Leslee Udwin, maker of the documentary film India's Daughter, had probably not anticipated that she'd have a second publicist in the form of the government of India. A major controversy flared up when the publicity materials for the documentary, which chronicles the December 2012 rape protests in India, highlighted an interview with convicted rapist Mukesh Singh. In Parliament, some members declared that the interview defamed India; Home Minister Rajnath Singh said that the Indian government would "not allow any organisation to leverage such an incident and use it for commercial purpose". This would be an excellent time to google the phrase "Streisand Effect": within a day of the restraining order placed on the screening of India's Daughter in India, the BBC had brought forward its own UK telecast, and the film was widely linked to on social media. As a result, Indians who might not have known about the film in the first place have made it a point to watch it. Ordinary people and celebrities alike have tweeted and shared their reaction.
True, some lawyers and women's rights activists have argued that the film should not be screened in India until the legal process is over, since the Supreme Court is yet to make its final judgment in the appeals process. If the restraining order on India's Daughter had cited interference with judicial process or had raised the question of whether the interview with the convict violated the provisions of the Indian Penal Code or it was procured after obtaining necessary permission from the jail authorities, there might have been far less argument. But these are not the grounds on which the government has based its objections. The case the Delhi Police has made is deeply disturbing, and should be challenged by thinking Indians. It does the government's reputation no good - and is unlikely to help out Indian society, either.
The arguments are that the interview with Mukesh Singh, the convicted rapist, could lead to widespread law and order problems. It is also suggested that Mukesh Singh's statements are derogatory, offensive and insulting to women in general. These are flimsy grounds on which to block the screening of a documentary that also features interviews with the victim's family and with women and students who participated in the protests. Reprehensible as the derogatory statements made by the rapist are, any government action to shut down a speech short of a direct threat of harm, however, is counterproductive in a functional democracy. There has been no threat to public order so far - there seldom is, until special interest groups decide to manufacture shows of violence for the benefit of the media. If there was such an attempt, it would be the state's business not to let the few who threaten violence hijack the majority's right to access material of public interest.
Reports suggest that the home ministry plans legal action against the film-maker, and that the government intends to question the BBC. This would be worrying if it wasn't so ridiculous. Here are the leaders of one of the world's largest and most vocal democracies, acting as though a documentary on rape and gender violence threatens the country's honour; instead of enabling a debate on sexual violence, the government wants to shut it down. This is the exact opposite of what India needs. Fortunately, the attempt to stifle debate has had, in this case, the opposite effect. India's Daughter has many critics - some have called it bland and patronising, others have felt that Ms Udwin simplifies and sensationalises the December 2012 tragedy. But by blocking the screening, the government looks intolerant and thin-skinned, and has made a martyr worldwide of an unexceptional if well-meaning film.
