You can’t practise law without a client. No matter what sort of legal career you hope to build, you need to handle cases on behalf of actual people or institutions. That requirement can lead to an uncomfortable situation: representing a client whose conduct cuts sharply against your personal values. If you work in the corporate group of a large law firm, you may have to counsel an oil company that contributes to climate change. If you land a role at a civil-litigation shop, you may have to defend a police department that’s been accused of misconduct. To be sure, those organizations have a right to legal advice. Yet that fundamental truth has made it difficult for lawyers to betray any discomfort about working with a particular client—out of concern that the disclosure would come across as an act of weakness and harm their reputation as a committed professional. That norm, however, has started to shift.
At Harvard Law School, Scott Westfahl is in a unique position. As a professor, he’s in constant contact with students. But he’s also the director of the school’s executive education program. Roughly a dozen times a year, top lawyers—based mostly in North America but also in Europe—arrive on campus to hear him and his colleagues deliver a crash course on some aspect of law-firm leadership. “It’s a rare privilege,” he says, “to teach both law students and very senior lawyers.”
In recent years, Westfahl has noticed a persistent trend: the desire among new lawyers to reform core tenets of the private-practice model. The longstanding lack of work-life balance is one complaint. So, too, is the typical large-firm client roster, which tends to feature a pretty tough slate of corporate interests, including carbon-emitting energy concerns and tech companies that amplify and accelerate the spread of misinformation. A small cohort of associates has even asked to opt out of casework that conflicts with their values. Importantly, Westfahl insists that the anxiety around helping clients who’ve engaged in troubling behaviour is not new. “I teach motivational psychology,” he says. “I don’t believe there are significant motivational differences across generations.” What’s different today is that more associates have the confidence to express those misgivings out loud.
The source of that confidence, Westfahl argues, lies primarily in the job market. Compared to talent in previous decades, associates now have a broader range of career opportunities. Big Law, of course, is still an option. But boutiques have surged in number. In-house teams offer attractive roles with high salaries. And it’s easier than ever to launch a small firm or operate as a sole practitioner, due in large part to the arrival of modern tools enhanced with generative AI, which can streamline practice management and perform high-level research. Those developments have empowered associates to issue bold requests in the workplace; after all, if the higher-ups say no, it won’t be terribly onerous to leave and find a new position. Back in the 1990s, when Westfahl was a large-firm associate in Washington, D.C., he had fewer career opportunities. “I wanted work-life balance. I wanted meaning and purpose. I wanted flexibility,” he recalls. “I couldn’t ask for those things because I didn’t know where else I could get a job.”
Though junior talent has the market power to speak up on controversial topics, management isn’t necessarily accustomed to hearing those opinions. When Westfahl speaks with law-firm leaders, he likes to issue a reminder: “You’re bringing into your firms some of the most talented lawyers you’ll ever see. The fact that they’re coming in and wanting to have a voice is a really good thing.” To students, he has a different message: “Have courage, but also approach tough conversations with empathy and curiosity. Don’t just criticize the system. Try to understand why it’s there.” Both sides, in other words, have an obligation. Below, you’ll find concrete advice on how leaders can approach this period of transition—and how associates can push back with respect.
How to lead the younger generation
If you’re in management, it’s crucial to appreciate that this is not a fleeting dilemma. What Westfahl has observed at Harvard is part of a wider phenomenon. One recent survey found that nearly two-thirds of junior lawyers in the U.K. believe “employers should allow them to refuse to work on certain matters for ethical reasons.” And last year, about 170 lawyers in the country signed a high-profile pledge to withhold legal advice on any matter that would support “new fossil fuel projects” or target “climate protesters exercising their democratic right of peaceful protest.” That viewpoint will likely proliferate in the years ahead.
Here’s the practical implication of that reality: if you depend on the willingness of associates to take on seemingly objectionable clients, you’ll need to demonstrate that your work contributes to the greater good. It’s true that, on occasion, clients will ask a lawyer to pursue a patently baleful legal action. Suppose that someone instructs you to bombard a former spouse with a battery of meritless claims. You’ll have a hard time convincing anyone that such litigation—whose sole function is to make another person’s life a misery—is an honourable use of your talent. In most cases, however, the narrow interest of a client does have some overlap with the broader interest of society. That’s what you need to communicate to your team.
As a starting point, hold a kick-off meeting whenever you launch a file. Bring the legal team together. Talk about the client. Examine the issues at play. Then discuss how the casework will advance justice. If you’ve been retained by a mining company that hopes to break ground on a new operation, describe your plan to keep the client’s conduct in accordance with environmental laws. If you’ve landed a client in the manufacturing industry, announce your intention to draft policies that will protect workers across its global supply chain. As the months unfold, continue to highlight the larger purpose of each task. This approach might not come naturally, but it can have a powerful impact.
Still, a moment may arrive when an associate simply can’t bear the thought of representing a specific client. In such a scenario, consider allowing that person to abstain. Assuming that the lawyer is capable and hard-working, providing that flexibility could help you retain a talented member of your team who’s otherwise totally committed to the job.
The right way to push back
If you’re an associate, meanwhile, you have to puzzle through the best way to raise an ethical concern in the workplace. Perhaps a partner has asked you to assist a major oil company. Yet you’re profoundly troubled by the knowledge that, over decades, certain companies in the energy sector told the public that carbon emissions had no influence on the climate while reportedly coming to the opposite conclusion in their own research. To put it plainly, you have no desire to aid such an industry. What options do you have?
You could refuse to participate in the file. You could accept the assignment, resent every second of it and eventually quit. Or you could do the ostensibly impossible: share your opinion with the partner and collaborate on a solution. If you’re sincerely grappling with an ethical conundrum, a reasonable boss will hear you out.
But it’s vital to broach the subject with tact. After disclosing your reluctance to represent a client, admit that you might not recognize every nuance of the situation. You might say: “I know that you’ve advised this client over many years. What motivates you to take on this work? Have you ever had concerns of your own?” Maintain an open mind. You may learn something about the client that persuades you to withdraw your opt-out request. Even if that doesn’t happen, you’ll have at least engaged in a good-faith discussion and built trust with the partner.
Realistically, you can’t interrogate the righteousness of your assignments all the time. That will test the patience of the partner. If you pick your spots, however, it’s truly possible to have a fruitful conversation. What’s more, by speaking out, you could make it easier for other associates to come forward with similar concerns. Indeed, meaningful reform often comes to pass because a lawyer has found a way to push back from within.
Daniel Fish is the editor of Precedent. Since joining the magazine more than a decade ago, he’s reported on dozens of topics, including the legal economy, mental health and partner compensation. In that time, he’s received several leading journalism awards for his long-form feature writing.
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