The conflict between artistic expression and regulatory oversight has been evident for long in India. The latest example of such a conflict is the Central Board of Film Certification’s alleged refusal to certify the film, The Voice of Hind Rajab, in March; it cleared it in May for release. The movie is based on the true story of a girl’s suffering in war-torn Gaza. The CBFC had apparently grounded its refusal on the basis of India-Israel relations.

However, arbitrary refusals by the CBFC are not uncommon: movies like Santosh, Punjab ‘95, and Lipstick Under My Burkha (later granted ‘A’ certification after an appeal to the Film Certification Appellate Tribunal) are cases in point. Contrast this with the Board’s permissive stance in certifying movies like Animal, Dhurandhar, among others, which allegedly promote misogyny and communal discord.

The aforementioned instances show that though the Board is tasked with the protection of free speech, a constitutional right, it has increasingly moved away from being ‘reasonable’ to being ‘arbitrary,’ closing the doors for expressing dissent.

The primary challenge exists in the CBFC’s structural shortcomings. The Cinematograph Act does not provide for any fixed, objective standard for what merits ‘cuts’ or a ‘refusal’. Without clear benchmarks, certification becomes dependent on the personal views and the biases of whoever occupies the relevant positions in the Examining Committee. The challenge is compounded by the lack of experts on the Board where vacancies are often filled by political appointees instead of specialists in cinema and related fields. Additionally, the abolition of the FCAT in 2021 has left filmmakers without a mechanism for appeal. Their only option is to undertake the costly, time-consuming legal route. Independent creators, who do not have enough time or resources to challenge the CBFC’s diktats, have been inconvenienced in particular.

The constitutional right of free speech cannot be curtailed without due process being followed. In a democratic set-up, law implies well-reasoned orders and the complete absence of arbitrariness on the part of institutions such as the CBFC.

The absence of objective standards creates dangerous inconsistencies. While the Board was quick to sanitise political dissent, like in the case of Punjab ‘95, it remains largely inactive when it comes to the depiction of misogyny and gratuitous violence. This lack of a scientific approach towards classification has a tangible impact on society, specifically on younger generations, who are exposed to toxic social norms while being shielded from uncomfortable political truths.

For India to maintain its history of diversity and rich artistic legacy, the CBFC
must discard the shroud around its certification process and the legislature must
bring reform by providing statutory qualifications that value expertise in cinema. For this purpose, the Board must begin including experts from various disciplines. Furthermore, clear, codified guidelines must be issued, categorically earmarking what content shall invite a cut or refusal, thereby replacing the existing system of subjective assessment. Additionally, the FCAT must be revived to provide quick, specialised relief from the Board’s scissors.