Throughout history, societies have silenced books that challenge their norms or ideals, fearing the power of words. From revolutionary warnings to critiques of injustice, many of the world’s most thought-provoking works have faced bans—not for their danger, but for their daring and for what they can rouse people to do. What does it say about a society when it fears the written word? And more importantly, what does it reveal about those in power who decide what can and cannot be read?
Recently, I planned to revisit a book that had shaped my teenage years. To my dismay, I discovered that it had been banned in multiple US schools and libraries. The reason? It was deemed inappropriate for young readers. I was struck by this notion of a banned book considered too vile to be read by young readers—especially since Lord of the Flies revolves around adolescent boys and their descent into chaos. This commotion led me to ponder a crucial question: Why are books banned in a country that prides itself on free speech?
My Encounter with Censorship
I happened to read Lord of the Flies in 12th grade as part of my curriculum. We were required to read it and write an article about it. At the time, it felt like just another academic challenge, but it profoundly changed my perspective on certain things. It was a masterful representation of a world without society, showing how fragile our societal constraints are. Without them, we are no different from savage animals, tearing each other apart without mercy.
What sets this book apart from other literary works critiquing society is that its central figures are mere children—beings often considered innocent and harmonious. This book shattered that fantasy. It challenged the ideal of children as rule-following and straight-laced individuals, exposing how, when stripped of civilisation, they too can succumb to pure madness.
Lord of the Flies challenged the notion of innocence attached to children. It posed a powerful question: “How fragile are the societal constraints we rely on?” By revealing these unsettling truths, Lord of the Flies openly challenges societal ideals. But is silencing such ideas an act of cowardice, or fear?
The Psychology Behind Book Banning: A Case of Cognitive Dissonance
Societal cognitive dissonance arises when a society claims to uphold certain values—such as freedom of expression—while simultaneously suppressing ideas that challenge its beliefs. Book banning in the US is a mirror image of this exact contradiction. A country that promotes and thrives on ideals of free speech and democracy often falters when faced with literature that questions authority.
Whether it’s the exposure of racism in To Kill a Mockingbird, the critique of oppression in Animal Farm, or the warning against totalitarianism in 1984, societal standards seem to silence anything that threatens strongly held beliefs or ideals created by those in power. Anything is deemed too vile when it forces society to acknowledge its own hypocrisy.
These books provide an escape for those trapped in an oppressive system. They offer courage for resistance, inspiring individuals to break free from the shackles of blind obedience and conformity. Perhaps that is what makes them so dangerous to those in power.
Any piece of literature that exudes a voice greater than that of its narrator is often silenced before that same voice turns into an open challenge to society in the form of rebellion. These pieces of literature depict common individuals creating ripples in a flawed system, breaking free from the shackles of a so-called moral society.
My question is: how long will these voices be silenced? How long will we remain slaves to an oppressive system? A society that continues to suppress any narrative that goes beyond its ideals is, by all means, an oppressive and cowardly one. All this intellectual freedom and free speech go down the drain the moment literature is banned for questioning authority.
The Hypocrisy of Censorship
These books have been silenced under the pretence of excessive violence, racism, or defamation of certain figures. However, censorship uses these justifications to prevent critical thinking and any jab at authority.
The same society that claims to ban books for depicting excessive violence will readily promote literature with equally violent themes, as long as it aligns with a national, ideological, or societal agenda. The same brutal depictions will be deemed acceptable if they feed the interests of those in power.
War-themed books like American Sniper or even military video games, which depict graphic violence and celebrate military action, are widely available and even promoted because they fulfil a certain narrative. Themes of brutality and revenge are acceptable when they glorify and promote heroism or patriotism. Books like The Hunger Games, which depict an oppressive authority that forces children to kill each other, are celebrated in mainstream culture, while Lord of the Flies, which presents a more unsettling and realistic portrayal of human savagery in the absence of civilisation, is frequently challenged because it questions the harmony and peace in society.
Censorship is not about protecting people; rather, it is about controlling narratives and ideas.
As long as civilisation stands, there will always be instances of voices being suppressed, whether in literature or any other form of media. The world, which now claims to be more advanced and civilised than any other in the past, is still fragile enough to fear mere words on a page.
My wish is to see a society that not only claims to promote free speech but also acts upon this same notion, regardless of whether the said speech aligns with its standardised ideals or not. A truly free society engages with conflicting voices. Books are not dangerous. The fear of questioning is. So, as long as questions and free speech continue to be feared, censorship will remain a mirror reflecting the cowardice and fear of society itself.