In the previous chapter, we explored the conceptual and procedural dimensions of a Balanced Bench, proposing how aspects of both adversarial and inquisitorial systems could be intertwined. While that chapter addressed theory, this one focuses on comparative real-world examples of hybridization. Across the globe, jurisdictions steeped in traditional legal models have undertaken reforms that incorporate elements of the “other” approach. These reforms aim to mitigate the perceived shortcomings of purely adversarial or purely inquisitorial processes.
This chapter showcases selected comparative case studies, examining why certain countries adopted hybrid structures, how those structures function in practice, and what practical lessons they hold for those envisioning a Balanced Bench. From Italy’s pivot away from a fully inquisitorial model toward a mixed system, to Chile’s transformation of criminal procedure, to incremental reforms in countries like England and the United States, each experience illuminates both the opportunities and hazards of adopting novel judicial procedures. Through these examples, we glean insights into how legal traditions, political contexts, and cultural values can shape the success—or failure—of hybrid systems. Ultimately, these case studies clarify that no single hybrid blueprint exists for all societies, but that certain principles and strategies can inform best practices for forging a truly Balanced Bench.
Italy offers one of the most prominent modern examples of a judiciary evolving away from a classic inquisitorial model toward a structure that incorporates adversarial features. Historically grounded in the Napoleonic tradition, Italian criminal courts were marked by judge-driven investigations and a dossier-based trial process. Beginning in the late 1980s, however, public dissatisfaction with judicial inefficiency and corruption scandals spurred a sweeping overhaul of criminal procedure. The resulting 1988 Code of Criminal Procedure, which took effect in 1989, sought to introduce adversarial elements without discarding Italy’s historical roots.
Under this new system, pretrial investigations in Italy remain largely under the supervision of a pubblico ministero (public prosecutor) who initiates investigative activities and collects evidence. Defense counsel now enjoys a greater role in this investigation phase, being able to conduct or request specific inquiries and to challenge prosecutorial evidence. Nevertheless, the overarching structure is not purely adversarial: a judge, known as the giudice per le indagini preliminari (GIP), oversees major decisions such as pretrial detention and evidentiary disputes, somewhat akin to an inquisitorial magistrate.
Once the case moves to trial, the procedure becomes more recognizably adversarial. Prosecutors and defense attorneys present their evidence and question witnesses, while the presiding judge plays a more passive role. The judge can still ask questions and examine evidence, but must be careful not to overreach into prosecutorial functions. Moreover, whereas traditional Italian trials once relied extensively on the pretrial dossier, the new code emphasizes orality and immediacy: witness testimonies are to be heard firsthand, in open court, allowing for cross-examination and real-time evaluation of credibility.
This hybrid approach was met with both optimism and skepticism. Supporters believed that the injection of adversarial practices—particularly the right to cross-examine witnesses—would bolster transparency and fairness, countering the risk that an investigating judge’s preconceptions might overshadow contradictory evidence. Critics, however, noted that judges continued to have access to the pretrial dossier, raising concerns about “hidden influences” that could bias a trial’s outcome. Another complication was the sheer logistical burden: the shift to oral proceedings and more active defense participation required new courtroom infrastructures and retraining for judges, prosecutors, and defense attorneys.
In practice, Italy’s experiment with hybridization has proven both influential and instructive. On one hand, the reforms did broaden procedural rights for defendants and increased public confidence in the transparency of trials. On the other hand, the continued involvement of investigating judges, combined with the public prosecutor’s significant pretrial powers, demonstrates that inquisitorial features remain alive. This tension has sometimes resulted in lengthy pretrial investigations and protracted litigation, suggesting that balancing inquisitorial and adversarial attributes remains a delicate task. Nonetheless, Italy’s experience shows that it is indeed possible to integrate greater adversarial checks into a system once defined by judicial authority—offering a blueprint for other jurisdictions contemplating a Balanced Bench.
Chile’s reform of its criminal procedure in the early 2000s stands as another significant attempt to merge inquisitorial and adversarial elements. Prior to the reform, Chile used a system in which investigating judges played a central role in gathering evidence, while trials were often bureaucratic and heavily reliant on written reports. Perceived shortcomings included a lack of transparency, minimal defense input, and frequent delays. Civil society organizations, legal scholars, and political leaders pushed for a shift that could better protect defendants’ rights while streamlining the resolution of criminal cases.
The resulting changes introduced an oral, public trial process featuring a clearer division of functions: the prosecutor (fiscal) would investigate and bring charges, defense counsel would challenge the prosecution’s case, and a newly structured judiciary would adjudicate the matter. In practice, this meant reducing the judge’s role in directing the investigation. Pretrial procedures still allowed judges to authorize investigative measures and resolve certain disputes, but the main impetus came from the prosecutor. Trials, meanwhile, took on a clearly adversarial tone: witness testimonies occurred live, under questioning from both prosecution and defense, and cross-examination became a pivotal element.
