Tale is banned in real-world school libraries, it reflects the same fear of ideas that challenge authority and social norms. The book explores themes like bodily autonomy, gender oppression, religious extremism, and resistance — topics that some may find uncomfortable or politically inconvenient. However, just as in Gilead, the attempt to censor these ideas does not erase them; it only reveals the fear of those in power — fear of open discussion, critical thinking, and societal change.

This censorship becomes a chilling reflection of the book’s message: limiting access to stories and ideas is a tactic used by oppressive forces to maintain control. The very act of banning The Handmaid’s Tale validates its dystopian premise — that suppressing uncomfortable truths is the first step toward tyranny.

In short…

The fight against book banning is not just a struggle over individual titles; it’s a battle for intellectual freedom, empathy, and the preservation of democracy. At its core, censorship is about fear — fear of diversity, fear of new ideas, and fear of change. Yet, history has shown that banning books never eliminates the ideas within them. Instead, it drives curiosity, sparks resistance, and reveals the fragility of those trying to suppress them. When we silence voices, especially those of marginalized communities, we erode the foundation of a just and open society.

To counteract book bans, communities must embrace collective action and vigilance. Parents, educators, and librarians can push back by fostering critical thinking and promoting dialogue, rather than hiding from difficult topics. People should attend school board meetings, sign petitions, and challenge bans in court where necessary, ensuring that public institutions remain inclusive spaces for all. Libraries, as bastions of free information, need our support now more than ever — both in defending challenged books and in protecting the professionals who work to keep them accessible.

Education is the most powerful tool to combat censorship. Teaching young people how to engage thoughtfully with complex and uncomfortable ideas will prepare them to confront future challenges with empathy, understanding, and resilience. In the end, the best antidote to fear and ignorance is exposure to diverse stories and perspectives. The more we read, discuss, and learn from one another, the stronger our society becomes. By standing up against book bans, we uphold not only the freedom to read but the freedom to think, to grow, and to imagine a better, more inclusive world.