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When censorship is necessary

Questions of censorship depend on how people think about their identity, says Nick Spencer

Should it be banned? A scene from the the computer game <i>Manhunt 2</i> © not advert
Should it be banned? A scene from the the computer game Manhunt 2

After a long day in the office, there is nothing I like better than coming home and kicking someone to death. Thank heavens, then, that the British Board of Film Classification recently lost its legal battle to keep the computer game Manhunt 2 off our shelves.

Twice refused a certificate, the game became the subject of a long-running legal battle, which resulted in its being cleared for release in March. My right to pursue my interests in my own house has been established at last.

The decision should please the British public. When the British Social Attitudes (BSA) survey asked in 1995 whether we thought “people over the age of 16 are old enough to decide for themselves what they want to see and read”, 48 per cent of respondents thought they were, against 32 per cent who did not.

Similarly, when asked whether “adults should be allowed to see whatever films they like, even if some people think the films violent or pornographic”, 55 per cent agreed that they should, and only 23 per cent disagreed.

Clearly, it would seem that freedom is good, and censorship bad. But the case is not quite closed. BSA also asked people, in 2005, whether they think that “censorship of films and magazines is necessary to uphold moral standards.” Sixty-four per cent of those asked agreed or agreed strongly that censorship was necessary, whereas only 17 per cent disagreed or disagreed strongly. Remarkably, these figures have not changed in 20 years.

We do not like the idea that some should stop us from doing what we want in the privacy of our own home. But we accept this as a need for others — indeed, we want them to be prevented from enjoying the same privilege. What is good for me is not, apparently, good for us.

There may be some hypocrisy in this, but there is also a serious moral tension, based on whether we understand our identity as being founded primarily on me (I am an autonomous, rational, moral agent), or on us (I am a spouse, parent, colleague, neighbour, citizen).

For some, the choice is simple. The Institute of Economic Affairs (IEA) this year published Prohibitions, a series of essays that argued for a legal market in, among other things, pornography, guns, prostitution, and human organs.

“To prevent other people from choosing their own ends is to deny their capacity for autonomous choice and ultimately to deny their humanity,” it stated. Censorship is thus not only politically oppressive and economically counterproductive, but also morally dubious.

If the rest of us do not see things so categorically, it is because we understand that humans comprise a variety of identities. Yes, we are free moral agents, but we are also committed spouses, neighbours, and citizens. Our freedom is essential to our human flourishing, but so are our relationships, which exist only because we are prepared to surrender some of that freedom.

It is these multiple identities that underlie the supposed hypocrisy of the British public’s attitude to censorship. I should be able to dictate my personal media consumption, but I am uneasy at the idea of my 18-year-old son sitting in his bedroom kicking imaginary strangers to death. And the thought of thousands of young men doing the same thing before they head out for an evening of beer-fuelled mayhem fills me with terror.

The key question is: which identity do we have in mind when we are thinking about censorship? If we buy the IEA’s vision of thoroughly autonomous individuals whose personal liberty demands maximal respect, then we should eradicate all forms of media censorship straight away.

If, on the other hand, we adopt a more relational public identity, seeing the public square as full of spouses, siblings, and neighbours, there is an argument for censorship. If it is possible to show that games such as Manhunt 2 cause harm to the relationships that make up the public square (which is different from saying that we find them morally ugly), then censorship becomes a valid option.

This debate usually gets stuck in the cliché of “the video game made him do it”. Yet it need not. Creditable academic studies have detected a small but significant impact that such media have, particularly on young people. A study published in The Lancet in 2005, which explored the influence of violent media on children and adolescents, concluded that:

From a public-health perspective, there is evidence that violent imagery has short-term effects on arousal, thoughts, and emotions, increasing the likelihood of aggressive or fearful behaviour. . . Long-term outcomes for children viewing media violence are more controversial . . . nevertheless, a small but significant association persists in the research, with an effect size that has a substantial public-health effect.

Such evidence is mounting. Regrettably, however, it remains some way short of being able to persuade the public that we are better off without such products. In spite of what libertarians argue, censorship does — indeed, must — have a place in modern society.

Yet that place must be dictated not by the revulsion some have at how others spend their time and money, but by careful, empirically grounded arguments about what constitutes a threat to the public good.

Nick Spencer is Director of Studies at Theos, the public theology think tank (www.theosthinktank.co.uk).



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