On the Double Standard in Library Collections

If you want to read pornographic fiction at the British Library, you have to find the Private Case—perhaps the world’s most comprehensive collection of indecent material throughout the ages. Until the 1990s, the thousands of books housed there were locked away lest they corrupt the morality of the masses. Even today, they are stored separately from the main collection. Now it seems local libraries have followed suit—hiding works from authors which risk upsetting the sensibilities of those deemed vulnerable.

Predictably, librarians are getting their rainbow lanyards in a twist about sex—though this time, the angst isn’t focused on intercourse, but rather biology. Last month, the Telegraph reported staff at council libraries had stashed works including Trans by Helen Joyce and Material Girls by Kathleen Stock out of sight in an off-limits storage space. Indeed, despite being bestsellers, some libraries have decided not to stock these books at all.

There’s a sound reason for some censorship and barriers in libraries. Wanting to protect impressionable young readers from some of the stories and ideas expounded by authors like Marquis de Sade and Pauline Réage, both of whom have works in the British Library’s Private Case, seems fair. This is because the very young have no understanding of what is normal or healthy. As such, exposure to extreme content, even on the page, can lead to a warped understanding of sexual relationships, undermining the boundaries necessary to keep children safe from abusers. Generally, the need to protect children and teenagers is understood and embedded in policies across the public sector.

But there is one area where those charged with child protection are happy to wave away basic safeguarding: that’s when questionable messages about sex come wrapped in the rainbow flag. There has been a boom in books which purport to educate children on inclusion. Perhaps this is part of an effort to show that society has moved beyond ill-founded assumptions linking paedophilia and gay men. But as with the infiltration of the gay rights movement in the 1980s by dangerous groups like the Paedophile Information Exchange, once more questionable messages are slipping under the rainbow radar.

Books including Grandad’s Pride, a work aimed at very young children and featuring men in bondage gear, recently prompted outrage. For teenage readers, there are books such as trans activist Juno Dawson’s Wonderland. It includes lines such as “let them use your body and get fucked both ends like a little piggy,” and “You’re a fucking cum slut.” It is popularly stocked in libraries, and the UK-based bookseller Waterstones recommends it for children aged 12 and above. In Ireland, decisions to make such books available have enraged sectors of the public to the extent that librarians have had to be briefed on how to deal with protests.

Tellingly, calls to remove books to teach children about trans identities and sexual orientation are coming from the people who want to borrow books. Meanwhile, decisions to censor works by gender critical authors emanate from staff inside libraries themselves.

Indeed, when Cllr Jenny Lynn, the cabinet member for public services and communities who is responsible for Calderdale library, was questioned about the censorship of books by Helen Joyce and Kathleen Stock, she claimed it was “a consequence of an internal human resources matter”.

This glaring double standard is baked into the administration and governance of libraries. At this year’s conference of Chartered Institute of Library and Information Professionals (CILIP), Professor Louise Cooke advised library staff of their responsibilities around “controversial materials” that they hold. Ahead of her speech, Cooke explained in an interview that librarians “need to balance a number of concerns that go well beyond merely avoiding offence” before explaining the importance of differentiating between “what is ethical and what is legal”.

She notes that “a greater awareness of the rights and sensitivities of different groups (arguably a good thing in its own right) may lead us to condemn material that posits a less liberal perspective than we ourselves hold.” Even when advocating for balance, Cooke’s implicit assumption is that librarians hold opinions that are more “progressive” than those of the wider public. And notably, she is dismissive of “cancel culture,” which she argues is “perhaps more neutrally defined as ‘call-out’ culture”.

Libraries have a duty to ensure that a range of material is available. A 2015 CILIP policy statement on Intellectual Freedom, Access to Information and Censorship states:

“We will not add, or remove, any item from our shelves solely at the request of an individual or group.”

Today, this rule is remembered when concerned members of the public ask for the removal of books which claim to teach children about LGBTQ+ identities. Yet oddly, is not applied when librarians take gender critical works from the shelves. It is clear, that over the past decade, library staff have forgotten that their duty is not social engineering but rather to provide the public with the books they want to read.