Archive for category: Blog

I’ve just read a staggering article (no longer available) by former Notre Dame law professor (then Dean of the University of St. Thomas Law School, soon to be District Judge) Patrick J. Schiltz.  Published in January 2000 (I know it’s old, but what can I say?  I was busy practicing law when it came out), the article’s thesis is that when a young lawyer goes to work at a law firm, the firm’s money-driven culture will permeate the lawyer’s life and the lawyer will descend into a variety of unethical practices — everything from padding her bills to “forgetting” to produce a damaging document.  The answer, according to Schiltz, is to “avoid getting sucked into the game. Don’t let money become the most important thing in your life. Don’t fall into the trap of measuring your worth as an attorney, or as a human being, by how much money you make.”

Excellent advice.  But does every lawyer who goes to a law firm end up being a greedy, unethical practitioner?  I think not.  I hope not.

We lawyers tend to be a competitive lot.  We don’t like it when someone earns more money or bills more hours than we do.  We’re told that money and billable hours are the route to success, so we run harder and bill faster and strive to earn more.  And I’m inclined to believe that’s the root of the profession’s depression: measuring our lives according to someone else’s ruler.  I’m also inclined to believe that most lawyers do struggle when they come up against the temptation to unethical behavior.  Sure, some people do pad their bills, but I have to believe most don’t.  Instead, they work harder and harder to produce the mounting billable hours, and that leads them to be out of balance in their lives.  Out of balance is out of integrity, because our integrity requires us to live in accord with our values and that isn’t possible when our lives are out of balance.  I believe that’s where the depression comes from.

It’s another lens on the same issue.  Whether the pressure leads to shortcuts that become unethical behavior, as Schiltz argues, or whether it leads to unimaginably long hours that leave no time for family or fun or relaxation, measuring one’s worth by someone else’s ruler always leads to depression, rage, grief.  But those emotions need not be impotent.  Change is possible.

So what’s the answer?  Know your values.  Know why you became a lawyer.  (If it’s because you were a college senior and had to do something and knew you wouldn’t make a good doctor, figure out whether law is really where you belong.)  Evaluate your current practice situation and figure out whether you can adapt to it, or have it adapt to you, in a way that will allow you to live in congruity with your values and your vision.  Trite though it may sound, you have the power to set the measuring stick for your own success: never give that away.  These steps will keep a lawyer in harmony with her values and that will, in turn, prevent her from sliding into the trap of unethical behavior that Schiltz describes.

I follow Worthwhile Magazine’s blog (no longer available) and found today an interesting story about God in the workplace.  According to the entry, numbers of workers bring God or spirituality or religion to their work, seeking an opportunity to contribute to the common good by bringing their values to their work.  The blog entry cites a New York Times article that reports a swelling in the number of theological seminary students who don’t intend to enter the ministry: according to the article, only about half of those who graduate with a Master in Divinity become parish ministers.

This attracted my attention because I’ve noticed over the years a number of lawyers who leave the law and then enter the seminary.  I can’t point to any statistics, but it’s happened often enough that I began to pay attention every time I’d hear about someone else who took that path.  And of course, I don’t have any statistics on the number of lawyers or former lawyers who actually enter the ministry or what they do after seminary.

So, what does this mean?  Not much, perhaps, as an isolated not-news story.  What’s interesting is the common thread among those who leave the law and study theology: the desire to do good and the sense that such a desire can’t be realized in a traditional legal practice.

I disagree.  I believe it is possible to do good while practicing law, and I believe that many lawyers do just that.  Example: during document review once in a trademark dispute, I ran across correspondence between opposing counsel and an accused infringer.  The infringer wrote that she was closing her store anyway and would be willing to sell the business name (the allegedly infringing use of the mark), and the lawyer’s reply was a kind and respectful offer to purchase the mark for an amount that would be significant to her and a pittance for the mark’s owner.  Big deal?  Not in the big scheme of things.  But it did tell me quite a bit about my opposing counsel and my opposing party.

The key to doing good is knowing what “good” means in any given instance, what values control that good and what values control the practice, and finding a way to make those mesh.  If a lawyer needs to help individuals, to touch people and see their faces, insurance defense isn’t likely the path to that end — but perhaps representing a child as a guardian ad litem is.  Pro bono work is a terrific way to do good while holding down the day job.

Of course, some people need to leave the law to feel that they’re doing good, and that’s fine.  It’s all about options.

There’s an interesting article by Steven Keeva in the ABA Journal, entitled “What Tears May Tell: Sometimes It’s Beneficial to Show Emotions When Working With Clients,” the article’s thesis is that showing genuine emotion permits deep interpersonal connection and communication.  The article focuses on two stories: one of a lawyer who cried when recounting the case in which he made an enormous different in a client’s life, and another of a lawyer who cried when his client began talking about her child who had recently died in an accident.

We tend not to think of lawyers showing emotions.  Certainly it’s not appropriate to cry when we’re in a formal professional setting and representing clients.  (Or is it?  Is it ever appropriate to get choked up in court?  Does it play well, and does any concern about how it plays undermine the authenticity of the tears?  I would love to hear feedback on this — suffice it to say that my experience with patent litigation generally didn’t ever move me to tears even in private, so this is an area outside my realm of experience.)

But we do hear of stories — or perhaps see examples — of lawyers expressing anger or loathing.  I’ve been in depositions in which a lawyer I know and like has swiftly morphed from Ms. Affable into an inferno of rage based on a witness’s response to a question… Is that appropriate?  Since it’s sometimes difficult to tell from a cold transcript what emotion lay behind an exchange, is it risky?  I sometimes wonder whether fury is better accepted in the law because it’s a less vulnerable and more powerful emotion than sadness.  Whether it’s a “useful” emotion in practice may be another question altogether, however.

And, in the final analysis, does any of this matter?  Is it possible to be authentic and yet not to express emotions (or particular emotions) while playing the role of a professional?  I think the answer is twofold: first, that authenticity requires awareness of emotion and healthy release at an appropriate time, and second, that determination of an appropriate time may vary dramatically based on the lawyer, the client, and the circumstance.  I think trouble comes when we lose the perception of emotion and bury it deep within ourselves — or when a dam bursts and emotion comes flooding out without reserve.

When did you last feel emotion in practice?  When did you last feel an emotion other than anger (or frustration, annoyance, etc.) in practice?  If you can’t remember…. Perhaps it’s time to do some exploration.  Perhaps the pace of professional life has removed your awareness of emotion, perhaps you’re not deeply connected to what you’re doing, or perhaps your practice simply doesn’t give rise to deep emotion.   But query: since our clients are individuals or are business entities made up of individuals, won’t emotions come into play at some point in every representation?

More questions than answers in this one.  But, as usual, I think Keeva’s article makes excellent points that call for inquiry and self-assessment.