Blurring the Insider/Outsider Distinction? Reflections on the Impact of Digital Networking on Legal Fieldwork in India

Legal institutions like courtrooms and lawyers’ offices in India have long been inaccessible, impenetrable, and unsafe for young female researchers. Baxi, reflecting on her experience researching rape trials between 1996-1998, wrote that the feeling of “out-of-placeness is in awareness of law’s violence.’’ Other researchers conducting legal fieldwork in India (Baxi 2013, Garg 2019, Bhambri 2024) have highlighted the inaccessibility of legal institutions, the sense of “out-of-placeness” experienced within these spaces, and, most concerningly, the pervasive sexism and unsafe environments they routinely encounter in the process. Particularly, much has been said about access, and how this sense of “out-of-placeness” is steered by a general inaccessibility to legal stakeholders and institutions.

However, the steady rise of digital networking (through online forums such as LinkedIn, for instance, facilitating access to working professionals) and online interviewing (via tools like Zoom or Microsoft Teams) in recent years invites reflection on the possibilities and problems created by these methods for fieldwork in legal contexts, particularly given that present methodological reflections stem from in-person research. How, then, is the sense of “out-of-placeness” reproduced or diminished when the home itself becomes the field? In this article, I reflect on my experience of conducting fully remote fieldwork for my MSc thesis on marital sexual violence litigation, to consider whether digital methods of socio-legal research in India might help address, and perhaps even alleviate, some of these concerns surrounding access and safety.

It has been consistently noted that access to lawyers in India is often opaque. Garg (2019), in her socio-legal study on rape adjudication, which relied on court observations and interviews with victims, lawyers, and judges, suggests that access within legal settings often depends more on “whom you know” than on “what you know” (Garg 2019, 93). Scholars who conducted empirical research in Indian legal institutions have emphasised the role of legal networks and professional legitimacy in their access to lawyers. Baxi (2013) noted that her ability to secure permission for observing rape trials rested on connections to relevant stakeholders, while Makhija (2019) described how her legal training and attire, particularly the barrister’s band, facilitated her access to domestic violence (DV) courts. Bhambri (2024) echoes these concerns. The absence of a professional or social network not only constrained her ability to shadow lawyers and meet clients, but also reinforced her sense of “out-of-placeness” in Mumbai’s courts. Lawyers often acted as institutional gatekeepers. This dynamic is a product of institutional culture – defined by the collective attitudes, norms, and behaviours of legal professionals (Miller 2019). In this sense, the unwillingness of lawyers to engage with her reflects broader patterns of exclusion rooted in the overlapping marginalisations produced by class, caste, gender, education, and professional training (Massoud 2024). This dynamic is also starkly reminiscent of Bourdieu’s construction of the juridical field, where legal expertise operates as a form of social capital, naturalised through its restriction to stakeholders such as lawyers. In turn, this normalises and pedestalises the hegemonic status of law.

Access is not the only hurdle female researchers encounter. Most concerning, perhaps, is the everyday sexism and interlinked safety risks of doing legal fieldwork in India (Garg 2019). Garg described experiencing sexist comments and instances of harassment during her doctoral research, to the point where she practised impassivity in interviews for fear of her physical safety. In a similar vein, Baxi wrote that researching rape attracted “charge of indecency, sexist comments, and even sexual harassment” (Baxi 2013, 131).

To prepare for my thesis research, I read Baxi, Garg, and Bhambri’s accounts. They developed a curiosity about how my own experience would unfold – especially considering my unique positionality and the particular circumstances of my work, which, due to temporal and resource constraints, was conducted entirely remotely. I hold a law degree from a university in the United Kingdom, and I had limited academic knowledge about the Indian legal context. My professional network in India was similarly restricted, given that I had been trained and was based in England. At the time, I was also affiliated with the University of Oxford (clearly indicated in my email signatures and LinkedIn profile), a characteristic that undoubtedly, both directly and indirectly, positively improves access in India. My project examined the role of lawyers in guiding survivors through the litigation process, both in court proceedings and in out-of-court settlements (which are particularly common in domestic violence cases). Rather than limiting my fieldwork to observing courtrooms and gathering experiences strictly within that setting, my focus extended to capturing insights about the litigation process as a whole. Given the resource and time constraints of working within an eight-week dissertation timeline, I focused on only interviewing lawyers.

