I know a fair number of lawyers, worked with them and against them. I have attended bar “meetings” at which everybody gets half drunk and lets their hair down. It’s interesting how many hate what they’re doing or say they do. My impression is that the discontent is largely caused by the chaos that is inherent in most practices, particularly litigation, as well as the fact that one always has an adversary. How many other jobs provide an automatic adversary? Would accountants stay sane if every case they worked on automatically brought in an IRS agent who tried to defeat what they were trying to do for the client?
And oftentimes, the client can turn into an enemy at the drop of the hat. All are suspicious of lawyers anyway. Sometimes the lawyer can turn the relationship around, and sometimes he can’t.
It’s a crazy kind of life.
But for my own thinking, and in my own business, which has a lot of legal stuff to it, I remember a line from john Gardener’s “Sunlight Dialogues”. He said it about policemen, but it fits lawyers even better. (If I have posted this before, kindly ignore me)
“The (lawyer) stands lightly in the present moment, at the same time both committed and detached, like a true Christian or a philosopher of old, who knows this world to be no home, but a wilderness.”
I like that. I was asked once to write an obituary for a judge who died, and I quoted that. It was amazing how many lawyers I heard from about that line.
I know a lawyer who, at some point in litigated cases (other than corporate of course) always asks his client: “What do you want your life to be like after this is over?” He says the responses are sometimes astonishing, and oftentimes astonishingly good. But they nearly always expose a part of the “soul” of the litigant.
I’m thinking that to be a lawyer and not hate it, one has to gain some level of competence first, then try to stay as organized as a half-crazy system will allow, and then (and most importantly) decide how one is going to see one’s clients as human souls. But one can’t get too deeply into that or he can’t “…stand lightly in the present moment, at the same time both committed and detached…” I think a lawyer should almost think of his life as bits of a novel he’ll write someday, whether he ever does or not. But he has to know the complexities of the human being and its motivations to do it well.
On my wall I have hanging, among other things, an 18th century Japanese print of the “47th Ronin”. My wife bought it for me when she was traveling in the far East (and I couldn’t). A “Ronin”; a “wave man”. A “masterless samurai”, who is for hire, but must serve his temporary master with everything in him. That’s what a lawyer is. And the “masterless samurai” is always alone even when he’s working with others. And that’s the curse of it as well as the elevating thing about it.
His temporary “master” may be an individual, a corporation or yes, even a big family ranch. But the Ronin is never the “owner” of the fight or the “kompani” or the estate. Not a wonderful situation, but the Ronin is always still free. Almost more than anyone, the lawyer knows (because he sees it) that despite everyone’s desire to “return to Eden”, (the Eden every man desires, and foolishly thinks he’ll attain) there is an angel with a sword of fire always guarding the gate.
Is that a high-wire act? Yes, I think it is. But I also think it’s the only thing for any lawyer who does a lot of litigation.