Feeding the Black Dog
Are we setting up young lawyers for depression?
It is a distressing reality that being a member of the legal profession in Australia often goes hand in hand with experiencing depression, with studies indicating that one in three lawyers experience depressive episodes at some point.
Sadly, suicide statistics show that many in our profession eventually lose the battle with depression — but is the way we do business contributing to this ongoing tragedy?
There are some who argue that the cycle works the other way around, and that the profession attracts people prone to depression; some even say that the fact that law attracts introverts leads to the high depression and suicide rates. However, the facts do not back that up.
For a start, the view that most lawyers are introverts is based largely, if not solely, on a self-help book, which in turn was based on reported (but unpublished) results of an ad-hoc administration of personality tests by a legal recruiter; the claim has no scientific merit. Further, there is no significant link between introversion and suicide, and it would be hard to establish one — the symptoms of depression and the traits of introversion being quite similar to casual observation.
The reality is that lawyers often deal with very distressing situations, usually involving high stakes, and all under the geas of making budget or being unemployed; a high level of stress is understandable. Many other professions have similar pressures yet far fewer suicides, so it stands to reason that something about the way law is practised these days triggers deep depression, and it is likely that the following factors are part of the problem.
We don’t have the cattle
A term beloved of football coaches, usually invoked to explain why a team isn’t doing well, but it applies equally to today’s legal profession. The truth is, law is hard — lawyers have to grasp complex principles quickly, devise strategies to address problems within short time-frames and navigate a labyrinth of layered and often conflicting legislation and precedent. It is inconceivable that a person could survive in this environment without possessing significant intellectual resources, deep reserves of resilience and the ability to function well under pressure.
Traditionally, these abilities are tested at law school through rigorous admission standards and a demanding curriculum; many would-be lawyers opt for other career paths when faced with the demands of legal study, because the study of law is hard — or at least it should be. In theory, surviving the rigours of law school should indicate the ability to survive in the practice of law, but the Darwinian aspect of studying law has been off-set by the plethora of law schools currently churning out graduates.
As much as it resembles an exercise in elitism, it is not fanciful to conclude that many people now pass (and perhaps even excel at) law who would not have been accepted to the course twenty years ago. It would be no surprise if young lawyers fell into depression after realising that they had put themselves into significant debt to commence a career in a discipline for which they simply lack the intellectual capacity.
Graduates, not lawyers
Few people in Australia know much about American football, but it is facing a crisis curiously analogous to the Queensland legal profession. The National Football League (NFL, the US equivalent of the NRL) has always relied on the college version of the sport to produce new players; unlike here, the road to professional sport in America goes through its universities.
The problem is that the coaches at the universities are not paid on how many NFL players they produce, but on whether or not they win college games. Over time, the two games have diverged to the point where players who are good in the college system do not necessarily have the skills to be good in the NFL.
Our legal profession is no different in this respect — law firms expect law schools to produce new lawyers who simply need a bit of polish added before they become billing assets; law schools in fact do no such thing. Law schools produce graduates with law degrees, not graduate lawyers; the difference is profound and must be appreciated by the profession.
Law schools see law degrees as versatile products which they can sell to a broad range of students, not all of whom are interested in becoming lawyers; many students see a law degree as general rather than a simple stepping-stone to a life in the law. This is not an unreasonable approach, as understanding legal philosophy and being able to interpret legislation and case law is an advantage in many jobs. The key to unlocking careers in politics, policy, diplomacy and business is often a law degree.
In short, law schools have no incentive to create proto-lawyers for the profession, and are unlikely to start. In the absence of the old Articles of Clerkship system, it is possible many young lawyers will be deficient in essential academic disciplines (for example, succession law and land transactions) and understandably struggle in the real world.
Learning to swim in the deep end
Speaking of Articles, it is fair to say that most lawyers of a certain age lament their demise, and with some justification. Whilst it is true that the quality of Articles could be uneven, the fact that articled clerks were paid as clerks, not lawyers, actually translated to less pressure on them. Then, as now, budgets and billing targets were tied to wage; those of us who completed articles had the luxury of learning how to manage files and clients while under little pressure due to the fact that our budgets were modest.
With the end of Articles and the rise of Practical Legal Training courses, young lawyers often take on their first legal roles post-admission, with the higher wage (and increased budget) of an admitted solicitor. This means that junior lawyers can often be asked to achieve significant billing targets well before they understand how to run a file or manage difficult clients. This then translates to long hours, because they have yet to develop the file, client and time management skills that allow senior lawyers to handle high volume work. Combined with communication technologies that allow lawyers to be constantly available (and clients who expect that 24/7 access) young lawyers are subject to pressures unimaginable twenty to thity years ago.
The factors discussed above constitute a perfect storm for many entering the profession-graduates start their careers under-prepared for the rigours of practice but carrying the expectation that they will perform like fully-fledged solicitors. To make matters worse, they may be less-suited to a career as a solicitor than their academic record would suggest.
This is entirely unsustainable. It is incumbent on the profession to recognise that the way we do business is no longer suited to the junior ranks of the profession — and that it is very bad for their mental health. Providing legal services in a globalised, 24/7 economy will require changing our approach to the solicitors we employ, and how we employ them.
Einstein famously said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result; we aren’t looking too flash by that measure. The rates of depression and suicide in our profession are a clear indication that what we are doing isn’t working, so we need to build a better model; failing to do so will, quite literally, be fatal.
