Why competence-based licensure would make the law degree unnecessary

Requiring an aspiring lawyer to earn a law degree before they can begin the lawyer licensing process is an unnecessary and unfair barrier to entering the legal profession. The requirement should be dropped.

That’s (probably) the most controversial proposal in the report I submitted to the Law Society of British Columbia, which recommended the adoption of a competence-based lawyer licensing system. To be clear: The LSBC accepted the competence-based licensing recommendation itself last month, but made no other determination about anything else in the report, including my suggestion to drop the law degree requirement. Nothing is changing in BC in this regard. Law schools, you can exhale now.

In this post, I want to explain the reasoning behind my proposal, which is fleshed out in further detail in pages 9-13 and 34-39 of my report. A few preliminary points.

  • I’ll be using the Canadian law school and licensing system as examples, but everything here applies equally (if not more so) to the American context, where the law degree requirement is an even more arbitrary and exclusionary requirement for licensure.
  • I’ll be focusing on domestically trained candidates for law licensure — Canada has a separate (though also troubled) regime for internationally trained candidates, those who’ve worked as a lawyer or gained their law degree in another country. That’s a future post.
  • I’m emphatically not saying that law school has no value. A good law school experience can deliver extraordinary benefits to aspiring lawyers. I’m talking about the licensing requirement to complete a full, three-year law degree. These aren’t the same things.

With that out of the way, here we go.

Let’s start by recognizing some of the core elements of a competence-based licensing system: transparency, defensibility, and accessibility. Unlike a credentials-based system, in which the admissions authority accepts various third-party certifications as a proxy for entry-level competence, a competence-based system explicitly identifies the competencies for Day One practice and directly assesses candidates to determine whether they possess those competencies to the required degree.

In practical terms, that means an aspiring lawyer must have a fair opportunity to:

  1. find out what the required competencies for law licensure are;
  2. acquire those competencies; and
  3. demonstrate their possession of those competencies to the regulator.

The first of these conditions is relatively easy to meet; the regulator need only decide on and publish a competence framework that identifies the knowledge, skills and attributes (and the measure of each) that it demands of a newly licensed lawyer. Once those competencies are publicly announced, posted to a website, and otherwise distributed widely, the regulator has satisfied its duty here.

It’s in the second and third conditions that the law degree requirement becomes a much greater problem.

A comprehensive framework of legal knowledge competence for licensure would demand significantly more than what is currently required of a law degree. For example, the Competence Profile developed for New Brunswick’s new bar admission program (at p. 16) identifies 29 separate knowledge competencies in four categories: the legal system, substantive law, legal procedure, and legal practice. The Solicitors Regulation Authority of England & Wales goes further: The SRA’s Statement of Legal Knowledge, which sets out the knowledge solicitors must demonstrate at the point of qualification, lists 60 items of knowledge competence across 11 categories, plus a host of other legal knowledge requirements.

No Canadian or American law school is required to ensure its graduates are instructed in anything close to all these areas. The Federation of Law Societies of Canada’s National Requirement, which mandates the elements of a common-law degree necessary to make its graduates eligible to enter bar admission programs, states that “Substantive Legal Knowledge” encompasses only a general understanding of the core legal concepts of:

  • Foundations of law, including principles of common law and equity, the process of statutory construction and analysis, and the administration of the law;
  • Public law, including constitutional law, criminal law, and the principles of administrative law; and
  • Private law principles, including contracts, torts, and property law.

Now, my understanding is that the Federation is currently working on a comprehensive update to the National Requirement, which is excellent news. But with or without this update, the point remains that the gap between what law schools are currently required to ensure their students learn, and what the future wave of knowledge competence frameworks will require licensure candidates to possess, will be significant. (See also similar processes underway with the ABA’s Standards and Rules of Procedure for Approval of Law Schools.)

This is going to create a very difficult situation for law schools. If they maintain their old curricula regardless of more detailed knowledge competence standards demanded by licensing authorities, they risk losing their accreditation, with disastrous consequences. But if they adopt their degree programs to reflect regulators’ knowledge competence demands, they will massively disrupt their programs, cause havoc within their faculties, significantly reduce student choice in courses, and — maybe worst of all — effectively admit that they really are trade schools after all, surrendering control of their curriculum decisions to professional regulators and fatally compromising their academic independence.

I don’t like either of these outcomes. I don’t want to see a mass de-accreditation of law schools across North America, which will not serve anyone’s interests. But I also don’t want to bring about existential convulsions within law faculties that could destroy these institutions from the inside. And in any event, I don’t think regulators have the right to restrict the academic independence of universities.

How do we resolve this dilemma? We do it by going back to the three conditions of a competence-based licensing system and looking again at the third: that the candidate must “demonstrate their possession of those competencies to the regulator.” (Emphasis added.)

The point of competence-based licensing is that the admissions authority must be able to declare itself satisfied as to the competence of each applicant. But it can’t do that if the candidate is demonstrating competence to someone else. When you accept someone else’s testimony as to a candidate’s competence, you’re back to a credentials-based system.

The regulator bears the ultimate responsibility for the competence of every lawyer it licenses. This is even more important because in practical terms, a law license is permanent: Barring gross misconduct, a lawyer need never surrender their license once they obtain it. So a regulator must be able to defend every decision it makes to license a lawyer, and it can’t do that by saying, “Well, they had a law degree, and they passed a bar exam, and they apprenticed at a law firm without setting the place on fire, so we assumed they were fine.” That’s not a fulfillment of regulatory duty, that’s an abdication of it. The public expects and deserves more.

If we accept that the regulator’s job is to directly satisfy itself of a candidate’s knowledge competence, then a pathway to a solution opens up. Let law schools retain complete control over what they teach — they can ignore the Competence Framework if they like, they can change their entire program to replicate it, or they can do something in between. Let them decide if they’re pure academic research institutions or lawyer training grounds or something in between.

Law schools can do this if we drop the law degree requirement for bar admission — if we decouple legal education from lawyer licensing. Let law schools teach whatever legal knowledge they like. Let regulators require whatever legal knowledge they consider essential for bar admission. Stop trying to make these two unrelated entities walk in lockstep, like prisoners shackled at the ankles.

Instead, regulators should conduct their own assessment of licensure candidates’ legal knowledge competence (and other types of competence too, but that’s a separate topic). That assessment will probably take the form of a written examination — certainly, that’s what the SRA in England & Wales has done with the comprehensive and demanding Solicitors Qualification Examination, and what every US state now requires with the (very poorly designed and executed) bar exam.

To be sure, that approach has real drawbacks as well — including the pernicious and unacceptable problem of race-based differences in licensing exam results. But our system already suffers from this problem now, and we will have to cure this defect even if we make no changes to the lawyer licensing process. (More about this issue in my report at pp. 43-44.)

Whichever assessment method regulators choose, however, a candidate should be required to demonstrate their legal knowledge competence directly to the regulator — not to an independent third party with a different mission and purpose. This is the regulator’s job.

There would be so much to be gained by this reform. Law schools would benefit by being released from their obligation to teach what a professional regulator tells them to teach. Regulators would benefit by re-focusing on their duty to the public to ensure new lawyers are competent to practice, and from being able to assure skeptics in government that they are performing self-regulation responsibility.

But nobody would benefit from this change more than aspiring lawyers themselves. Because let’s not forget the biggest problem with law degrees: Even though they’re necessary for licensing, they’re still not sufficient.

Most Canadian law societies require candidates who have already earned a law degree to then complete a bar admission program that teaches and tests additional areas of substantive and procedural law. Every US state requires candidates who have already earned a law degree to then complete a bar exam that retests law school knowledge but is much harder to pass than any law school course. We require candidates to complete a lengthy and expensive law degree that doesn’t give them all the knowledge they need to become lawyers.

How expensive? As of 2018, the average Canadian law student graduated with $71,000 in debt. In 2022, the average American law student graduated with $165,000 in debt. And that’s not counting the even more valuable three years of the candidate’s life devoted to gaining this credential. Sure, law is a powerful and high-status profession, and someone who wishes to be a lawyer should be prepared to make real sacrifices to access it. But to sacrifice this much money and time for a credential that doesn’t even provide all the legal knowledge required to become a lawyer?

