Master of the Roster

**Ishika Tanwar

“Wherever there is discretion, there is room for arbitrariness.” – AV Dicey 

Introduction 

The office of the Chief Justice of India (CJI) occupies an elevated position within our constitutional architecture, not merely because of the honour and dignity attached to it but because the Constitution itself has, in express terms, invested this office with responsibilities that straddle the delicate frontier between judicial decision-making and administrative control. The CJI is at once primus inter pares, first among equals, when sitting in court with other judges, and simultaneously the administrative head of the Supreme Court, who has exclusive authority in matters of allocating cases, constituting benches, and managing the apex judicial institution. 

It is this duality that this piece seeks to highlight as being a hindrance in the administration of justice, for while efficiency demands that there be one ultimate authority to ensure the smooth functioning of the apex court, the concentration of such administrative powers in a single individual carries within it the seeds of arbitrariness, a danger that the Constitution, in its insistence on the rule of law and the guarantees of equality, is duty-bound to avert.

Legal Architecture of the ‘Master of the Roster’

The powers vested in the Chief Justice are numerous and varied, entrusting judicial and administrative responsibilities. Though some powers conferred by the Constitution carry discretion, they largely do not conflict with the CJI’s constitutional duty of administering justice. Articles 127 and 128 confer upon the CJI the authority to appoint ad hoc judges and retired judges to the Supreme Court, but these appointments require the prior consent of the President and are thus insulated from allegations of unfettered discretion. Likewise, under Articles 257, 258 and 290, the Chief Justice may appoint arbitrators to resolve disputes of a financial character between the Union and the States, a function that, while significant, lies somewhat outside the mainstream judicial duties of the Court. Article 130 vests in the CJI the power, again with the President’s approval, to alter the seat of the Supreme Court from Delhi. Article 146 confers a different form of authority, permitting the Chief Justice to appoint officers and servants of the Court and even to frame rules governing their service, a sphere where some discretion undeniably exists, but in a domain that does not by itself compromise the administration of justice. In this way, the Constitution constitutes the Chief Justice as an institutional fulcrum around which both the judicial and administrative machinery revolves. 

These provisions, though weighty, pale in comparison to the immense discretion flowing from the Supreme Court Rules of 2013, The Handbook of Practice and Procedure of 2017, and Shanti Bhushan v. Supreme Court of India, which reiterated the CJI to be the master of the roster, enabling the Chief Justice to direct urgent matters to single judges or division benches, to reallocate cases in contingencies, and most significantly, to decide the composition of larger benches entrusted with the resolution of constitutional questions. It is here that the administrative persona of the CJI conflicts with the judicial duty of the Court. 

Consequences of Unchecked Roster Discretion

The right to life and personal liberty under Article 21, as expansively interpreted by judicial pronouncements from Maneka Gandhi to Puttaswamy, demands that justice be administered through just, fair, and reasonable processes. If the allocation of cases, the timing of hearings, and the very composition of benches are left to the unchecked discretion of a single individual, then the constitutional promise of justice stands compromised. 

The problem is compounded by the opacity that marks roster allocation. Unlike judicial decisions, which are accompanied by reasoning, administrative allocations rarely disclose the same, opening the door to perceptions (if not realities) of bench cherry-picking, where politically sensitive cases are channelled to judges seen as more amenable, and contentious matters are either expedited or indefinitely delayed at the discretion of the Chief Justice. Evidently, entire tenures of certain CJIs (such as CJI Bobde) passed without the constitution of constitutional benches, despite the pendency of dozens of momentous questions of constitutional importance. Delay in such cases is itself a form of denial of justice.

Beyond opacity and delay, unchecked roster discretion also creates perverse incentive structures that may subtly compromise judicial independence. The retirement age for judges of the Supreme Court is a mere sixty-five years, which in the contemporary world is too short a tenure for jurists who have often just reached the maturity of their intellectual faculties. Unlike in jurisdictions where judges serve for life or longer fixed terms, Indian judges are compelled to consider life after the bench. This reality has fostered an unhealthy culture in which post-retirement prospects, often influenced by the political executive, cast a shadow over judicial independence. 

Former Chief Justices have been appointed as Governors, heads of statutory tribunals, and members of commissions. Justice P. Sathasivam was appointed Governor of Kerala shortly after retirement, while Justice Gogoi accepted a nominated member position in the Rajya Sabha. Such examples fuel the apprehension that while in office, judges, particularly those ascending to the position of Chief Justice, may be tempted to appease the government of the day, either by assigning sensitive matters to benches likely to decide in favour of the executive or by ensuring that politically inconvenient cases do not see the light of urgent hearing. 

The combination of short tenure, concentrated administrative power, and the lure of post-retirement positions thus creates structural incentives for the misuse of roster authority, weakening the insulation of the judiciary from political pressure, which is at the core of the fundamental structure doctrine. Viewed through a policy lens, the issue of post-retirement appointments reflects a classic problem of misaligned incentives within institutional design. When judicial office is coupled with the realistic prospect of post-retirement political or executive engagement, the system inadvertently creates conditions under which independence may be perceived as negotiable. Even in the absence of actual impropriety, the appearance of possible influence erodes public trust. Effective institutional policy must therefore address not only misconduct, but also structural incentives that compromise the credibility of adjudicatory independence.

Judicial Endorsement and the Absence of Accountability

The judiciary has, however, consistently affirmed the primacy of the CJI in these matters. In Prakash Chand, the Court declared that the Chief Justice of a High Court is the sole master of the roster, and this principle has been transposed to the Supreme Court. In effect, the office of the CJI has been strengthened by precedents such as these, leaving unanswered the question of how to prevent arbitrariness when that very office is the source of arbitral power. 