Yet, Chilean reforms did not entirely jettison inquisitorial influences. Judges retained the power to order additional investigative steps if evidence was lacking, and written materials from the pretrial phase could be used to guide the scope of inquiries at trial. Additionally, the system incorporated specialized “guarantee judges” (jueces de garantía), responsible for overseeing defendants’ rights and ensuring procedural fairness during the early stages. By separating these functions from those of the trial judges (jueces de juicio oral), Chile aimed to minimize bias and distribute judicial authority in a manner reminiscent of an inquisitorial approach.
Observers largely consider Chile’s transformation a success, at least in terms of making the criminal process more efficient and transparent. Cases proceed more quickly to trial, defendants have broader participatory rights, and public trust has reportedly improved. However, challenges linger. Some critics argue that disparities in resources between prosecution and defense continue to shape outcomes, a problem not unique to Chile but emblematic of how adopting adversarial instruments can exacerbate existing inequalities. Others note that judges still wield considerable influence during the investigative phase, leading to concerns that “hidden inquisitorial” mindsets persist.
Even with these imperfections, Chile’s reform underscores how a legal system traditionally categorized as inquisitorial can evolve to incorporate adversarial mechanisms without sacrificing all of its original values. By doing so, Chile has moved closer to a Balanced Bench paradigm, capitalizing on the synergy between thorough judicial oversight and robust party-driven advocacy.
Although England and Wales are typically portrayed as archetypal adversarial systems, the last few decades have witnessed reforms that incorporate inquisitorial elements, particularly in specific contexts such as family courts and coroner’s inquests. One impetus for these changes stems from concerns about the adversarial system’s potential to polarize disputes, traumatize witnesses (especially in sensitive cases like child custody or domestic violence), and prolong litigation through procedural wrangling.
Family courts in England and Wales, for example, have adopted more active case management by judges. This includes the authority to limit the scope of discovery, direct parties to attempt alternative dispute resolution, and, in some instances, question witnesses directly to clarify ambiguities. While these reforms do not represent a wholesale abandonment of adversarial principles, they reflect a growing recognition that certain case types—particularly those involving vulnerable parties—benefit from less adversarial confrontation and more inquisitorial guidance.
Similarly, coroner’s inquests in England and Wales resemble inquisitorial inquiries. Coroners, who are legally trained or medically qualified, investigate deaths that appear unnatural or otherwise unexplained. They have the power to call witnesses, direct investigations, and review evidence independently of any prosecutorial or defense concerns. While interested parties such as family members may ask questions or hire counsel to represent them, the central ethos remains inquisitorial: the coroner’s primary duty is to ascertain the cause of death in the public interest, rather than arbitrate a dispute between opposing sides.
Though these instances are more specialized than the full-scale procedural overhauls seen in Italy or Chile, they illustrate the United Kingdom’s adaptive capacity. By selectively blending inquisitorial methods in contexts where they might yield better outcomes, English law signals the practical benefits of a Balanced Bench ethos—even if the broader criminal courts remain firmly adversarial. These modest but meaningful experiments reveal that legal systems need not adopt a one-size-fits-all approach: adversarial or inquisitorial methods can be deployed where they are most suitable, providing a valuable lesson for other jurisdictions.
When thinking of adversarial systems, the United States stands out as one of the world’s most adversarial jurisdictions. Trials are attorney-driven to a significant degree, with judges typically acting as referees. Nonetheless, certain aspects of the U.S. system already integrate inquisitorial-like features, or at least have begun to flirt with them.
One prominent example is the use of magistrate judges in federal courts, who often assume case-management duties and conduct pretrial proceedings. They might hold “status conferences” to ensure discovery is proceeding fairly, manage settlement negotiations, and recommend rulings on various motions. While still fundamentally adversarial, this model enhances judicial involvement in shaping the scope and direction of a case before trial. Another example is the growing prevalence of judicial case management, where judges set firm schedules for discovery and encourage or even mandate alternative dispute resolution (ADR) processes, aiming to resolve issues without a full trial.
Additionally, specialized courts—like drug courts, veterans’ courts, or mental health courts—have emerged as problem-solving forums. These courts emphasize rehabilitation over punishment, with judges playing a proactive role in monitoring defendants’ compliance with treatment programs, scheduling frequent check-ins, and collaborating with social services. This approach departs from the classic adversarial posture of the judge, leaning toward a more therapeutic, if not inquisitorial, style of judicial engagement.
That said, the core of U.S. criminal law remains deeply adversarial. Prosecutorial discretion is immense, plea bargaining dominates resolution of the majority of cases, and trials rely heavily on cross-examination and party-driven narratives. Efforts to introduce stronger inquisitorial elements—for instance, a more substantial judicial review of prosecutorial charging decisions—tend to face political and cultural resistance. Nonetheless, the incremental nature of the shifts indicates that even a society strongly rooted in adversarial norms can acknowledge and adapt inquisitorial strategies where they appear beneficial.
A review of these case studies underscores several common themes that can guide the development of a Balanced Bench. First, cultural and institutional readiness matters greatly. Whether reforms take hold smoothly or trigger backlash often depends on how well they align with local legal traditions, political climates, and social expectations. In Italy, public outcry over inefficiency and corruption created the impetus for change. In Chile, a desire for a fairer and more transparent system mobilized consensus among stakeholders. In contrast, reforms in places like England or the United States have been more incremental, reflecting a cautious approach in societies firmly wedded to adversarial principles.