We talk about the brutalizing impact of law school debt on new lawyers, on their career choices, and on their mental and physical health, as well we should. What we don’t talk about enough is the absolute chilling impact of the law degree requirement on professional aspiration. Tens of thousands of people apply to North American law schools every year; hundreds of thousands don’t, not only because the cost is too high for them to risk, but also because their socio-economic circumstances cut them off from even considering a legal career.

And as I remind regulators, the law degree requirement has one other negative effect: It makes law schools the first and most exclusionary gatekeepers of the legal profession. When each year’s cohort of bar applicants shows up at the regulator’s door seeking admission, regulators should be under no illusion that this group represents all the people who want to be lawyers. It represents the well-off, privileged, surviving contingent of a much larger population of people who might have liked to be lawyers, who wished they could be lawyers, who probably would’ve made damn fine lawyers — but who never proceeded one inch past the extremely exclusive and enormously expensive gateway of the law degree.

Dropping the law degree requirement for licensure, therefore, would benefit regulators, aspiring lawyers, and even the schools themselves. But wait, you say — what do we do about the legal knowledge required to be a lawyer? How will candidates acquire this knowledge — the second condition of a competence-based system — if the law degree is not mandatory?

The answer is that it’s in the very act of dropping the law degree requirement that a thousand flowers of legal knowledge acquisition could bloom. There are myriad sources available today, and more that could easily emerge, by which aspiring lawyers could acquire legal knowledge competence required for licensure. Universities and community colleges already offer undergraduate legal studies programs and diplomas; bar associations and private providers have created an ocean of CLE and CPD content; individual lawyers could even offer basic knowledge competence instruction in their speciality areas as a side business or pro bono. The more such options arise, the more affordable and accessible these offerings will become.

But none of these options will emerge without consumer demand. So long as a law degree is required to begin the licensure process, no aspiring lawyer will take courses or programs or instructions from any other source. Only when the law school monopoly on legal knowledge provision is removed can we hope to see new choices flourish.

Of course, even with any number of new options available, arguably the best source for acquiring the legal knowledge required for law licensure will remain: law schools. Courses, seminars, and clinics in law schools are proven opportunities to learn from professional educators with decades of experience. A licensure candidate could acquire many or potentially even all of the competencies they need from a law school — by enrolling only in those courses, seminars and clinics that give them what they need in order to demonstrate their legal knowledge competence to the regulator.

To accomplish this, law schools would learn to unbundle their degree programs, making courses available standalone or in concentrations of specific subjects, in person or online. Licensure candidates would choose from a menu of courses without having to commit to the time and expense of a full law degree. Of course, the candidate might still choose to complete the full degree. So might someone who wants a legal education but doesn’t intend to become a lawyer. In every case, it would be their choice. 

So, this is my proposal for the legal profession: Develop and institute a competence-based lawyer licensing system. Decouple legal education from lawyer licensing. Specify and publish the knowledge required for entry into the profession, invite a plethora of established and novel providers of legal knowledge to teach candidates what they need, and work hard to develop a fair and accessible method by which aspiring lawyers can demonstrate their knowledge competence to admission authorities. In the result:

  • The public will be better served by a defensibly and demonstrably more competent legal profession.
  • Aspiring lawyers will benefit from a swifter, more affordable, and more inclusive pathway into the profession.
  • New lawyers will benefit from more freedom to pursue the legal careers they want rather than the ones that will enable them to pay off mountains of debt.
  • Law schools will be released from the confines of regulatory dictates and can serve whichever academic or professional purposes they choose.
  • Regulators will benefit from focusing on their core licensing function of directly ensuring the competence of every new lawyer they admit to the profession.

None of these benefits will be quickly or easily realized. The disruption to the status quo in the legal profession will be immense. The organizations and institutions that benefit disproportionately from the current system — and you know who they are — will fight these notions with incredible ferocity. Changing the way we form the legal knowledge base of lawyers after more than a hundred years is an unbelievably daunting challenge.

But I absolutely believe it’s the right thing to do. And more than at any other time, it’s the right moment to do it. Let’s develop a competence-based lawyer licensing system and use it to eliminate the law degree requirement for lawyer licensure.

A competence-based lawyer licensing system in British Columbia

You might have been wondering what I’ve been up to lately, or why I’ve written so little here in the past several months. Okay, you weren’t wondering about that at all, but the answer is this: I’ve been immersed in a major project for a Canadian legal regulator that I’ve had to keep under wraps for some time, but that I can finally talk about more openly.

Back in May, I presented to the directors of the Law Society of British Columbia (the regulator of legal services and governing body for lawyers in B.C.) a report recommending a fundamental change in the lawyer licensing system in that province. Last week, the directors accepted that recommendation, setting in motion a process that I believe could eventually transform the legal profession in Canada, and maybe in the U.S. as well:

BE IT RESOLVED the Law Society develop a competence-based system for lawyer licensing in British Columbia, beginning with the development of a Competence Framework that identifies the knowledge, skills, and other attributes necessary to perform the essential duties expected of, and entrusted to, lawyers in B.C., as well as the threshold levels at which these competencies should be performed at the point of licensure.

That resolution was contained in this note to the law society directors (“Benchers”) from its Lawyer Development Task Force. It was based upon my 80-page, 27,000-word report to the Task Force titled, “A Competence-Based System For Lawyer Licensing in British Columbia”, which is now publicly available on the law society’s website. I invite you to click through and read it, because I think it really matters for the future of lawyer licensing — and not just in British Columbia.

Why do I think this report is so important? Because it should change the process by which people in B.C. become lawyers — abandoning an archaic, opaque, and exclusionary credentials-based system, and embracing a modern, transparent, competence-based system that will increase public and professional confidence in the ability of lawyers to do their jobs from Day One. It will bring lawyer licensing into line with other professions’ admission systems, improve the quality of service clients receive, and go a long way towards defeating “impostor syndrome” among new lawyers.

That’s a tall order and a significant claim, and I’ll go into some detail to explain it. But a few preliminary points first:

  • The law society resolved to develop a competence-based lawyer licensing system in B.C., but it will be several years before the first cohort of differently licensed lawyers enters the profession. Designing a competence framework for lawyers is a major undertaking, all the more challenging given the rapid shifts in our profession and in our society. Building a licensing process around that framework is another huge job. This will take a while.
  • My report made just one formal recommendation (above), which the directors accepted. But the report went on to point out several clear implications of introducing a competence-based system, and it’s these implications that I think will bring about extraordinary change in the licensing process. The directors decided to leave these implications to the Task Force and the framework developers to sort out, which is proper. But I’ll explain them in some detail.
  • Competence-based licensing is not entirely novel. The Solicitors’ Regulation Authority of England & Wales, a direct inspiration for my work in B.C., has a competence-based licensing system. The Law Society of New Brunswick recently introduced a competency profile with its new bar admission program. CPLED PREP, the bar admission program in four Canadian provinces, uses a limited competency framework.
  • My recommended approach in B.C. goes further, however. Among other things, it does not assume that a law school degree is an acceptable proxy for entry-level competence in legal knowledge, and it emphasizes socially aware professional responsibility as a core competence for new calls. No US state uses anything like this (though IAALS’s Building a Better Bar project ably showed how), but I think this report has wide-reaching and immediate application to the controversies tearing apart the American bar admission process.

So, all of that said, here’s a brief summary of why I felt a new lawyer licensing system was necessary in B.C. and elsewhere, what the new system will consist of, why it will usher in several positive developments for lawyers and clients, and what a basic “competence framework for lawyer licensure” would look like.

1. Expired Credentials. The traditional requirements for a law license in Canada are obtaining a law school degree or its equivalent, passing a bar admission program, and completing an articling term. (In the US, it’s just the degree and passing a bar exam.) All these requirements, to a greater or lesser degree, are basically credentials — certifications by a third party that the candidate has completed a task or run a gauntlet overseen by this separate entity to which the regulator has essentially delegated the gatekeeping function. The regulator accepts completion of these credentials as a proxy for the competence to practise law, without directly assessing the candidate’s overall fitness to practise.

2. Unidentified Competence. Upon what evidentiary basis does the regulator extend this proxy acceptance? How do we know that a law degree, a bar admission course, and a term of supervised practice collectively constitute an airtight case for competence? We don’t. Apart from the notable exceptions above, no regulator can identify the precise knowledge, skills, and personal attributes someone must demonstrably possess — and to what level of proficiency — in order to become a lawyer. We don’t have a detailed target definition of entry-level lawyer competence to which each of these credentials providers can refer when designing their programs or carrying out their responsibilities.

3. Professional Consequences. Everyone suffers from our failure to design an established competence profile for lawyer licensing, but none more so than new lawyers themselves. Admitted to the practice of law unaware of what qualifies them for the role, frequently missing key elements of competence, they often feel overwhelmed and deeply anxious. Law firm employers, too, routinely complain that most new hires are unready to practise law and require basic training just to bring them up to a level of minimum ability. Clients of new solos or new lawyers who lack good workplace support (and there’s a lot of them) will receive sub-competent service and might never know it. But the damage extends further, to the profession itself.

4. Legitimacy Consequences. It’s frankly kind of crazy that most jurisdictions have no official definition of entry-level lawyer competence. If a member of the public asks a regulator, “How do you know this lawyer is qualified to serve me?”, that person wants to know what constitutes a competent lawyer and how the regulator satisfied itself that this person is one. It undermines the profession’s claim to merit self-governance if the regulator can’t answer the simplest question about the standards of quality control of new lawyers — especially when, in practical terms, a lawyer once licensed is a lawyer forever (short of gross misconduct), making the point of professional entry absolutely critical.

5. Competence Frameworks. Regulators that can answer that question do so because they have identified in detail the multi-faceted profile of a Day One lawyer in their jurisdiction. Following lengthy study and extensive consultation with myriad stakeholders, they created a framework of overall competence in legal knowledge, ethical awareness, lawyer skills, and professional skills that reflected what a member of the public had the right to expect from a lawyer on their first day in practice. But they also were careful not to make this framework a “wish list” of ideal lawyer attributes, recognizing that “Day One” competence, while needing to meet minimum standards, ought not to be any higher than that.

6. Licensure Validity. In order to be considered valid and just, the elements of professional licensure competence must be (1) knowable by candidates, (2) accessible to candidates, and (3) demonstrable to the licensor. That is, licensure candidates must be able to easily find out what the competencies are, be able to acquire those competencies in a fair and accessible manner, and be able to show the licensing authority that they possess the competencies. Failure by the regulator to ensure these conditions creates barriers to professional entry — a person who might wish to be a lawyer cannot do so because they couldn’t discover the competencies, couldn’t afford to obtain them, or couldn’t equitably show the regulator that they possess them. The competence framework must be constructed with these three requirements in mind.

7. Competence “Starter Kit”. I was very reluctant to give the law society my opinion on the proper constituent elements of entry-level competence in their province. That decision has to be made by experts with much more experience and proficiency than me, in consultation with a very wide group of stakeholders. But I was invited to consider that there would be value in giving the law society a sort of “starter kit” of competencies in a suggested framework, in order to guide the earliest stages of the consultation process and give the directors a sense of what such a framework might look like. So after extensive research and reflection, I came up with the following:

1. Knowledge of the law

  1. Administrative law and procedure
  2. Business and corporate law and procedure
  3. Civil litigation, procedure, and remedies
  4. Contract law and drafting
  5. Constitutional law
  6. Criminal law, procedure, and sentencing
  7. Evidence
  8. Family law and procedure
  9. Legislative, regulatory, and judicial systems
  10. Property and tenancy law and procedure
  11. Torts
  12. Wills, estates, and trust law and procedure

2. Understanding of a lawyer’s professional responsibilities

  1. Client confidentiality
  2. Client trust accounts
  3. Conflicts of interest
  4. Fiduciary duties
  5. Select other aspects of the Code of Professional Conduct

3. The skills of a lawyer

  1. Gather relevant facts through interviews and research
  2. Carry out legal research
  3. Conduct due diligence
  4. Draft essential legal documents
  5. Solve problems using legal knowledge and analysis
  6. Help negotiate solutions and resolve disputes
  7. Advocate for a client’s position
  8. Provide legal advice to clients
  9. Use law practice technology
  10. Fulfill the basic business and professional requirements of a private law practice

4. The skills of a professional

  1. Establish, maintain, and conclude a client relationship
  2. Establish and maintain respectful and collaborative relationships with colleagues and others
  3. Communicate accurately and concisely, verbally and in writing, to different audiences
  4. Understand and use information management systems effectively
  5. Understand and use financial management systems effectively
  6. Manage projects and responsibilities to ensure they are completed efficiently, on time, and to an appropriate professional standard
  7. Organize one’s time and activities to ensure the prompt and successful fulfilment of one’s obligations

This all sounds sensible, right? There should be an official profile of a competent entry-level lawyer, and it should be used as the basis of a fair and accessible lawyer licensing system. That was the thrust of my single recommendation to the Law Society of B.C., and that’s what the regulator has now resolved to do.

But … that single recommendation arrived less than a third of the way through my report. The balance of the report went on for another 40-odd pages, because you don’t just recommend a fundamental change to professional licensure and walk away. I went on at some length to advise the law society: “Hey, listen: If you go down this path, you need to understand that a whole lot about how you educate, train, and license lawyers in this province is going to change, in ways that will shake the profession and maybe even transform the legal sector itself.”

In a follow-up post next week, I’ll describe the other changes to British Columbia’s licensing system that I can foresee arising from this development, changes that will be noticed and maybe copied by other jurisdictions — including one that likely will make some law schools very unhappy. And in a post subsequent to that, I’ll lay out my vision for an entirely new approach to lawyer licensure that I think every jurisdiction, including every US state, should consider and implement. There’s a lot to unpack, and I’m looking forward to the opportunity to show you what’s here.

Although this is not a simple undertaking, I’m optimistic that the example of the SRA’s Statement of Solicitor Competence, as well as the fine work done in New Brunswick and the CPLED jurisdictions, will make the path to competence-based licensure in B.C. swifter and surer than it has been anywhere else yet. And that, in turn, should hasten the day when every lawyer in Canada (and eventually the US) is admitted not on the basis of having jumped through a bunch of longstanding, exclusionary, and inadequate hoops, but on the basis of demonstrated competence to practise law. The public in general, and clients in particular, deserve better from our profession.

I’ll give the last word to an excerpt from the report’s introduction:

The last twenty years have seen an astonishing amount of change throughout the legal services sector, in terms of public demands, client needs, lawyer specialization, law firm business models, technological capabilities, and justice system access. The last two years of pandemic life have transformed parts of our society in ways that would have seemed inconceivable in 2019. The future promises us only more change — faster, more disruptive, and more transformational.

We cannot continue to form lawyers — to educate, train, and license them — the same way we did fifty years ago, twenty years ago, or even two years ago. It is a disservice to our profession and the public we serve to pretend otherwise, or to merely make incremental, uncontroversial tweaks to an outdated and increasingly unfit system. We cannot continue to prepare lawyers for law practice in the 20th century nearly a quarter of the way into the twenty-first. 

The future of legal sector reform is now

I was happy to contribute an article to the latest issue of leading European legal industry magazine Legal Innovation and Technology Today. You should read the entire issue, which includes great pieces about DEI in the legal sector by Christy Burke, agile law firms by Chris Bull, and key corporate legal trends by Ari Kaplan.

My article, “How technology can help revolutionize legal education and lawyer development,” dives into some serious detail about the catalytic role tech can play in reforming the lawyer formation process. I’d encourage you to read the original piece in its entirety, but I’ve reproduced an excerpt below — and I encourage you to read to the end, where I share some breaking news about legal regulation reforms happening in real time.

The legal profession, to its credit, has made significant progress throughout this century improving law firm business practices, lawyer-client relationships, and the use of technology. But there’s one area of professional life that needs innovation even more: the lawyer formation system. How we go about educating, licensing, training, and monitoring the competence of lawyers desperately requires an overhaul. Technology can play a critical role in getting us there.

The Problem. Law degrees and bar admission courses drain several years and significant sums of money at the start of a legal career while providing little preparation to succeed in that career. Licensing bodies certify lawyers before they’ve developed sufficient skills to serve clients, run firms, or manage their own businesses and personal well-being. Law licenses are effectively permanent and unconditional, creating no obligation for lawyers to demonstrate their continuing fitness to practise.

In the result, many new lawyers experience whiplash when they enter practice, often deeply in debt, to find working environments disconnected to their expectations and pressures unlike any they’ve been prepared for. Unready to practise law and lacking support for ongoing skill development, many sink into despondency and depression, often leaving the profession altogether.

The Solutions. We can do better than this. The archaic and fragmented early-years development of lawyers can be unified under a single modern development process that guides professionals along a “formation continuum,” from their first day of law school through their first day of competent, confident, independent practice.

But attempts to reform the lawyer development system will be opposed both by deeply entrenched interests in academia, licensure, and regulation, as well as by equally entrenched habits and assumptions in the legal profession that “this is how we’ve always done it” (or in particular, “this is how I had to do it”) and “there’s no other way it can be done.” The time to change all that is right now.

The Role of Technology. The pandemic forced lawyers to rely heavily on tech in everyday practice, and most were pleasantly surprised by the ease of the transition and the effectiveness of their tools. Many chief judges have publicly stated that there’s “no going back” to the offline-only world of justice, while most law firms have found the majority of their lawyers unwilling to return to the office full-time.

Whether we wanted it or not — whether we were ready for it or not — we’re already a changed profession, tech-reliant and increasingly tech-comfortable. Technology should now be applied to help solve the myriad problems with the lawyer development system.

Legal Education. The online legal education experience of the pandemic should be integrated with the in-person version and become more sophisticated and student-centred. Professors could record their lectures and post them online for students to view before class, allowing in-person class time to be converted to discussion, collaboration, breakouts, and workshops. Guest speakers could be Zoomed in from anywhere to answer student questions or assess advocacy skills.

Law schools could also offer degrees or certificates in an online format for working parents, retirees, or community leaders who don’t want or can’t afford the time and financial commitment of a full degree. “Asynchronous law diplomas” could be both a steady revenue stream for schools and a powerful way to raise public legal knowledge and problem-solving capability.

Lawyer Licensing. Technology could help new lawyers get more hands-on practice experience before they’re admitted to the profession. An aspiring lawyer in an urban centre could be “apprenticed” to a small-town practitioner, spending one week on location and three weeks at home doing legal work, speaking with clients, drafting documents, and learning the ropes of the law business. Regular video meetings with the veteran lawyer could help ensure the trainee is learning the core competencies required for licensing.

The experience of working in a law firm need not even require a real firm. The licensing process in some Canadian provinces includes several months spent working in a “simulated law firm,” where bar applicants field emails from lawyers, videoconference with actors playing clients, and become accustomed to the rhythms and requirements of practice. Simulated firm experiences could also be used to prepare trainees for real-firm exposure, accelerating their development.

Lawyer Competence. Rather than obliging lawyers to complete a minimum number of hours of CLE programming on any topic they choose, we should create a robust competence framework for the legal profession to help lawyers self-assess their proficiency throughout their careers. Technology can help us progress towards solutions.

Regulators could design online quizzes along the lines of, “How proficient are you?”, in which lawyers are required to rate their own levels of confidence on the core competences of lawyering, and perhaps answer a few basic questions. Their final score could be shown to them, along with suggestions that certain areas could benefit from upgrading.

Regulators could also create online video and resource packages that guide lawyers through the most common sources of client complaints and malpractice charges, including retainer letters, time management, and client communication protocols. Lawyers could be invited (or obliged) to complete these “self-guided mini-courses” to maintain their competence in core areas of public interest.

– – – – – – – –

That’s the excerpt from my article — now for some breaking news.

We’ve officially passed the point of speculating about how nice it would be if things were a little different in how we license lawyers and regulate legal services. Wishcasting was yesterday — today is about making change happen, for real. A swift glance around North America shows us that massive shifts in the foundation of legal regulation and lawyer formation are happening right now. Dominoes are falling fast, knocking down others and generating waves of change across the legal world.

You already know about the legal innovation sandboxes in Utah, British Columbia, and Ontario, and the revolution in legal regulation unleashed in Arizona. But just in the past few days — right up to this morning — we’ve seen some extraordinary developments in lawyer licensing and legal regulation and the United States:

The fact is, this is no longer about “the future of legal services.” This is happening right now. The process of reforming legal regulation and lawyer licensing has begun in earnest. Technology will play a major role in this process, as my article suggests. But far more important than the tools of reform are the reformers themselves — the people who are ready and willing to lead this process forward.

This is your chance to step up and become one of those leaders. If you still need an invitation to take part, here you go.

Frugal innovation in lawyer formation

More than a decade ago, in a post that captured the imagination of hardly anyone, I wrote about the need for “frugal innovation” in the legal services sector. Chief among the problems with the legal market, I said, is lawyers’ insistence on offering ever-more-elaborate services to ever-fewer people at ever-higher prices, ignoring the growing population with straightforward legal needs but little time or money to address them. Frugal legal innovators, I wrote,

will figure out the resource restrictions under which most people labour and will modify their products, services and delivery systems accordingly. They will relentlessly simplify and de-accessorize legal offerings, constantly asking themselves: Can we make this easier? Are there steps we could remove, features we could do without, elements that add cost without adding equivalent value? 

I trust this book is no longer than it needs to be.

Ten years on, I’m still waiting for the legal profession to recognize and meet this opportunity, although I’m encouraged by the success of consumer innovations like UpSolve and Hello Divorce.

But what I want to do in this post is apply the same reasoning to the lawyer formation process. What would frugal legal education and bar admission look like? What if we had only a very limited amount of time and money with which to train and licence new lawyers — how would we do it?

Let’s start by identifying the problem to be solved. Whatever its other merits and demerits, there are two things we can confidently say about lawyer formation in North America, in its current form:

1. It is too long. Hardly anyone believes that three full years of law school are necessary to provide foundational knowledge for the lawyer licensing journey. Most Canadian jurisdictions require an additional one-year articling term before admission, but that period of time is arbitrary: pandemic-shortened articling terms were deemed acceptable last year, and an alternative pathway in one province lasts just eight months.

To be clear, I believe new lawyers need much better and more detailed preparation for their careers than we’re giving them; but we’re using the current allotted amount of time poorly. We don’t know how long it really takes to fully develop a lawyer, because we’ve never purposefully designed a unified, end-to-end lawyer formation system.

2. It is too expensive. The average US lawyer starts their career $145,000 in debt. For the average Canadian lawyer, the figure is at least $71,000. Licensing fees add to this burden. But the cost of lawyer formation is driven less by features intrinsic to professional development, and more by the business models of the institutions that oversee and administer education and licensure. Lawyer formation doesn’t require labs and chemicals and machine shops; but you wouldn’t know that from its price tag.

Most people need significant socio-economic advantages even to contemplate the possibility of a legal career and devote several years to its pursuit. If you are not independently wealthy, heavy debt will drive you into higher-paying jobs with intense billing pressures or force you to take on work outside your expertise, ultimately to your and your clients’ detriment. The barriers scattered throughout lawyer licensure have produced a legal profession that is disproportionately white. And I need hardly add that the foregoing system will not produce affordable legal services.

How can we fix this? One way forward would be to “frugalize” the lawyer development system. What if we placed strict time and budget limits on the process of developing lawyers? What if we maintained (or ideally, raised) our thresholds for qualification as a lawyer, but radically downsized the time and cost required?

Assume that someone wishes to become a lawyer, but has, say, only 18 months and $18,000 to do it. Under our current system, that’s simply not possible. So let’s come up with a system in which it might be. Here are a few ideas to get us started.

● Move law school online, period. Subtract from a legal education the institutional overhead, room, board, and travel costs of attending a university in person. Subtract the time inflation caused by adherence to the law school’s semestered teaching timetable and its insistence on one-to-many, physically proximate knowledge transfer. The result would be an at-your-own-pace online law degree (of which, thanks to the pandemic, we’ve already seen proof of concept), faster and radically less expensive than the current version.

● In the alternative, individual legal academics and practicing lawyers could sell standalone courses approved by regulatory authorities, accessible online 24/7 with built-in knowledge assessments, on a core of mandatory subjects plus many others. Students could assemble their own qualifying law degree from multiple providers, learning as their schedule allows from their chosen experts in their preferred areas. Let’s stop thinking of law school as “a place you go to” and start thinking of it as “a developmental experience.”

● Our current system makes students spend three years in a classroom before even glimpsing the life of a lawyer. Lawyer education and experience could instead be administered concurrently, not consecutively, saving time while enhancing learning. The online courses described above could be interspersed with asynchronous skills and training modules and simulated virtual practices relevant to each course subject — here is an outstanding example. Or combine this idea with the next one:

● During or after completion of this online trifecta, we would find ways for aspiring lawyers to swiftly and affordably gain in-person lawyer experience. Regulators could require practicing lawyers to offer unpaid four-month internships to duly-registered law students as a requirement of continued licensure. Or they could coordinate similar opportunities with legal aid or public interest organizations in the student’s home town or nearest city. The goal is to help students learn the law and experience the law simultaneously.

● A purely online experience would, however, fail to provide the socialization element of lawyer development, whereby aspiring practitioners build friendships and networks by learning and working together. These elements have real value, so the frugal lawyer development process would require and help enable regular in-person (once the pandemic allows) meet-ups in larger communities, or Zoom sessions among more geographically dispersed students, or better solutions waiting to be invented. Distance legal education has a long history.

This is just the barest outline of what a frugal lawyer development system might look like — obviously it has gaps and flaws. But while some of them can be filled and fixed, others don’t need to be. Frugality, as I argued back in 2010, is not about doing the same things you did before, only more cheaply. It’s about re-envisioning what you’re trying to achieve and and re-engineering how you’re going to achieve it.

There’s a growing consensus that lawyer licensing requires radical reconsideration. So which elements of lawyer licensure add cost without adding equivalent value? Cavernous lecture halls in limestone buildings? Qualifying credentials burnished by a coat of arms and a football team? Hazing rituals disguised as entry examinations? You could probably assemble a pretty lengthy list just based on your own certification experience. Undertaking this effort collectively, as a profession, could lead to extraordinary advances in our theory and practice of bar admission.

The pandemic has already demonstrated that we can educate, train, and license lawyers differently than we did before. This is a golden opportunity to convert that temporary experience into a permanently better one.

Lawyer licensing and competence in Alberta

I’m very pleased to let you know about Lawyer Licensing and Competence in Alberta: Analysis and Recommendations, a report written by me for the Law Society of Alberta. The law society’s Benchers (the elected lawyer directors of the province’s legal services regulator) accepted the report and all of its recommendations earlier this month. Preparations are now underway to implement the recommendations over the coming months and years.

For the inside story of how I came to write this report, and why it signals a new direction for my own writing and consulting career, please see this companion post. Here, however, I’d like to explain how the report itself came about, what its primary recommendations are, and why I believe it signals an opportunity for other jurisdictions to re-examine their own licensing and competence systems and bring them into the 21st century.

First, some background. Here are the essentials of how you become and remain a lawyer in Alberta:

  • Earn a degree from a Canadian law school or a certification from the National Accreditation Committee of the Federation of Law Societies of Canada.
  • Complete the bar admission program administered by the Canadian Center for Professional Legal Education (CPLED).
  • Complete a term of articling (one year of supervised practice apprenticeship with an Alberta lawyer in good standing).
  • Once called to the bar, annually assess your learning needs, choose a series of learning activities that will advance your proficiency in these areas, and report those activities to the law society.

This combination is unique in Canada: although three other provinces (Manitoba, Nova Scotia, and Saskatchewan) also engage CPLED to conduct their bar admission program, only Alberta does not use a “minimum number of CLE hours” system to ensure ongoing competence. (Indeed, Alberta stands alone in Canada and the US on that score.)

But back in February (which seems like a very long time ago), the law society decided to suspend lawyers’ CPD filing requirement while the system itself was reviewed and overhauled. That decision was triggered by uncertainty about whether the “self-assessment and learning activities” system was generating actual learning activity and whether the system had sufficient accountability to achieve that result.

But there were other issues at play. In 2019, the law societies of Alberta, Manitoba and Saskatchewan received the results from a survey of current and former articling students in those provinces. The news was bad: About one-third of all respondents reported discrimination, harassment, or ineffective learning environments or experiences during their articling term.

The law society had other concerns, too. It was worried about the degree of competence possessed by lawyers in their first few years of practice. It noted (as have other jurisdictions) dwindling levels of engagement in continuous learning by more senior lawyers. It recognized the dangers of an aging profession with insufficient retirement and transition plans. And it saw that BIPOC and internationally trained lawyers carried heavier burdens in all these areas.

I was engaged in April to write a report analyzing these issues and making recommendations to improve lawyer licensing and competence in Alberta. Although law school and legal education were outside my commissioning scope, I was otherwise encouraged to draw whatever conclusions seemed to me fit and justifiable. Five months, 25 interviews, 80 pages, and 30,000 words later — and with the absolutely irreplaceable support and assistance of law society staff — I handed in my draft report. Three months later (last week, to be precise), the law society accepted the final report and all of its recommendations.

To find out every last detail of this document, I’d obviously suggest you read the full report (or at least the executive summary at the start). But for present purposes, and in necessarily broad strokes, I’ll summarize my major recommendations and observations below.

1. Nobody has a greater impact on a new lawyer’s early career than the lawyer with principal supervising authority during their articling term. Supervising an aspiring lawyer is accordingly a privilege to be earned, not a right to be asserted. Any lawyer who wishes to act as an articling student’s principal should successfully complete an application process and training program to qualify for the role.

2. Articling suffers from several defects and inadequacies, but its biggest fault is that it is the sole method by which Alberta lawyers can gain their required supervised practice experience. The law society should develop new “pathways to practice” that provide consistency, defensibility, and accessibility, to supplement (and conceivably to soon replace) articling, such as a Law Practice Program, an integrated practice curriculum in law school, or a law society-sponsored “teaching law firm.”

3. There is no evidence that Alberta lawyers in their first three years of practice pose an outsized competence risk. But these lawyers, like early-stage lawyers everywhere, are credentialed and sent into the market before they are ready. The law society should provide a mandatory annual fleet of training, knowledge, and support programs in law practice management, business operations, client relationships, and other practical areas of critical importance for new practitioners in their first three years.

4. Articling students and new lawyers receive inadequate levels and types of supervision, particularly when it comes to their formative and restorative development (transitioning to practice, receiving mentorship, maintaining mental and emotional health). Every new lawyer should be automatically “opted in” to one of Alberta’s two outstanding lawyer mentoring programs (with the option to opt out for any reason).

5. Alberta’s self-assessment and learning outcomes CPD system is fundamentally sound and represents best practices in professional adult education worldwide; the province should not switch to an hours-based system. But the current system should be improved, by training lawyers in the art of skill self-assessment, focusing more on learning outcomes than activities, instituting random audit checkups to ensure lawyers’ compliance with their learning activity commitments, and periodically providing mandatory activities for all lawyers in areas of core competence less likely to be addressed individually.

