What could possibly be common to a set-top box and the regulation of content the government speaks about? To put it simply, the little box on the television set would have allowed every single parent to decide for herself what is good for her and the impressionable teenager/child at home who the government thinks would be corrupted every time he sees a woman in thongs. Unfortunately, CAS, or conditional access system, remains mired in political concerns and its implementation now will depend on whether the highest office in the country approves its re-introduction in Delhi and elsewhere. Moreover, by seeking to make it mandatory, the government has lost all goodwill that could have come its way had it just trusted the consumer enough to make the box available to him by choice at a reasonable price, and left it at that. Instead, the government got into the tedious exercise of specifying free-to-air channels, encrypted channels, etc, and confusing everyone in the process. But this is not an article on CAS. It has to do with choices being made available to the consumer and what he makes of them — not what the government makes of them. It has to do with choices in an era when control makes no sense at all. This is the age of 100-plus channels available at the touch of a remote button; the government cannot afford to talk of control until and unless it puts in place a regulatory mechanism in tune with rules in countries from where many of the foreign channels uplink. Instead Censor Board chief Anupam Kher and Information and Broadcasting Minister Ravi Shankar Prasad want to play parents to viewers old and small. They are determined to ensure that channels broadcast only what is good as defined in the programme code set for channels. Obscenity is subjective. What is obscene is to watch women, servile, wrapped up neatly in six yards of silk, talking of beliefs and customs from the early part of the last century. What is really obscene is to watch fully-clothed women being rounded up to woo a super-rich guy who, it turns out, is not really rich. What is terribly obscene is to watch fully-clothed persons simulating a sex-act — broadcast on regional channels after 10 pm. But what takes the cake is to watch brown (dusky!) women scrubbing themselves away with fairness creams to catch a groom’s fancy. But these are the subjective views of the writer, which can be implemented only within the four walls of the house. And it could have been implemented with the set-top box in place if the government had shown some will. But then, one doesn’t want to saddle Kher with a set-top box. He has decided that music videos, at least some of them, are unfit for general viewing because they are offensive to him and a whole lot of people who have been writing to him expressing their disgust and concern at the content. And to ensure a level-playing field he has decreed that all music videos, regardless of their origin, ought to be declared fit for unrestricted viewing. Kher ought to be looking at the activities of his censor officials who have cleared most of the videos of Indian origin, deeming them fit for unrestricted viewing. For they have only followed a provision in the programme code of the cable networks rule of 1994. What Kher and company perhaps ought to look at is whether the code is being implemented in full faith. Children are the most vulnerable section of society, and he should scrutinise fare targetted at them. The code here states that care should be taken to ensure that programmes meant for children do not contain any bad language or explicit scenes of violence; programmes unsuitable for children must not be carried in the cable service at times when the largest audience comprises children. Presumably they stop watching television at 10 p.m. Take, for instance, programmes meant for children like Shaktimaan on the venerable public service broadcaster Doordarshan. Reports suggest it had influenced children into imitating the superhero by attempting to fly like him. Their attempts led to death. Language used on some of the channels meant for children has changed the way they speak. How about evolving a programme code for programming for children, Mr Kher? And leave it at that.