Second, logistical and resource considerations can make or break a hybrid model. In shifting to oral trials, as Italy and Chile did, governments discovered a need to overhaul courtroom setups, train lawyers and judges, and perhaps most importantly, secure adequate funding. Without these practical underpinnings, even the best-intentioned reforms risk unraveling. This lesson is pivotal for any jurisdiction contemplating a Balanced Bench: structural changes to how evidence is gathered and trials are conducted often demand significant resources and training.
Third, role definition for judges is crucial. While hybrid systems grant the judiciary more investigative authority than a purely adversarial model, they also impose constraints to maintain impartiality. Italy’s experiment demonstrates that judges can wear multiple hats—overseeing pretrial decisions and presiding at trial—yet this dual role must be meticulously regulated to avoid any suggestion of bias. Chile’s approach of splitting responsibilities between guarantee judges and trial judges likewise aims to preserve neutrality. Whatever structure a Balanced Bench adopts, it must establish clear procedural lines to prevent the judge from overstepping into advocacy or inadvertently shaping the trial outcome too early.
Fourth, transparency plays a vital role in sustaining public trust. Critics of inquisitorial systems often point to the “secret” nature of judicial dossiers, while adversarial jurisdictions are lauded for their public proceedings. A hybrid system, therefore, should strive to maintain transparent processes, particularly when judges exercise investigative powers. Clear guidelines on how evidence is gathered, how it is disclosed to both sides, and how it can be challenged are all integral to preventing perceptions of secrecy or surprise.
Finally, balance in resource allocation remains a universal concern. Even the most equitable procedural rules lose their force if one party has vastly superior financial means or institutional clout. Hybrid reforms often seek to alleviate inequality by empowering judges to ensure comprehensive evidence gathering, but as Italy’s and Chile’s experiences show, if defense counsel or prosecution lacks adequate resources to mount their respective cases, the promise of fairness still rings hollow. Policymakers must therefore consider how to fund public defenders, equip prosecutors appropriately, and provide for court-appointed experts, among other measures, to fully realize the Balanced Bench’s equitable intent.
These comparative lessons converge to suggest that a Balanced Bench is neither an implausible dream nor a panacea. Real-world examples attest that hybridization can indeed function effectively, provided key challenges are acknowledged and addressed. On balance, countries that have moved away from purely adversarial or purely inquisitorial models often report increased procedural clarity, potentially faster resolution times, and, in some instances, improved confidence in the justice system.
Those seeking to implement a Balanced Bench in other jurisdictions might begin by identifying where their current system is most vulnerable—whether in the realm of resource disparities, excessive judicial passivity, or opaque investigative practices. Pilot programs could then be structured around the relevant solutions identified in Italy, Chile, or the U.K. For example, a specialized “Balanced Bench court” handling complex financial crimes might adopt Italy’s practice of combining a dossier-based pretrial investigation with robust oral arguments and cross-examination at trial. Or a juvenile court might emulate Chile’s guarantee judges to protect the rights of young defendants while allowing deeper judicial oversight into the underlying facts of a case.
This approach underscores that legal transplants should be adapted, not merely copied. Each jurisdiction has its own constitutional frameworks, cultural norms, and legal traditions, which means any Balanced Bench design must be tailored to local realities. What succeeded in Italy might require modification to fit the U.S. context, just as Chile’s emphasis on orality might not translate seamlessly into the more formal traditions of certain European courts. The point, however, is that the theoretical and procedural anchors of a Balanced Bench can be flexibly applied, guided by comparative insights, to produce an integrated system that blends adversarial and inquisitorial virtues.
A thorough look at Italy, Chile, the United Kingdom, the United States, and other jurisdictions reveals both the promise and pitfalls of hybrid legal frameworks. The experiences of these countries bear out the fundamental premise of this book: that reliance on a single, rigid legal tradition often proves inadequate in an increasingly complex world. By melding adversarial and inquisitorial features, these experiments in hybridization attempt to address systemic shortcomings—striving for a procedure that is both rigorous in evidence-gathering and sensitive to individual rights.
The lessons gleaned from these case studies will continue to inform the concept of a Balanced Bench. While local variations abound, the overarching themes remain consistent: a need for clear role definitions, robust procedural safeguards, transparent and efficient management of evidence, and a conscious effort to provide adequate resources for all parties. At the same time, each example shows that true hybridization is an ongoing process, not a one-time legislative fix. Cultures of practice, public expectations, and the judicial workforce itself all must adapt over time if reforms are to take hold.
This sets the stage for the subsequent chapters, where we will delve into practical recommendations and institutional frameworks that can support a Balanced Bench across diverse contexts. By building on comparative lessons and grounding reforms in local realities, we move closer to a judicial model that harmonizes adversarial energy with inquisitorial thoroughness—a model capable of delivering not only fairness, but also truth, accountability, and public trust in the courts.