At times, the exercise of administrative power has openly collided with the principle of natural justice- no person shall be a judge in their own cause. The episode wherein, Chief Justice Gogoi constituted a special bench to hear allegations of sexual harassment against himself and even presided over it, was an egregious violation of this fundamental maxim, corroding the integrity of the institution, for the “majesty of law” rests upon the perception of fairness it commands among the people.

A similar departure from principles of natural justice was evident during the tenure of Chief Justice Dipak Misra. At the height of institutional turmoil, several politically sensitive matters, including challenges to the Aadhaar framework and allegations concerning judicial corruption, were repeatedly assigned to relatively junior benches, bypassing senior judges, thereby fuelling concerns of selective roster allocation. These concerns crystallised in Campaign for Judicial Accountability v. Union of India, a petition seeking an independent mechanism to inquire into allegations against the Chief Justice himself. Despite the evident conflict of interest, the Chief Justice not only constituted the five-judge bench to hear the matter but also presided over it. In the judgment, the court went so far as to characterise the office of the Chief Justice as an institution unto itself, the ultimate repository of constitutional trust whose authority in matters of bench constitution was final and unreviewable. 

It is, therefore, not without reason that four senior judges of the Supreme Court, in an extraordinary press conference in 2018, broke ranks to caution the nation that the administration of the Court was not in order. Their grievance was not about hierarchy but opacity, for they reminded the CJI that the roster is not an instrument of superior authority. 

The lens of Article 14, which grants the right to equality and the primacy of the rule of law, further reinforces the critique. In Sharma Transport, arbitrariness was described as an action taken capriciously and without a rational principle. Applied to the administrative discretion of the CJI, the absence of transparent standards in the allocation of cases or the formation of benches risks falling within this zone of arbitrariness. If arbitrariness vitiates executive action under Article 14, it essentially also vitiates the administrative actions of the judiciary, for the judiciary is not above the Constitution but its creature and guardian. 

The difficulty is not merely the presence of discretion, but the absence of institutional safeguards that channel discretion through predictable, reviewable standards. Modern governance theory recognises that discretionary power is inevitable in complex institutions; however, such power must be structured through rules and processes mandating disclosure and collective decision-making. The Supreme Court’s roster system remains an outlier in this respect as it continues to operate through informal conventions or judicial decisions rather than codified norms. This institutional vacuum converts what ought to be administrative efficiency into a site of constitutional anxiety, particularly when the Court is called upon to adjudicate matters implicating democratic accountability, federal balance, and civil liberties.

Rethinking Roster Power: Transparency, Accountability, and Institutional Reform

Solutions must be sought within the constitutional scheme to address this tension. One fruitful path lies in recognising that when the judiciary, through the office of the CJI, performs administrative functions, it acts not as a judicial organ but as the State within the meaning of Article 12. If so, the administrative decisions of the CJI, including roster allocation or appointments, would be subject to fundamental rights. A litigant aggrieved by a discriminatory or arbitrary administrative decision should, in principle, be able to invoke Articles 14 or 21 for the reasons mentioned above, through a writ petition, thereby ensuring that judicial independence does not degenerate into judicial impunity.

The Right to Information Act provides a powerful tool for establishing transparency. Subjecting roster decisions to the discipline of RTI would enforce accountability by compelling reasoned disclosures and deterring whimsical allocation of cases without eroding judicial independence. Beyond individual transparency requests, a policy-based reform could require the Supreme Court to publish periodic roster allocation criteria, similar to those used in administrative circulars in other public institutions. Even non-binding guidelines, such as subject-matter allocation, seniority norms, or rotational principles, would significantly reduce the scope for arbitrary deviation. The objective is not to judicialise administrative choice, but to ensure that such choices are intelligible, consistent, and defensible within a constitutional framework.

Further, for matters of great constitutional, political or social importance, the CJI may be required to consult the two senior-most judges of the Court before constituting the Bench. This model would reduce the risk of individual bias and foster collective responsibility. Institutionalising consultation also aligns with broader principles of constitutional governance that favour diffusion of power over concentration. A small collegial body for roster decisions, even advisory in nature, would introduce internal checks without impairing decisional efficiency. From a policy standpoint, this represents a low-cost reform with high legitimacy dividends.

Conclusion

The office of the Chief Justice must be seen through the lens of power and accountability. The Constitution envisioned making the CJI a guardian of justice, not its gatekeeper for political favour. If his administrative role is balanced by constitutional scrutiny, transparency, and collective decision-making, then the immense powers vested in him will not stand in conflict with the administration of justice. Arbitrariness is the sworn enemy of equality, as Justice Bhagwati held in Royappa, and where there is arbitrariness, there can be no justice. The legitimacy of the judiciary lies in the recognition that the Chief Justice is only the first among equals. The master of the roster must not become the master of justice, for in that lies the gravest danger to the rule of law. 

Ultimately, the debate surrounding the Chief Justice’s role as master of the roster is not a contest between authority and efficiency, but between opaque power and accountable governance. In a constitutional democracy, institutions derive legitimacy not merely from tradition or trust, but from design choices that anticipate misuse and guard against it. Judicial independence cannot rest solely on individual virtue; it must be secured through an institutional framework. Reconceptualising roster power as a matter of judicial policy, rather than personal prerogative, is thus essential to preserving both the authority of the Court and the confidence of the citizenry it serves.

**Ishika Tanwar is a student, BALLB (Hons) at the West Bengal National University of Juridical Sciences, Kolkata.

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this blog do not necessarily align with the views of the Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy.