MTRCB’s online regulation: Whose Morals, Whose Rules?

The Senate has approved a bill that expands the powers of the Movie and Television Review and Classification Board (MTRCB) to include regulating online streaming platforms. Framed as an update to keep up with the digital age, this move raises bigger questions than it answers. Chief among them: whose morals are we talking about?

Why it Matters: By allowing the MTRCB to screen and classify streaming content based on vague concepts like “decency” and “good morals,” the law creates a legal gray area that could be used to censor not just explicit material, but anything that doesn’t align with the state’s preferred view of culture, behavior, or politics. That’s a dangerous precedent in a democracy.

Supporters of the bill, like Senator Robin Padilla, argue that it’s necessary to shield the public—especially the youth—from harmful media. They cite western influence, obscenity, and violence as justification. On paper, these concerns sound valid. But dig deeper and you’ll find that the bill gives the MTRCB sweeping discretion with very little built-in accountability.

The language used—“immorality,” “obscenity,” “injurious to the prestige of the Philippines”—is subjective. These aren’t measurable criteria. They’re moving targets. And in the wrong hands, they can be used to suppress dissenting voices, minority perspectives, and artistic expression that doesn’t fit neatly into traditional molds.

Senator Risa Hontiveros was one of the few to oppose the measure. In her explanation of her “no” vote, she pointed out that we already have specific laws that deal with content that genuinely harms the public: the Anti-Photo and Video Voyeurism Act, Anti-OSAEC laws, and child protection acts. These are grounded in clear, actionable definitions. In contrast, the new bill relies on broad terms that can be twisted to fit nearly anything.

Let’s also not ignore how this move potentially adds a new layer of bureaucracy. Platforms will now be required to submit all content—films, series, shows—for review. That slows down distribution and forces content providers to conform to unclear, shifting standards just to avoid getting flagged. It’s a chilling effect, not just a compliance one.

What’s most troubling is the lack of clarity about oversight. If the MTRCB has the final say, who holds them accountable when they overreach? When taste and politics inevitably collide—as they often do in art and media—what mechanisms will exist to prevent abuse?

Filipino creators, both online and offline, already navigate a landscape shaped by algorithmic restrictions and uneven monetization rules. Adding another regulator that uses moral language as a basis for action just piles on more risk for artists and storytellers. It invites them to self-censor. To dull their work. To avoid the messy, complicated subjects that need to be tackled precisely because they make us uncomfortable.

Expression is protected by the Constitution. Regulation has a role, yes—but not at the cost of freedom. If the government insists on regulating streaming content, it must do so through clear, specific laws that target real harm—not moral panic.

So again we ask: good morals, according to whom?