The Strangulation of Indian Cinema, How an Unaccountable CBFC is Stifling a Global Creative Force

The Strangulation of Indian Cinema, How an Unaccountable CBFC is Stifling a Global Creative Force

In the vibrant tapestry of global cinema, Indian films have carved out a space that is no longer just about song, dance, and spectacle. They have evolved into powerful narratives that resonate from the sun-scorched plains of Rajasthan to the bustling metropolises of Mumbai and Delhi, and now, onto the world stage. From the critical acclaim of films at Cannes and Toronto to the massive global audiences on streaming platforms like Netflix and Amazon Prime, Indian cinema is in the midst of a creative and commercial renaissance. It is a crucial instrument of soft power, shaping international perceptions of a modern, complex, and culturally rich India. Yet, at this very moment of unprecedented global reach and resonance, the ecosystem that nurtures this art form is being systematically undermined from within. The culprit is not a lack of talent or audience, but a crippling regulatory body: the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC), which has devolved from a collegial institution into an arbitrary, unaccountable, and capricious “one-man show.”

The Erosion of an Institution: From Collegial Panel to Personal Fiefdom

The CBFC was conceived as a statutory body under the Cinematograph Act of 1952 to certify films for public exhibition. Its mandate was not to censor, but to classify films into categories (U, A, etc.) based on their content, providing guidance to the audience. The board was designed to be a diverse and collegial body, comprising members from various fields—film, law, education, sociology, and the arts—to ensure a plurality of perspectives. This multi-member structure was its greatest strength, meant to prevent any single viewpoint from dominating the certification process and to reflect the diverse sensibilities of the Indian populace.

However, this institutional framework has been systematically dismantled. As reported, the CBFC has had no official appointments to its board since 2017. Its last full-term board, appointed that year, was led by lyricist Prasoon Joshi as chairperson. While Joshi is a respected figure in the creative community, the concentration of power in his office has been a cause for grave concern. The board has not held a meeting since 2019, reducing a body meant for deliberation to a phantom entity. This has effectively transformed the CBFC from a panel of voices into what many insiders describe as a “personal fiefdom.”

The operational authority now appears to rest with a “handful of functionalities” selected by the chairperson, leading to what is being termed a “super-censorship raj” within the organization. This centralization of power strips the CBFC of the autonomy and diversity of views essential for its credible and fair functioning. When a single individual, or a small coterie, can dictate the fate of a film that represents the labour and vision of hundreds, the process ceases to be institutional and becomes profoundly personal and arbitrary. Compounding this operational crisis is a legal limbo; the board’s official tenure ended in 2020, raising fundamental questions about the legitimacy of its current actions.

The Scissor-Happy Censor: From Certification to Creative Strangulation

The problem is not new. Indian filmmakers have long grappled with a “scissor-happy” CBFC, which has historically demanded cuts on grounds ranging from political sensitivity and religious sentiment to moral policing of intimate scenes. However, the current situation is qualitatively different and more dangerous due to the complete lack of checks and balances.

A stark recent example is the treatment of the film Homebound. This film is not an obscure project; it was India’s official selection for the Academy Awards and won the People’s Choice Award at the prestigious Toronto International Film Festival. Such accolades are a testament to its artistic merit and its power to connect with a global audience. Yet, reports indicate that the CBFC “destroyed [the film] in parts” by demanding the excision of several references to caste. This is not merely editing; it is the sanitization of reality. Caste is an integral, if uncomfortable, part of the Indian social fabric. To demand its erasure from a film that seeks to tell a truthful story is to demand that art lie. It reflects a desire to project a sanitized, conflict-free version of India that does not exist, thereby neutering the art form’s power to critique, reflect, and provoke thought.

This case is part of a disturbing pattern. The 2016 film Lipstick Under My Burkha, which told stories of female desire and autonomy, was initially denied certification by the CBFC for being too “lady-oriented.” It was only through the now-defunct Film Certification Appellate Tribunal (FCAT) that the film was granted an ‘A’ certificate and allowed to reach theatres, where it was both a critical and commercial success. The CBFC’s initial stance revealed a deep-seated patriarchy and a discomfort with narratives centered on women’s lives, a creative vision it sought to suppress.

The Death of Redressal: Abolishing the FCAT and Silencing the Underdog

Perhaps the most devastating blow to cinematic freedom in recent years was the central government’s abolition of the Film Certification Appellate Tribunal (FCAT) in 2021, as part of a wider push to eliminate various tribunals. The FCAT was a vital safety valve. It provided filmmakers with a relatively accessible, specialized, and swift forum to appeal against the CBFC’s decisions. When the CBFC demanded unreasonable cuts or denied a certificate altogether, a filmmaker could approach the FCAT for a fairer hearing.

With the FCAT gone, the only remaining legal recourse is to petition a High Court. This is a prohibitively expensive, time-consuming, and complex process. For a small-budget independent film, a legal battle in the High Court is simply not a financial possibility. This has created a stark power imbalance, tilting the scales overwhelmingly in favour of the censor board.

The consequences are visible in the plight of recent films. Dhadak 2, The Bengal Files, and Janaki V. Vs. State of Kerala are just a few examples of projects that have found themselves trapped. Their creators face a grim choice: comply with the CBFC’s arbitrary and often inexplicable demands for cuts, or indefinitely delay the release of their film, facing massive financial losses and the potential death of their project. This is precisely what has happened to Honey Trehan’s film on the life of activist Jaswant Singh Khalra. Such delays and mutilations not only harm the filmmakers but also deprive the audience of diverse stories and perspectives.

