The agents of justice
Almost 28 per cent of 440 respondents expressed ‘dissatisfaction’ or ‘deep dissatisfaction’ over lawyers...
Elsewhere, courts are mostly locations characterised by a solemn dignity. Our district courts, however, frequently present a spectacle. Last year, when my students and I were conducting a survey at the Lahore district courts, lawyers routinely thronged both sides of the narrow passage from the entrance to the main building. They pushed and jostled. For those trying to reach the court building, the passage was as forbiddingly cumbersome as an intricate legal strategy — or as elusive as the average Pakistani’s access to justice. The fact that this obstacle to smooth progress was posed by none other than a swarm of lawyers was rather ironic.
One morning, we found the main courtyard of the premises encircled by shamianas. Groups of lawyers broke into impromptu bhangra and we also witnessed such spontaneous dancing on other random occasions. A candidate had thrown a canvassing party. Court activity ceased in the absence of the agents of justice. Half a day was lost. Copious quantities of siri payay were consumed. The courtyard seemed to be a medieval battleground with a rich harvest of bones. On another morning, the lawyers were on strike for the better part of the day to protest the murder of a colleague in a distant town. The litigants silently looked on.
Since our survey was focused on litigants, we also asked probing questions about their experiences with lawyers. We wanted to tacitly avoid any unnecessary interaction with the latter. We were not always successful. Here is one instance. Many surveyors were young ladies; modestly attired to avoid unwanted attention. However, a couple were persistently pursued by some lawyers who asked for their cell numbers and insisted that they join them for a glass of fruit juice. When polite evasion did not work, they informed their admirers that their professor was zealously fond of free fruit juice and would deeply begrudge not being invited. Enthusiasm temporarily curbed, they retreated to try their luck another day. It was invariably the very next one. Others approached us and demanded — at times aggressively — to scrutinise our questionnaire or an explanation of our real ‘agenda’. The challenge was stiffer if we approached a litigant whose lawyer was close by. Many litigants were noticeably reluctant to speak candidly in their presence. Admittedly, we also came across some lawyers who had no objection to our talking to their clients. Some even appreciated our endeavour. They were also the ones who gave their clients company while their colleagues frequently canvassed, protested, chanted, shouted, dined in public, or boycotted. One could detect their discomfort and embarrassment.
While the respondents generally avoided any direct questions about their lawyers’ performance, quite a few spoke up. Almost 28 per cent of the 440 respondents expressed ‘dissatisfaction’ or ‘deep dissatisfaction’. Another eight per cent were reluctant or apprehensive to comment. Importantly, 63 per cent of those expressing ‘deep dissatisfaction’ had a monthly household income of less than Rs30,000. Meanwhile, 82.5 per cent of those reluctant to comment had a monthly household income of less than or equal to Rs20,000. So, the poorer litigants were obviously also the unhappier ones. Respondents were also asked reasons for their dissatisfaction and allowed multiple responses. “Punctuality in appearing in court” (60); “following client’s instructions” (49); “delays” (43); “ineffective argumentation in court” (41); “overbooking of cases and unavailability” (39); “legal fees and expenses” (33); “competence in law” (26); “explanation of the client’s case and legal strategy” (16); and, “availability to answer client questions” (16), were the most frequently quoted issues.
In more general narratives about their experiences in court, many respondents were far less inhibited in their critique of lawyers — even when they had earlier reported satisfaction in response to a direct question on lawyer performance. One respondent said: “Let me tell you about one of their money-making tactics. Just when the court usher calls one’s case for hearing, the lawyer asks for Rs500 or Rs1,000 with the ruse of taking care of some urgent case related expenses. Given how anxious litigants generally are and the clever timing of the request, one has no option but to hand over the money or risk offending the lawyer and his refusal to appear in court.” Another reported: “My opponent’s case has been dismissed four times for non-prosecution. But his lawyer somehow manages to resuscitate it every time.” One alleged: “My opponent’s lawyers assist him in forging legal documents.” Another complained: “My lawyers colluded with my opponent and we only found out very late in the day.” One litigant voiced: “As a pressure tactic, a female lawyer assembled a crowd of her ally lawyers in the court of a female judge and then used abusive language.” Another described: “These days the lawyers are so aggressive that judges try and stay out of the fray when they fight.” According to another: “Lawyers are headed in the wrong direction. They are more interested in politics than in representing their clients.” Someone else agreed: “They just want to protest and go on strikes all the time.” One particular respondent simply seemed in a state of bewilderment: “Lawyers are the most ajeeb-o-ghareeb (weird) people that I have ever come across.” There were many types of specific indictments. Some were aggrieved enough to deliver drastic metaphysical predictions of retributive fire and brimstone.
In the lead-up to India’s independence, many native lawyers proved their mettle as the greatest champions of their era for liberty or death. They remain global icons. Post-independence, the Pakistani legal fraternity’s pro-democracy sacrifices are the precious luminous chapters in the vast murky saga of our martial laws. However, starkly apparent in recent years is this very fraternity’s inability to separate its ‘political’ role from its ‘professional’ responsibilities. It has been staunchly resistant to several ideas and opportunities for self-regulation, accountability, reform and upgrading of ethical and professional standards. This has not just eroded its professional reputation but badly dented its political credibility.
Published in The Express Tribune, March 7th, 2012.
One morning, we found the main courtyard of the premises encircled by shamianas. Groups of lawyers broke into impromptu bhangra and we also witnessed such spontaneous dancing on other random occasions. A candidate had thrown a canvassing party. Court activity ceased in the absence of the agents of justice. Half a day was lost. Copious quantities of siri payay were consumed. The courtyard seemed to be a medieval battleground with a rich harvest of bones. On another morning, the lawyers were on strike for the better part of the day to protest the murder of a colleague in a distant town. The litigants silently looked on.
Since our survey was focused on litigants, we also asked probing questions about their experiences with lawyers. We wanted to tacitly avoid any unnecessary interaction with the latter. We were not always successful. Here is one instance. Many surveyors were young ladies; modestly attired to avoid unwanted attention. However, a couple were persistently pursued by some lawyers who asked for their cell numbers and insisted that they join them for a glass of fruit juice. When polite evasion did not work, they informed their admirers that their professor was zealously fond of free fruit juice and would deeply begrudge not being invited. Enthusiasm temporarily curbed, they retreated to try their luck another day. It was invariably the very next one. Others approached us and demanded — at times aggressively — to scrutinise our questionnaire or an explanation of our real ‘agenda’. The challenge was stiffer if we approached a litigant whose lawyer was close by. Many litigants were noticeably reluctant to speak candidly in their presence. Admittedly, we also came across some lawyers who had no objection to our talking to their clients. Some even appreciated our endeavour. They were also the ones who gave their clients company while their colleagues frequently canvassed, protested, chanted, shouted, dined in public, or boycotted. One could detect their discomfort and embarrassment.
While the respondents generally avoided any direct questions about their lawyers’ performance, quite a few spoke up. Almost 28 per cent of the 440 respondents expressed ‘dissatisfaction’ or ‘deep dissatisfaction’. Another eight per cent were reluctant or apprehensive to comment. Importantly, 63 per cent of those expressing ‘deep dissatisfaction’ had a monthly household income of less than Rs30,000. Meanwhile, 82.5 per cent of those reluctant to comment had a monthly household income of less than or equal to Rs20,000. So, the poorer litigants were obviously also the unhappier ones. Respondents were also asked reasons for their dissatisfaction and allowed multiple responses. “Punctuality in appearing in court” (60); “following client’s instructions” (49); “delays” (43); “ineffective argumentation in court” (41); “overbooking of cases and unavailability” (39); “legal fees and expenses” (33); “competence in law” (26); “explanation of the client’s case and legal strategy” (16); and, “availability to answer client questions” (16), were the most frequently quoted issues.
In more general narratives about their experiences in court, many respondents were far less inhibited in their critique of lawyers — even when they had earlier reported satisfaction in response to a direct question on lawyer performance. One respondent said: “Let me tell you about one of their money-making tactics. Just when the court usher calls one’s case for hearing, the lawyer asks for Rs500 or Rs1,000 with the ruse of taking care of some urgent case related expenses. Given how anxious litigants generally are and the clever timing of the request, one has no option but to hand over the money or risk offending the lawyer and his refusal to appear in court.” Another reported: “My opponent’s case has been dismissed four times for non-prosecution. But his lawyer somehow manages to resuscitate it every time.” One alleged: “My opponent’s lawyers assist him in forging legal documents.” Another complained: “My lawyers colluded with my opponent and we only found out very late in the day.” One litigant voiced: “As a pressure tactic, a female lawyer assembled a crowd of her ally lawyers in the court of a female judge and then used abusive language.” Another described: “These days the lawyers are so aggressive that judges try and stay out of the fray when they fight.” According to another: “Lawyers are headed in the wrong direction. They are more interested in politics than in representing their clients.” Someone else agreed: “They just want to protest and go on strikes all the time.” One particular respondent simply seemed in a state of bewilderment: “Lawyers are the most ajeeb-o-ghareeb (weird) people that I have ever come across.” There were many types of specific indictments. Some were aggrieved enough to deliver drastic metaphysical predictions of retributive fire and brimstone.
In the lead-up to India’s independence, many native lawyers proved their mettle as the greatest champions of their era for liberty or death. They remain global icons. Post-independence, the Pakistani legal fraternity’s pro-democracy sacrifices are the precious luminous chapters in the vast murky saga of our martial laws. However, starkly apparent in recent years is this very fraternity’s inability to separate its ‘political’ role from its ‘professional’ responsibilities. It has been staunchly resistant to several ideas and opportunities for self-regulation, accountability, reform and upgrading of ethical and professional standards. This has not just eroded its professional reputation but badly dented its political credibility.
Published in The Express Tribune, March 7th, 2012.