Empowering Filipino viewers is one of the aspirations that the Movie and Television Review and Classification Board (MTRCB) hopes to fulfill with its mandate. Yet this is a mere pretense to what the agency was intended for when its architect, Ferdinand Marcos Sr., designed the board back in 1985.
And every now and then, we are reminded of the absurdity of allowing this relic from the Marcos dictatorship to dictate what kind of content we can create and consume. Its lingering presence serves as a haunting reminder of its repressive origins.
The latest in the board’s history of baffling decisions was handing out an “X” rating to Cinemalaya award-winning documentary film Alipato at Muog. Directed by JL Burgos, the documentary features his family’s 17-year search for his abducted brother and activist Jonas. Though his whereabouts remain unknown, the film presents court-submitted evidences proving that military officials were responsible for Jonas’s disappearance.
But apparently, documenting a family demanding justice is too “leftist” for the board to handle. In a Senate hearing deliberating MTRCB’s budget, Chairperson Diorella Maria Sotto justified their decision to ban Alipato at Muog from being shown in commercial theaters, arguing that the film undermines “the faith and confidence of the people in their government and/or the duly constituted authorities.”
Perhaps the documentary subverted the state’s expectation that a family will not just cower in fear even if they are against some powerful officials in the Armed Forces of the Philippines.
In the board’s first decision, MTRCB asked Alipato at Muog’s production team that they should have given General Eduardo Ano, who is linked to Jonas’s abduction case, a chance to air his side. This is just one of the puzzling objections raised by the board about the film, showing how MTRCB is facing an identity crisis.
One day, the board acts like a Jurassic journalism professor extolling the virtues of neutrality. Then next, they resemble Christian televangelists, stirring a moral panic over a movie mentioning Satan in its title. But most often, they serve as government propagandists, ensuring filmmakers and media professionals adhere to the state’s ideology.
Fortunately, the board is sometimes reminded of the audiences’ power over them. After weeks of outcry from media freedom and human rights advocates, the MTRCB finally reversed its earlier decision and assigned an R-16 rating to Alipato and Muog. This decision vindicated the Burgos family’s assertion that there is nothing subversive about their search for justice.
But this victory prompts us to question why do we let the government control what we watch? How do they even decide what offends Filipino values? Have they made up their minds what content constitutes subversiveness? Are they afraid of placards, of voices raised in protest, of fists in the air?
It is worth tracing back that Marcos Sr. used MTRCB’s predecessor, Board of Review for Motion Pictures and Television (BRMPT), to prohibit the showing of media content critical to his administration. By stacking the board with defense and security officials, Marcos Sr. tightened his iron grip on the media.
In the waning years of his dictatorship, Marcos Sr. introduced the MTRCB as a “prelude” to creating a self-regulating mechanism within the media industry. Presidential Decree 1986 mandated the board to include 15 members from the film and media creative sectors. Yet despite “rebranding,” the MTRCB inherited BRMPT’s powers to censor content deemed subversive, perpetuating a legacy of control and suppression that endures to this day.
There were efforts to abolish the board after Marcos Sr.’s ouster, but it did not come to fruition. In fact, Senator Robin Padilla recently filed a bill expanding MTRCB’s jurisdiction to review online streaming platforms such as Netflix, Disney +, and iWantTV. This proposal seeks to “protect the youth from programs with sensitive content,” according to Padilla.
Yet, even Padilla admits it is impossible for the board to monitor all streaming content. So, why expand their power?
Perhaps rather than letting a small group of people–all appointed by the president–judge every movie and television series, the government must let creatives regulate themselves. After all, those who work in the industry understand their craft and audience best. Most importantly, letting creatives debate and create the rules themselves fosters a greater sense of accountability to the media.
In the Philippines, the Cebu Citizens-Press Council (CCPC) stands as a vibrant model of self-regulation, where industry professionals, academics, and public sector representatives come together to address grievances against media content. While no self-regulation council is without flaws, it offers a far better alternative to relying on state censors who pose as arbiters of morals and Filipino values.
At least, self-regulating councils can refine their rules through trial and error, adapting to the evolving media landscape. In contrast, the MTRCB is firmly entrenched in its role as a state apparatus, censoring content breaching its farcical boundaries of subversiveness.
How long must we dilute the essence of our work to make it palatable to all, yet stripped of its meaning?
As long as MTRCB exists, it will continue to undermine peoples’ freedom of expression. Hence, it is only by banishing this haunting relic of the Marcos regime can we move a little closer to realizing a vibrant and free media landscape in the country, unshackled from the shadows of censorship.
