Editorial: Limits to commercialisation

The decision of the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) to revise its somewhat draconian media guidelines for the impending Indian Premier League (IPL) Twenty20 tournament highlights the longstanding confusion over public attitudes to the sport in India. Is cricket a commercial business or a public good? In most countries, governments play little role in administering the business of sport, except occasionally when their national teams are involved. The problem with cricket globally is that, unlike nearly any other sport, it has developed almost as a monopsony. In most other countries, however, there are privately-financed domestic tournaments that balance the market a little. In India, on the other hand, the state at various levels has been the only buyer of cricketers. This is a factor that has severely constricted the market for talent and skewed remuneration packages hugely. The BCCI is technically an autonomous body, but transparently administers the sport like a quasi-government institution (the agriculture minister doubles as its chairman). The government has frequently intervened in key tournaments, co-opting broadcasting rights for state-owned Doordarshan from private TV channels that have paid BCCI astronomical sums for exclusive telecast rights.

The Indian Premier League Twenty20 tournament was to have redressed at least one of these structural problems in the cricket market, both domestic and global, by allowing privately-owned clubs to compete. This has had the effect of raising cricketers' earnings significantly "" but no less that of the BCCI. That the IPL would be a money spinner for the already wealthy Board is patently obvious. Seen from a purely commercial viewpoint, it may be argued that BCCI is well within its rights to claim copyright on tournament photographs taken by the media. In that sense, it is illogical for the media to express its chagrin. After all, media houses themselves straddle the grey area between public good and commercial enterprises and are known to be aggressively protective of properties they own in the form of conferences and events. So, freedom of the press cannot be cited or jettisoned when it is considered convenient.

This much is true, but two issues arise here. First, the kind of media restrictions BCCI initially considered has no precedent anywhere in the world. Even the English Football Association, one of the world's richest sports bodies, claims no copyright of photographs though match telecasts are exclusively contracted to private TV companies rather than state-run BBC. This despite the fact that soccer in England is far more a part of mainstream life and plays a much bigger role in local economies than cricket does anywhere in India.

BCCI officials have also argued that claiming copyright on photos is the same as granting exclusive broadcasting rights to a TV channel, ignoring the fact that there is a significant value difference between real-time coverage and a still photograph. Second, such strictures also raise questions of how far BCCI can extend its diktat. Claiming copyright on photos could, for instance, be stretched to dictating how news reports can be filed, for instance, or their placement.

In any case, all BCCI's arguments are weak simply because the government and the courts have declared cricket a public good. In that sense, media houses have every right not to share photographs "" a fact the Board has understood well with its sheepish backtracking earlier this week. IPL is intended to demonstrate the virtues of the commercialisation of cricket; it may well also be a lesson to BCCI on the limits to such commercialisation.