This eradication of accessible redressal mechanisms has a “chilling effect” that extends far beyond the films that are directly targeted. When filmmakers know that a wrong decision by the CBFC cannot be challenged without a ruinous legal fight, they begin to self-censor. They second-guess their scripts, trim their creative ambitions, and shelve bold, controversial, or politically sensitive ideas at the conception stage itself. This internalized censorship is far more effective and insidious than any official scissors. It kills creativity at its root.

The Global Paradox: Soaring Reach Amidst Institutional Decay

This institutional decay is occurring at a historical moment when Indian cinema’s global stock has never been higher. India was chosen as the ‘Country of Honour’ at the Marche du Film at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival, a position of prestige that acknowledged the nation’s cinematic vitality. Indian directors, cinematographers, and actors are being celebrated internationally. Streaming platforms have created a voracious global appetite for Indian content, from gritty crime thrillers and complex social dramas to quirky romantic comedies.

This global success, however, stands in stark contrast to the regressive environment at home. The international film community takes note when a country’s official Oscar entry is reportedly “destroyed” by its own censor board. It sends a contradictory message: India wants to be seen as a modern, creative powerhouse on the world stage, while its institutions actively suppress the very creativity that earns it that acclaim. This dissonance damages India’s reputation as a democracy that values free expression and could, over time, make international collaborators wary.

The Way Forward: Rebuilding the Institution

The solution to this crisis is not complicated, but it requires political will and a commitment to the principles of artistic freedom and institutional integrity.

1. Reconstitute the CBFC Board Immediately: The government must end the ad-hocism and appoint a full, diverse, and qualified board as mandated by law. This board should include filmmakers, writers, lawyers, sociologists, and child psychologists to ensure balanced and informed decision-making.

2. Restore the Collegial Functioning: The practice of regular board meetings must be reinstated. Certification decisions should be the product of debate and consensus among members, not the diktat of a single individual.

3. Reinstate an Accessible Appellate Mechanism: The government must either resurrect a body like the FCAT or create a new, specialized, and efficient appellate authority. Filmmakers must have a viable path to challenge what they perceive as unfair certification decisions.

4. Adhere to the Spirit of the Cinematograph Act: The CBFC must be reminded that its primary role is certification, not censorship. Its guidelines need to be interpreted in a manner that is contemporary, liberal, and respectful of the audience’s intelligence.

Institutions matter because they are designed to be larger than any individual. They are meant to embody due process, fairness, and continuity, outlasting changing chairs and governments. The diminishing of the CBFC into an arbitrary, unaccountable body is a profound loss for Indian democracy and culture. When a film’s artistic vision is scrubbed and sanitised, when filmmakers are forced to conform or remain silent, the loss is not merely theirs. It is a loss for every citizen, for our cultural heritage, and for India’s voice in the world. The story of Indian cinema in the 21st century should be one of global triumph, but unless its foundational supports are repaired, it risks becoming a tale of creative promise, strangled from within.

Q&A Section

Q1: What is the primary mandate of the CBFC, and how has it been distorted?
A1: The CBFC’s primary mandate, as per the Cinematograph Act, is to certify films for public exhibition by assigning them ratings (U, U/A, A) that guide the audience. Its role was envisioned as classificatory, not censorial. However, this mandate has been severely distorted. Over time, and particularly in the current context, the CBFC has increasingly functioned as a censorship body, demanding arbitrary cuts in content—from political dialogues and scenes of intimacy to social commentaries on caste—thereby sanitizing films and infringing upon the artistic vision of filmmakers.

Q2: Why is the current structure of the CBFC being called a “one-man show”?
A2: The CBFC is being called a “one-man show” because its institutional structure has collapsed. There have been no official appointments to the board since 2017, and no board meetings have been held since 2019. This has concentrated operational power in the hands of the chairperson, Prasoon Joshi, and a small group of officials chosen by him. This centralization negates the very purpose of a multi-member board, which is to bring diverse perspectives and collective decision-making to the certification process, turning it instead into a personal fiefdom.

Q3: What was the significance of the Film Certification Appellate Tribunal (FCAT), and what has been the impact of its abolition?
A3: The FCAT was a quasi-judicial body that served as a crucial appellate forum for filmmakers who disagreed with the CBFC’s decisions. It provided a relatively swift, specialized, and accessible avenue for redressal without the need for expensive litigation. Its abolition in 2021 has left filmmakers with no option but to approach a High Court to challenge the CBFC’s rulings. This is a prohibitively costly and time-consuming process, effectively silencing independent and small-budget filmmakers who lack the resources to fight a legal battle. This has tilted the balance of power overwhelmingly in favour of the CBFC, forcing most filmmakers to comply with its demands.

Q4: How does the CBFC’s actions create a “chilling effect” on Indian cinema?
A4: A “chilling effect” occurs when the fear of punitive consequences leads to self-censorship. Knowing that the CBFC can demand arbitrary cuts with no viable appeal, filmmakers may pre-emptively alter their scripts, avoid controversial topics, dilute their narratives, or shelve projects altogether for fear of being denied certification or facing endless delays. This effect stifles creativity at its source, preventing bold, critical, and innovative stories from being written or produced. The loss, therefore, extends beyond the films that are directly cut; it includes all the films that are never made.

Q5: Despite the issues with the CBFC, Indian cinema is gaining global acclaim. Isn’t this a contradiction?
A5: It is a significant paradox. Indian cinema’s global success is driven by its inherent creative energy, the rise of digital platforms that bypass traditional distribution, and the international recognition of its talent at festivals like Cannes and Toronto. However, this success is achieved despite the regulatory environment, not because of it. The global acclaim often comes from films that are authentic and uncompromising—values that the CBFC often undermines. The danger is that the continued institutional decay will eventually tarnish India’s reputation as a creative hub and deter international collaboration, as partners may grow wary of a system known for its arbitrary censorship and lack of redressal.