From today’s majority en banc opinion by Judge Kyle Duncan in Little v. Llano County; I hope to blog more about the case, including the dissents, later today:
We consider whether someone may challenge a public library’s removal of books as violating the Free Speech Clause.
Patrons of a county library in Texas sued the librarian and other officials, alleging they removed 17 books because of their treatment of racial and sexual themes. The district court ruled that defendants abridged plaintiffs’ “right to receive information” under the Free Speech Clause and ordered the books returned to the shelves. On appeal, a divided panel of our court affirmed in part. We granted en banc rehearing.
We now reverse the preliminary injunction and render judgment dismissing the Free Speech claims. We do so for two separate reasons.
First, plaintiffs cannot invoke a right to receive information to challenge a library’s removal of books. Yes, Supreme Court precedent sometimes protects one’s right to receive someone else’s speech. But plaintiffs would transform that precedent into a brave new right to receive information from the government in the form of taxpayer-funded library books. The First Amendment acknowledges no such right.
That is a relief, because trying to apply it would be a nightmare. How would judges decide when removing a book is forbidden? No one in this case—not plaintiffs, nor the district court, nor the panel—can agree on a standard. May a library remove a book because it dislikes its ideas? Because it finds the book vulgar? Sexist? Inaccurate? Outdated? Poorly written? Heaven knows. The panel majority itself disagreed over whether half of the 17 books could be removed. For their part, plaintiffs took the baffling view that libraries cannot even remove books that espouse racism.
The only sensible course—and, happily, the one supported by reams of precedent—is to hold that the right to receive information does not apply here. A plaintiff may not invoke that right to challenge a library’s decisions about which books to buy, which books to keep, or which books to remove.
True, one of our decisions—Campbell v. St. Tammany Parish School Board (5th Cir. 1995)—suggested students could challenge the removal of a book from public school libraries. But Campbell was based on a mistaken reading of precedent and, since decided, has played no role in similar controversies in our circuit. We therefore overrule Campbell.
And here’s a separate point, which as I read it got only seven of the ten votes in the majority, with the remaining three judges—Chief Judge Jennifer Walker Elrod, Judge Catharina Haynes, and Judge Cory Wilson—thinking that the part labeled “First” sufficed to support the judgment:
Second, a library’s collection decisions are government speech and therefore not subject to Free Speech challenge. Many precedents teach that someone engages in expressive activity by curating and presenting a collection of third-party speech. People do this all the time. Think of the editors of a poetry compilation choosing among poems, or a newspaper choosing which editorials to run, or a television station choosing which programs to air. So do governments. Think of a city museum selecting which paintings or sculptures to feature in an exhibit.
In the same way, a library expresses itself by deciding how to shape its collection. As one court put it: “With respect to the public library, the government speaks through its selection of which books to put on the shelves and which books to exclude.” People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals v. Gittens (D.C. Cir. 2005). What the library is saying is: “We think these books are worth reading.”
On this point, we note an error that bedeviled our sister circuit. See GLBT Youth in Iowa Schools Task Force v. Reynolds (8th Cir. 2024). Contrary to its view, a library does not speak through the words of the books themselves. “Those who check out a Tolstoy or Dickens novel would not suppose that they will be reading a government message.” The library is not babbling incoherently in the voices of Captain Ahab, Hester Prynne, Odysseus, Raskolnikov, and Ignatius J. Reilly. Rather, the library speaks by selecting some books over others and presenting that collection to the public—just as a museum does when it curates a collection of various schools of art. No one thinks the museum is contradicting itself by featuring both Rembrandt and Andy Warhol.
This conclusion gains strength when we consider the history of public libraries. From the moment they emerged in the mid-19th century, public libraries have shaped their collections to present what they held to be worthwhile literature. What is considered worthwhile, of course, evolves over the years. Public libraries used to exclude most novels, which were thought bad for morals. Today a library would not think of excluding Fifty Shades of Grey. But what has not changed is the fact, as true today as it was in 1850, that libraries curate their collections for expressive purposes. Their collection decisions are therefore government speech.
Finally, we note with amusement (and some dismay) the unusually over-caffeinated arguments made in this case. Judging from the rhetoric in the briefs, one would think Llano County had planned to stage a book burning in front of the library. Plaintiffs and amici warn of “book bans,” “pyres of burned books,” “totalitarian regimes,” and the “Index librorum prohibitorum.” One amicus intones: “Where they burn books, they will ultimately burn people.”
Take a deep breath, everyone. No one is banning (or burning) books. If a disappointed patron can’t find a book in the library, he can order it online, buy it from a bookstore, or borrow it from a friend. All Llano County has done here is what libraries have been doing for two centuries: decide which books they want in their collections. That is what it means to be a library—to make judgments about which books are worth reading and which are not, which ideas belong on the shelves and which do not.
If you doubt that, next time you visit the library ask the librarian to direct you to the Holocaust Denial Section.
