By Gillian Schutte

Growing up immersed in the worlds of the Grimm brothers' fairy tales, Hans Christian Andersen’s dark stories, Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, and Through the Looking-Glass, Mary Tourtel’s Rupert the Bear, series, as well as vast collections by Enid Blyton, Roald Dahl, and Dr. Seuss, I was captivated by narratives that sparked both delight and terror. These stories filled me with a sense of déjà vu, melancholy, and eerie fascination. Far from mere entertainment, they nourished my subconscious, embedding within me a latent creativity that has shaped my very being as a writer. Those early encounters with the shadow side of storytelling compelled me to confront fear and moral ambiguity, fostering the full development of my consciousness. They were essential in cultivating empathy, critical thinking, and a profound understanding of human complexity.

Every culture offers its own version of these formative tales. Fables, myths, and legends provide children with gateways into realms of darkness and light, allowing them to navigate the grey spaces in between. These stories challenge and discomfort, leaving an indelible imprint on developing minds. Yet now, this critical layer of childhood is under threat. A systematic effort seeks to sanitise and soften these narratives, stripping away anything that could be seen as "triggering." In doing so, it removes the very elements that once allowed children to grapple with the complexities of life and the fullness of human nature.

This sanitisation began with the removal of overtly racist tropes—an understandable attempt to correct historical wrongs. However, the scope of this campaign has expanded significantly. Today, it's not just harmful stereotypes being excised but entire dimensions of human experience. Anything deemed offensive or uncomfortable is subject to revision. In Roald Dahl's books, for instance, the word "fat" has been replaced with "enormous" to avoid offending modern sensibilities. What started as a necessary redress has evolved into a wholesale erasure of the shadow side of literature, leaving behind narratives that no longer challenge or provoke thought.

The move to rewrite such works is often justified under the banner of making literature "inclusive" and "non-offensive." Proponents argue that children's books should reflect evolving social norms and values, ensuring that no child feels marginalised or hurt by outdated depictions of race, gender, or physical appearance. While possibly well-intentioned, this reasoning underestimates young readers’ capacity to grapple with complexity and difference. Children, perhaps more than adults, are attuned to nuance and are capable of processing difficult emotions and challenging ideas. They understand, as Dahl himself did, that life is not always fair, people are not always kind, and the world is not always gentle.

Additionally, the process of rewriting these books erases their historical and cultural context. Children's literature, like all art, reflects the time in which it was created. It offers a window into past societies—their fears, prejudices, and values. Removing uncomfortable elements from these works’ risks losing the opportunity for critical engagement with history. Shouldn't children, when encountering offensive language or outdated stereotypes, be guided by educators or parents in understanding why these elements were present in the first place? Rather than shielding them from the ugliness of the past, literature provides a space where these discussions can unfold, enabling children to become thoughtful, critical readers.

The sanitisation of literature extends beyond books and into the realm of public discourse. We witness the marginalisation of artists, thinkers, and public figures who deviate from accepted narratives. Individuals like Johnny Depp, Russell Brand, P. Diddy, J.K. Rowling, Gina Carano, and Roseanne Barr face swift censure for challenging the status quo. I mention these names not to support or condemn them but to illustrate how any deviation from prevailing norms is met with harsh repercussions. Public condemnation serves as a warning, reinforcing rigid boundaries of acceptable thought and behaviour. This phenomenon echoes historical instances where dissenting voices were silenced to maintain social conformity.

The witch hunts and moral purges of the past serve as grim reminders of the consequences of such actions. During the European witch trials between the 15th and 17th centuries, countless individuals were persecuted based on fear, superstition, and the suppression of autonomy. Colonial powers went further, devastating indigenous peoples' cultural, spiritual, and economic lives on a tragic scale. Entire societies were upended, languages suppressed, traditions erased—all in the pursuit of control over land, resources and the elimination of resistance. This systematic eradication inflicted heinous loss on those communities as well as diminished the richness of human diversity.

