What Must I Do?

Little Free Libraries and the Fragmenting of the West

File: Dublin Streets a Vendor of Books 1889.jpeg - Wikimedia Commons

I am coming, gradually, to appreciate and approve of the New York Times Ethicist column. It is definitely worth my five dollars (or however much I spend) for blog fodder. Over the weekend this question was submitted:

I have a Little Free Library in my front yard. I encourage my neighbors to take books and leave books, and many do. Children’s books are especially popular. I ‘‘curate’’ the library box at least weekly to be sure it is well stocked with books for various ages and interests: fiction, nonfiction, poetry, cookbooks, babies, storybooks, young adult literature, etc. If a book stays too long in the box, I rotate it out for a later time or donate it to another L.F.L. or to the public library. As a book lover, I am concerned about right-wing movements to remove books from libraries; I’ve always believed that we should have free access to ideas. But I am now facing an ethical question. Someone leaves a lot of religious books in my Little Free Library. I welcome Bible stories, prayer books and religious philosophy, but recently donated books are making the case to children against evolution. In storybook form, these books state that the earth is only a few thousand years old, and that dinosaurs and humans coexisted. These are not told as stories, but as the word of God. I realize that parents usually help children choose books from my front yard, and that I do not have an obligation to leave specific books in my L.F.L. indefinitely. Still, these anti-science books present me with an ethical dilemma: If I am opposed to schools’ and public libraries’ banning books like ‘‘In the Night Kitchen,’’ ‘‘Fun Home’’ and ‘‘Heather Has Two Mommies,’’ must I also distribute creationist children’s books? — Name Withheld

Honestly, isn’t it encouraging how many Christians are out there bothering these hapless New York Times readers? I imagine it would take a substantial amount of thought and trouble to distribute “a lot of religious books” into Little Free Libraries. I have a lot of religious books but I never give them away if I can help it, except for the dumb ones. Perhaps this “Someone” is leaving all the stuff he/she doesn’t really like, which I doubt, given how Name Withheld describes them. Books of Bible stories and Prayer books and religious philosophy appearing in the boxes of the well-intentioned would mean that either someone has an enormous personal library that has to be culled, or that someone is getting these kinds of books on purpose and hoping other people will read them. I mean, I would never put a bad book in a Little Free Library. That would be unkind. No, this seems like a sort of ministry effort performed by a caring soul who thoughtfully scatters good books into this fragmented society for any passerby. Maybe when I’m old I’ll have time to do this as well as pray for various neighbors who don’t want me to.

Also, I am impressed that the owner of this LFL is open-minded enough to leave these books alone so that they do get read. I feel like that represents an encouraging shift in the vibe of the universe. Or maybe it is the Spirit of God moving in the hearts of Americans to make them consider faith after all.

But then, of course, we must grapple with the question of the particular books Name Withheld objects to and the adjacent sadness that he or she doesn’t have any problem with “Heather Has Two Mommies” and those other books. And this, once again, brings us smack up against the conundrum of the pluralistic ideals upon which our “civilization” is supposedly constructed. How are we to abide together side by side when there is no common view of what is good and true and right and just and even beautiful? What sort of glue is tolerance between opposing values? What common cause is there between Heather’s Two Mommies and the revealed order of Creation in the Bible?

Here is the ethicist’s answer:

Private providers of reading material aren’t bound by the political ideal of free expression: Marriott Hotels, founded by a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, can choose to put the Christian Bible and the Book of Mormon in their rooms, and not to place a copy of the Quran or the Upanishads there as well. Public and academic libraries, by contrast, play an important role in providing free access to varied viewpoints. Let me step away from your front yard for a bit and acknowledge that the situation isn’t so clear cut when it comes to libraries meant for minors. School librarians must contend with issues of what’s age-appropriate, what’s consistent with the educational mission and what’s considered harmful, by parents as well as educators. In a progressive school in Brooklyn, you may not find a book viewed as hurtful to L.G.B.T.Q. people; in a Christian academy in the South, you might not find one viewed as advancing L.G.B.T.Q. perspectives. The point isn’t that they’re equivalent; it’s that people who say they’re opposed to banning books often wish themselves to keep certain books off the school shelves. Librarians, meanwhile, given budget constraints, can’t escape making choices based on content. I favor a relatively permissive approach. Children get properly educated when they’re aware of a wide range of views, including, as they grow older, views their parents disagree with. Learning to evaluate ideas is a preparation for adult freedom. Adults, in turn, are entitled to make their own choices about what to read. That’s one way in which adults exercise their freedom. Another way is by making choices about what books to provide to their young kids, or those in their neighborhood. So toss those creationist books if you like. Still, I doubt it would accomplish much. A parent intent on promoting creationism isn’t going to be hindered by their absence; another parent might use them to critique creationist views. Both will find a way to think outside your box.

So often these days I am struck by how fragile human society is. It seems like one of the most basic facts of the world, the thing I most take for granted, but, in reality, it takes so long to build, an awful lot of work to maintain, and almost no time at all to destroy. And that is because it is very hard to agree on anything. Two people who try to talk about something will inevitably disagree with each other not so much about the stated subject at hand, but about what is good, and which of them most enfleshes that goodness. The funny thing about the last hundred years of American life is that many of us thought we were talking about ideas, about the various legitimate ways of organizing a common life that didn’t (so many believed) require ultimate, transcendent truth to back them up. But the ideas were only a foil for the spiritual truths and lies that undergirded them. We kept saying “agree to disagree” until “we” realized we were so profoundly at odds it was almost impossible to view the other with any sense of complacency.

A whole generation has grown up thinking that there might be a reasonable way to live with vastly opposing views of the cosmos but without any of the social structures that mediated and softened those differences. It’s one thing for the 6-Day Creationist to live next door to the LGBTQia+ identifier when those two people had rich, deep familial and faith communities to undergird them each and confer acceptance, when they might know the librarian by name because there was a card catalog that was hard to figure out, when they had to check their groceries out with a real person instead of all by themselves, when, to make a bank transaction, they had to go in and talk to a live person, when there was no audible so that they had to read a book out loud if they wanted to hear it read. Unhappily, those two people may live side by side and each might have a little free library perched on their front lawn and be busily stuffing them with books, but they would be unlikely to speak to each other. They might get on the Next Door App and send a message about a change in garbage pick-up day, or about a misdelivered package, but would they ever stop and talk face to face?

And so the discomfort about “ideas” that are either acceptable or unacceptable grows and foments and everything keeps fraying, not around the edges, but in the very hearts of the people who supposedly share a society. And both will feel they are to blame and try to fix it by little efforts of book distribution and comments on the app. It’s a little bit like how your phone scolds you for the amount of screen time you use, but it’s your phone, the actual device designed to keep your eyes glued to it all the time. You’re made to feel bad about constantly using something someone has told you you must use or you can’t participate in the world, only the person making you feel bad is the person who made the thing. We must be open-minded, scold the influencers of the day, but if you consider the wrong person’s ideas you are wicked and so you shouldn’t do that. At every turn, wherever and whenever common ground might be found, powerful, often impersonal, forces prevent it.

In this way, the LFL and the dilemma of its curator is rather a neat picture of our wretched estate. You build it because you want to be good and kind and do something about the growing fragmentation, but the fact that you have a little box on your lawn means that you never have to talk to anyone. Thus, you maintain your goodness against all odds, and when you run into a little trouble, the New York Times Ethicist is there to assist you.

So anyway, have a nice day!