Imagine walking into a library to look for a book you want to read, only to find that it is no longer available. Perhaps it has been removed from the shelves, relocated or simply not acquired. You may never know why. But when such decisions begin to affect books, ideas or histories, a larger question arises: who decides what remains available for people to read?
This question is no longer merely hypothetical. In
recent years, disputes over what books should be available in libraries have
become increasingly visible in several democracies. The United States offers a
particularly visible example. According to the American Library Association (ALA), 4,235 unique book titles were challenged in public,
school, and academic libraries during 2025, the second-highest number on
record. What may appear to be individual objections to particular books has
increasingly become part of wider political campaigns over education, identity
and public knowledge.
Many of the challenged books focus on race, gender,
sexuality and social position. The ALA found that 1,671 (39%) titles of those
challenged, represented the lived experiences of LGBTQIA+ people and people of
colour. The figures also show how book challenges have become connected to
wider political disputes over identity and representation.
A common misconception is that most book challenges
begin with individual parents. Before 2020, a majority of challenges did come
from parents objecting to particular books. Today, however, organised political
groups, elected officials and advocacy networks drive many of these efforts. In
2025, 92% of reported challenges were initiated by pressure groups, government
officials and other decision-makers, while less than 3% originated with
individual parents. Such bans have even led a few librarians
to run
for state political office to protect libraries from
censorship.
The mechanisms of censorship have also evolved. Where
once a parent might file a complaint about a single title, today's challenges
can involve coordinated campaigns targeting multiple titles or entire sections
of library collections. State-level legislation in places such as Florida,
Texas and Tennessee has created new legal frameworks for challenging or removing materials. The result can
extend beyond the specific titles under challenge, creating uncertainty for
librarians about what they can acquire or retain.
Why libraries have become political targets
Libraries occupy a distinctive place in democratic
societies. Unlike commercial platforms shaped by algorithms and profit, they
are public institutions built on the principle that access to knowledge should
not depend on popularity, ideology or purchasing power. Their collections are
therefore expected to include diverse, and sometimes uncomfortable,
perspectives.
Libraries have never been neutral in the sense of
being detached from society. Decisions to acquire, preserve or provide access
to knowledge involve professional judgement and consideration of users' needs.
What distinguishes democratic libraries is not the absence of values, but a
commitment to intellectual freedom, diversity of viewpoints and equitable
access.
As political debates over history, race, gender and
identity have intensified, libraries have increasingly become sites of public
contestation. Many of the books facing challenges deal with racial injustice,
sexual and gender identities, historical violence and the lived experiences of
marginalised groups. For librarians, therefore, contemporary book challenges
cannot simply be reduced to questions of age appropriateness; they also concern whose experiences are represented
and whose histories remain visible.
Soft censorship is particularly difficult to detect because it often
leaves no formal record. A controversial title may remain technically available
while becoming practically inaccessible through relocation, licensing
restrictions for electronic books, procurement decisions or administrative
procedures. Such practices rarely attract public attention, yet they can
reshape library collections just as effectively as outright bans.
Digital environments have introduced additional forms
of soft censorship. Databases and e-book platforms may face pressure to remove
or restrict access to particular titles, sometimes through licensing
arrangements that are not available to users. Such restrictions can be
difficult to identify or challenge.
How the American Library Association is responding
The ALA has responded to the recent wave of challenges
through research, advocacy, legal intervention and public engagement. Its
annual censorship reports and campaigns such as Unite Against Book Bans, Banned Books Week and Right to Read Day have helped place intellectual freedom within a wider
public discussion about libraries and censorship.
One of the ALA's important contributions has been to
document censorship attempts nationally. Its censorship reports and annual Most Challenged Books lists are used by the press, policymakers and
scholars.
Equally important has been the organisation's legal and policy advocacy. The ALA has challenged policies aimed at restricting
access to library materials and has defended librarians facing political
pressure and public harassment. In many US states, political struggles over
collection development have become entangled with wider disputes over
education, race, sexuality, gender identity and the role of public
institutions.
Why it matters beyond the United States
The American experience should not be viewed simply as
a US culture war. Libraries in many countries face pressure over what should be
taught, collected and preserved. The issues differ from place to place, but the
underlying question is similar: who should have the power to decide what
knowledge remains accessible?
