The sad fact is that actual artistic oppression - book banning in

Andrew Breitbart once declared with fiery conviction: “The sad fact is that actual artistic oppression—book banning in its many modern forms—is a matter of course in the entertainment industry, especially when the underlying product is declared politically incorrect or runs contrary to the interests of Hollywood's political altar, the Democratic Party.” These words are not merely an accusation, but a lamentation over the clash between art and power, freedom and conformity. In them lies the ancient struggle of creators against rulers, of visionaries against the guardians of orthodoxy.

At the heart of his claim is the idea of artistic oppression. Though in modern times we imagine ourselves liberated from the censorship of kings and tyrants, Breitbart reminds us that suppression still exists—though in subtler forms. No longer are books burned in public squares; instead, they are quietly removed from shelves, productions shelved, scripts refused, and voices excluded when they do not conform to the reigning ideology. He names this as a sad fact, because art, which ought to breathe freely, becomes shackled by fear of offending the powerful.

History bears witness to this truth. Recall the fate of Galileo, whose writings were banned by the Church because his science challenged the accepted cosmology. His books were not destroyed in flames, but forbidden, hidden from the public. Or consider the works of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, censored by the Soviet Union because they revealed the brutal realities of the gulag. In every age, those who wield cultural or political power have sought to silence dissenting art. Breitbart warns us that such patterns have not vanished, but endure in new forms, hidden beneath modern language like “political correctness.”

The politically incorrect becomes the modern heretic. When art strays from approved narratives, it is not debated but dismissed, not engaged with but erased. To Breitbart, this is no different from the book banning of old—an attempt to control the imagination of the people by limiting what they may see, hear, or read. The tragedy is doubled, for while oppression once came from monarchs and priests, now it comes from an industry that claims to celebrate freedom and creativity. Thus, hypocrisy is added to the weight of suppression.

Yet his words are not only bitter—they are also a call to courage. The history of human progress has often been carried by those who defied censorship, who refused to be silenced. Martin Luther, nailing his theses to the church door, risked his life to challenge doctrine. The American revolutionaries published pamphlets condemned by the Crown, yet those words lit fires of liberty. Even in the modern age, writers, filmmakers, and musicians who refused to bend to political pressure gave voice to truths that shaped generations. From them we learn that art endures not because it is permitted, but because it is courageous.

The lesson here is vital: guard the freedom of expression as you would guard your own breath. When you see artistic oppression, whether it be books removed, voices silenced, or stories suppressed, recognize it as a wound upon society itself. For when art is silenced, the people lose their mirror, their prophet, their teacher. Freedom cannot be preserved if only approved voices are allowed to speak.

Practically, this calls each of us to vigilance. Read the books others say should be banned. Watch the films dismissed for daring to challenge orthodoxy. Support artists whose work risks controversy for the sake of truth. Do not be lulled into thinking that censorship is always obvious; it often wears the disguise of “protection,” “sensitivity,” or “political correctness.” To resist is not merely to defend an artist—it is to defend the freedom of your own mind.

Thus Breitbart’s words, though sharp, echo the wisdom of the ancients: the struggle between power and art is eternal. The sad fact is that oppression will always seek new forms, but so too will freedom find new champions. May we be among them—guardians of art, protectors of dissent, and defenders of truth against the silence imposed by fear.