by Dr. N. Burr Furlong, Ph.D.

The subject of "Censorship in the Arts" brings to mind a rather extraordinary piece of music by a Russian composer named Mossalov. The composition is a relentlessly rhythmic cacaphony quite appropriately entitled " The Steel Foundry", I believe. I can’t be too sure about the piece since, until I heard just a fragment of it last year on KRTS, the only recording of it that I knew of was owned by an elecrical engineering graduate student named Malcolm. I met Malcolm at Stanford way back in the 50’s when I was studying chemistry for my Master’s Degree. Malcolm’s sole use for this record was to employ it to torture the frat boys who were unfortunate enough to live within range of Malcolm’s kilowatt speakers, for the composition had little in it to recommend a second audition if, indeed, you could stand to hear the thing all the way through the first time.

Droll college antics you say, but what has this to do with censorship? Few knowledgable musicians would promote "The Steel Foundry" as an immortal work of art; how many times, for instance, have YOU heard this composition featured, or even included, in a symphony concert? Yet, purchasable recordings were evidently made of this musically questionable tribute to communist labor at about the same time that Shostakovitch, Prokofief and Stravinski were being either censured, suppressed or exiled by the Russian party machinery. Is it an irony or an inevitability that Mossalov’s rather talentless musical composition is a truer mirror of the system that encouraged and honored it than the Russian nationalism expressed by the more widely recognized trio of creative composers? The first conclusion I derive from this thought is that we need to remember that censorship is not only a product of our society, but to an equal or greater extent our society is a product of our censorship. If we are satisfied with things the way they are, we should perhaps not be all that anxious to rid ourselves of the strictures that brought us our status quo.

The second take home lesson here is that art is a means to an end, a medium, a mechanism. (One of the virtues of modern art, some would say its only virtue, is that it is an excellent medium for expressing the talentlessness of the artist.) The medium is as capable of depicting trash as it is of expressing treasure. But how do we distinguish trash from treasure? To coin a phrase, ah there’s the rub! Obviously, we find a poem written by someone with no talent for poetic expression less desirable reading than one written by an author who has a gift for imagery and verbal rhythm. Let me suggest, however, that we did not always find it so. I dare say there was a time in our upbringing when we found Shakespeare’s constant allusions, puns and neologisms tediously difficult and offputting. We LEARNED to recognize the talent of Shakespeare by someone’s insisting that there were treasures to be discovered in these obscurities and that the eventual gain would be worth the effort of the search. I hope you have confirmed these assertions for yourselves. How we view this process says much about how we approach the subject of censorship. We were told what to read and how to interpret. We can either be grateful that we had this guidance for enlightenment or be resentful that we were subjected to censorship and mind control.

But let me take this thought closer to home, perhaps, by going back to music as an art form. I dare again to say that there are readers of the Spin whose present musical tastes were forced on them by their middle school peers -- that is to say, you are quite convinced that anyone who listens to classical music is a dweeb, an eccentric or over the hill. YOUR preference for REAL music is the coolest! You search out and purchase the latest album by some favorite group (usually identified by some less than obvious description: The Deadly Living or Egg Drop Marshmallow or Bon Giovani) and find to your delight that all the selections are still in your favorite’s customary sound -- based on the monotonously relentless beat of a wet towel on a hollow gym locker under the riffs of overamplified guitars unfortunately failing to drown out primal, largely unintelligible, shriekings which purportedly proclaim how unfair life is for the rotten wealthy, i.e., those who are making unconscionable profits from all the money you pour into their albums. Do any of you seriously imagine that 200 years from now "The Yellow Submarine" will be played in concerts on as regular a basis as we presently hear the now 200 year old music of Mozart? What form of collusion, what form of social coercion, what sacrifice of your right to become acquainted with the very best musicianship have you permitted to occur? How did your birthright get traded for this mess of potage?

There is an excellent description of the way in which public tastes and morals are manipulated by the unscrupulous in "The Fountainhead", a book whose political philosophy can be as muddy as some of its social insights can be exemplary. The method of these social censors is as simple as it is deceptive and far more invidious and far-reaching than the most rabid book burners-- they celebrate and promote the mediocre. In the name of intellectual freedom, these critics claim that there are no real distinctions between good and bad works of art, for instance. All creative expressions are of equal merit and each of us is qualified to judge what is best and worst simply on the basis of those that we like or dislike. There are no expert authorities and the notions of the untraineed are actually to be preferred over the opinions of the knowledgable since the latter are probably instilled with the baised impedimentia of non-democratic traditions. The result of the application of this philosophy is inevitably the glorification of the mediocre, because it is a mathematical certainty and a grammatical redundancy that average opinions are mediocre.

Perhaps the most misapplied concept in modern history is the notion that all men are created equal and thus desrve to be considered just as good as anyone else. Our constitutional guarantee to this end carefully specifies that the only area this stirring and revolutionary idea refers to is our rights under the law. It does not guarantee that I could ever equal Akeem Alajuwon in basketball, or Artur Rubinstein as a pianist Those comparisons are obvious; what may be less obvious is that I should be very hesitant to ignore the opinions of experts in literature or painting or drama, because this would be, in effect, setting myself up as one who is as expert as they. In actuality, this is what we are doing if we object to conscientious censorship by knowledgable scholars. Fortunately in practice, even those of us who are left of liberal democrats when it comes to objecting to the abridgement of our access to works of art that some group has censored or banned, still tune in Siskal and Ebert to help us decide if a given flick is worth shelling out big bucks for.

Part of what I hope I have been able to make you think about is the multitude of considerations that should come to mind when the subject of censorship is raised. Censorship is a loaded word, emotionally charged with all the baggage of other indefinite absolutes such as freedom, equality, independence, etc. Most of our revulsion of censorship comes from the negative examples we see in repressive societies or as a tool in the hands of those with whom we disagree. But I ask you to consider that we should be as horrified by the rejection of long accepted guidelines under the guise of objecting to some alleged censorship. Perfect freedom is perfect license; few of us would choose to live in a world without restraints on all those other people who don’t think as agreeably as we do. Societally, censorship is widely accepted as a restraint that most of us, with the maturity to weigh the consequences would apply to information and experiences available to children. In this case, the overweaning consideration is the possible harm to a group unprepared to deal with such material. Yet even here we all recognize that the presumption of chronological age as an indicator of maturity is a seriously flawed notion (For example, does it really take three years longer to become liquor smart in Texas than in Louisiana?) and merely a convenience to avoid the application of suitability criteria much more difficult to define.

So where does all this lead us in deciding the place, if any, of censorship in the arts? To object to any kind of censorship, (defined as control of access to or support of anything claiming to be a work of art), is, I feel, placing too great confidence in the equal distribution of artistic talent throughout the human gene pool. But on the other hand, to accept without question the governace of elected officials in the availability of artistic creations to the general public is, I suggest, placing far more confidence in representative democracy than either history or reason justifies. Where then should censorship, (defined as the operational selection of support or restriction in producing works of art), come from? As we would trust the repair of our broken arm to a trained orthopedist or the education of our children in biology and chemistry to an experienced biochemist, why isn’t it as logical to trust the direction and nurture of art to those who have the talent, knowledge and historical perspective to steer the development to new creative possibilities? To trust the demonstrably non equal, but superior, to know what should be done seems to me the most reasonable course we can take as long as, in so doing, we accept our co-responsibility to participate in ways appropriate to our talents and interests.