More than 50 years after a North Dakota school district burned copies of Kurt Vonnegut’s ‘Slaughterhouse-Five,’ the anti-war novel is still being censored

Bruce Severy, a full-bearded, idealistic 26-year-old, moved from Southern California in 1973 to the small town of Drake, North Dakota, where he had accepted a job teaching English at the public high school. He, his small family and their menagerie of pets settled into a large, white frame house across from the school.

Severy’s progressive bent showed in the curriculum he taught. Insisting that his students should learn “how to think, not what to think,” he assigned his sophomore literature class contemporary fiction to read, including Kurt Vonnegut’s “Slaughterhouse-Five,” a strange and quirky anti-war novel published four years prior.

While Severy chose works that he believed could help his students make sense of the problems confronting society, they clashed with the conservative values of his new home. A parent eventually complained about profanity in “Slaughterhouse-Five.” In November 1976, the Drake school board voted unanimously to remove the book from school premises. School officials told students to turn in their copies, and their lockers were searched if they refused. The district went on to burn 32 copies of the novel in the school furnace.

As a Vonnegut scholar, I’m fascinated by the backlash to “Slaughterhouse-Five,” which is now widely taught in high schools and colleges across the country. Even though the U.S. Supreme Court eventually weighed in on Vonnegut’s novel, there are direct parallels between that controversy and the politics of school censorship cases today, which continue to target “Slaughterhouse-Five,” among countless other works.

Vonnegut responds

News of what happened in Drake spread quickly in the press. Those who objected to the school board’s actions made comparisons to Nazi book burnings. The school district’s cause wasn’t helped by the fact that the superintendent’s last name was Fuhrman – evoking Adolf Hitler’s formal title, Führer – and the school board chairman’s last name was McCarthy, reminding the public of Joseph McCarthy, the disgraced anti-communist senator who sought to purge and censor Americans from all walks of life.

When Kurt Vonnegut learned of the case, he was both angry and saddened.

In a letter to the Drake school board, he insisted his books were “not sexy” and did not argue “in favor of wildness of any kind.” Instead, “they beg that people be kinder and more responsible than they often are.” He informed the board that he was a decorated World War II veteran who had fought against nations that hate books and burn them. He never received a reply.

The North Dakota incident, while the most egregious attempt to censor Vonnegut, was not the only case of its kind.

As “Slaughterhouse-Five” made its way into high school and college curricula, it faced a backlash by parents and school boards who argued the novel was obscene and immoral. Its irreverent treatment of Christianity was deemed blasphemous, while its unsparing portrayal of the U.S. military’s bombing of Dresden, Germany, was condemned as anti-American.

The book has been challenged as recently as January 2026, when the ACLU filed a lawsuit on behalf of Vonnegut’s estate after Utah’s “sensitive materials law” gave school districts a mechanism to ban the novel.

The Supreme Court weighs in

Censorship cases involving “Slaughterhouse-Five” are complex because they have occurred almost entirely in high schools rather than colleges. Schools must balance their responsibility to decide what material is appropriate for younger students with students’ First Amendment rights to receive information and ideas.

One important case dealing with these issues made it all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court.

In 1976, several board members from the Island Trees School district in Long Island, New York, reacting to a list of “inappropriate” titles publicized by a conservative activist group, objected to 11 books held in the districts’ school libraries or included in the curriculum.

Seven of the books were written by authors from minority ethnic or religious groups, including titles as seemingly inoffensive as “Best Stories of Negro Writers,” edited by Langston Hughes, and the young adult novel “A Hero Ain’t Nothing but a Sandwich” by Alice Childress.

The 11th book on the list was “Slaughterhouse-Five.” At a press conference, school board member Frank Martin read excerpts from the novel out loud, focusing on a passage where one of Vonnegut’s characters, Kilgore Trout, reimagines the story of Christ’s crucifixion. Trout claims that this revised story actually offered a better moral than the original Gospel story: It teaches people to be kind to everyone, not just the well connected.

Martin, however, declared that even if the rest of the book told the best story in the world, he wouldn’t want it in the school library “with this stuff in it.”

Five high school students, led by 17-year-old Steven Pico, soon filed a lawsuit against the district, claiming the book removal was unconstitutional and that their First Amendment rights to freely receive information had been violated. The case wended its way through the lower courts for years, before it came to the Supreme Court in 1982.

Board of Education v. Pico was a tangled case. The justices wrote seven separate opinions and did not definitively settle the First Amendment issues. But a 5-4 majority did determine in favor of the students who argued that their case should have received a full trial rather than a summary judgment years ago.

As the only Supreme Court case to date involving censorship in school libraries, Pico, while a limited ruling, did set out general guidelines still used today.

The decision affirmed that school districts have the authority to supervise the education of students in their care and may remove materials that are, in the words of Justice William Brennan, “pervasively vulgar” or educationally unsuitable.

But such a decision may not be based on a school district’s objections to the ideas expressed in the books. Books may not be removed on narrowly partisan or political grounds, and removal must comply with the “transcendent imperatives of the First Amendment.”

Book banning today

Despite the fact that the justices ruled that books cannot be banned on partisan or political grounds, book banning has been on the rise in America since 2020.

The literary and free speech advocacy group PEN America documented 2,532 instances of book bans in public schools in 2021–22. That figure rose to 3,362 in 2022–23 and nearly tripled to 10,046 in 2023–24.

Since then, the numbers have dipped somewhat but are still alarmingly high.

Surprisingly, many of the school censorship cases today still focus on the same old issues affecting “Slaughterhouse-Five” over 50 years ago – profanity, sexual content and violence. John Green’s “Looking for Alaska” has been the most frequently banned book in schools since 2021, mostly because of a brief, awkward sexual encounter between two main characters.

But fiction and memoirs focusing on gender identity and LGBTQ+ issues have increasingly become targets of censorship, abetted by right-wing parental rights groups like Moms for Liberty. George M. Johnson’s memoir “All Boys Aren’t Blue” and Maia Kobabe’s autobiographical graphic novel “Gender Queer” are among the most banned books in schools in recent years.

And like the majority of the books banned in the Pico case, books by Black authors remain high on the list of school censorship cases. Nobel Prize-winning author Toni Morrison’s first novel, “The Bluest Eye,” appears among the top 10 banned books since 2021, and her Pulitzer Prize-winning “Beloved” comes in at No. 26. Ironically, “Beloved” was also named the single best work of American fiction since 1980 in a 2006 poll of writers and literary critics.

Kurt Vonnegut believed in and argued for First Amendment rights his whole career. In 1976 he told students at Connecticut College that language and literature were “holy” to him. He thought schools should resolve to expose children to all sorts of opinions and information, to make better citizens.

But he wasn’t too hopeful. Arguing against book banning, he wearily concluded, was like “attempting to explain America at its bravest and most optimistic to orangutans.”

Susan Farrell does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.