Since before the United States was a nation, we have had public libraries. Although several communities claim credit for this distinction, the Scoville Library in Salisbury, Conn., is one of the earliest: Founded in 1771, it became taxpayer-supported in 1810.

Before public education became the norm, citizens recognized the value of a central repository where books could be borrowed, read and returned. When some of our most distinguished citizens were self-educated, the importance of access to reading materials could not be overestimated.

The tradition of universal public schools, which dates to the 19th century, emphasized the democratic ideal that all children should receive a basic education that would allow them to participate in a democracy.

Perhaps it is no coincidence that both these cherished traditions in our country are under attack by partisans who believe they alone know what is best for the rest of us.

Consider the sad case of Llano, Texas, where the public library has been overtaken by ultra-conservatives who have packed the library board and raided the shelves, removing such books as Maurice Sendak's award-winning "In the Night Kitchen" and a sex education book for parents and children.

In any community, there is a fringe minority that would seek to impose its religious and ethical ideas on others. In the past, however, challenges to collections have been isolated — one or two patrons offended by materials they have stumbled across.

What we have now is an organized effort by groups all across the country who are being coached by conservative think-tanks on how to remove books from libraries and public school curricula.

The group No Left Turn in Education, for example, provides sample letters for parents who wish to complain about how race is taught in the classroom, or who object to specific books in school libraries.

Meanwhile, a list of 60 books is being circulated among parents who equate some of the titles with pornography.

The result of all this hysteria is an unprecedented attack on reading materials.

In Llano, the library board was dismissed and replaced by conservatives, The Washington Post reported. The new members have closed meetings to the public and conduct open prayer before making a decision.

A branch librarian who fought the censorship attempts was fired. The library board canceled the online service OverDrive, which provides materials to people who can't physically visit a library, claiming it lacked parental controls.

Make no mistake: This is all about control. A few residents have appointed themselves the moral and ethical arbiters for the reading public.

All of this flies in the face of public libraries' mission, which is to serve the community at large. Not one political point of view, or one religion, or one demographic, but everyone.

In its "Freedom to Read" statement, the American Library Association maintains that access to books is a right enshrined in the Constitution. "We believe that publishers and librarians have a profound responsibility to give validity to that freedom to read by making it possible for readers to choose freely from a variety of offerings," it states.

When libraries fail at that mission, we are one step away from "Fahrenheit 451," Ray Bradbury's dystopian account of a future in which books are burned rather than read.

The vision of these Texas branches closing for three days to purge the shelves of objectionable books is a chilling one. Maybe you don't think this can happen in New England, with its robust tradition of public libraries and education, but don't be so sure.

A challenge to any library's independence is a challenge to reading freedoms everywhere. With lists of "objectionable" books circulating among political groups, it's only a matter of time before the book-banners come for your local library.