momentum increased in 2024–25, with the government and judiciary exploring AI-assisted case triage, automated scheduling, and digital document verification. The pitch was simple: reduce human bottlenecks, enhance transparency, and allow consumers from remote areas to participate without travelling to district headquarters.

In theory, this is an equaliser. For example, a small shopkeeper in a rural block filing a complaint against a defective agricultural tool no longer needs to lose a working day or spend on travel. Virtual hearings can ensure that a matter scheduled for 10:30 AM actually begins at 10:30 AM—something rare in the traditional system. AI can sort repetitive cases, detect frivolous filings, and help judicial members focus on substantive disputes.

However, as with most digitisation projects in India, the optimism must be tempered with caution. The consumer commissions are not courts of the elite—they are meant for the ordinary citizen, often from vulnerable socio-economic backgrounds. The 2023-24 NCCRC audit found that nearly 40% of complainants appearing in district commissions lacked consistent access to smartphones, laptops, or stable internet. In many northeastern and central Indian districts, virtual hearings frequently collapse due to poor bandwidth.

In such places, insisting on virtual hearings or digital-only submissions can convert “speedy justice” into “no justice at all.” A woman filing a complaint about a faulty household appliance in a tehsil without reliable connectivity may find herself locked out of the very process meant to empower her. The digital divide is not imagined; it is lived.

Then comes the issue of AI-based decision assistance. Although the government has clarified that AI will not replace judicial minds, the risk of undue dependence lingers. If an algorithm categorises a complaint as low priority or flags it as potentially frivolous, will an overburdened forum simply accept that classification? Without public transparency on how these AI tools work, how they’re trained, and how errors are corrected, consumer justice could slowly drift into opaque automation.

Another challenge lies in cybersecurity and data privacy. Consumer disputes often involve bank details, medical records, property documents, and personal consumption patterns. A leak or breach could have far-reaching consequences. Without a strong data protection backbone— especially after repeated concerns about public-sector cybersecurity vulnerabilities—the system risks trading courtroom inefficiency for digital insecurity.

Yet, rejecting technology outright would be equally misguided. The pendency crisis demands innovation. The answer is not to stop the shift but to shape it consciously. Hybrid hearings— not fully virtual ones—can preserve choice. AI tools should remain advisory, not determinative. Government must invest heavily in digital infrastructure at the district level— setting up consumer help desks, public infrastructure kiosks, and training staff. The goal is to ensure that technology becomes a bridge, not a barrier.

Ultimately, the consumer justice system stands at a crossroads. The makeover through AI and virtual hearings is promising, but only if it respects the diversity of Indian realities. Efficiency cannot come at the price of exclusion. The future of consumer protection will be defined not by how fast the system becomes, but by how fair and accessible it remains.

Because in a country where consumers already fight powerful corporations, the justice system must not become yet another hurdle—digital or otherwise.