Teaching the swimmer fearing the sea: A law teacher's message to his graduating students

The BA.LL.B. students whose academic journey comes to an end this June are now about to begin their professional lives. As they leave college, I remain anxious about how much training we teachers have been able to impart to them.

It is true that there exists a gap in our pedagogy and not everything required in practice is taught in the classroom. We simply hope that we have trained the swimmer in the fundamentals of the art of swimming and that they will master it as they dive deep into the sea.

Yet, this is not what concerns me most. Whether our students become competent lawyers is a question time will answer. What haunts me is something else entirely. I worry more about how ethically sound they will remain as they enter a profession that deals with the notion of justice. As law teachers, we spend our lives teaching students how to wield a sword. We sharpen their swords with statutes and precedents. But the fundamental question that troubles me is in whose service that sword will ultimately be raised. What kind of cases will they take up as lawyers?

Having lived within the fenced boundaries of college where the very air is largely scented with idealism, our students are about to begin a journey through the desert of realism. I know this journey is not easy. As they transition from law students to professional lawyers, will they remain faithful to the idealism nurtured in the classroom or will they gradually embrace the pragmatism of the courtroom?

If you ask any student in the 11th or 12th standard about their motivation for studying law, the overwhelming response would be that they are angered by the atrocities and injustices in society and wish to do something about them. This idealism is genuine. My first-hand experience with students has convinced me that there exists a deep quest for justice among them. Unfortunately, it fades as they move from the classroom to the courtroom.

This leaves me with a difficult question - does the end of college life mark the end of idealism? At times, it seems so. The increasing adherence to ethical neutrality is taking us towards a society where access to lawyers is becoming a dream for many. The decision to take up a case is often guided less by questions of right and wrong than by the client's ability to pay. In such a system, only the rich who can afford high legal fees can realistically expect proper representation in courts these days, leaving the majority as ‘legal orphans’. This journey from idealism to pragmatism is also where the ethical worlds of the teacher and the lawyer begin to pull in different directions.

The professional ethics of a teacher demand that he or she create idealists in society. A teacher is expected to defend the rule of law and cultivate a craving for justice among students. But the professional ethics of lawyering are more pragmatic. A lawyer is expected to defend the client even when the outcome may undermine the cause of justice.

This is where my discomfort begins. As a teacher, I am expected to ask students to constantly evaluate the moral consequences of their actions. But the profession they enter often discourages them to think on these lines and demands them to focus exclusively on the interests of the client. The legal profession may describe this as ‘professional training’, but from a teacher's perspective, it can appear as a gradual distancing from the very ideals that first attracted many students to the study of law. A lawyer is told that he should not feel guilty in doing so because he is merely an advocate and not the judge in the case. It is also argued that every accused person deserves fair representation before the court and that there should be a presumption of innocence until the accused is proven guilty.

I do not suggest that any accused should be denied representation. The right to counsel remains a cornerstone of a fair legal system. My concern is different. It is about the choices my students will make when deciding whom they are willing to represent as lawyers. It is also about whether professional success will gradually eclipse the moral commitments that first drew them towards the study of law. What is noteworthy is that our students are not drawn towards these notions of ethical neutrality because of their coherence and intellectual merit. They are often drawn towards them because these ideas are financially and socially rewarding.

As a teacher working in a country with a rich history of resisting the injustices of colonialism and one that appears conscious of contemporary injustices, I expect society to assist me in my struggle to cultivate the spirit of idealism. But alas, I notice a deep contradiction between societal expectations and reward mechanisms. Collectively, we aspire to a just society and expect lawyers to help build it. Individually, we reward lawyers with prestige over purpose.

This is not to suggest that society is generally content with injustice, nor does it rejoice when a criminal escapes punishment. But society is often unwilling to bear the cost of creating a just social order. Which landlord would offer a concession in rent to a lawyer known for fighting for the rights of slum dwellers? Which school or hospital would offer concessions to the family members of lawyers known for filing PILs or fighting for social causes? The irony is that many who demand justice in society are unwilling to support those who dedicate their lives to securing it.

The crisis does not ends here. The social perception of a successful lawyer is also problematic. A lawyer is rarely judged by the ethical significance of the cases they pursue or by the broader social impact of their advocacy. Rather, a lawyer is judged by the number of luxury apartments they own, the imported car they drive and the expensive gadgets they carry. By rewarding materialism over idealism, society has not only created an unjust system for itself, but has also encouraged the gradual commercialisation of the legal profession.

The ethical neutrality of lawyers in our society is not without repercussions. This neutrality has resulted in the de facto commercialisation of the legal profession. In a report released some time ago, it was documented that 90% of Indians earn less than ₹25,000 a month. In many High Courts, the fee charged by a lawyer for a single matter is roughly around the same figure. This effectively leaves a vast majority of Indians without meaningful access to courts. The courtroom, which should be the equaliser, has quietly become a place where the quality of justice you receive depends on the size of your wallet! Theoretically speaking, every person in this country has the fundamental right to approach the High Court or the Supreme Court. In practice, the costs involved in exercising that right have effectively transformed it into a privilege that only a tiny fraction of the population can afford.

The courtroom is not a factory producing goods. It is a battlefield between right and wrong and the lawyers must be conscious of which side of the fence they wish to stand on. The professional ethics of lawyering do not compel a lawyer to defend criminals, they merely permit it. The ultimate decision still rests with the lawyer. And it is this discretion of my students that I wish to shape and influence.

Our country has a rich tradition of students offering gifts to their teachers after acquiring knowledge and skills from them. Keeping that tradition alive, I too ask my students for a cup of tea as gurudakshina. I tell my students that I wish to meet them five years after they leave college. By then, they will hopefully have established their independent practice and achieved a degree of financial stability. So, I tell them that I look forward to that meeting and would like them to pay for a cup of tea but with one condition. I will allow them to make the payment only if they can assure me that the money used to buy that cup of tea was not earned by defending a murderer, a rapist, or anyone whose cause they knew to be morally indefensible.

I also tell them that I know the less-travelled road I am inviting them to embark upon is not a smooth one. Therefore, along with a cup of tea, I also want an hour of their company. I want to listen to their stories of struggle, moments of self-doubt, societal pressures and how they eventually developed the perseverance to remain upright. The sea they are about to enter will not always carry them towards justice. I hope they will possess the courage to swim against its currents when conscience demands it.

It is the hope of having that one cup of tea that drives me to the classroom every day.

Adnan Asrar is an Assistant Professor at Lloyd Law College, Greater Noida.