The current cultural purging resembles a form of what I term "cultural eugenics" —aimed not at biological traits but at eliminating ideas and expressions that challenge dominant structures. While advocating for anti-racism, LGBTQ+ rights, and women's rights, it is clear that these causes have become commodified, serving as tools to divert attention from deeper systemic issues and suppress genuine dissent. The language of inclusion and equality is now wielded to silence those who question prevailing narratives. This is not progress; it's a dangerous suppression and a clear curtailing of progressive discourse in a strategic drive to erode our shared humanity.

This wave of purging is part of a broader pattern designed to ensure obedience and discourage critical examination of prevailing power structures. Sanitising literature and controlling public discourse aim to prevent scrutiny of global agendas that profoundly impact societies worldwide. The erasure of complexity and discomfort conditions us to accept simplified narratives, making it easier to secure unthinking support for actions that might otherwise face opposition.

Take, for example, the genocide that continues unabated in Gaza. The humanitarian catastrophe faced by the Palestinian people can no longer be referred to as a conflict; it is an mammoth atrocity compounded by geopolitical interests, including substantial natural gas reserves off its coast—the Gaza Marine gas field. Control over these resources adds a sinister layer to the violence, a geopolitical merging of economic ambitions with colonial aggression. Infrastructure projects like the proposed Ben Gurion Canal and the India-Middle East-Europe Economic Corridor (IMEC) underscore the strategic importance of this region. These initiatives promise enhanced trade routes and economic benefits for participating nations but blatantly disregard the profound human and ethical implications of their development.

Such scenarios reflect a continuation of historical patterns where powerful entities pursue economic and strategic advantages at the expense of vulnerable populations. The pursuit of resources under the pretence of progress leads to the wiping out of communities and unfathomable suffering. In this context, the suppression of dissenting voices minimises opposition to these initiatives, facilitating their advancement without substantial public scrutiny.

Mainstream media reinforces this dynamic by promoting homogeneous narratives and limiting the visibility of alternative perspectives. Critical thinking and challenging dominant paradigms are abolished, stifling any meaningful dialogue about significant global issues. The sanitisation of children's literature is a microcosm of this broader trend. Removing challenging content from stories has the same aim; to raise generations ill equipped to question and analyse the world critically.

The deliberate erosion of complexity in narratives—both fictional and real—aligns with an agenda that favours control over empowerment. In an era where artificial intelligence and technological advancements shape our realities, humanity is being conditioned to accept diminished autonomy. Reducing individuals to passive recipients of information undermines the essence of our humanity—the ability to think, question, and feel deeply. One could rightly surmise that the intent is to raise a generation of one-dimensional psychopaths, in line with a sociopathic system.

Psychologists like Carl Jung emphasised the importance of acknowledging the "shadow"—the unconscious aspects of our psyche encompassing repressed ideas, weaknesses, and instincts. Ignoring these elements does not eliminate them; it leads to their manifestation in unintended and potentially harmful ways. Sigmund Freud's exploration of repression highlights how unaddressed thoughts and emotions resurface, impacting behaviour and society at large. Ignoring these imperatives becomes a method of weaponising the masses.

As we confront these challenges, we must also heed the warnings of authors who have cautioned against the suppression of thought and creativity. Ursula K. Le Guin declared, "We will need writers who can remember freedom," underscoring storytelling's role in preserving critical consciousness. Margaret Atwood's, The Handmaid's Tale, illustrates the perils of a society where language and agency are controlled—an unnerving cautionary tale for our times.

The greatest challenge of the 21st century is to resist this purging of our humanity while confronting the simultaneous purging of sovereignty on a global scale. We stand at a junction where both our inner and outer worlds are under attack. The erasure of complexity and critical thought serves only to entrench the power of the elite, enabling the continued exploitation of people and resources without resistance. It's not merely about distraction; it's about conditioning us to accept and even endorse imperialist agendas that prioritise profit over people, all while cloaked in the rhetoric of moral superiority.

* Gillian Schutte is a film-maker, and a well-known social justice and race-justice activist and public intellectual.

** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL or Independent Media.