Authored By: H. Priya
Saveetha School of Law, SIMATS
I. Introduction
The central legal issue examined in this article is whether the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC), established under the Cinematograph Act, 1952, has systematically exceeded its constitutionally and statutorily defined mandate by functioning as a censorship authority rather than a certification body — and, if so, whether that excess is judicially remediable through the fundamental rights framework guaranteed by Part III of the Constitution of India. This is not a theoretical question: it goes to the heart of how a democratic state may regulate one of its most powerful cultural mediums without suppressing the very expression it is constitutionally obligated to protect.
In 2016, the CBFC demanded 89 cuts to Udta Punjab — a film addressing the drug crisis in Punjab — including the deletion of every reference to the state itself. Judicial intervention by the Bombay High Court was required before the film could be released substantially intact. This episode is not exceptional; it is illustrative of a documented pattern in which the Board treats its certification function as a licence to reshape or suppress artistic content. This article argues that the CBFC’s conduct, in both design and operation, fails the constitutional standards set by the Supreme Court of India and, when assessed against comparative regulatory models, reveals a framework in urgent need of structural reform.
Article 19(1)(a) of the Constitution guarantees every citizen the fundamental right to freedom of speech and expression.2 Article 19(2) permits reasonable restrictions on that right in the interests of, among other matters, public order, decency, and morality.3 The Cinematograph Act, 1952 operationalises those restrictions for cinema through the CBFC.4 The article proceeds in three analytical steps: first, it maps the legal framework and the constitutional standards developed by the Supreme Court; second, it examines structural deficiencies in the CBFC and draws comparative insights from the United States and the United Kingdom; and third, it proposes concrete legislative and institutional reforms.
II. The Legal Framework and Constitutional Standards
The Cinematograph Act, 1952 establishes the CBFC and empowers it to certify films for public exhibition under one of several categories — U, UA, A, or S — or to refuse certification altogether. The framework is, in constitutional design, a certification mechanism: its purpose is to classify content by audience suitability, not to excise expression that officials find disagreeable. This distinction is constitutionally significant. A certification regime respects creative autonomy while informing audiences; a censorship regime substitutes regulatory judgment for that of the filmmaker and the public.
The Supreme Court’s foundational treatment of this tension appears in K.A. Abbas v Union of India (1970).5 The Court upheld the principle of pre-censorship for films, acknowledging cinema’s distinctive power of mass influence. However, it simultaneously imposed a constitutional condition: restrictions on cinematic expression must be grounded in clear, objective guidelines and must satisfy the test of reasonableness. The standard of assessment, the Court held, must be the ordinarily reasonable adult — not the most sensitive, most easily offended, or most susceptible member of the audience.6 Abbas did not endorse unlimited censorial power; it conditioned that power on constitutional compliance.
This standard was refined in S. Rangarajan v P. Jagjivan Ram (1989),7 where the Court held that anticipated audience reaction cannot justify prior restraint on expression unless it amounts to incitement to imminent lawless action. The Court articulated a high threshold — the danger must be proximate and real, not remote or speculative, as though a spark is thrown into a powder keg.8 Mere potential for offence, discomfort, or controversy cannot, on this standard, ground a decision to refuse certification or demand cuts.
In Shreya Singhal v Union of India (2015),9 the Supreme Court struck down Section 66A of the Information Technology Act, 2000 for being vague and overbroad, holding that restrictions on expression must be precise, narrowly tailored, and proportionate to the harm they seek to prevent.10 The doctrine in Shreya Singhal applies with equal constitutional force to film regulation: a certification body that issues cuts without reasoned orders, responds to political pressure, or applies inconsistent standards to comparable content fails the proportionality and vagueness tests.
