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Legal aid in Bangladesh: Still a long way to go

Legal aid in Bangladesh
Visual: Teeni and Tuni

Very few experiences are more stressful than a day in court. Imagine if the person who has violated your rights is armed with a skilful legal representative who knows the ins and outs of the system, while you don't even know whether you are supposed to initiate a civil or a criminal case. The purpose of legal aid is to bring both these parties on somewhat of an equal footing by providing the disadvantaged one assistance in obtaining legal representation. Unfortunately, our legal system is severely overwhelmed, and naturally its effect sweeps across the legal aid sector as well. The Legal Aid Services Act, 2000 only does the bare minimum of creating a right to receive legal aid and devising the governing boards and committees to deal with legal aid services, but it fails to specify any eligibility criteria for receiving such aid. The act has deferred the duty of formulating all policies and necessary guidelines to a national governing board. While that is workable, creating a dedicated piece of legislation for the purpose of rendering legal aid services, yet not completing the very foundational step of outlining the eligibility criteria seems like a vital indiscretion.

That being said, in the last few years, the government has put reasonable (albeit improvable) effort in making legal aid accessible. The National Legal Aid Services Organisation (NLASO) has provided legal aid to over 3.77 lakh people since 2009. The Supreme Court Legal Aid Office (SCLAO) has provided some form of services to over 24,000 people since its inception in 2015. But in a legal system with a backlog of 42 lakh cases and in the economic context of our country, this barely scratches the surface for the tremendous number of people needing legal aid.

Legal aid offices operate at the national, district, upazila, and union levels. The national board is mainly a policymaking body and has been awarded the power to monitor the activities of district committees. According to the 2000 law, the district committees are responsible for considering the applications for legal aid and are required to meet at least once every month. Their overarching functions are to determine the types and terms of legal aid to be given to the successful applicants, to develop plans and projects for implementing legal aid programmes, and to create awareness. Given the sheer number of our justice seekers, the minimum meetings required of the committees can fall massively short.

Bureaucratic rigidity can be exhausting to navigate for the impoverished litigants who are already going through what can perhaps only be described as the most draining and traumatic time of their lives. The district committees are comprised of a long list of key personnel which include the likes of mayor, upazila parishad chairman or district judge, among others. There is a provision to include a representative of a non-governmental voluntary organisation of the concerned district, considering that there is any such organisation operating in the area, and they, too, must be nominated by the chairman of the district committee.

There remains a justifiable fear of the committees being too out of touch with the realities of the humble applicants seeking legal aid. At the same time, in a culture that is identifiably nepotistic and monopolises political power, ensuring unbiased decision from a team of the most politically connected people in the district administration, can become questionable. A 14-member committee to approve legal aid becomes even more complex the smaller the intended legal region becomes, as the committee members in upazila and union levels are often the people against whom the applicants are seeking the aid.

When an applicant does not qualify for legal aid or does not receive it, they may still be able to go ahead if an advocate were to take it on as a pro bono case. I remember starting out as a starry-eyed law student, against the bitter and judgemental remarks of many, with the hope of giving back to the less privileged and marginalised community. As the years went by, I have found it exceedingly difficult to stay motivated in the profession, earning as little as Tk 10,000 a month at law firms even with a postgrad and due to the protracted procedure of obtaining a practising licence. I find it improbable that someone from that position would take on pro bono cases on their own, unless the law firms allocate their resources for it. Typically, when senior lawyers do take on pro bono cases, they tend to go for public interest litigation in the High Court, which of course are extremely important as they challenge the status quo, advocate for social justice issues and can set critical precedents.

However, the real aspirants of pro bono assistance would be found in the lower courts—they are the quiet, clueless litigants whose legal disputes are relatively straightforward (for example, their only cow stolen by a resentful neighbour), so much so that the lack of complexities of these matters do not appeal to advocates looking to learn some opportune tricks of the trade. As lawyers, culturally we are taught and tend to strive for commercial success, which the less complex small-time pro bono matters hardly bring. Although becoming famous in the process of dedicating energy and time to helping the helpless is another worthy goal to pursue, very few advocates achieve success as revolutionary as Barrister Syed Sayedul Haque Suman, who is now an MP.

A little dent in the stupendous deficit of resources in the legal aid sector can somewhat be made by creating a provision of mandatory pro bono hours for every advocate after a certain length of practice. The district bars will have to foster a culture of respect towards litigating pro bono cases to pull in talented advocates. This is a sector where we quite possibly need to dedicate endless resources from the state to ensure access to justice. Since that is practically not possible, the regulators of the legal profession should ideally play a central role in building mechanisms that demand more from the experienced and seasoned lawyers, while incentivising young advocates to use pro bono cases as a growth opportunity.


Anupoma Joyeeta Joyee is a barrister-at-law. She can be reached at anupomajoyee@gmail.com


Views expressed in this article are the author's own.


Follow The Daily Star Opinion on Facebook for the latest opinions, commentaries and analyses by experts and professionals. To contribute your article or letter to The Daily Star Opinion, see our guidelines for submission.