6. Lawyers with more than 20 years at the bar present demonstrably lower levels of competence risk, and senior lawyers generally find most CPD activities lacking in relevance or utility. The law society should provide these lawyers with an optional CPD system that allows them to fulfill their learning requirements by engaging in a program of mentoring, new lawyer education and training, and public legal education and service.

7. Sole practitioners are the backbone of access to justice for individuals and families, especially in smaller communities; but they are unfairly under-resourced and overburdened with management duties compared to their colleagues in larger law firms. Lawyers who wish to start sole practice should be required to complete a training program to provide them with the knowledge, support, and resources to help them practise effectively and competitively. Given the risks to their clients of a sole practitioner’s incapacitation, these lawyers should also be required to create and file with the law society a business continuity plan.

I also made several observations throughout the report (or during my preparation of it) that were not submitted as actual recommendations, but that I felt warranted attention:

  • The airtight separation of legal knowledge and legal practice in law school is fundamentally wrong and needs to be addressed at the earliest feasible opportunity, through a collaborative process involving multiple justice system stakeholders.
  • Lawyers who are Black, Indigenous, persons of colour, or internationally trained suffer systemic discrimination and unfair treatment throughout their careers but especially at the outset. This needs to be addressed and corrected.
  • CPLED’s bar admission program, which focuses on lawyer skills and experience and does not include anything like a “bar exam,” is a best practices model for lawyer licensing that every other jurisdiction should study and emulate.
  • “Graduated licensing” is an impractical solution to a different and fundamental problem: Lawyers enter practice three to five years before they are truly ready to serve clients effectively. We must reform lawyer formation altogether.
  • “Minimum hours of CLE” is an antiquated input-based learning measure that provides no assurance lawyers have learned anything that will help them serve clients or practise law more effectively. CPD programs should abandon it.

There are several other aspects of lawyer licensing and competence assurance that are worth further exploration, but the law society did not engage me to write a scholarly treatise on the subject. My report aimed to be as practical and implementable as could be managed, given the realities of limited budgets, lawyers’ deep aversion to change, and the small matter of the pandemic. Most of all, I wanted to give the people at the law society a realistic blueprint for making incremental but important improvements to the province’s lawyer licensing and competence systems.

That last point gives me an opportunity to acknowledge with gratitude everyone at the Law Society of Alberta who was instrumental in bringing this report to fruition. Among the lawyers, I want to single out Ken Warren Q.C.  and Stacy Petriuk Q.C., Chair and Vice-Chair of the Lawyer Competence Committee, as well as all their colleagues on that committee; among staff, there are too many people to thank individually, but I want to highlight CEO and Executive Director Elizabeth Osler Q.C. and, in particular, Deputy Executive Director Cori Ghitter, without whom (as I said in the report’s closing lines) the report could not have been written.

I’d welcome any feedback that you might have about this report or the points raised in this post. And if you’d like to read my less diplomatically phrased observations about the state of lawyer development, licensing, and ongoing competence today, I invite you to read about my new career focus and the back story to this report, right here.

Pandemic VI: Lawyer formation re-engineered

As I noted in my previous post, the pandemic is accelerating and accentuating all the trends that were already going to bring the existing lawyer formation system to a grinding halt. Less than eight months ago, I wrote here at Law21 about how the lawyer development system is breaking down and how we could replace it with something better.

At the time, I thought that the system would break down because law firms would hire fewer and fewer new lawyers and would thus remove themselves from their longtime de facto role as “on-the-job lawyer trainers.” This would have knock-on effects up and down the new lawyer pipeline.

Legal regulators, I wrote, need to unify the disparate strands and fragmented shards of lawyer formation and assert control over the lawyer development process in their jurisdiction. Education, training, licensing, and ongoing competence assessment all need to be carried out under unified supervision and against a comprehensive, authoritative vision for creating competent, confident lawyers to serve clients and society.

That, as they say, was then. A process that I thought last August would unfold over the course of years is now happening in weeks. So I’d like to recommend that post for your review, and to now use it as a launching point for the following proposal for reinventing lawyer formation in the post-pandemic era, whenever that arrives.

To make this change possible, we have to stop thinking of lawyer formation in terms of the organizations we’ve allowed to handle different segments of lawyer development — law schools, bar admission entities, law firms — and start thinking in terms of, from the perspective of, the lawyers we are helping to form. We need to figure out what lawyers actually need, in terms of structured instruction and supervised experience, in their first 10 years in the legal community, and only then turn our minds to which sorts of entities are best positioned to provide it.

Right now, out there working on ways to rethink and re-engineer lawyer formation, are many very smart people with extensive experience in legal education. I fall into neither of those categories; nonetheless, I’d like to submit for your consideration this rough breakdown of the three elements that I believe lawyers need to acquire during their formative years.

1. Education in core legal principles. What are the foundational building blocks of law? Before a student learns the first thing about the rules of evidence or the standards of contributory negligence or what makes a will valid, they first need to know the essential elements of law and the benefits it offers to society. These include:

  • underlying principles of law (fairness, due process, precedent, the rule of law, etc.)
  • essential features of law (rights, obligations, remedies, solutions — recall the consumer legal hub)
  • key manifestations of law in society (procedures, guarantees, title, disputes and their resolution)

Law is not a trade, and law school is not a trade school. There is a genuine role for what we think of as “traditional legal education,” and this is it. But it does not involve textbooks and lectures and exams in “Contracts” or “Land Transactions” or “Tax” or any other “practice area” course. It involves, yes, “thinking like a lawyer,” but more importantly, understanding why we have law and why we have lawyers — the benefits both provide in terms of safeguarding and promoting social stability, inter-personal reliability, individual dignity, and collective responsibility.

 

Examples of the principles, features, and manifestations of law would be drawn from all the standard “practice areas” — not to “teach” those areas of law, but to illustrate points about precedents and obligations and guarantees and so on. This segment of the process would be best administered in person, a group of novices learning together under the guidance of experienced educators, in order to help with socialization of new lawyers and the building of their networks.

By the time a student finishes this segment (and demonstrates to their instructor’s satisfaction their command of it), a student would know the “why” and “how” of law; only then would they dive deeply into the specific “what.”

2. Knowledge of legal subject matter. While this might look like all those substantive “practice area” courses from law school, there are a couple of key differences.

One difference is that these courses would be learned mostly online, through recorded video instruction and the completion of various “modules” that could consists of dozens or even hundreds of units, depending on how much of a specialty a student wanted to develop. Assessment of a student’s learning would be conducted by expert practitioners in each area authorized by regulators to test students as soon as they wish to be certified as having completed some or all of the course. Completing and “passing” 20 modules, say, would give you a basic grounding; 40 would makes you moderately informed; 100 would make you a budding expert.

The second difference is that there would be no mandatory courses. I recognize this is controversial, and you might protest that there are some things “every lawyer should know.” In terms of professional identity and responsibility, I agree, and these are covered in the third section below. I also agree that there should still be “pre-requisite” courses for some subjects — for example, you would not enrol in “Mergers & Acquisitions” until you’ve first completed a minimum number of law “Business Law” modules.

But in terms of requiring every student to master an (increasingly arbitrary) array of legal subjects, I disagree. We need to stop forcing future lawyers to spend the first precious years of their lawyer formation learning about areas of the law they will never use. A highly specialized legal market needs equally specialized lawyers who learn continuously and fluidly throughout their careers.

Under this proposal, nothing would prevent a lawyer who, having completed and been certified in, say, employment law, from later changing their career plans and completing a course in patent law. The lawyer’s “classmates” at any given time would therefore encompass a broad range of novice learners and experienced practitioners,  producing a far more diverse, dynamic and collaborative learning environment. “Law school” in this system stops being a place where you spend the first three years of your career and never return again; it becomes a lifelong learning resource — what CLE should have been, but never was.

We should no longer use the legal education system to satisfy an antiquated vision of a profession filled with jacks-of-all-trades and Atticus Finches; instead, we should empower law students to build the types of legal careers they want to lead and serve the parts of society they want to serve in a rapidly changing world.

3. Skills and standards of a lawyer. This is the part of the lawyer development process that many veteran practitioners refer to as “the real world.” I draw no hierarchical distinctions regarding whether these subjects are superior to any others. But here is where you’ll find subjects such as:

  • professional identity
  • legal ethics
  • professional conduct
  • character and integrity
  • personal empathy
  • customer service
  • business fundamentals
  • workflow management
  • financial literacy
  • technology training
  • project management, and
  • cultural competence.

Through a combination of in-person and online education, learners would acquire mastery of these subjects and the practical realities of their application.  But more importantly, they would be given the chance to test these skills and this knowledge, either in three- to four-month work placement opportunities in the private and public sector, or in virtual classrooms and simulated law firms.

Does that last part sound too far-fetched? It’s already happening, right now. Check out the Practice Readiness Education Program provided by the Canadian Center for Professional Legal Education, which is now replacing the bar exam process in Alberta, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, and Nova Scotia. And check out the Law Practice Program already well-established in Ontario.

I’m confident that other Canadian regulators will soon convert their articling requirement to completion of the PREP, LPP, or similar programs. Other countries should study and adapt these innovative and timely new-lawyer-competence assessment methods. The template for modern, practical, supervised hands-on lawyer training is available for you right now here in Canada.

A couple of final points in this third category.

(a) This third category of learning can (and often should) take place contemporaneous with the second category. Our current lawyer formation system teaches students knowledge of a legal subject area, and then years later, exposes them to the practical implementation of it. That’s a needless disconnect born of provider fragmentation. Students should be encouraged to learn how to be a lawyer in practice at the same time as learning how to be a lawyer in theory. (Integrated courses that combine items in the second and third categories could be considered.)

(b) This third category is not exclusive to the private practice of law. “A lawyer” does not exclusively refer to people who serve multiple clients on a serial basis in the private sector. Corporate counsel, public-sector counsel, and public-interest counsel are all lawyers. This third category should provide both instruction and experience in all these different dimensions of being a lawyer (and especially in ethics and professional responsibility, which currently is taught 95% from the perspective of private practice). Among the many shortcomings of our current lawyer development system is that “private-practice lawyer” is the default setting. That needs to change.

These are my suggestions for rethinking, re-engineering, and reunifying the lawyer formation process. Next up in this series are my thoughts about what the pandemic is going to do to private law practices, and what a rescue mission and re-engineering project might look like in this highly vulnerable sector of the legal economy.

Pandemic V: Lawyer formation rescued

As was the case with the justice system breakdown I described in Posts 2 and 3, and further to the problems with lawyer formation I laid out in my previous post, I want to suggest two sets of responses to the crisis in lawyer development.

The first set, presented below, is designed to get our current system and the people who rely on it through these next couple of years. The second, presented in my subsequent post, is intended to outline a new and better system to replace the one that’s breaking down.

In the short term, here are seven suggestions for how we can help get law schools, regulators, and law firms through this lawyer formation crisis.

1. Drop the LSAT.

Law schools should stop using the LSAT as part of their applicant assessment system. Many people won’t be able to write the LSAT this year, and the conditions for those who do write it will be unequal; those two facts alone are reason enough to follow this approach. Law schools can still use undergraduate marks, work experience, and personal qualities to decide who to admit. But let’s be honest: The LSAT is an elitist artifact anyway. It tests only a small number of skills and attributes that lawyers need, and it has no correlation whatsoever with one’s future success as a lawyer.

 

2. Do online lectures properly.

As long as physical distancing lasts, schools should arrange for all lectures to be video-recorded and (along with lecture notes) uploaded, so that students can access them asynchronously rather than having everyone pile in to a Zoom session. This should be done at least semi-professionally, with good audio, lighting and framing. Each lecture should be 20-30 minutes maximum. The designated course professor need not deliver them all. We need to shift away from “remote teaching” to online learning.

3. Adapt student participation.

Create online message boards with questions for students to answer and discuss among themselves; active or high-value contribution to these discussions would improve a student’s final assessment. Increase the number of assignments for students to carry out, and encourage multimedia responses (video or podcast instead of or in addition to a written submission). Assign more work to groups, using online collaboration platforms (e.g., Google Docs); if isolation is lifted, these group projects can be converted to in-person.

4. Maintain Fail/Pass/Honours.

Let’s get real for a moment. Hardly anyone ever fails a law school course or fails to graduate, so we’re really talking about “Pass/Honours.” In practical terms, that is absolutely no different from “Consonant/Vowel.” I think most professors would agree that they could divide their students into “those who did the work and learned the concepts” and “those who really stood out as brighter, harder-working, and more effective than the others.” Why do we need finer distinctions? Law school is not Grade 3; we’re past the stage of incentivizing children to try hard and do their best. We’re developing professionals to serve the needs of others. Let’s keep a system that recognizes this reality.

5. Forget the bar exam.

This is simultaneously the easiest and hardest advice. Easiest, because the bar exam is little more than “an excellent barrier to entry …and a superb hazing ritual,” in the words of Joan Howarth; it “tests the ability to take tests, not the ability to practice law,” added Allen Mendenhall. It’s archaic, discriminatory, and a waste of time. But also hardest, because the profession just can’t quit the exam, partly out of habit, partly out of fear that law school didn’t prepare students to practice, and partly no doubt because of exam prep industry pressure. The pandemic has made sitting for the bar almost impossible; take this as a sign, and an opportunity.

6. Issue “progressive” law licences.

To mollify bar exam defenders, and as a step towards a better licensure system in future, all graduates who were unable to take the bar exam should be given conditional admissions to practice with “progressive” law licenses that allow the lawyer to practice but would place limitations on, say, the types of actionable legal advice that can be dispensed to individuals. Lawyers who hold progressive licences would be equivalent to “interns” who’ve graduated from medical school but haven’t yet achieved full “doctor” status. Passing a future bar exam (or a superior procedure; see the next post) would be sufficient to convert these “lawyer learner permits” to full law licences. (Also check out the Institute for the Advancement of the American Legal System’s thoughtful discussions of new lawyer licensing options and lawyer competence assessment.)

7. Incentivize new lawyer hiring.

Governments should encourage law firms to keep hiring new law graduates by making the salaries paid to these new lawyers entirely tax-deductible for as long as the crisis lasts. Large firms can go further and split the costs (and the tax benefits) of new lawyer hiring with corporate clients, where the new hires can spend half their time. Governments should also order suspension of repayments of all student loans for this cohort of graduates, and should issue partial loan forgiveness for graduates who enter public service or who move to smaller or rural locations to practise law.

These are seven short-term steps that all the participants in the lawyer development process can take right now and over the next 18-24 months to help us through this crisis. But these measures are by nature temporary, or at best transitional, as we start shifting towards a new lawyer formation regime.

Just as we’re buying time by keeping the crippled court system functioning until we can build better justice institutions and procedures, so too the foregoing measures will help keep the “lawyer pipeline” going through the emergency while we develop something better to replace it. That’s what I consider in the next post in this series, “Lawyer formation re-engineered.”

Starting your legal career

I received an email last week from a third-year student at a Canadian law school asking for advice. He’s set to graduate next spring, but like a growing number of other soon-to-be or recent law grads, he hasn’t been able to line up an articling position. (For those unfamiliar, articling is a one-year apprenticeship period that a law graduate must complete before he or she can be called to the Bar.) He struggled in his first year of law school, and his grades reflect that; but even though he’s adjusted since then, he can’t get potential employers to look past his first set of marks, and isn’t sure what to do now.

This is not a post about all the things wrong with the articling system in Canada. There are enough news items out there with terms such as “articling crisis,” “crisis of values,” “what’s wrong with articling,” “the abolition of articling,” and “the end of articling,” that you can safely conclude the system is not in great shape. For a definitive data-driven look at these problems, especially regarding the degree to which many people’s articling experiences are scarred by sexual harassment and racial discrimination, this report from the Law Society of Alberta is a must-read.

