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Essay

The Addiction Destroying the Plaintiffs’ Bar

By Rick Friedman — trial lawyer for 47 years and author of five trial practice books.

You are in: The Harmful Consequences of Our Addiction
Author’s Note — No. 1

This article was submitted to several plaintiff lawyer trial journals, all of whom declined to publish. Maybe that is because the article is not worth publishing, but several indicated they were afraid of publishing for fear of antagonizing their membership or giving ammunition to our opponents. In my view, we plaintiff lawyers rail against the medical profession for not policing its own and being sufficiently self-critical; it is hypocritical not to cast an eye at our own house. In any event, feel free to share, post or do whatever you want with this. No copyright claimed or involved.

Author’s Note — No. 2

Almost all plaintiff lawyers are of admirable character, working to do what is best for society and their clients. A small minority of “addicts” have had disproportionate effect on our trial community’s culture. This essay is an attempt to push back.

Much has been written about the twin plagues of materialism and narcissism rotting American society from the inside out. While few appear immune, the plaintiffs’ bar is a particularly vulnerable population. These distorted values give rise to an addiction that has tainted the plaintiffs’ bar: the addiction to money and attention. Like all addictions, this one can rob us of our self-respect, relationships, sense of purpose, dignity and happiness.

Here, I am using the term “narcissism” in the colloquial sense to refer to certain personality traits we all exhibit, but in some, can rise to the level of a diagnosable personality disorder. In particular, narcissists depend on others for their sense of self. Outwardly self-confident, they feel empty inside. And confronting that emptiness feels like death itself. Rather than looking inward to the source of their discomfort, they constantly look to the outside world for assurance—assurance that they are important, they matter, and that they are, in fact, special. They often seek that assurance by exhibiting the traits of grandiosity and exhibitionism.

One can feel an inner emptiness or lack of self-worth without qualifying for a diagnosis of narcissistic personality disorder. Most of us have at least some small sparks of those feelings kicking around inside. And those small sparks can be fanned into raging fires of insecurity by the messages we get from Corporate America: “you are not good enough, and you won’t be good enough unless you buy this, wear that, or travel here.”

And so, the disease spreads. Like addicts, we try to fill the inner emptiness and pain—not with alcohol, gambling or drugs, but with external validation. Like the general population, many in the plaintiffs’ bar are addicted to money and attention—or heavily influenced by those who are. Does American culture truly value anything else? With enough money, one can get attention, and with enough attention, it is easy to accumulate money. And with enough money and attention… well, there really never is enough, is there?

One of the hallmarks of addiction is that it can never be satiated.

For present purposes, we can define addiction as the compulsive seeking and use of a substance, or engagement in a behavior, despite harmful consequences. And, it is worth asking whether those of us who believe we are not addicted are nevertheless enabling our addicted brothers and sisters. This AI definition of “enabler” is right on point:

In the context of addiction, an enabler is a person whose actions—often unintentionally—allow an addicted individual to continue using substances or engaging in addictive behavior without facing the full consequences of that behavior.

Enabling is usually motivated by love, fear, guilt, loyalty, or a desire to keep peace—not malice.

AI-generated definition

A Closer Look

The Harmful Consequences of Our Addiction

Like any addiction, a trial lawyer’s addiction to money and attention can only be satiated temporarily. No matter how much money and attention the trial lawyer gets, there is a black hole of internal need, demanding more.

I know lawyers with net worths over $100 million who are honestly dissatisfied with their financial status. No matter what their net worth, it is never enough, and they compulsively seek more. For the younger ones, this compulsive focus on money impacts most of their relationships in a negative way. As they age, their health is often negatively affected. Still, they cannot stop. They talk of how much they like their jobs or how much satisfaction they get from helping clients. But the addiction demands more than the satisfaction of helping people or taking pride in a job well done. It demands that law practice milk every last dime and every last bit of attention from every situation. As with any addict, a money/attention addict has a bottomless pit that can never be filled by the addictive substance (money) or behavior (attention-seeking).

A Case in Point

Charging Interest on Costs Advanced

One example is the charging of interest on costs advanced. Millionaire lawyers, representing clients much less wealthy than themselves, somehow feel entitled (a narcissistic trait) to charge interest on costs advanced.

I need to say I have good friends I greatly admire and respect who charge clients interest on costs advanced. Most are not money/attention addicts, but, in my opinion, are simply responding to the cultural zeitgeist. “It is just good business,” they say, “everybody does it,” they note. Beyond that, they seem not to have given the matter much thought.

