FEATURES Censorship — where to draw the line and how judgment to be made

Press, 12 July 1984, Page 13

FEATURES

Censorship — where to draw the line and how judgment to be made

It is rare to find somone who does not exercise some form of censorship. However liberal, freethinking, or generous in spirit is the person, there is probably something that he or she would keep from the children, or something that would make him or her feel uncomfortable watching in the company of grandparents, or a maiden aunt, or the vicar.

For a variety of reasons, we all censor various material from one another in everyday life. The overriding reason is that, in some way, we think that it will be bad for other persons. Bad? Well, injurious, harmful, worrying, a bad example, suggestive, tempting and so on. Of course, if it is bad for them in one of these ways, they will change for the worse and that will affect us. So, we censor for our own good as well as to stop possible injury to others. It is the same with institutionalised censorship, whether exercised by the film censor, or by BCNZ on its own material, or by newspaper editors on their copy. They excise some scenes or words or even ideas because they might, to quote The Films Act, 1983, . .

be injurious to the public good.” Censorship is with us, both in our everyday lives and in the institution we have built into our society.

There is little problem here. The difficulty comes with where to draw the line and how the judg-

ment is to be made. To deal first with how the judgment is made. Most commonly, it is based simply on opinion. Parents read books, watch television, or see films, appraise the material, and argue that, in their opinion, it will be bad for their children. Frequently, they do not mention that it is “in their opinion” but just state that it “is” bad. This, of course, occurs only after society’s representatives have already made similar judgments, based on opinion, and cut some things out altogether, cut parts from others, or restricted who may have access to the material, either by law or by timing. But, at whatever level, from the putting of books on high shelves in the home to the legal banning of snuff movies, for the most part judgment is based on opinion. This may appear unexceptionable; and perhaps it is in the absence of harder evidence. However, if such evidence exists as a basis for making censorship judgments, then surely opinion should give way to it. Take the important example of violence on film or television. In some cases the evidence is shaky, but in others it holds reasonably firm. Televised or filmed violence can have harmful effects on some viewers. There is sufficient evidence that this is so as to render opinion unnecessary and super-

fluous and to lead to automatic reductions in the amount of violence allowed to appear. This is probably occurring anyway, to some extent, but this is at least one notable and very worrisome and awkward exception. All too frequently television news items show genuine rather than stylised violence. The embassy raid in London was shown many times, as was the attempt on President Reagan’s life. Such items might not prompt similar actions in many viewers (although they might in some) but they will almost inevitably desensitise some people to inhumanity and viciousness. On the other hand, such events are highly significant news, even in the early evening when the children are watching. - This problem seems to be ignored. There is a slightly different problem with sex, leaving aside the matter of violent sex or at least classifying it with violence in general. I know of no clear evidence that sex on film, on television, or in books is in any way injurious to anyone. Why, then, should it be censored at all?

Yet many, if not most, people feel very uneasy if sex were to be entirely uncensored. Perhaps it is worth censoring simply to protect people from their own embarrassment.

Somehow, one suspects though that each individual would think that he or she would come to no harm from seeing the lesbian kiss which was excised from “A Voyage Round my Father,” but that someone else might. Odd, isn’t it?

What is known — otherwise advertisers would not waste their (or our) money — is that film,

KEN STRONGMAN (left), professor of psychology at the University of Canterbury and “The Press” TV critic, reflects on censorship and why it is necessary. He has just been appointed to the Films Censorship Board of Review.

Films are referred to it when a distributor does not agree with the original classification. Members of the public may also ask the Minister of Internal Affairs to seek a review by the board.

The board’s chairman is Mr Noel Anderson, aged 40, an Auckland lawyer who has pleaded cases as far as the Privy Council. Others on the board are another Aucklander, Mr Peter Kiely, aged 26; Mrs Rae Collins, aged 54, a Patea county councillor; Mrs Patricia Lockhart, aged 51, of Wellington, a member of the national executive of the National Council for Women and long involved in child education; Ms Annette Dixon, aged 27, of Wellington, the associate national executive director of the Y.M.C.A.; and Mr Brian Priestley, aged 58, reader in journalism at the University of Canterbury and presenter of “Fourth Estate” on TV. Professor Strongman is 44.

television, and to some extent, the written word, do contribute to people’s beliefs about the nature of social reality, helping to form their values and attitudes, their opinions and beliefs.

Where, then, is censorship exercised on what is crass, shallow, crude and materialistic, as it is portrayed all around us? There appears to be very little control on this, probably because it is neither violent nor sexual. Yet it might be argued that it is more subtle and pervasive in its influence than either sex or violence.

Certainly, many of society’s institutions are based on the belief that such values can be taught or manipulated — think of churches, schools, and the process of government. So, it seems to be acceptable to create one-eyed materialists, even though great care must be taken to stop them from using their single eye to see parts of the body which the vast majority of them will have seen anyway.

To turn now to the other difficulty — where is the line drawn? Here the problem is that we all have different opinions and that even the few who might rely on hard evidence tend to interpret it rather differently from one another. Who, then, should make the decisions?

Of course, as I argued at the start, most of us have the experi-

ence of acting as censors on some occasions. Those who do so in the more formal sense should perhaps represent differing views and predilections, then debate might lead to reasonable decisions about what might or might not be injurious to the public good. It is probably the best compromise that can be reached. Differing views should mean that fig leaves are not painted on nudes simply because they are nudes. What is virtually certain whenever censorship is employed for the public good is that not all members of the public will be satisfied with the result, just as children are not when they have to go to bed early. Opinions no doubt range from total liberty, not to say libertarianism, through to those who would put trousers on ducks and ban “Popeye.” In all this, the thistle which is never truly grasped is to attempt to define just what is meant by “the public good.” The definition of “good” has exercised the occasional philosopher and theologian for more than a year or two. And, when one considers it, the definition of “public” is not much easier. Who counts as a member?

In spite of these difficulties, it is perhaps important to try to lay down the criteria for censorship rather than guessing what might be injurious to the public good.