Rumination: Dr. Seuss in the Dock
The author’s estate and publisher desperately try to avoid total cancelation.
In a recent post entitled The Perils of 180ism, Persuasion Community founder Yascha Mounk touched briefly on the controversy that flared up in March 2021 over the banning of certain Dr. Seuss books, and he introduced the subject by saying,
“It all started when an obscure group of teachers claimed that some of Dr. Seuss’s early books included offensive drawings, prompting his estate to announce that it would no longer allow the books to be printed. Over the following days, the Chicago Public Library retired existing copies from its collection. EBay banned the books from its platform while continuing to sell copies of ‘Mein Kampf.’”
That simple background statement gives an inaccurate impression in important respects, I believe. A more considered look at the curious case of Dr. Seuss provides a telling lesson about the real-world economics of the cancel culture.
What appears to have prompted the Seuss estate, Dr. Seuss Enterprises, and the publisher of the Dr. Seuss titles, Penguin Random House, to censor six of the beloved children’s author’s books was not a claim that “some” of his “early” works included “offensive drawings.” Such a “claim” would have been old news, a yawner. Rather, it was a much broader and more aggressive assertion by critical race activists that absolutely ALL of the Dr. Seuss books, including the biggest-selling titles like The Cat in the Hat and Horton Hears a Who!, are racist, bigoted, and sexist in their very fabric and should be canceled entirely from all school curricula. See Katie Ishizuka and Ramón Stephens, “The Cat Is Out of the Bag: Orientalism, Anti-Blackness, and White Supremacy in Dr. Seuss’s Children’s Books,” published as Article 4 in Vol. 1, Issue 2 of Research on Diversity in Youth Literature (Feb. 2019).
It’s long been documented that Theodor Seuss Geisel’s early work as a cartoonist before and during World War II included some content that we would now view as racially and culturally insensitive and that a few of his early Dr. Seuss children’s books did as well. Back in the 1970s, in response to this criticism, Geisel himself had revised one of these books, And To Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street (the first and perhaps most autobiographical Dr. Seuss children’s book, the one that launched his career and laid the track for his later literary achievements). Ishizuka and Stephens, who describe themselves as “critical race scholar-activists” (p.36), canvass these early instances of insensitivity and characterize Geisel the man as harboring racist, anti-Semitic, and sexist predilections. Then they go further:
They apply a multi-factor “CRT [critical race theory] framework” (p.10) to analyze all 50 of the available Dr. Seuss children’s books (something they say hadn’t previously been done), and they conclude that the entire collection as a whole exhibits anti-Asian “Orientalism,” anti-Black racism, “White supremacy,” and sexism. See p.28 (“The presence of anti-Blackness, Orientalism, and White supremacy span [sic] across Seuss’ entire literary collection and career.”); p.30 (“Intersections of racism and sexism occur across Seuss’ entire collection of literature.”). (There have been 59 Dr. Seuss books published in total, but Ishizuka and Stephens say that 9 of them were not available to be analyzed.)
Ishizuka and Stephens say that in 2017 they presented some of their early CRT analysis to the National Education Association (NEA), the Nation’s largest teachers’ union, which has sponsored the Read Across America program to celebrate reading in public schools—a program that for 20 years, beginning in 1996, was held on Dr. Seuss’s birthday and featured Dr. Seuss books. Ishizuka and Stephens proudly state (p.36) that as a result of their anti-Seuss analysis and advocacy, “The NEA committed to start transitioning away from Dr. Seuss” and “removed all Dr. Seuss books from their annual Read Across America Resource Calendar.”
This example shows how some aggressive CRT activists bring social and economic pressure to bear on their targets to achieve cancelation by using influential intermediary organizations (whose leaders are often pre-disposed to take left-leaning positions on public policy issues) as pressure multipliers. In this age of Twitter and Instagram, when social shaming and cancelation campaigns can take off like wildfire and can quickly generate enormous momentum and overwhelming economic pressure, the Seuss estate and publisher were clearly facing (and are still facing) the threat of complete destruction of the economic value of the Dr. Seuss collection of titles.
In response to this mounting threat, those who control Dr. Seuss Enterprises (probably left-leaning themselves) appear to have made a calculated decision to acknowledge the racial and cultural insensitivity of six early Dr. Seuss titles and to work with the publisher, Penguin Random House, its book distributors, online retailers, and libraries and schools to censor those six titles entirely—in effect, to airbrush them out of history. Thus, I suspect, the actions of libraries, online booksellers, and other distributors, potentially even eBay, to suppress the six banned titles probably occurred at the request of or in coordination with the Seuss estate and the publisher of the Seuss books. (After Dr. Seuss Enterprises declared the six books anathema, some of the titles—as any economist could have predicted—started generating multi-thousand-dollar bids in auctions on eBay, and that got a lot of media attention in the midst of the Fox News vs. MSNBC horn blaring over the Seuss flap. My guess is that eBay’s management was either embarrassed to see its auction platform used to advance a Fox News narrative or decided to cooperate with the Seuss estate’s efforts out of socio-political affinity. In any event, eBay soon also banned the six excommunicated Seussian titles from its site—while, as Yascha Mounk points out, continuing to allow auctions of some truly infamous works.)
Not surprisingly, as measured by recent new book sales, the six Dr. Seuss titles that were canceled (however notable their cultural and historical value) had negligible monetary worth for the Seuss estate and its publisher: The most well-known of the canceled titles, the already once-revised And To Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street, sold only around 5,000 copies in 2020 (as compared to more than 300,000 copies per year each for the best-selling Seuss titles), and the others on the banned list evidently sold exactly zero copies in 2020, at least as tracked by BookScan. See Alexandra Alter and Elizabeth A. Harris, “Dr. Seuss Books Are Pulled, and a ‘Cancel Culture’ Controversy Erupts,” New York Times (Mar. 1, 2021).
Without negating the moral significance of the actions taken, the decision to cast out the six titles plainly looks like a desperate effort by Dr. Seuss Enterprises and Penguin Random House to sacrifice a little flesh in order to hold the line and preserve the currency and revenue potential of the remainder of the Dr. Seuss collection. Indeed, in the immediate wake of the censorship controversy, record numbers of the remaining titles sold as new books (many probably purchased by Dr. Seuss fans who feared that the rest of his works, too, could soon be dumped into the cancelation incinerator).
The problem, of course, for the estate and its publisher, and for the millions of readers who love Dr. Seuss, is that it’s very, very difficult in today’s atmosphere to stop the cancelation snowball once you allow it to start rolling down the hill. (Pardon the compounding of metaphors.) Unless the subject under attack is a favored politician, like Virginia Governor Northam or President Clinton, or a revered cultural icon, like George Washington or Thomas Jefferson (and the Seuss estate and publisher are undoubtedly hoping against hope that Dr. Seuss qualifies in this category), critical race activists and social justice warriors are almost never satisfied with a partial atonement. They’ll continue to push and pressure insistently—through academic channels, through subterranean chambers of insidious burrowing, and through the public use of highly connected influential organizations like the NEA—for complete annihilation.
One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish.