The fan above was spinning noisily — one of those old hostel fans that rattles louder than it cools.
A boy, maybe 23, still in his black coat from moot court trials, sat cross-legged on the floor, half-eaten cup noodles by his side, scribbling case names onto yellow sticky notes stuck all over the wall.
On the glass window was taped a line scrawled in black marker:
“One day, I’ll be Your Honour.”
His roommates joked about it. “Judge Sahab,” they’d say, playfully bowing. He’d laugh, but never removed the sign.
Everyone else was applying to firms or looking at LLMs. He was studying CPC sections like holy verses, staying behind in the library after the lights were out, chasing that one exam that would make a courtroom his calling.
Fast forward a year later — he’s told:
“Come back after three years of practice. You’re too young to judge.”
And just like that, a system designed to find justice tells a believer – not yet.
Not because he wasn’t worthy. But because he hadn’t struggled long enough. Not yet bent under the system’s weight. Not yet resigned.
Apparently, to judge better – you must suffer first.
Too Young To Judge? Rethinking Practice Prerequisites in Indian Judicial Services
Abstract
Should the doors of the judiciary remain closed to young aspirants until they “earn credibility” by standing at the Bar for three years? The recent resurgence of this idea — a mandatory practice requirement before sitting for judicial service exams — appears sound on paper. It’s rooted in the belief that court exposure breeds judicial maturity. But what happens when we test this theory against systemic inequities, the lived realities of young law graduates, constitutional ideals, and actual performance data?
This article explores the implications of mandating experience at the Bar as a pre-condition for joining the lower judiciary. It traces the constitutional position, examines case law, and interrogates whether lived experience at the Bar always translates into greater judicial competence. It argues that such a requirement could become a gatekeeping mechanism — one that systematically excludes first-generation lawyers, women, and students from under-resourced backgrounds. Finally, it proposes a vision for an inclusive judiciary that values early training, institutional mentorship, and regulated entry over arbitrary thresholds of practice.
Introduction
A law student walks out of their final exam. In their heart, there’s not a dream of litigation or corporate law — but one of the bench. They’ve spent years preparing for the judicial services exam, mapping case law better than court clerks, debating ethics late into the night, and reading judgments with religious dedication. But now, a voice tells them: “You’re too young to judge.”
In this era of reform and institutional accountability, India stands at a crucial juncture: a growing call to impose a minimum three-year legal practice requirement before one can attempt the judicial service exam. While motivated by concerns of competence, the proposal has sparked a deeper concern: Is experience the only—and fairest—currency to measure eligibility? And if so, whose experience counts?
Constitutional Context and Governance of Judicial Appointments
Judicial appointments for the higher judiciary (High Courts and Supreme Court) follow the process outlined in Articles 124 and 217, and for district judges, Article 233(2) of the Constitution of India applies. Specifically, Article 233(2) mandates a minimum of 7 years’ practice at the Bar for appointment as a district judge.
However, appointments to the lower judiciary — such as Civil Judge (Junior Division) and Judicial Magistrate First Class — are governed by Article 234, which delegates control of recruitment to State Public Service Commissions and respective High Courts. Article 234 places no such requirement, and judicial services exams across India have long allowed eligible law graduates (typically 21+) to compete directly after completing law school.
This arrangement is not accidental. The framers intentionally allowed flexibility for the states in recruiting judges at the foundational tier. As such, any blanket national rule imposing Bar practice prerequisites for the lower judiciary stands at odds with not just precedent, but constitutional structure.
The Supreme Court, in All India Judges’ Association v. Union of India, (1993) 4 SCC 288, while emphasizing regular training and upskilling of the subordinate judiciary, did not mandate prior Bar experience as a precondition — rather it asked for a well-equipped training framework post-recruitment.
The Myth of Experience: What Does the Bar Actually Teach?
It’s assumed that a few years in practice at the Bar grants a candidate more empathy, better procedural clarity, and first-hand exposure to court working. But what exactly do these three years entail?