To my surprise, my experience accessing participants was strikingly different from both Baxi and Bhambri’s accounts. Digital outreach allowed me to connect with a large, diverse, and varied set of lawyers. I was not limited to specific jurisdictions or courts. Most lawyers responded promptly and enthusiastically, willingly giving their time and engaging positively with the project. Only one feminist space imposed bureaucratic requirements that delayed the project’s progress, and, despite my agreement to provide the requested documentation, ultimately never responded. What was particularly noteworthy was the fact that I worked remotely and only reached out digitally, which positively facilitated the project’s development. Every stage – reaching out to lawyers, cold emailing, messaging on LinkedIn, scheduling, conducting interviews, recording, and transcribing – took place online.

Crucially, conducting remote interviews, particularly with male lawyers, allowed me to feel safe and at ease. This sense of security enabled me to engage in critical, feminist, and decolonial approaches to active interviewing, without the heightened concerns for my safety that in-person interviews might have posed. Such approaches depart from the traditional interviewing approach involving a reserved interviewer, which has been critiqued by feminist scholars as reflecting dominant masculine conversational themes (Oakley 2005). When adopting a decolonial and feminist approach, the interviewer engages in critical dialogue with the participant. This allowed me to probe further, and possibly retort, if lawyers made certain unusual or regressive comments. This was beneficial to the study, for it would expose the nuanced and (sometimes) oppressive roles that lawyers embody. Employing this form of questioning also allowed participants to reveal informal, yet common, practices and themes that extended beyond my initial scope. The online and remote nature of the interviews provided me with a safety net that allowed me to be comfortably critical, and question lawyers further, and raise possibly uncomfortable, yet pertinent, questions. Garg (whose interviews were conducted in-person), by contrast, departed from this approach and adopted a stance of impassivity as a means of self-protection, particularly given that her fieldwork reflections often reveal instances in which lawyers made her feel unsafe (Garg 2019). Thus, overall, online interviews enabled a critical interviewing approach and improved my data collection, all while ensuring my physical safety.

What made online interviews more accessible could, in part, be attributed to their setting. Both Baxi and Bhambri extensively describe the hostility and coldness of physically being in courts and lawyers’ staff rooms (Baxi writes, “Courts have typically been described as intimidating, chaotic, and confusing spaces for a non-expert” (Baxi 2013, xxxiv)), often even emphasising a feeling of olfactory and sensory exclusion. By contrast, interviewing lawyers in the comfort of their own rooms (although some still joined from their offices) arguably made them more approachable, accessible, and perhaps more candid. The virtual format created a safer and comfortable interview environment by removing the imposing and hostile atmosphere of the court or the lawyer’s office, altering the sense of “out-of-placeness,” since both the lawyer and I were situated within our private and familiar environments.

