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However, dealing with the judiciary can be a confusing and frustrating process for an ordinary citizen with no wealthy background or relationship with a high-profile public official or legal practitioner.
Recently this writer tried to get a certified copy of a Supreme Court judgment through a lawyer, who offers free services to victims of human rights abuses and is recognized as an honest person among his peers. The 24-page judgment cost 3,000 takas (US$43.00). The official cost of court documents is 4 takas (US 5 cents) per page, so this one should have cost 96 takas (US$1.20).
However, the lawyer said his “unofficial price” was cheaper than most similar documents, since his clerk had a "good relationship" with the staff of the Supreme Court.
This incident implies that the judiciary in Bangladesh has its own definition of honesty. A lawyer may be honest in the sense that he does not exploit his clients, but in order to get things done, money remains an unavoidable and key factor. In other words, lawyers have been directly and indirectly participating in and facilitating corruption, which is an inseparable part of the judicial system.
There is a saying that well-established and famous lawyers contribute more to the corrupt system than ordinary lawyers do. However, there is no attempt to resist the prevailing corrupt practices within the judiciary other than playing the "blame game."
A man named Shafik Ullah Monayem disappeared on Dec. 1, 2007, from the southern city of Barisal. He was picked up by a group of six persons who introduced themselves as officers of the Rapid Action Battalion, showing their official identity cards. When he failed to return, Monayem’s relatives tried to complain to the local police and other law enforcement agencies, but were denied access.
Monayem's relatives then contacted two senior lawyers in the city, known for their professional expertise and political clout, and requested them to file a case to discover Monayem’s whereabouts. However, both lawyers discouraged them, saying that lodging a complaint against the RAB officers could further deteriorate the situation. They suggested that the relatives simply wait and watch rather than legally challenging the case.
Such advice from senior lawyers amounts to "self-censorship" – which is deeply rooted in the minds of legal practitioners. It also carries a message to the people that certain segments in the country are above the law, which means that the constitutional right to equal treatment does not exist. Such double standards are common.
On many occasions when a victim of custodial torture approaches a lawyer to file a case against the alleged perpetrators – mostly the police and the military – the lawyer discourages the victim or his relatives from taking action and also denies them assistance and legal support.
Due to the involvement of human rights organizations, a few cases have been registered with the courts. However, less than 10 have been prosecuted in the four decades since the country attained independence. The lack of commitment from lawyers is one of the many reasons for this disappointing picture, where torture in the custody of law enforcement agencies is a daily occurrence.
People seriously doubt the capability of the legal profession to maintain its integrity. There has been no attempt from the leaders of the bar associations or the Bangladesh Bar Council to hold any discourse on the deteriorating features of the judiciary and the legal profession. Legal professionals enjoy the elite status brought by their black gowns, but they are internally empty as far as ethical commitment and rule of law are concerned.
Many lawyers argue that the nation has achieved many things through struggles in which lawyers actively participated. But, sadly, they ignore the current state of the judiciary.
A comparative picture of lawyers in Pakistan and Bangladesh shows the existing trend. In Pakistan, lawyers fought for the independence of the judiciary by compelling the executive branch to reinstate judges who were illegally sacked for not fulfilling the expectations of the military junta.
But in Bangladesh, despite a decade of Supreme Court directives regarding the separation of powers and the procedures to be followed, things are getting worse. The government has preserved the power to direct the executive officers of the state to take cognizance of criminal offences whenever the executive authority deems it necessary, parallel to the judiciary, which is already dysfunctional, having proved incapable of delivering justice since its inception. No one has thought of the need to deliver justice by maintaining integrity, rooting out corruption and improving professionalism.
Will lawyers, as a professional community and an integral part of the justice system, realize that the time for silence and playing the "blame game" has expired? They should at least start communicating within their professional arena in the hope that dialogue could lead to the political will to save their professional dignity and keep avenues open for the common and poor people to seek justice. Will they ever realize that this will not come from heaven, but only through their own actions?
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(Rater Zonaki is the pseudonym of a human rights defender based in Hong Kong, working at the Asian Human Rights Commission. He is a Bangladeshi national who has worked as a journalist and human rights activist in his country for more than a decade, and as editor of publications on human rights and socio-cultural issues.)
