The Supreme Court’s recent decision to restore the three-year practice rule before entry into the judicial service has reopened a deeper debate about experience, equality and opportunity. As the Court revisits the rule amid concerns about its impact on women and young aspirants, India must confront a difficult question: how should the nation train its judges without closing the doors of the judiciary to an entire generation of lawyers?
THE ORDER THAT REVIVED AN OLD RULE
Recruitment to India’s subordinate judiciary has rarely captured public imagination. Yet, the question of who becomes a trial judge ultimately shapes the everyday experience of justice for millions.
On May 20, 2024, the Supreme Court restored the rule requiring a minimum of three years’ practice as an advocate before a candidate can appear for entry-level judicial service examinations across the country. The judgment came in the long-running All India Judges Association litigation dealing with structural reforms in the judiciary.
The ruling effectively revived a requirement that had existed earlier but was relaxed in 2002, when fresh law graduates were allowed to sit for judicial service examinations directly after completing their degrees.
For nearly two decades, that relaxation enabled young law graduates to enter the judiciary in their early twenties through competitive examinations conducted by High Courts and state public service commissions.
But when the Supreme Court revisited the issue in May 2024, it concluded that the experiment had not always produced the institutional maturity expected of trial judges. The Court observed: “Neither knowledge based on law books nor pre-service training could be an adequate substitute to the first-hand experience of the working of the court system and administration of justice.” It also notied that “recruitment of fresh law graduates as judicial officers without a single day of practice at the Bar has not been a successful experience.”
The reasoning was straightforward—trial judges must possess a working familiarity with courtroom procedure and litigation realities before assuming judicial authority.
Yet, even as the judgment sought to strengthen the quality of the judiciary, it triggered anxiety among thousands of aspirants preparing to join the Bench.
A DEBATE REOPENED IN THE COURTROOM
The debate resurfaced recently when a bench of the Supreme Court led by Chief Justice of India Surya Kant, along with Justices K Vinod Chandran and AG Masih, began hearing review petitions challenging the rule. During the hearing, the chief justice acknowledged that the requirement had generated considerable concern among judicial aspirants, particularly women candidates. The bench noted that the rule had created “anxieties among women aspirants”, prompting the Court to seek responses from High Courts across the country.
This acknowledgement is significant. For while the institutional logic of the rule is persuasive, its social and generational consequences are far more complex.
THE COURTROOM AS A SCHOOL OF JUSTICE
Few lawyers dispute the premise that experience at the Bar enriches judicial understanding. The courtroom is not merely a forum for legal argument, but a living laboratory where law meets human reality. Young advocates learn the psychology of witnesses, the unpredictability of evidence, the tactical nuances of cross-examination and the delicate balance between procedural technicalities and substantive justice.
These are lessons no law school curriculum can fully replicate. Trial courts form the backbone of India’s justice delivery system. It is here that evidence is recorded, witnesses are examined and procedural law shapes the outcome of disputes that affect everyday life. Many senior jurists, therefore, argue that a judge who has never practiced law may lack the practical sensibility required to manage a courtroom effectively.
Even a few years of advocacy, they contend, can instil humility, patience and procedural familiarity—qualities indispensable for a judge entrusted with decisions affecting liberty and livelihood.
From this perspective, the rule represents an attempt to protect the institutional credibility of the judiciary.
THE ASPIRANT’S LONG WAIT
Yet what appears institutionally sound may feel profoundly different to the generation that must live with its consequences.
Judicial service examinations have become one of the most sought-after career paths for law graduates in India. Each year tens of thousands of candidates compete for a few hundred posts across various states.
Preparation for the examination itself often spans several years. Aspirants immerse themselves in constitutional law, procedural codes and state statutes while attending coaching programmes and study groups. With the reinstatement of the practice rule, the timeline for aspiring judges stretches significantly:
Five years in law school.
Three years of mandatory practice.
Multiple attempts at the judicial examination.
If success proves elusive, a candidate may reach their early thirties before stabilising their career. The challenge is not merely temporal. The early years of litigation are financially uncertain. Young advocates frequently spend long hours in court corridors with minimal earnings while trying to establish themselves professionally.
For aspirants who ultimately fail to secure a judicial post, the rule may transform what was meant to be professional training into years of suspended possibility.
THE GENDER QUESTION
The debate becomes even more complex when viewed through the experience of women aspirants. Over the past decade, judicial service examinations have quietly emerged as one of the most significant avenues through which women have entered the legal profession.
Across several states, women candidates have topped the merit lists and begun reshaping the gender composition of the subordinate judiciary.
For many women from smaller towns, the judiciary offers a rare combination of professional dignity, financial independence and social acceptance.
Yet the three-year practice requirement intersects with structural realities that disproportionately affect women. Beyond professional barriers lie persistent social expectations. In many families, daughters are still expected to settle into marriage soon after completing their education.
A rule that delays entry into a stable judicial career, therefore, forces women aspirants into a difficult negotiation between professional ambition and social expectation.
There is also a biological dimension rarely acknowledged in legal debates. The years spent navigating litigation and examination cycles often coincide with the prime reproductive window for many women.
For some aspirants, the rule represents not merely professional delay, but the loss of crucial years in their personal lives.
YOUTHFUL FRUSTRATION AND INSTITUTIONAL DESIGN
India today is a young nation, and its legal profession reflects that demographic energy. Thousands of law graduates enter the profession each year, many inspired by the ideal of serving society through the judiciary. But the path to the Bench has grown increasingly uncertain. Judicial service examinations are not held annually in several states. Recruitment cycles are frequently delayed due to litigation or administrative hurdles.
Against this backdrop, the mandatory practice rule risks deepening the frustration already felt by aspirants navigating a prolonged selection system. For a generation raised on the promise of meritocratic opportunity, the fear is not simply failure—it is the erosion of time itself.
QUALITY VS EQUALITY
None of these concerns diminish the central challenge confronting the judiciary. India’s subordinate courts carry the burden of millions of pending cases, and the competence of trial judges is essential to the functioning of the justice system. A poorly trained judge can prolong trials, misinterpret procedural safeguards and create legal errors that echo through the appellate hierarchy. Ensuring that judges possess practical courtroom understanding is therefore a legitimate institutional objective.
Yet, constitutional governance requires that administrative rules also respect the principle of equality of opportunity. The Constitution envisions public institutions that are both efficient and accessible.
SEARCHING FOR THE MIDDLE PATH
The challenge lies in reconciling two legitimate concerns—institutional quality and democratic access. Alternatives have been suggested within the legal community:
Structured judicial clerkships under sitting judges.
Mandatory courtroom apprenticeships during law school.
Intensive judicial academy training before confirmation in service.
Such models could preserve practical exposure while avoiding the unintended consequence of prolonging the already uncertain journey faced by judicial aspirants.
The debate over the three-year practice rule ultimately returns to a fundamental constitutional question: How should a democracy ensure that its institutions remain both professionally excellent and socially open?
The Supreme Court now finds itself confronting precisely with this dilemma. The courtroom may indeed be the finest classroom for a future judge, but the Constitution demands that the doors to that classroom remain open, not only to those who can afford years of uncertainty, but also to the young lawyer from a small town who dreams of dispensing justice in the name of the Republic.
—The writer is a New Delhi-based journalist, lawyer and trained mediator
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