But things were not always this way. For decades it was considered unethical and unprofessional for lawyers to charge interest on costs advanced. E.g. Illinois Bar Opinion 380 (1949) or Illinois Bar Opinion 490 (1954). Simply stated, the majority of jurisdictions (all?) held that charging a client interest was incompatible with a lawyer’s duties to avoid conflicts of interest and to put the client’s interests ahead of their own. These opinions prioritized client protection and avoiding even the appearance of financial exploitation.

Not until 1988 did the Illinois Bar change its position on this topic—without any explanation I have found as to why its earlier decisions were wrong. Perhaps, like so many other individuals and organizations, the Illinois Bar got swept along by the glitzy, greedy energy of the 1980s, when making money became the highest value, trumping all others.

But the ethical rules “represent nothing more than ‘the lowest common denominator of conduct that a highly self-interested group will tolerate.’” See Schiltz, “On Being a Happy, Healthy, and Ethical Member of an Unhappy, Unhealthy, and Unethical Profession,” 52 Vanderbilt Law Review 871, 909 (1999). One can be morally wrong—even unethical, as that term is commonly understood—while complying with all the rules of professional responsibility. Id.

As we squeeze every bit of money out of the injured client, how are we different from the corporation that does the same to its customers?

Plaintiff lawyers love to rail in court against corporations that put profit over people. What are we doing when we charge interest? Have we become what we claim we are fighting? There was a time when we held ourselves to a higher standard than run-of-the-mill businesses. Is that really true any longer?

When lawyers with eight or nine figure net worths feel the need to charge their injured and often destitute clients a few thousand dollars in interest, where does that need come from? Not from a secure, professional place.

It is commonplace for mass tort lawyers to refer to their clients as “inventory.” Again, this reflects an attitude and a value system completely aligned with how Corporate America views its consumers, and at odds with the historical ideals of our profession.

Historically, the legal profession distinguished itself from ordinary business by avoiding practices that commodify client relationships. But now, many of us eagerly adopt corporate values when interacting with our clients. Or, we tolerate and even encourage this behavior in our fellow lawyers, instead of doing what we should: shaming them. We then bemoan the fact that trial lawyers are often held in low regard.

We are just reaping what we have sown.

Look At Me

The Attention Economy of the Trial Bar

Just as there is never enough money, there is never enough attention. From billboards to podcasts to TikTok videos, trial lawyers are screaming “look at me, look at me, look at me.” More than that, the direct or barely disguised message is often “look at me, I am special. I am different than all the rest—better in fact.”

Of course, in present day America, lawyer advertising has become a business necessity for many firms. “Without cases we would go out of business. The other firms are screaming for attention; I must too, in order to compete and survive.” Yet, there is an emotional undertone to this attention-seeking that goes beyond the business need to let potential clients know of one’s existence and qualifications. There is a tone of frenzied, narcissistic desperation to be seen and viewed as bigger and better than one actually feels inside.

We can see it clearly in the postings about trial verdicts we often see on listserves. Such postings have the beneficial purpose of allowing us to learn from the experiences of others, as well as helping our community’s morale—badly needed in these difficult times. But we go beyond that, don’t we? It is not enough to report what happened and what lessons were learned. Instead, we often see something like this:

Listmates, happy to report a verdict in Cheshire County, one of the most conservative jurisdictions in the state… We are told this is the largest verdict ever in this county for a woman in her 40’s whose left elbow was injured in a slip and fall… Please admire what a great trial lawyer I am.

A familiar listserve post

Ok, that last sentence is not posted, but it doesn’t need to be, does it? (As an aside, I must note that I have been guilty of almost every “sin” described in this article, including this one.)

Like addicts or enablers, we then encourage each other in our quests for attention and praise. The expected congratulatory replies flow in, the author of the original post basks in the attention—perhaps even starts fantasizing about getting the coveted “Trial Lawyer of the Year” award.

Of course we should share our experiences with our fellow trial lawyers. Of course, others can benefit if we share. Of course we should congratulate our peers on their hard-won successes. And, if we can’t brag a little to our friends, who can we brag to? There is no harm and much good that can come from all of that—even the bragging. But a certain self-awareness is needed. What are we actually trying to do with our posts?

Are we sincerely trying to share and educate, or are we trying to get others to help prop up an insecure, internally shaky, sense of self?

Only a careful internal inquiry can answer that question.

What It Costs Us

The Cost to Clients, the Profession, and Ourselves

The trial lawyer businessperson treats clients as “customers,” rather than as beneficiaries in a fiduciary relationship. The ethical rules now suggest that a lawyer is free to obtain any financial advantage from a client as long as full disclosure is made. These disclosures have a remarkable similarity to many of the warnings corporations put on their products—not designed to encourage informed choice, but to protect the author from criticism or litigation.