Comments

Legal aid in Bangladesh: Still a long way to go

Legal aid in Bangladesh
Visual: Teeni and Tuni

Very few experiences are more stressful than a day in court. Imagine if the person who has violated your rights is armed with a skilful legal representative who knows the ins and outs of the system, while you don't even know whether you are supposed to initiate a civil or a criminal case. The purpose of legal aid is to bring both these parties on somewhat of an equal footing by providing the disadvantaged one assistance in obtaining legal representation. Unfortunately, our legal system is severely overwhelmed, and naturally its effect sweeps across the legal aid sector as well. The Legal Aid Services Act, 2000 only does the bare minimum of creating a right to receive legal aid and devising the governing boards and committees to deal with legal aid services, but it fails to specify any eligibility criteria for receiving such aid. The act has deferred the duty of formulating all policies and necessary guidelines to a national governing board. While that is workable, creating a dedicated piece of legislation for the purpose of rendering legal aid services, yet not completing the very foundational step of outlining the eligibility criteria seems like a vital indiscretion.

That being said, in the last few years, the government has put reasonable (albeit improvable) effort in making legal aid accessible. The National Legal Aid Services Organisation (NLASO) has provided legal aid to over 3.77 lakh people since 2009. The Supreme Court Legal Aid Office (SCLAO) has provided some form of services to over 24,000 people since its inception in 2015. But in a legal system with a backlog of 42 lakh cases and in the economic context of our country, this barely scratches the surface for the tremendous number of people needing legal aid.

Legal aid offices operate at the national, district, upazila, and union levels. The national board is mainly a policymaking body and has been awarded the power to monitor the activities of district committees. According to the 2000 law, the district committees are responsible for considering the applications for legal aid and are required to meet at least once every month. Their overarching functions are to determine the types and terms of legal aid to be given to the successful applicants, to develop plans and projects for implementing legal aid programmes, and to create awareness. Given the sheer number of our justice seekers, the minimum meetings required of the committees can fall massively short.

Bureaucratic rigidity can be exhausting to navigate for the impoverished litigants who are already going through what can perhaps only be described as the most draining and traumatic time of their lives. The district committees are comprised of a long list of key personnel which include the likes of mayor, upazila parishad chairman or district judge, among others. There is a provision to include a representative of a non-governmental voluntary organisation of the concerned district, considering that there is any such organisation operating in the area, and they, too, must be nominated by the chairman of the district committee.

There remains a justifiable fear of the committees being too out of touch with the realities of the humble applicants seeking legal aid. At the same time, in a culture that is identifiably nepotistic and monopolises political power, ensuring unbiased decision from a team of the most politically connected people in the district administration, can become questionable. A 14-member committee to approve legal aid becomes even more complex the smaller the intended legal region becomes, as the committee members in upazila and union levels are often the people against whom the applicants are seeking the aid.

When an applicant does not qualify for legal aid or does not receive it, they may still be able to go ahead if an advocate were to take it on as a pro bono case. I remember starting out as a starry-eyed law student, against the bitter and judgemental remarks of many, with the hope of giving back to the less privileged and marginalised community. As the years went by, I have found it exceedingly difficult to stay motivated in the profession, earning as little as Tk 10,000 a month at law firms even with a postgrad and due to the protracted procedure of obtaining a practising licence. I find it improbable that someone from that position would take on pro bono cases on their own, unless the law firms allocate their resources for it. Typically, when senior lawyers do take on pro bono cases, they tend to go for public interest litigation in the High Court, which of course are extremely important as they challenge the status quo, advocate for social justice issues and can set critical precedents.

However, the real aspirants of pro bono assistance would be found in the lower courts—they are the quiet, clueless litigants whose legal disputes are relatively straightforward (for example, their only cow stolen by a resentful neighbour), so much so that the lack of complexities of these matters do not appeal to advocates looking to learn some opportune tricks of the trade. As lawyers, culturally we are taught and tend to strive for commercial success, which the less complex small-time pro bono matters hardly bring. Although becoming famous in the process of dedicating energy and time to helping the helpless is another worthy goal to pursue, very few advocates achieve success as revolutionary as Barrister Syed Sayedul Haque Suman, who is now an MP.

A little dent in the stupendous deficit of resources in the legal aid sector can somewhat be made by creating a provision of mandatory pro bono hours for every advocate after a certain length of practice. The district bars will have to foster a culture of respect towards litigating pro bono cases to pull in talented advocates. This is a sector where we quite possibly need to dedicate endless resources from the state to ensure access to justice. Since that is practically not possible, the regulators of the legal profession should ideally play a central role in building mechanisms that demand more from the experienced and seasoned lawyers, while incentivising young advocates to use pro bono cases as a growth opportunity.


Anupoma Joyeeta Joyee is a barrister-at-law. She can be reached at anupomajoyee@gmail.com


Views expressed in this article are the author's own.


Follow The Daily Star Opinion on Facebook for the latest opinions, commentaries and analyses by experts and professionals. To contribute your article or letter to The Daily Star Opinion, see our guidelines for submission.

Comments

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