In the past few months, I have had three very exciting and hopeful conversations with young people, ages ranging from 13 to 27. The topic has been the growing trend to restricting access to books in school and public libraries. These younger people have very thoughtful, reasonable, mature, and wise observations on censorship and the repression of thoughts, ideas, perspectives, and cultural commentary. There is a passion and hunger for real learning and for the free exchange of ideas, even those with which we disagree. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to have the same rich and rational conversation with those over thirty.

I recently proposed having a community conversation about the banning and restriction of books with community leaders, all who demurred for one simple reason: why stir things up? Why open the can of worms where people might get unpleasant? Why confront an issue that is so simple to avoid by ignorance? And the suggestion that we include the younger voices in the discussion? One of simple dismissal: they are young and idealistic and don’t know what is good for them.

In a conversation yesterday, a young woman asked, “What are they so afraid of? There is nothing in any of these books (I shared a list of books banned or removed in Wisconsin. Wisconsin has passed Texas to become the second most book-banning state in the nation, following only Florida.) that we don’t deal with at school, on our phones, on Netflix, or with our friends. We want to talk about these things. We need to talk about these things.”

Speaking a few months ago with a UW student, I heard this, “My whole experience here (at UW-Madison) has been learning the difference between “intelligence” and “education.” Some of the most highly educated people I have met are among the least intelligent. They are not motivated by any kind of love of the truth, but fear of looking stupid. They don’t want us to “think,” they want us to “learn,” and learning means a cherry-picked selection of skewed and biased factoids that cause us to fall in line with American group-think. Here is my prediction for your focus on book-banning: the frightened people will do everything in their power NOT to have the conversation – and they will tell you they are doing it “for the children.”

Speaking with one community leader, I was questioned, “Why do you want to make a big deal out of this? This isn’t an important issue. We deal with practical matters and our priority is keeping peace, harmony, and goodwill in the (Oregon) community. There is absolutely no good reason to talk about censorship. And, by the way, no one bans books; all they are trying to do is limit and restrict access to obscene and harmful materials.” I asked for a definition of “obscene and harmful,” and the reply was, “whatever someone thinks it is.” I found this troubling on many levels.

The restriction of access to materials that individuals find offensive or distasteful should be a family matter, not a legislative one. If I don’t want my child to read a book, I should talk to my child, not decide that no one’s child should read it either. But this is a symptom of a deeper disease and a growing problem. We are in a cultural miasma for power and control. We have confused morality for ethics, further corrupted by the rejection of a “common good” for a selfish, short-sighted definition of “liberty” as personal, private, entitled, and God-ordained.

Are there troubling topics in many of the questioned, restricted, or removed books? Yes, it is why they were written. They bring to light many things that some would like to deny or pretend didn’t exist. Are we as a people struggling with the complexities of human sexuality and gender identity? Is race a tender/tinder issue with absolutely NO simple or simplistic answers? Is bullying, cyber-stalking, shaming and adolescent terrorism resulting in rises of violence and suicide? Are we learning cursing instead of cursive in homes and schools, seeing an escalation in profanity accepted in normal discourse? If you answered “no” to any of these questions, then I suggest you read a book. These are the topics a slim minority of American citizens don’t want you to read. Are you expected to agree with, emulate, or adopt the themes of controversial books? No.

When I read The Godfather, I did not become a mafia don. When I read The Handmaid’s Tale, I did not turn into a fascist misogynist. When I read Melissa, I did not instantly become a woman in a man’s body. When I read Looking for Alaska, I did not begin contemplating suicide. That’s not the way books work. I find things to stimulate thinking, generate empathy, and to question in each thing I read. It is how true learning happens.

Fear is the motivator of older generations that is preventing important and necessary conversation with younger generations. It isn’t the children and youth who don’t want to talk. We cannot grow by living in denial; we cannot address issues by ignoring them. Instead of denying access to books, we need to open access to conversation. Restricting books is bad enough; restricting open and honest dialogue and conversation may be the end of us all.