The government of India on July 24 instructed all states to restrict visits to prisons by the media and researchers, claiming that such access had been gained “un-authorisedly” in the past or been “misused”. The notice seems to be a reaction to the BBC documentary India’s Daughter, which interviewed a convict in the 2012 Delhi gang-rape case in jail.

As a principle, the notice says that nobody should be let into prisons to conduct research, make documentaries, write articles or to interview inmates. If permission is granted, the research should aim to create a “positive social impact” or result in jail reforms. The press can be allowed in, the notice says, only to cover official events.

The order even makes the process of requesting permission to enter a prison much more difficult. An application to visit a jail must be submitted 30 days in advance by ordinary citizens and seven days beforehand by the media. Accompanying the request must be a security deposit of Rs 1 lakh. Once inside the prison, the applicant's movements must be restricted to the visitors’ area, separated from the main jail. After the visit, visitors must hand over their equipment, such as cameras and Dictaphones, for inspection by the jail superintendent, who is empowered to delete anything he deems objectionable.

Even after these filters, the article or programme that results from the visit can be published or released only after the government gives it a no-objection certificate. Any violation of these guidelines, the notice says, will be punishable by the forfeiture of the Rs 1 lakh security deposit and legal action.

Controlling the message

Through these constraints, the government clearly wants to control the outcome of articles, research and documentaries. It wants to conceal anything that could reveal the truth about the tragic conditions in India's jails.

These restrictions run against the grain of democracy. The prison superintendent and his superiors will play the roles of research supervisors, censors, editors and judges – in addition to their existing parts of jury, judge, executors of prison life and reformers of offenders.  By stipulating that the public must see and hear what the government wants it to see and hear, these guidelines are detrimental to the rights of all Indians and to the cause of justice.

If the states implement the Centre’s instructions seriously, there will be no other Sheela Barse, the social worker who fought for her right to interview prisoners all the way up to the Supreme Court. In 1987, it ruled in her favour. The horrors of prison life, succinctly described by the apex court as a “crime of punishments”, will go unreported. Even cursory judicial scrutiny would dismiss the instructions as untenable.

Public institution unlike any

Since prisons are a state subject, states have been resisting interventions by the Union government. For instance, the Centre has been unable even to get states to legislate on model prison acts and manuals. This latest order, however, may be appreciated by the states since it strengthens their lack of accountability.

Prisons began as closed institutions and remain so today. They are synonymous with order in society. All conflicts, public or private, invariably end there. Prisons thrive despite sweeping changes in many other spheres of public life.

Nobody will contest the assertion that prisons are public institutions. Neither will anyone dismiss the argument that scrutiny is fundamental to all public institutions. Yet, repeated governmental attempts to insulate prisons from scrutiny go largely unprotested. The fundamental problem is that prisons are viewed as instruments to assuage the public craving for retribution ‒ even if the prisoner hasn't actually been convicted. The latest order continues this legacy.