Prohibition on reading and writing
The Prohibition on reading and writing is a cornerstone of the Republic of Gilead's system of control, designed to strip Handmaids and other women of independent thought and access to knowledge. By rendering them illiterate, the regime ensures their dependence on male authority for all information, from the Bible to the news, and eliminates a primary avenue for dissent and organization. This prohibition is not merely a passive absence of books but an active, policed ban, turning the written word into a forbidden and therefore powerful object.
The Legal and Institutional Framework
The prohibition is woven into the fabric of Gilead's laws and daily life. The university is closed, and lawyers no longer exist, eliminating entire professions associated with literacy and the law. The Bible itself is kept locked in a box, accessible only to the Commander, who reads from it aloud during the Ceremony. Handmaids are forbidden to read it themselves; they can only be read to. This control extends to all printed matter: magazines, newspapers, and even the names of shops are painted out, replaced by wooden signs, to remove the temptation of reading. The regime's logic is explicit: "What you don't know won't tempt you," as Aunt Lydia says, framing ignorance as a virtue.
Enforcement and Punishment
The enforcement of this prohibition is brutal and pervasive. Handmaids' rooms are subject to searches for forbidden items like books, writing materials, or black-market goods. The discovery of a single written word can lead to severe punishment, including transfer to the Colonies or execution. The narrator finds a message scratched into the wall of her closet—"Nolite te bastardes carborundorum"—a piece of graffiti that is both a comfort and a reminder of the extreme risk involved in any act of writing. The previous occupant of the room, who wrote that message, hanged herself after being discovered. The regime even removed the chandelier from the room to prevent future suicides, but the hook in the closet remains a grim possibility. The narrator's own act of telling her story, which she does in her head because "writing is in any case forbidden," is a direct defiance of this rule.
Subversion and Resistance
Despite the prohibition, the written word retains its power as a tool of resistance. The narrator's secret Scrabble games with the Commander are a form of forbidden literacy, a dangerous pleasure that reconnects her with language and thought. The act of holding a pen is described as "sensuous, alive almost," and she feels the "power of the words it contains." The message in the closet, though a joke in pseudo-Latin, becomes a personal mantra: "Nolite te bastardes carborundorum"—"Don't let the bastards grind you down." This phrase, learned from a schoolboy's Latin textbook, is a stolen piece of knowledge, a secret code that connects her to the previous Handmaid and to a tradition of covert resistance. The very existence of the narrator's taped account, discovered decades later, is the ultimate act of defiance against the prohibition, ensuring that her story—and the truth about Gilead—survives.
Thematic Significance
The prohibition on reading and writing is central to the novel's exploration of power, knowledge, and identity. By denying women access to the written word, Gilead seeks to deny them access to history, to their own pasts, and to any alternative vision of society. The narrator's struggle to remember her own name, to reconstruct her story, and to find meaning in a world that has erased her literacy is a struggle for her very self. The prohibition is not just a law; it is an assault on the mind, an attempt to create a population that cannot think critically or imagine a different future. The novel itself, as a written artifact, stands as a powerful refutation of this attempt, asserting the enduring power of storytelling in the face of oppression.
