Editorial

The Supreme Court’s recent observation that State Bar Councils have become “men’s clubs,” coupled with its direction to co-opt women members, is both a sharp indictment and a necessary corrective. In a profession that prides itself on equality before the law, the near-absence of women in the bodies that regulate lawyers has long been an open secret. The Court’s intervention forces the legal fraternity to confront a structural failure it has preferred to ignore.

Bar Councils are not mere administrative bodies. They control enrolment, discipline, and the professional standards of the bar. When these institutions remain overwhelmingly male, the message is unmistakable: the gatekeepers of the legal profession do not reflect the society they serve. Women now form a substantial and growing share of law graduates and practising advocates. Yet their presence in decision-making bodies remains token at best. This imbalance is not accidental. It is the product of informal networks, delayed elections, and a culture that treats leadership as a male preserve.

The Court’s use of the phrase “men’s clubs” is deliberate and damning. Clubs exclude. They operate on affinity rather than merit. In the legal profession, such exclusion has real consequences. Issues that disproportionately affect women advocates—workplace harassment, maternity-related career interruptions, unequal briefing patterns, and safety in courts—rarely receive sustained institutional attention when women are absent from the table. A more representative Bar Council is more likely to treat these concerns as systemic rather than peripheral.

Critics may argue that co-option is undemocratic and that representation should come only through elections. The objection has force in principle. Yet when electoral processes themselves have failed to produce meaningful gender balance for decades, temporary corrective measures become justified. Co-option is not a permanent substitute for democratic choice; it is a bridge. Once women are present in meaningful numbers, they can contest, network, and reshape the culture from within. Experience from other institutions shows that presence precedes power.

Implementation will matter. Co-option must not become a ritual of tokenism—appointing a handful of women to silent seats. The Court should ensure that the numbers are significant, the tenure meaningful, and the selected members drawn from diverse practice backgrounds. State Bar Councils must also be required to publish data on gender composition and to set internal targets for future elections.

The larger point extends beyond Bar Councils. The judiciary, senior counsel ranks, and law firm partnerships still lag in gender parity. The Supreme Court’s remark is a reminder that formal equality is insufficient when institutional culture remains exclusionary. A legal system that claims to deliver justice cannot afford to look like a closed fraternity.

The Court’s direction is welcome. Its real test will be whether the legal profession treats it as an order to be complied with or an opportunity for genuine reform.

The ongoing crisis in Ceuta, Spain’s North African enclave, has laid bare the contradictions at the heart of European migration policy. After a mass influx that saw tens of thousands attempt the crossing from Morocco, the territory remains overwhelmed. Thousands of migrants are still present, the death toll has climbed to around 88, and Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez faces sharp criticism from European partners. This is not merely a local emergency; it is a symptom of a system that combines porous borders, political ambivalence, and insufficient solidarity.

Ceuta’s geography makes it uniquely vulnerable. Separated from mainland Europe yet sharing a land border with Morocco, it has long served as a pressure point in migration routes. The latest surge was facilitated by trafficking networks that exploit legal ambiguities and social media amplification. Once inside, the Spanish authorities face an impossible choice: process claims under European asylum rules while managing public order and limited resources in a small territory. The result has been overcrowding, humanitarian strain, and a political backlash both at home and in Brussels.

Criticism of Sánchez within the EU is predictable but selective. Member states that demand stricter external borders often resist sharing the practical burden of reception and returns. Spain, like Italy and Greece before it, finds itself on the front line while northern partners lecture from a distance. The Spanish government’s response—combining rescue operations, temporary shelters, and diplomatic pressure on Morocco—has been imperfect. Yet the deeper failure is collective. Europe still lacks a coherent, enforceable framework that pairs controlled external borders with fair internal burden-sharing and credible returns for those without asylum claims.

The human cost is undeniable. Nearly ninety deaths, many of them young people seeking economic opportunity or fleeing instability, represent a moral failure. At the same time, unmanaged mass arrivals strain local communities, fuel political polarisation, and undermine support for genuine refugees. Open-ended tolerance of disorder serves neither migrants nor host societies. Effective policy requires deterrence of irregular crossings, rapid processing, and cooperation with origin and transit countries—tools that demand political will rather than slogans.

Ceuta is a warning. Without a realistic European approach that combines firmness at the external frontier with solidarity inside the Union, similar crises will recur along the Mediterranean and Atlantic routes. The alternative is continued improvisation, rising death tolls, and the steady erosion of public confidence in the capacity of democratic governments to control their borders. Europe can no longer afford the luxury of contradiction.

• SAS Kirmani