But the harm to clients goes beyond direct financial harm. Many clients can sense that their lawyer regards them more as a financial opportunity than as a human being needing their unselfish help. This makes the entire litigation process more stressful for the client. This stress is both emotionally and physically harmful. Not trusting their lawyer, not feeling protected by their lawyer, clients can end up engaging in conduct or making decisions that hurt themselves or their cases.

The harm to our profession is self-evident. For every client we obtain through a Tik Tok video, we alienate a hundred other people who understandably come to see us more as carnival barkers than helpful, trustworthy professionals. These people then sit on juries, vote on tort reform initiatives and elect representatives hostile to civil justice.

The effect on individual lawyers is devastating. Simply stated, lawyers are profoundly unhappy, with higher rates of depression, mental illness, suicide, alcohol and drug abuse than the general population—much higher. See Schiltz, “On Being a Happy, Healthy, and Ethical Member of an Unhappy, Unhealthy, and Unethical Profession,” 52 Vanderbilt Law Review 871, 872–881 (1999).

Since birth, we have all been saturated with the message that money and attention are the primary benchmarks of success—proof of personal worth. Upon entering the profession, young lawyers see the “great” trial lawyers chasing these things and follow that example. How else will they ever know if they are “great” as well? And what good is life if one cannot count oneself as great—as in, superior to others?

Finally, the addiction to money and attention—like any addiction—hurts the addict and those closest to them. The trial lawyer addict is so preoccupied with getting more money and attention that the things that make life truly satisfying recede into the background. Meaningful connections to family and friends become difficult. There is no sense of purpose beyond amassing more wealth and attention. And “more” is never enough. The high from a hit of money or attention quickly passes, leaving the addict compulsively and restlessly scanning their life for an opportunity to get more. And the enablers among us compare themselves to these addicts and feel they must engage in the same behavior to “compete.”

Not a Plea to Stop

What to Live For, If Not Money and Attention

This is not a plea for trial lawyers to give up the pursuit of money and attention. We need financial strength to effectively battle the powerful, cynical forces arrayed against our clients. Attention is needed, not just because it helps us get money, but because it offers opportunities to educate each other and the public. Plus, it feels good—in a healthy way—to be seen and appreciated. Being seen and appreciated can open us up to seeing and appreciating others. But to be healthy, we need to be mindful that money and attention can cause us to betray ourselves. These simple, one-dimensional benchmarks can seduce us into living one-dimensional lives.

What to live for if not money and attention? Finding, nurturing and clarifying our own values is difficult in a culture that force-feeds us corporate values at every turn. It calls to mind the Christian concept of being in the world, but not of it. We must continually monitor ourselves. Perhaps we can ask ourselves “why am I in this world? What am I here to manifest?” For many trial lawyers, the unacknowledged answer seems to be “to accumulate as much money and attention as possible.” This, in turn, seems to arise from an unconscious effort to prove something to themselves. That they are smart? Strong? Worthy? Lovable?

We all have our own inner black holes. The gnawing emptiness demands to be filled. But money and attention, while useful and even thrilling at times, can never fill them up. Finding what will is the project of a lifetime.

The answer will be different for each person.

For those not scared or offended by what I have written, I can suggest two excellent starting points. First, get into therapy and explore your own black holes. Only when you clearly see what is driving you do you have a chance of changing direction. Second, consider this oath, published by a new trial lawyer group called the Outer Realm:

A Second Starting Point

The Outer Realm Oath

I do solemnly swear to give more than I take, to use my skills, my voice, and my positions to protect and serve others.


I pledge to protect and expand access to civil justice, to stand beside those who cannot stand alone, and to advocate tirelessly for the injured, the dead, the silenced, and the marginalized.


I will confront power with truth and courage—challenging injustice and inequity wherever it arises, whether in the actions of governments, corporations, or insurance companies or anybody else—always through lawful, ethical, and honorable means.


I commit myself to charity, community, and causes that advance social justice, knowing that my work is part of something much larger than myself.


I will selflessly share the things I learn and develop that enable me to better help others and I shall revel and rejoice in the success of others.


In all things, I will uphold integrity, fairness, love and compassion, and remain faithful to the belief that the law is a tool for protecting people and creating a more just society.

This is one group’s antidote to the sickness of money/attention addiction. We all need one. What is yours?

Let me close with a statement from legendary trial lawyer, Paul Luvera:

The greatest threat to the plaintiffs’ bar is not tort reform, arbitration clauses, or defense resources. It is the quiet normalization of motivations that place money and ego ahead of client welfare. When that occurs, the moral authority of the profession erodes from within. The plaintiffs’ bar will retain public trust only to the extent it remains worthy of it—by remembering that clients are not the means to success, but the reason for it.Paul Luvera