Libraries often become visible in these conflicts
because they sit at the intersection of education, memory and culture. The
ALA's experience offers one useful lesson: professional associations can
support librarians through evidence, advocacy and professional solidarity when
collection decisions become politically contested.
The Indian context: censorship, libraries and the
public sphere
In India, the debate over book bans and library
censorship has its own contours, shaped by constitutional guarantees of freedom
of speech and expression,
legal restrictions on objectionable content, and recurring disputes over
history, religion and politics.
Recent years have seen heightened scrutiny of library
collections in parts of the country. In Jammu and Kashmir, authorities have ordered reviews of books in schools, colleges and public
libraries, citing concerns over material described as promoting false
narratives, violent extremism or secessionism. This followed controversy over
books supplied to government school libraries; the books were withdrawn and the
review was expanded.
The Kashmir crackdown has been particularly extensive.
In 2025, the government declared 25 books forfeited, including works by scholars, journalists and
historians such as A.G. Noorani and Arundhati Roy, alleging that they promoted
“false narratives and secessionism”. The order brought questions about the
availability of books on Kashmir's history, politics and conflict into sharper
focus.
India has also witnessed changes to school textbooks.
The National Council of Educational Research and Training (NCERT) has
undertaken several rounds of revisions since 2022, altering or removing
material on subjects including Mughal history, communal violence and democratic movements. In a revised Class 12
Political Science textbook, the Babri Masjid was referred to as a “three-domed
structure”. The Indian Express reported that the Ayodhya section had also been shortened and
some details from the earlier version removed. Such changes show that questions
about public knowledge extend beyond library collections to the wider
educational sphere.
The situation at Jammu University illustrates the
expanding scope of these concerns beyond Kashmir. In July 2026, the university
ordered a “comprehensive audit and inspection” of books in its libraries, to ensure that “no book
or publication containing anti-national, separatist or objectionable content
exists within the campus”.
One difference between the United States and India is
the public role of professional library associations. The ALA has become a
prominent public voice on intellectual freedom, while Indian library
associations have traditionally focused more on professional development,
webinars and conferences. The institutional contexts are different, but recent
controversies raise a question worth considering: should defending intellectual
freedom become a more explicit part of the public role of Indian librarianship?
The debate is also linked to the condition of India's
libraries. Vacant librarian posts, limited acquisitions, uneven digital infrastructure
and underinvestment can weaken the ability of institutions to respond when
external pressures are placed on their collections. Protecting intellectual
freedom therefore also requires adequately resourced libraries, clear
collection policies and institutional support.
There are also grassroots efforts worth noting. The Free
Libraries Network,
which emerged in Delhi and other cities, seeks to expand access to knowledge by
creating community-run libraries that prioritise marginalised voices. In 2024,
the network launched its People's National Library Policy, bringing together community organisers, librarians,
booksellers, authors and the public. The policy seeks to articulate a broader
vision for public libraries and access to knowledge.
Such initiatives demonstrate that intellectual freedom
advocacy in India is not solely reactive. It can also involve building
alternative spaces for reading, discussion and access to public knowledge.
The future of intellectual freedom
Book challenges are likely to remain part of broader
political debates over educational institutions, curricula and other public
institutions. At the same time, resistance to censorship shows that libraries
continue to have an important role in democracy.
The ALA's work against censorship is therefore more
than a professional dispute about collection development. It reflects a wider
question about whether democratic institutions can provide space for different
views and allow citizens to encounter ideas with which they may disagree.
Censorship rarely begins with dramatic book burnings
or official bans. More often, it begins quietly. Librarians hesitate before
acquiring controversial titles. Publishers anticipate political backlash.
Institutions avoid difficult subjects to minimise conflict. Readers may
gradually encounter fewer perspectives without knowing what has disappeared.
These quieter forms of censorship can shape public knowledge by encouraging
self-censorship within institutions.
Developments in American schools, libraries in
Kashmir, community reading rooms in Delhi and public libraries across the
county may appear different, but they raise related questions: who controls
knowledge, whose histories are preserved and how should democratic societies
negotiate disagreement? The future of libraries will depend not only on the
books they acquire and preserve, but also on their willingness—and society's
willingness—to defend the freedom to read.
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