dna edit: The Information & Broadcasting ministry is a relic from the decades when there was a government monopoly

The past two weeks have occasioned uncomfortable questions about the relationship between the Information & Broadcasting ministry and Prasar Bharati. The cuts made to the Narendra Modi interview aired on Doordarshan and the allegations of censorship subsequently levelled by the BJP were damaging enough; Prasar Bharati (PB) CEO Jawhar Sircar’s criticism of the ministry was even more so. Outgoing I&B minister Manish Tewari’s questioning the need for the ministry is, therefore, a welcome development. It may be awkwardly timed given that his tenure is all but up — and that timing may raise questions about possible political motives behind it — but it brings an important perspective to the table.

As Tewari points out, the environment in which PB was conceived and the current environment are vastly different. Granted, PB’s market penetration is still greater than that of the 1,798 private channels currently broadcasting. Coupled with the relative absence of the profitability factor in its functioning, this makes it an essential tool — even now — of disseminating information and relevant programming. But the quality of that information and programming has demonstrably been on the decline as evidenced by falling viewership figures since 2000. This is unlikely to change as long as it remains under the I&B ministry, constrained by political agendas and bureaucratic turf-protection. The Prasar Bharati Act, 1990, cemented that equation and the manner in which successive governments have ignored the reports of four committees appointed to look into reforming PB — a fifth, the Sam Pitroda committee, submitted its report this January — shows that they have no intention of upsetting it. The solution, as Tewari points out, lies not in trying to rejig the I&B’s control over PB but removing it altogether.

The manner in which the BBC is set up is instructive. Perhaps the most distinguished public service broadcaster on the airwaves and stuffed to the gills with quality content, it functions as a corporation independent of direct government control. Implementing the same structure — albeit having PB answer to a bipartisan parliamentary committee instead of a government-appointed trust a la the BBC to sidestep the potential problem of sinecures — could do much to remove the perception that it has devolved into a government mouthpiece.

The I&B ministry’s other primary functions likewise display an outdated ethos. The Films Division harks back to era when the national cultural space would have been barren without government intervention.

There were simply no other player that could bring the necessary infrastructure and resources to bear. It has been some time now since that was the case. Neither has the Films Division established a tradition of quality work to justify its continued existence. Government support for film festivals, institutes and documentary efforts can and should continue — there is still a gap in some areas such as broad recognition for regional cinema of the kind the national film awards provide — but does it need an entire ministry to regulate a handful of stripped-down functions?

Is a ministry, for that matter, required to oversee the censorship board when it is that link — and the tradition of political appointees lacking the relevant expertise it perpetuates — that are in large part responsible for the board’s heavy-handedness?  Likewise, we would be better off without the ministry’s odious vetting of foreign films being filmed in India in order to ensure that the country is displayed in an acceptable light — and political sensibilities are not hurt as they were with the film on Jawaharlal Nehru in 2009. Tewari may have taken two years to speak up, but it is a good thing he did. It is for the next government to now hear what he has said.