In Bobby Art International v Om Pal Singh Hoon (1996),11 the Supreme Court reversed a High Court order directing re-censorship of Bandit Queen. The Court held that a film must be evaluated as a whole and in its social context; isolated scenes, however uncomfortable, cannot be excised if they serve a legitimate artistic or social purpose.12 This principle directly repudiates the CBFC’s practice of demanding scene-by-scene cuts divorced from the film’s narrative and thematic intent. Together, Abbas, Rangarajan, Shreya Singhal, and Bobby Art establish three irreducible constitutional requirements: objective guidelines, a reasonable-adult standard, and holistic assessment of content.
III. Comparative Perspectives: What Other Democracies Reveal
A comparative lens is instructive because it demonstrates that film certification need not operate as censorship, and that constitutional democracies have developed more rights-respecting regulatory architectures than India’s current framework.
In the United States, the Supreme Court held in Joseph Burstyn Inc v Wilson (1952)13 that motion pictures are protected expression under the First Amendment.14 Government licensing of films on grounds as vague as “sacrilege” was held unconstitutional. Crucially, no governmental body in the United States has the power to require cuts or withhold certification as a precondition for exhibition. Classification is performed by the Motion Picture Association, a private body with no compulsory authority; filmmakers may exhibit unrated films, accepting commercial restrictions rather than legal ones. The American model therefore separates classification from prior restraint entirely — a separation India’s framework collapses.
The United Kingdom offers a more proximate comparison. The British Board of Film Classification (BBFC) classifies films for age-appropriateness and operates under the Video Recordings Act, 1984.15 While the BBFC may, in rare cases, refuse classification — effectively banning a film from licensed exhibition — it does so through a transparent, published set of guidelines that are periodically reviewed with public consultation. All decisions are accompanied by written reasons explaining which specific guideline provisions the content engages. Crucially, the BBFC is operationally independent of government, and its decisions are subject to appeal before an independent appeals body. The Human Rights Act, 1998 requires BBFC decisions to be compatible with Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights, which protects freedom of expression and demands that any restriction be necessary in a democratic society — a standard of proportionality stricter than India’s existing practice.
The contrast is revealing. Both the US and UK models share features conspicuously absent from India’s framework: institutional independence from the executive, binding published guidelines with public input, mandatory reasoned decisions, and a meaningful right of appeal. India’s CBFC, by contrast, is populated by government appointees serving at executive pleasure, operates under vague statutory language, is not consistently required to give written reasons for cuts, and remains susceptible to political and social pressure in its decision-making. The comparative record demonstrates that the deficiencies in India’s model are not inherent to film regulation as such; they are specific failures of institutional design.
IV. Structural Deficiencies and the Problem of Arbitrariness
The constitutional infirmities in CBFC practice are rooted in structural defects that the current legislative framework has not addressed. Section 5B of the Cinematograph Act, 195216 sets out the principles for certification using open-ended language — permitting refusal where content is against “good taste” or “decency” — without defining these terms or providing objective criteria for their application. This legislative vagueness is constitutionally problematic on two grounds: it fails the precision requirement mandated by Shreya Singhal, and it grants the Board a margin of discretion so wide as to render its decisions effectively unreviewable on the merits.
The Cinematograph (Amendment) Act, 202317 introduced new age-based certification categories — UA 7+, UA 13+, and UA 16+ — reflecting a welcome shift toward audience-appropriate classification. However, it does not address the fundamental problem: the absence of binding, objective certification guidelines; the lack of mandatory written reasons for cuts or refusals; and the institutional subordination of the Board to the Central Government.18 A certification body whose members are appointed by and remain accountable to the executive cannot plausibly maintain the independence necessary to function as a constitutional regulator of expression.
The practical consequence is a documented chilling effect. When filmmakers anticipate arbitrary interference — cuts without reasons, delays without timelines, refusals without clear grounds — they self-censor at the scripting stage, avoiding subject matter perceived as politically sensitive, religiously contentious, or likely to attract the attention of organised interest groups. The result is not merely a restriction on individual films; it is a systemic narrowing of the range of ideas available to the public, which strikes directly at the democratic function that freedom of expression is constitutionally designed to serve.
