By Satyabrat Borah
The concept of meritocracy, the belief that talent and effort naturally rise to the top, has long been a cornerstone of modern societies. It promises fairness, rewarding those who work hard and demonstrate ability, regardless of background. Yet, when it comes to gender parity, particularly in high-stakes arenas like the judiciary, this ideal often falters. The persistent underrepresentation of women in courts worldwide reveals a troubling reality: merit alone does not dictate who ascends to positions of power. Systemic barriers, entrenched biases, and structural inequalities continue to skew opportunities, undermining the very principles meritocracy claims to uphold. Courts, as pillars of justice, have a unique responsibility to address this imbalance, not only to reflect fairness in their composition but to ensure the integrity of the legal system itself. This article explores why the myth of merit persists, how it perpetuates gender disparities in the judiciary, and why courts must take decisive action to achieve true gender parity.
Meritocracy assumes a level playing field where talent is the sole currency. In theory, judicial appointments, whether to lower courts or apex institutions like supreme courts, should reflect the best legal minds, selected through rigorous, impartial processes. However, the data tells a different story. Globally, women remain significantly underrepresented in judiciaries. For instance, in 2023, only about 27 percent of judges in high courts across major democracies were women, despite women comprising roughly half of law school graduates in these countries for decades. In some nations, the numbers are even starker, with women occupying less than 10 percent of senior judicial positions. If merit were the sole criterion, these figures would align more closely with the pool of qualified candidates. Instead, they point to systemic obstacles that disproportionately hinder women’s advancement.
One major barrier is the opaque nature of judicial appointments. In many systems, appointments rely on recommendations, networks, or political affiliations, which often favor men. Historically, legal professions have been male-dominated, creating networks where men hold sway over mentorship, sponsorship, and visibility. Women, even those with impeccable credentials, are less likely to be tapped for high-profile cases or leadership roles that serve as stepping stones to judicial positions. This creates a cycle where men accumulate the “merit” needed for advancement like experience in landmark cases, recognition from peers, or political connections while women, excluded from these opportunities, are deemed less qualified. The criteria for merit, in this sense, are not neutral but shaped by a system that privileges those already in power.
Bias, both explicit and implicit, further distorts the meritocratic ideal. Studies show that women in legal professions are often judged more harshly than their male counterparts. Their competence is scrutinized, their assertiveness mistaken for aggression and their personal lives seen as liabilities. A 2021 study on judicial selection in the United States found that women candidates were more likely to face questions about work-life balance during interviews, while men were asked about their legal philosophy or case experience. These biases seep into evaluations of merit, subtly disqualifying women or pushing them toward lower-tier roles. Even when women overcome these hurdles, they often face a “glass ceiling” at the highest levels, where male-dominated selection committees or appointing authorities prioritize familiarity over diversity.
The myth of merit also ignores the structural realities of women’s lives. Legal careers demand long hours, unrelenting workloads, and geographic mobility, which disproportionately burden women who often bear primary caregiving responsibilities. In many societies, women still shoulder the majority of domestic labor, even when working full-time. This limits their ability to take on the high-visibility, time-intensive roles that signal “merit” to selection panels. For example, a woman lawyer may excel in her practice but decline a leadership role in a bar association due to family obligations, reducing her visibility for judicial appointments. Men, less constrained by such expectations, accrue the professional capital that translates into “merit.” The system, in turn, rewards those who can conform to its demands, mistaking availability for ability.
Courts must act on gender parity because their legitimacy depends on it. The judiciary is not merely a collection of individuals applying the law; it is a symbol of justice, tasked with reflecting society’s values. When courts are overwhelmingly male, they risk appearing disconnected from the diverse populations they serve. This is particularly critical in cases involving gender-based violence, family law, or reproductive rights, where women’s perspectives can shape more equitable outcomes. Research shows that diverse judiciaries produce more balanced decisions. A 2020 analysis of appellate courts in Canada found that panels with at least one woman judge were more likely to rule in favor of plaintiffs in sexual harassment cases, suggesting that lived experiences inform judicial reasoning. A judiciary that excludes women’s voices cannot claim to fully represent justice.
Gender parity strengthens public trust. Courts rely on public confidence to function effectively. When half the population sees itself consistently underrepresented, it erodes faith in the system. This is not a hypothetical concern: surveys in multiple countries, including India and the United Kingdom, have shown declining trust in judiciaries perceived as elitist or exclusionary. Women, who make up a significant portion of litigants and legal professionals, expect a judiciary that mirrors their reality. A lack of diversity fuels perceptions of bias, undermining the moral authority of courts to adjudicate disputes impartially.
Achieving gender parity requires dismantling the myth of merit through deliberate action. Courts cannot wait for a mythical pipeline of “qualified” women to magically appear. Instead, they must reform selection processes to prioritize diversity without compromising competence. Transparent criteria for appointments, such as clear metrics for legal expertise and judicial temperament, can reduce the influence of subjective biases or old-boy networks. Some countries have already taken steps in this direction. In South Africa, the Judicial Service Commission publicly advertises judicial vacancies and uses structured interviews to evaluate candidates, reducing reliance on informal recommendations. Such models can be adapted globally to ensure women are not overlooked.
Quotas or affirmative action policies, though controversial, have proven effective in breaking entrenched patterns. Norway’s corporate board quota, which mandated 40 percent female representation, demonstrates how targeted interventions can shift norms without sacrificing quality. In the judicial context, temporary quotas could ensure women reach critical mass in courts, creating a self-sustaining cycle where female judges mentor and inspire others. Critics argue that quotas undermine merit, but this assumes the current system is meritocratic. It is not. Quotas simply level a playing field tilted by decades of exclusion.
Training and mentorship programs are equally vital. Women need access to the same professional networks and opportunities as men to build the credentials that selection panels value. Judicial academies or bar associations could establish programs to prepare women for leadership roles, offering training in case management, public speaking, or judicial ethics. These initiatives would not lower the bar but equip women to meet it, countering the structural disadvantages they face. For example, Australia’s Women Lawyers Association has successfully run mentorship programs that have increased the number of women appointed to state courts.
Courts must also address work-life balance to make judicial roles accessible to women. Flexible scheduling, parental leave, or remote hearing options can reduce the conflict between professional and personal responsibilities. While these changes benefit all judges, they disproportionately help women, who are more likely to juggle caregiving duties. The pandemic accelerated the adoption of virtual hearings, proving that courts can adapt without compromising efficiency. Extending such innovations permanently would signal a commitment to inclusivity.
The role of male allies cannot be overstated. Men in senior judicial positions or selection committees have the power to advocate for women, challenge biases, and reshape norms. Their active support whether through nominating women for appointments or amplifying their contributions can shift the culture of the legal profession. Allyship is not charity; it is a recognition that diverse courts are stronger courts.
The myth of merit persists because it is comforting. It allows societies to believe that inequalities are the result of individual failings rather than systemic flaws. But this belief is a disservice to justice. Courts, as arbiters of fairness, must lead by example, confronting the biases and barriers that keep women from the bench. Gender parity is not a zero-sum game; elevating women does not diminish men but enriches the judiciary as a whole. By reforming selection processes, embracing affirmative measures, and fostering inclusivity, courts can move beyond the myth of merit to build a system that truly reflects the talent and diversity of those it serves. The time for action is now—justice demands it.
