Ethical visibility isn’t advertising, it’s the future: A ground-level rebuttal to the Rule 36 panic

My work is shaped by a single question: how can legal frameworks be navigated with dignity and precision by those most vulnerable to being misled, misrepresented or mistreated? I speak not just in courts, but often in the public domain - to make the law more accessible without diluting its depth.

And that’s exactly why I’m writing this. Because the recent Bar & Bench article on Rule 36 gets both the letter and spirit of legal ethics wrong. It targets the one platform - Vakil Vetted - that has actually respected the Bar Council of India (BCI) mandate while giving lawyers like me visibility based on work, not noise.

As a woman lawyer from a procedural litigation background, I never relied on Instagram reels, flashy business cards or retargeting ads. I relied on courtroom presence, client confidence and clarity in advisory, but none of that was visible unless someone happened to know someone.

When I was interviewed by Lawfinity Solutions (the parent company of Vaki Vetted), I wasn’t asked how many followers I had. I was asked what kinds of matters I handled, what legal doctrines I most frequently navigated, what client categories I best served and how I handled ambiguity - in advisory and in court. My media commentary was fact-checked. My tone with clients was vetted. It wasn’t a listing. It was a vetting.

That’s not marketing. That’s merit.

The Bar & Bench article makes three misassumptions that need to be corrected:

1. Digital visibility equals solicitation - This is legally outdated. The 2008 amendment to Rule 36 already permits factual publication of practice areas. Vakil Vetted goes further: it doesn’t allow self-promotion, doesn’t let lawyers rank higher through payment and reviews every listing internally. In fact, I know of an advocate who offered to pay for inclusion and was rejected because the platform found that the profile lacked positioning depth. That’s a compliance filter, not a violation.

2. Platforms inherently commodify lawyers - Not if they’re built right. Vakil Vetted doesn’t show you 50 profiles for you to scroll through and judge by photo or name. It understands the legal issue first, filters lawyers by verified category-fit and depth and only then makes introductions. That is the opposite of commodification. It is the dignified matchmaking that even my own brand is not just comfortable, but validated in getting associated with.

3. Naming Vakil Vetted creates a cautionary tale - No, it creates confusion. Vakil Vetted is the least violative of all platforms in this space. It doesn’t even operate like others. Several other platforms today enable lawyer listings that are pay-to-play, allow unverified self-authored bios with promotional claims, run Google ads for "top criminal lawyer near me," or show lawyer rankings based on ad spend rather than merit. These models are far closer to violating Rule 36 in spirit - if not in letter - by incentivising lawyers to behave like vendors rather than professionals. Not a single one of them was named. Why?

“But Vakil Vetted is still digital, isn’t that dangerous?”

Digital is not the enemy. Undignified behavior is. Vakil Vetted builds in restrictions: no cold pitches, no public reviews, no DMs. It prioritises matching with care over marketing at scale. If Rule 36 is to survive, it must evolve to recognise intention and architecture.

“But this opens the floodgates for other platforms to misuse visibility.”

Then let’s regulate them. But don't punish the one platform that’s voluntarily stricter than what the BCI prescribes. Vakil Vetted could have monetised far more aggressively - it didn’t. And that restraint must be acknowledged, not clubbed with violators.

“Lawyers should build reputations, not be matched like service providers.”

This is a romanticised myth. Most lawyers in tier 2 cities, or without pedigree, don’t get discovered without visibility tools. Vakil Vetted isn’t offering commodified access, it’s offering structured credibility. That’s different. And desperately needed.

It is worth noting that the author of the article is a distinguished professor of law. But perhaps therein lies the disconnect. The courtroom is not a seminar room. Law practice isn’t shaped by edited volumes and symposia - it is shaped by the urgent unpredictability of client crises, mis-sold insurance, wrongful arrests, nominee disputes and regulatory overreach.

Respectfully, legal dignity cannot be theorised in isolation from how real people actually access legal help today. To write about platforms like Vakil Vetted without engaging with how they work, who they serve and what they prevent is not academic caution.

Curiously, for a piece that critiques lawyer visibility, the article’s author has himself maintained a well-publicised academic presence. It only reinforces the point: public visibility is not inherently unethical - it depends on how and why it is built. Professors use visibility to disseminate ideas. Doctors use it to signal trust and credentials. Lawyers, too, deserve digital spaces where visibility is earned through credibility - not purchased through ads or silenced by outdated fear. Vakil Vetted attempts that distinction. It is ironic, then, that it is being critiqued not for violating the law, but for innovating too cautiously within it.

It’s also worth reflecting on how selectively dignity seems to be defended in our profession. There are well-known public figures - including self-proclaimed men’s rights advocates - who regularly appear on large influencer platforms, commenting casually (and sometimes recklessly) about the legal profession, lawyers and even the judiciary. They speak about legal systems with sweeping generalisations, make light of procedure and attract massive viewership. Yet, their commentary is never scrutinised for bringing down the dignity of the profession.

Why? Because they come from legacy. Because they have reach. Because no one wants to police someone who has platform privilege.

In contrast, early stage trust-driven legal startups - many of them built by first-generation professionals who are simply trying to match credibility with visibility - are scrutinised as if Rule 36 exists only to silence them. While first generation lawyers are told not to be “seen too much,” while others go viral for mocking the very institutions we’re trying to uphold.

It feels, at times, like Rule 36 has become a tool that safeguards privilege rather than protecting the profession as a whole.

Rule 36 was never meant to freeze the profession in pre-digital opacity. It was meant to prevent the degradation of public trust. That trust is better served when clients are matched with vetted lawyers rather than swiping through algorithm-boosted ones. Vakil Vetted does not weaken Rule 36, it operationalises its ideals. If we fail to see that nuance, we risk weaponising a well-meaning regulation to protect the status quo, not professional dignity.

Vakil Vetted deserves critique when warranted, but it also deserves credit when earned. As a lawyer whose entire practice is based on navigating procedural dignity, I can say with confidence that the platform is not perfect. But it is principled, and we must protect spaces like that, not scapegoat them.

Neelam Singh is an Advocate-on-Record and practices before the Allahabad High Court at Lucknow.