V. Conclusion and Proposals for Reform
This article has demonstrated that the CBFC has drifted from its constitutionally mandated function as a certification body into a de facto censorship authority. The legal issue identified at the outset — whether the Board’s conduct exceeds its constitutionally permissible mandate — is answered clearly in the affirmative. The judicial standards set in Abbas, Rangarajan, and Shreya Singhal19 collectively require that restrictions on cinematic expression be reasonable, precise, and proportionate. The current framework satisfies none of these requirements consistently. The CBFC’s vague statutory mandate, its institutional dependence on the executive, and its opacity in decision-making together produce a regulatory environment that is constitutionally unsustainable and demonstrably inferior to those developed by comparable democracies.
The key takeaway from a comparative analysis is that constitutional film regulation is achievable — the United States and the United Kingdom demonstrate that classification can coexist with genuine creative freedom. What India’s framework presently lacks is not the principle of regulation but the institutional architecture to carry it out lawfully. The lesson from both jurisdictions is that independence, transparency, and procedural rigour are not aspirational features of a good regulatory body; they are constitutional prerequisites for a body exercising prior restraint on expression.
It is therefore submitted that meaningful reform requires, at minimum, three legislative interventions. First, Parliament should enact detailed, judicially reviewable certification guidelines to replace the current vague statutory language, specifying with precision the categories of content that may ground a refusal or cut and the proportionate responses available to the Board. Second, a mandatory requirement of written, reasoned orders should be introduced for all CBFC decisions that impose cuts or refuse certification, enabling effective challenge before the Film Certification Appellate Tribunal and ensuring judicial reviewability. Third, the Board must be structurally insulated from executive influence through fixed-term, transparent, merit-based appointments and operational independence from the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting. The future of film certification in India depends on these reforms: without them, the CBFC will continue to function as an instrument of soft censorship — formally constitutional in design, but unconstitutional in effect. India’s commitment to free expression under Article 19(1)(a) demands a regulatory framework that genuinely honours it.
Note(S):
1. IIIrd Year, BA.LLB (Hons), Saveetha School of Law, Saveetha Institute of Medical and Technical Sciences (SIMATS).
2. Constitution of India 1950, art 19(1)(a).
3. Constitution of India 1950, art 19(2).
4. Cinematograph Act 1952 (India), s 5B.
5. K.A. Abbas v Union of India (1970) 2 SCC 780.
6. Ibid.
7. S. Rangarajan v P. Jagjivan Ram (1989) 2 SCC 574.
8. Ibid.
9. Shreya Singhal v Union of India (2015) 5 SCC 1.
10. Shreya Singhal v Union of India (2015) 5 SCC 1, para 93.
11. Bobby Art International v Om Pal Singh Hoon (1996) 4 SCC 1.
12. Ibid.
13. Joseph Burstyn Inc v Wilson 343 US 495 (1952).
14. US Constitution, First Amendment.
15. Video Recordings Act 1984 (UK); Human Rights Act 1998 (UK), s 12.
16. Cinematograph (Amendment) Act 2023 (India).
17. Ibid.
18. Cinematograph (Amendment) Act 2023 (India), ss 5A–5C.
19. K.A. Abbas v Union of India (1970) 2 SCC 780; S. Rangarajan v P. Jagjivan Ram (1989) 2 SCC 574; Shreya Singhal v Union of India (2015) 5 SCC 1.
Reference(S):
Cases
Bobby Art International v Om Pal Singh Hoon (1996) 4 SCC 1.
Joseph Burstyn Inc v Wilson 343 US 495 (1952).
K.A. Abbas v Union of India (1970) 2 SCC 780.
S. Rangarajan v P. Jagjivan Ram (1989) 2 SCC 574.
Shreya Singhal v Union of India (2015) 5 SCC 1.
Legislation
Cinematograph Act 1952 (India).
Cinematograph (Amendment) Act 2023 (India).
Constitution of India 1950.
Human Rights Act 1998 (UK).
Information Technology Act 2000 (India).
Video Recordings Act 1984 (UK).
