On June 17, the Supreme Court’s “Partial Court Working Day Bench” of Justices Ujjal Bhuyan and Manmohan directed the Karnataka government to release Tamil superstar Kamal Haasan’s film Thug Life. The Bench stated that the extra-judicial ban on the film violated the rule of law, which “demands that any film that has a CBFC certificate should be released”. With this move, the apex court set a boundary between permissible ‘regulatory oversight’ and illegitimate bans.

Interestingly, the top court’s intervention has also impliedly that a Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC) certificate is more than just a bureaucratic sign-off. It carries the weight of months, sometimes years, of creative commitment. Behind every cleared film is a trail of writers revising drafts late into the night, crews shooting through heatwaves or monsoons, and composers layering soundscapes in studios from Mumbai to Kochi.

Wardrobes are stitched to match forgotten decades; actors bend their bodies and voices into new selves; editors trim emotion from raw footage, one frame at a time. So when protests erupt, threatening to “burn down theatres” over Kamal Haasan’s remark, it was all at risk — the livelihood, passion, and late-night dreams of hundreds of artists, technicians, and storytellers across India.

The legal protection

Though often viewed as a system of control, India’s film certification regime is, at its core, a ‘constitutional safeguard’, designed not to censor but to protect creativity while honouring societal norms. It is governed by the Cinematograph Act, 1952, the 1983 Certification Rules, and detailed guidelines issued under Section 5B. The section prohibits certification if, in the certifying authority’s view, the film undermines sovereignty, state security, foreign relations, public order, morality, or risks defamation, contempt of court, or incitement to offences. Despite fulfilling every legal requirement, Thug Life was not allowed to be released in Karnataka.

Notably, the exclusive authority for film certification is vested in the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC). It is an expert body of eminent persons from different walks of life, such as social sciences, law, education, art, film, etc., who vet every frame for age appropriateness, violence, obscenity, or communal sensitivity. Designed as a centralised, transparent process, this framework strikes a delicate balance between Article 19(1)(a)’s guarantee of free speech and expression and the “reasonable restrictions” permitted under Article 19(2).

The objectives of film certification are to ensure that cinema remains sensitive to societal values, responsive to social change, and a source of clean, healthy entertainment, without unduly curbing ‘artistic freedom’. It also aims to promote films that are aesthetically valuable and cinematically sound. Any challenge to the CBFC’s assessment is, by design, confined to a statutorily empowered Appellate Tribunal, ensuring that films are judged on legal standards and expert insight, not on the whims of ‘street vigilantes’.

When certain groups attempted to silence Thug Life through intimidation, they bypassed the legal architecture, substituting the ‘rule of law’ with fear. Such tactics endanger certified content and erode the broader ethos of India’s film ecosystem, from Mumbai’s indie creators to documentary crews in North-East villages.

Free speech and the State’s duty to protect

However, the apex court emphatically rejected this tool to silence creativity. By observing that statements must be countered with statements, not threats to burn down theatres, the apex court strengthened the principle that disagreement is the lifeblood of democracy and coercion is its poison.

The SC’s observations must remind States of their affirmative duty to protect lawful expression. Notably, the courts have time and again anchored India’s film culture in the constitutional bedrock, ensuring that artistic voices, however challenging, are heard rather than hunted. “…Once an Expert Body has considered the impact of the film on the public and has cleared the film, it is no excuse to say that there may be a law and order situation. It is for the concerned State Government to see that the law and order is maintained. In any democratic society, there are bound to be divergent views…”, the SC held in Union of India v. K.M. Shankarappa (2001).

Further, the Thug Life controversy laid bare a constitutional fault line between State authority over ‘public order’ (Entry 1, List II, Seventh Schedule) and the fundamental right of free expression under Article 19(1)(a). While States bear primary responsibility for maintaining peace, they cannot abdicate this duty by conceding to extra-judicial coercion.

This was highlighted by the SC in S. Rangarajan Etc v. P. Jagjivan Ram, where it held that “…what good is the protection of freedom of expression if the State does not take care to protect it? If the film is unobjectionable and cannot constitutionally be restricted under Article 19(2), freedom of expression cannot be suppressed on account of the threat of demonstration and processions or threats of violence. That would tantamount to negation of the rule of law and a surrender to blackmail and intimidation…” It is important to note that Article 19(2) allows “reasonable restrictions” on speech, but only through law, not under the shadow of threats.

When local authorities hesitate to uphold a CBFC certificate, they effectively permit censorship by fear, undermining both the rule of law and the democratic promise of open debate.

More troubling, the Karnataka High Court’s suggestion that Kamal Haasan “express an apology” for his remarks risked turning the judiciary into a ‘moral censor’ rather than a guardian of due process.

In sharp contrast, the SC not only criticised this overreach but reaffirmed that ‘constitutional principles’, not popular sentiment, must guide judicial conduct, even when it provokes discomfort to some.

Charting a path for creative resilience

This episode reveals the urgent need for institutional safeguards against extra-judicial bans, particularly when a film poses no legal violation. A “Film Alert” system, triggered upon CBFC clearance, can prompt law-and-order assessments and pre-emptive action. Theatre owners who cancel screenings without a valid cause, despite certification and police assurance, should face regulatory scrutiny.

Crucially, the government must issue clear protest-management guidelines distinguishing lawful dissent from illegal intimidation, backed by an escalation matrix and fast-track enforcement. Above all, the State government must ensure that citizens can exercise their right to watch a certified film in peace and without fear.

In our pluralistic democracy, a creative ecosystem thrives not on uniformity of opinion but on robust channels for expressing, contesting, and reconciling divergent views. The SC’s intervention is more than one film’s victory; it is a call to fortify India’s constitutional promise by erecting legal, administrative, and social safeguards that let creative voices flourish, even when they provoke discomfort. After all, free speech isn’t just the right to speak, but the right to be heard without threats or boycott, silencing you.

The writer is a lawyer based in New Delhi

Published on June 19, 2025