For many, they involve menial court tasks, limited speaking opportunities, and deep financial insecurity. The first three years in litigation are often void of meaningful exposure unless one lands in a prestigious chamber. There’s little instructional consistency. No metrics. No minimum guaranteed mentorship.
Worse still, this assumption ignores the invisible structure of privilege at the Bar. Senior lawyers often prefer candidates who’re from similar backgrounds, communities or language groups. First-generation aspirants, those not based in metros, or women trying to balance societal expectations, often get excluded or struggle to sustain themselves in unpaid roles.
Litigation success in early years is resource-dependent — not meritocratic. Making prior practice a condition for eligibility creates a two-tiered access structure, pushing those from under-resourced backgrounds out of the system before they even begin.
Judicial Training: The Real School of Judging
Unlike the informal world of bar practice, judicial training is structured, monitored, and evolving. Candidates who qualify for the judiciary undergo 9–12 months of residential training, including:
- Shadowing sitting judges, from magistrates to High Court justices
- Judgment writing exercises
- Exposure to criminal and civil trial procedures
- Modules on ethics, evidence, technology integration, and legal aid
- Mock courtrooms, mediation, and interviewing techniques
- Ongoing performance evaluation and mentoring by High Court judges
This institutional training can (and often does) produce better preparedness than random exposure in unregulated practice environments.
Justice Kurian Joseph, in various addresses to judicial academies, emphasized that judicial temperament, ethics, and neutrality are cultivated within the judiciary, not automatically inherited from years spent as lawyers.
Comparative Perspectives – Are Young Judges So Uncommon?
Across jurisdictions, young entry to judicial institutions is not abnormal. In countries like France and Germany, judges are recruited directly through judicial schools, much like India’s state judicial academies. These nations prioritize training, ethical standards, and intellectual capabilities, not just years clocked in legal practice.
Notably, the IAS and IPS, India’s own elite public service arms, select candidates aged 21 to 26 to manage land laws, handle policing, and even negotiate social conflict. They’re trusted to deliver justice uniquely — through administration.
A judicial magistrate at 26, subject to oversight and with jurisdictional limits, cannot logically be seen as more dangerous than a sub-divisional magistrate or police superintendent of the same age group. Surely, judicial maturity is not tethered to age alone.
Case Law, Performance, and Retention
Empirical data from state High Courts suggests that younger judges are as competent, if not more committed, to long-term careers in the judiciary—presenting lower turnover and better ethical records in preliminary assessments conducted post-training stages.
In K.C. v. State of Jharkhand (2020), the Jharkhand High Court rejected an amendment that sought to exclude fresh law graduates from eligibility for judicial service, citing it as “unconstitutional and discriminatory.”
While not every young judge shines, the same applies to every generation. Experience, after all, guarantees nothing — moral strength, integrity, and inclination toward justice do.
A System Designed for Exclusion?
If the Bar is truly a filter of merit, why do so many opt out of it? Law firms, bureaucratic services, corporate compliance, and academia attract top-tier law graduates because they offer structure, security, and transparency — attributes the Bar lacks for juniors.
By forcing them into a system tilted toward networks over knowledge, we risk losing legal talent to domains outside the judicial pipeline.
Should the system unintentionally devalue judicial service by making aspirants wait longer (with minimal interim support), those who stay will be those who can afford to stay — deepening inequalities within public institutions.
Conclusion
A three-year practice requirement may seem like an investment in training. But in truth, it is more likely to function as a barrier — accessible to some, forbidding to others. If our goal is to create a compassionate, competent, and committed judiciary, we need to rethink what we mean by preparation.
Instead of rejecting young aspirants, we must mentor them inside the system. Build stronger judicial academies, offer structured apprenticeships, institute mentor-mentee models, and create longitudinal assessments over the first five years of judgeship.
Justice isn’t the privilege of the seasoned. It is the craft of the accountable.
Let’s not raise the ladder to the bench any higher. Let’s plant more steps to reach it — and ensure that talent, not tenure, decides who gets there.
Written By: Harsh Dutt, Final Year Law Student – Bharati Vidyapeeth New Law College, Pune
Email: [email protected]
