Librarians are such improbable targets

The Sioux City Public Library visitor, 17-year-old me, needed help. There I was with a self-selected school research subject, the Mau Mau rebellion in British Kenya Colony, but with no idea how to find stuff for my paper.

Not to worry, said a librarian, eager to help. First (she advised) consult the Readers’ Guide to Periodical Literature and note all articles on the still-smoldering uprising. Then request those magazines, which the library probably has. Take notes; better use 3x5 index cards to keep in a recipe box — subtopics listed methodically (a practice foreign to me). On she went, probably not knowing she sparked a lifelong admiration of librarians. If time allows, she said, read Robert Ruark’s “Something of Value,” a novel, yes, put packed with relevant factual information on Mau Mau.

“Wow!” I thought. “These people have research down to a science.”

Yes, library science, a discipline taking Bachelor’s Degree holders through extra college years, qualifying them to organize and present age- appropriate services while keeping pace with rapidly growing technology and information needs of the marginalized. All of which puts librarians in the lowest-paid profession requiring advanced schooling.

Modestly paid but highly respected.

But not by everyone. As censors who screen materials before making them available, librarians sometimes run up against critics who demand offensive materials be removed or stowed where kids can’t reach them.

That makes it censor vs. censor. Because librarians and journalists are first cousins, sharing a passion for freedom of information, you can guess which side I’m on.

Suppression of information goes way back. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn cave men kept cavekids from seeing risqué carvings on cave walls.

But book banning in the United States gained steadily in the 20th century’s last half. It started low-key. In my decade as a Cedar Rapids Public Library trustee (1975-85), just one demand for book removal reached the board. It was a local mom’s worry that new author Judy Blume’s popular coming-of-age novels were too sexually explicit for her daughter. (Request denied.) That meant expert materials selection staff were handling all other concerns.

But no one in those tranquil times could have imagined the tumult engulfing librarians and administrators — public and school — in today’s red state culture wars.

How did we get from there to here? Blame politicians, mainly Republican, who saw electoral gold in those book bans. In some campaign stops, they denounced certain book titles, lumping librarians in with other intellectuals — notably “pointy-headed” college professors (a George Wallace coinage) — while ironically giving the impression that because they’re of common clay, they read very little.

By February 1983 alarm signs were vivid enough to cause the American Library Association and other sponsors to begin observing Banned Books Week. (So, happy 40th anniversary, First Amendment champions!)

Today, attempted book suppression is in overdrive, with Iowa catching some of the worst publicity. In Vinton last year, the public library closed temporarily following resignation of the entire staff. Cause: incessant resident complaints about display of LGBTQ books and too many books about Democratic politicians. And, oh yes, presence of LGBTQ people on library staff. All that followed resignation of two directors and one interim director in two years.

In Des Moines, Florida-bred Moms for Liberty stalks legislators, demanding removal of materials “not age-appropriate” from school curriculum and library shelves. The real targets are books dealing with racism and LGBTQ issues. Moms for Liberty pressure has yielded results, including Gov. Kim Reynolds’ proposal that if one school removes a book, so should all the district’s schools.

One law after another forbids “obscene” materials. The latest, effective July 1, requires policies allowing someone to request removal of any classroom materials. Librarians await clarification, but the Department of Education says none is forthcoming.

At least no Iowa law (yet) allows fining or jailing non-compliant teachers, though several legislators have recommended that. Makes them look tough, they think

GOP-inspired laws cracking down on school libraries look remarkably similar — notably Iowa’s and Indiana’s. They follow Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis’ lead against “woke” librarians. But no Midwest state matches Missouri, where last April, the GOP-dominated House voted to strip from the state budget $4.5 million slated for public libraries (legislation headed off by the Senate). All in retaliation to an American Library Association lawsuit over a draconian law banning books that discus racial injustice and Holocaust history as well as LGBTQ issues. Librarians who fail to comply with the law could be fined $2,000 and/or imprisoned for a year.

How refreshing, then, to see the Illinois Legislature’s passage of a bill banning book bans. It seeks to protect public and school libraries from pressure to ban, remove or restrict access to books based on “partisan or doctrinal disapproval.”

At the bill’s signing June 19, Democratic Gov. J.B. Pritzker said, “The argument for banning books always begins with the claim that it’s about protecting children … But banning books from libraries isn’t about that at all. Book bans are about marginalizing people, marginalizing ideas and facts. Regimes ban books, not democracies.”

I could read between the lines, “Take that, red states!”

Librarians are such improbable targets. My thoughts return to that librarian of yore who taught me how to research for my school paper. An adage says, “If you give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. If you teach a man to fish, you feed him for a lifetime.”

That librarian taught me to fish.

Gazette retiree Jerry Elsea served 10 years on the Cedar Rapids Library Board, eight years as president.