Censorship at its subtlest
Censorship, in its blatant, intrusive form, is offensive. It has come to be accepted as a distinguishing feature between regimes that are admired and those that are not. But implicit censorship exists in every society. The most insidious, and one of the most effective, are social taboos. They are inculcated and enforced by families and communities. They represent a sort of socio-psychological comfort food because they have the direct or indirect authority of whole societies behind them - through social and political pressure, and, ultimately, through the force of a legal system.
One of the reasons social taboos work so well is that they are easily mistaken for something else, namely, self-censorship. People imagine that their everyday behaviour is guided by a personal sense of right and wrong, for example. But it is almost always indistinguishable from that of their neighbour. Everyone instinctively knows it is in their interests to conform, and they possess the social antennae by which to pick up on the rules by which to do so. Self-censorship is, therefore, an illusion, a heroic psychological story we tell ourselves to sweeten the pill of society's subtlety communicated yet powerful constraints.
Censorship through social taboo is a powerful force in child-rearing. Parents willingly teach their children to fit in because a life of ease starts with being well-adjusted. That is, there are tremendous personal advantages for a person who has internalised society's parameters of thinking, feeling and behaviour to the extent that they perceive them as their own.
There are also advantages to swimming against the stream. But those rewards are so hard won that few, if any, willingly choose to do so. Most people live quite happily under the illusion that they are, at a profound level, free agents. Then, unexpectedly, the fortunate or unfortunate few - depending on your point of view - find their particular society's rules of conduct create some sort of personal internal conflict which draws their attention to a taboo under which they have lived blissfully until then. Homosexuality is a good example of how censorship through social taboo works because it is a widespread experience which has recently undergone a dramatic change in social status. On reaching adolescence, it was once tantamount to criminal to discover a sexual preference for one's own sex. Previously 'normal' individuals found that their normality was in fact dependant on a fairly arbitrary set of social rules, one of which happened to demonise a very personal and defining feature of their identity.
Even more effective, because they are more subtle, are existing social taboos that govern the thoughts and feelings of individuals according to their race or gender. A crisis, such as when one discovers that an element of one's identity is socially unacceptable, draws a person's attention to their profound connection to society, along with a simultaneous feeling of alienation. To make one's way outside society's sheltering inclusivity is, in many ways, one of the hardest experiences an individual will ever face, especially if close family and friends share the disapproval of wider society.
Rare is the person who has never felt the weight of implicit social convention to his or her detriment. But equally rare is the individual who is willing to suffer social isolation for the sake of a personal conviction. Those who do are heroes. They sacrifice themselves to a greater cause. Though even heroes say they do not choose, but feel compelled, to do so. To challenge the subtlest forms of censorship is to challenge society itself.
Jean Nicol is a psychologist specialising in issues of cultural identity and change in an era of globalisation
