Moral Paradox

The Supreme Court of India has once again waded into the murky waters of free speech, attempting to balance constitutional sanctity with the nebulous notions of morality and decency. The Court lifted restrictions on YouTuber Ranveer Allahbadia’s podcast but demanded that he maintain “morality and decency” in his content. It simultaneously called on the Centre to draft regulatory mechanisms to curb obscenity and vulgarity on digital platforms, albeit without imposing censorship. But if such standards are to be enforced, the question arises what exactly is the point of regulation without censorship?

The ruling, in effect, is a half-measure: a call for restraint without the teeth to enforce it. This legal contortion raises a fundamental question: if the Court believes vulgarity and obscenity require regulation but is unwilling to endorse censorship, then what exactly is the point of such a mechanism? And by this logic, should regulation not be scrapped for all media? If digital platforms must be free of censorship, why should print, television and cinema be subject to state oversight? The Court’s reasoning appears to rest on an assumption that online content is inherently different, though it has provided no rationale for why this should be the case.

The Allahbadia case exemplifies this contradiction. Yet, while recognizing the “depraved” nature of his statements, the bench opted for leniency, allowing him to resume his podcast under vague conditions of “morality and decency.” Who decides what qualifies as “moral” or “decent”? A YouTube algorithm? Government-appointed arbiters? Or, as the ruling implies, should self-regulation be the answer?

India’s existing regulatory framework already exhibits glaring inconsistencies. The Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC) wields sweeping powers over cinema, often forcing filmmakers to mutilate their work in the name of ‘public sensibilities.’ Meanwhile, print and broadcast media are governed by regulatory bodies that have, at times, acted as de facto censors. If free expression is paramount, then consistency demands that the CBFC be disbanded, and restrictions on television and print be similarly eased.

While the judges are right to argue that vulgarity is not the same as humour, it is unclear why they feel the need to adjudicate taste. Popular entertainment has long pushed boundaries, and history is replete with moral panics over content that with time, came to be accepted as mainstream. What is considered indecent today may well be unremarkable tomorrow. A more coherent approach would be to either uphold a consistent standard across all media or abandon the pretension of regulation altogether. The current middle ground, where digital media enjoys freer rein while traditional formats remain under scrutiny, is both illogical and untenable. A regulatory system without enforcement is meaningless as an enforcement mechanism that avoids censorship is an oxymoron. If the Court truly believes that online speech must be free, it should advocate for the same freedoms across all platforms. Otherwise, it risks creating a hierarchy of expression, where some forms of speech are policed while others are left to the whims of the marketplace.