With the inevitable rise of digitised professional networks and online profiles, it becomes important to consider the varied implications of this shift for documenting fieldwork on sexual violence in India – particularly for young female researchers, and specifically in the context of previous (harrowing) reflections. What new possibilities does it open up, and what challenges might it create? In my case, digital access had an overall positive impact, though questions about the representativeness of my sample inevitably arise.  Naturally, I could only contact lawyers with online profiles and internet access, which itself remains a privilege. This meant that I primarily reached out to privileged lawyers, usually operating in metropolitan cities. Interestingly, no one questioned my Western legal background. This had been an initial concern of mine – I worried that lawyers might be reluctant to engage with me since I lacked formal legal training in India, potentially relegating me as an outsider, much like Baxi and Bhambri, who also came from non-legal backgrounds.  I did not experience such hostility. This, however, could certainly be seen as an effect of working from a privileged UK university. In a way, my background had me constantly tethering between the insider and outsider. Moreover, my lack of Indian legal knowledge did not negatively affect the data collection, or the analysis. This was largely because of the stark disjunct between the letter of the law, the stipulated procedure, and what actually happened when survivors sought to initiate legal proceedings (elucidated in the lawyer’s accounts). The predominant discussions centred on the extent to which the actual legal process diverged from the black-letter law, so my lack of precise legal knowledge was not a barrier. Of course, this can largely be attributed to the specific focus of my project. This experience echoes persistent concerns about the lack of socio-legal research in India. It highlights the urgent need for more empirical work that grounds academic theorising in the messy realities of litigation.

That said, online interviews come with their own set of concerns and limitations. While they provide a safe environment and improve accessibility, the lack of face-to-face interaction – and the inability to fully observe body language and other nonverbal cues – inhibit well-rounded data collection. Responses may also be more rehearsed, and participants might self-censor provided information. As the term suggests, remote interviews remain remote, making it more difficult for the interviewer to build a rapport with the subject, which can limit the depth of responses provided. Privacy is another important issue. Many of my interviewees were based at home, where unexpected interruptions, such as a family member entering the room, can lead to unintended disclosures of private information. This is a particular concern in sensitive research areas, such as sexual violence. When promoting digital fieldwork, thus, these challenges must be carefully considered, and the researcher should take steps to mitigate their impact.

In describing my experiences, and promoting digitised fieldwork approaches, I do not disagree with Baxi and Bhambri. I am not arguing that access is now entirely transparent compared to when Baxi conducted fieldwork, or claiming that things have magically improved. As Bhambri demonstrates, many of Baxi’s concerns persist even twenty-five years later. It is also important to acknowledge that both Baxi and Bhambri’s fieldwork was far more extensive than mine, and while their focus is on courts, mine is situated more broadly in experiences of sexual violence within the same context. Baxi’s observations and interviews with lawyers in their workplace allowed her to capture the everyday banter that enriched her understanding of their role (something that would be impossible to garner in an online format), whereas my interviews were confined to what participants explicitly shared with me, which may have been limited and self-censored accounts. I concur with her concerns about the inaccessibility of legal institutions in India and agree with Baxi that such inaccessibility reflects the violence of the law. The relative ease of my experience can be attributed more to my privileged background and the limited sample size of my fieldwork (perhaps interacting with more lawyers would provide a more accurate understanding of access) than by any genuine democratisation of access to legal institutions. This becomes evident when contrasted with the extensively documented challenges and negative experiences that many female researchers have faced while conducting legal fieldwork.

What I am suggesting instead, however, is that digitisation introduces new possibilities for research that could, albeit slowly, start to allay some existing concerns surrounding access and safety. This must be both acknowledged and critically extrapolated. Remote fieldwork may address some of the barriers that Baxi and Bhambri identified, enabling young researchers to gain access to jurisdictions and officers that might otherwise be impenetrable. For female researchers in particular, it can also provide a safety net, an especially important consideration in light of the sexism and unsafe environments in interactions with lawyers that scholars such as Garg have highlighted. Of course, digitisation is not without its own concerns surrounding privilege. Yet, experiences of remote fieldwork need to be foregrounded in discussions on empirically researching sexual violence. This piece is an attempt to move forward in that vein and share my own reflections, grounded in the documented experiences of other female scholars.

As I develop my MSc research into a larger doctoral project, I am interested in exploring how digital access compares with in-person fieldwork – and how my unique positionality translates when I conduct research inside courts, armed with a law degree, but without a black gown. For now, I remain an outsider. Yet, digital outreach has made it feel as though I could at least place one foot in the legal door. The irony is undeniable: from 5,000 miles away, I could not be more removed from the field, and yet digital platforms made access feel slightly more permeable and a lot safer.