Libraries nationwide are bracing for significant losses in federal funding as the Trump administration is seemingly poised to implement future cuts. In the last week, libraries from Pennsylvania and Ohio all the way to Massachusetts have seen cuts, shortages, changes, and closures. The narrative is familiar: Libraries are under threat, and conservatives are to blame. This framing, though, misses the central issue going on in our nation’s libraries, especially school libraries.
It’s not a matter of whether libraries have enough money, but rather, who exercises power over what children are encouraged and, more often than not, required to read.
Most parents trust school libraries to help their children discover what they enjoy reading. What many don’t realize is how much of what ends up on those shelves is shaped by a little-known group called the American Library Association (ALA).
As a seemingly neutral and professional organization dedicated to librarian empowerment and literacy, the ALA has become the gold standard for school librarians across the country. While it does not directly set school policy, it holds enormous influence in K-12 education. The ALA’s recommendations and award lists frequently shape what books are taught in classrooms and placed on school library shelves.
That influence should worry parents. It has already begun to alarm state leaders.
In recent years, many Republican states — including Georgia, Florida, Oklahoma, Montana, and more — have made strides to reject ALA standards. That pushback began in 2022, when a recently elected ALA president tweeted openly about being a “Marxist lesbian,” and expressed her hope to “‘queer the library catalog’” and show children the “‘radical library catalog.’”
But this ideology doesn’t only come from leadership. It shows up throughout the organization’s programming and priorities.
At the ALA’s 2025 annual conference, sessions included “Equity, Diversity, Inclusion, Accessibility, and Justice in Action,” “Trauma-Informed” librarianship, and “Transforming LGBTQ+ Subject Access in Libraries.” It is difficult to find anything in that lineup focused on improving reading comprehension, guiding struggling readers, or helping children discover great books.
The same focus dominates the Public Library Association, a major ALA division that boasts its “Equity, Diversity, Inclusion, and Social Justice” initiatives. One of the most egregious is the “EDISJ Challenge,” which asks libraries to examine whether their hiring and policies are “anti-racist,” unpack “white privilege,” and participate in ideological exercises such as land acknowledgments and implicit-bias tests.
Meanwhile, the ALA’s literacy awards have changed significantly in nature. What once began as a search for literary quality has devolved into a search for “diverse experiences.” The organization openly prioritizes diversity efforts and “inclusionism” in collecting, cataloging, and award-giving. This often means treating the author’s racial identity or character’s claimed gender or sexuality as exceptional in itself, rather than narrative depth, originality, or general excellence.
All in all, this reflects a simple values trade-off: social activism over literary merit.
For the ALA — the organization that trains librarians, influences school library collections, publishes guidance on catalogs, and confers prestigious awards — diversity, equity, inclusion, and social justice now routinely supersede a commitment to literacy and literary excellence.
That matters because school districts across the country copy ALA language into their own library policies, sometimes word-for-word. Librarians attend ALA conferences, adopt its frameworks, and rely on its guidance when deciding what belongs on the shelves.
In Minnesota’s District 196, for example, the district’s library policy borrows directly from the ALA’s language on the role of librarianship. One line states that “school librarians resist efforts by individuals or groups to define what is appropriate for all students or teachers to read, view, hear or access.”
On paper, that sounds noble. Schools should be intellectual playgrounds, where students are exposed to challenging and enriching ideas. But in practice, those “individuals or groups” are usually parents — parents who are forced to speak up when they see their children assigned or exposed to sexually explicit or pornographic material.
Under a facade of intellectual freedom, the ALA has softly told parents to stay out of the school library and the classroom.
This ideological shift comes at precisely the moment when American reading is in crisis. Nearly 65 percent of America’s fourth graders do not read proficiently, and across the board, students of all ages report a significantly low reading frequency and enjoyment. In this age of dwindling attention spans and constant digital distraction, books remain one of the last tools we have to build attention, imagination, and critical thinking.
Granted, the Trump administration’s sweeping federal funding cuts won’t solve much, if anything. However, neither would bringing money back to a broken system. What’s needed is a reinvigoration of a library’s purpose, through which its patrons are viewed as curious minds — ready to be tapped with knowledge and inspiration — rather than as political pawns.
When kids find joy in reading, society benefits. When they don’t, the consequences ripple outward. With fewer children reading from a young age, college professors shorten syllabi and cut readings. From there, workplaces gain graduates who cannot comprehend complex information. The quality of public debate declines, and civic life weakens. A culture that does not read well cannot think well, and the ALA is helping drive that decline.
By turning school libraries into ideological spaces rather than engines of literacy, the ALA is sending children the damaging message that politics matters more than their education.