But whatever law societies do or don’t do about articling someday, my correspondent’s concerns were far more immediate. And there are countless law school graduates in his position in many countries — unable to get a job as a first-year associate or even in a “law-related” role, terrified about imminent loan repayments they have no way to meet.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have any short-term solutions to offer my correspondent, nor did I know enough people in his jurisdiction to connect him with a network of potential employers or mentors. All I could come up with were some longer-range, bigger-picture suggestions — not what he needed today, which I regretted, but maybe something he could use shortly down the road. Having written them down, I thought they might have some value to other people in his position, and so with his permission, I’ve adapted (and anonymized) my response and provided it below:

——–

You mentioned that you have “a story to tell” potential employers, and suggested that if employers were aware of that story, it might enable them to look past the first-year marks and consider you as a candidate “whole and entire,” someone whose first-year grades don’t tell the whole story. I think that’s a great approach, and if you can fully develop that narrative, you could potentially turn this into an opportunity to stand out from the mass of other job-seekers. Here’s what I mean.

Most law students take a conventional and conservative approach to the job-search process. They participate in on-campus interviews, lead with their grades and CV, and try to convey a sense of being the best candidate for this particular interviewer. In turn, employers (or at least, the people they choose to represent them in the recruiting and hiring process) fall into the habit of expecting these kinds of pitches. So it becomes a kind of dance, a formulaic process by which A tries to interest B and B expects A to try to interest it through a limited number of established criteria.

It’s understandable that the process has evolved this way, because both law students and law firms are conservative, risk-averse entities. What student wants to take a chance at missing out on a job because they were too unconventional? Equally, what recruitment person wants to risk the wrath of the partners by recommending someone unconventional who might not work out? Better for all concerned to go with the “tried and true” signals and markers. And that’s how we end up with the mess of a system we have.

Your first-year grades are making it difficult for you to succeed in this conventional process, because they make it easy for the recruiter to glance at them and strike your application off their list. (Speaking as someone who’s hired many people, one of my goals was to find quick and easy ways to reduce the large pile of applications.) So if, in fact, the conventional process is not going to serve you, it might make sense to abandon it in favour of something less conventional, more tailored to you as an individual.

So I think the first thing you might want to do is to change your focus from “How do I get a job?” to “How do I want to begin my legal career?” I readily admit: That’s a tough shift to make, with graduation and debt looming, and it might well be that your financial circumstances won’t allow you to deviate from the norm in this respect.

But if this shift is possible, I’d encourage it, because I think that change alone is going to set you apart, in terms of your capacity to establish yourself as a successful lawyer, among the members of your graduating class. Most of your classmates have zeroed in on that “first job,” both because it’s the entry gate into the profession and because a successful first year in a law firm holds out the promise of ongoing employment. (Not to mention the whole debt payment thing.) But they’re probably not thinking much beyond that. Lawyers and law students are box-tickers, and “getting a job after graduation” is just the next box to tick.

But here’s the thing: Articling, or first-year associateship, is just one year. Your legal career, should you choose to spend most of your working life in this sector, will stretch to 30 or 40 years. I’d encourage you to think about that career: What do you think you might like to do with it, at least in the beginning? What areas of law, or what types of practice, seem best fitted to you at the moment? You don’t need to (and couldn’t, anyway) make decisions today about what you’ll be doing in 2028 or 2043 — just about the first two to four years of your working life in the law.

This line of inquiry, in turn, patches in to your own history, experiences, and personality, and this is where we get back to “your story.” Everyone’s story is unique, intertwined with what we’re passionate about, what we have an aptitude for, and what our upbringing and life experiences have shaped us to be and prepared us to do. Everyone I’ve ever met is passionate about their own story, and they can create a compelling narrative about who they are, how they got here, and what they’re good at doing.

So a question you might think about, and use to ground and guide your next moves, is: What’s your story? What’s different about you, what stands out about you, in terms of the talents you own and the skills you’ve honed and the good things you want to do with them? And once you’ve got that narrative in your mind — or ideally, written it out and run it past friends and family members for their feedback — ask yourself: “To whom would this story be of particular interest?”

These questions can’t be answered in isolation, of course — they hinge on other factors. Where do you plan to live after graduation, and for the next few years? If your narrative and your ambitions involve a particular type of practice area or industry or community or other setting, then you’ll of course factor those in as well. There might also be relationship obligations or family duties to consider. But these are part of your narrative, too — try not to regard them as restrictions or limitations, because they’re part of who and where you are right now and they have full legitimacy to be in your story formation.

The more you think along these lines, the more you can narrow and sharpen and focus in on precisely how you want your legal career to begin. And with that focus becomes a certainty and confidence that will help carry through in your applications and interviews, because you’re not just another law graduate looking for a place to draw a paycheque and start paying down debts. You know who you are and where you want to be and what you want to do — which again, I strongly suspect is a place that many graduating law students haven’t gotten to yet.

Part of the narrative you’ll form, of course, is the struggles you experienced in first year. The marks are obviously there, and you’ll be asked about them. Your best bet, I think, is to weave them into your story, as part of the journey you’ve undertaken to get to this point. And as with all good stories, it’s important to fashion this difficult period as a trial or test that you passed and came out of better and stronger: You overcame the challenges that caused your marks to be low, and emerged clearer-eyed and more focused on your goal.

What matters most here, I think, is that you select the right audiences to whom to tell this story. Your average boring office of a national law firm is probably looking for your average boring law student, and that’s fine for them. But you want to identify those places where you feel confident that you (and your narrative) are a great fit — where you’re the person they didn’t even realize they needed until they met you.

When you’ve narrowed down these places, then I’d encourage you to contact them directly — but not necessarily to ask for a post-graduation job. Instead, I’d consider positioning yourself as a bright, hard-working, self-made law graduate with a strong and well-thought-out plan for the start of your legal career, who has identified this employer as a place where you can contribute value while learning about being a lawyer.

Such employers might not have articling or first-year positions available. They might not even offer such jobs! They might not be legal workplaces at all! But if they’re persuaded of the value you can offer them — if they’ve heard from you on the phone and met you in person and have had a chance to think about how you, specifically, can help them, specifically — then maybe they could be motivated to help you get into the profession. And maybe they know someone at a small firm or in-house department nearby who’s willing to take on an articling student or first-year lawyer, just so that you can get that first step out of the way. Or they might have other options that I don’t know about.

These are all just possible points of departure for the start of your legal career. But as a resource to help you think about the career you’re going to create and the paths you’re going to carve out along the way, there’s a brand-new and highly compelling book by Mike Whelan called Lawyer Forward. It also emphasizes the importance of stories, and I highly recommend it for your review and consideration.

I wish I had more immediate solutions or more practical “right now” advice to offer. But I hope the foregoing observations might have some longer-term value for you. I’d try to lean away from “getting articles” or “getting a job after graduation” — as critically important as these goals are — and more towards “starting my legal career,”  which includes both the short-term one-year needs as well as bigger-picture, more thought-provoking goals and considerations.

It will help you figure out the kind of people and the kind of organizations where you’ll feel like you belong and where you know they’ll benefit from your contributions. And it will help you really figure out what kind of lawyer you want to be.

Should you go to law school?

“Letters! I get letters!” Well, actually, I get emails, and sometimes direct messages on LinkedIn, but the main thing is, people frequently write me with questions about what they should do in the new legal market. I respond as best I can, but I’ll give particular priority to anyone asking, as one person recently did, whether now is a good time to go to law school.

These days, that question is almost begging for a putdown — are you trying to throw your money away? And as you’ll see, especially given everything I’ve been saying about the shrinking legal profession and the steep decline in law firms’ interest in associates, my response wasn’t filled with unbridled enthusiasm for the prospect. But it’s still a question worth regularly revisiting, because nothing ages faster than conventional wisdom, and the conventional wisdom right now is that law school is a mug’s game. That has become today’s pat answer — but it doesn’t address what tomorrow’s answer might be for the class of (I can’t believe it) 2020 and beyond.

My correspondent was writing from Europe to ask whether he should accept an opportunity to attend law school in North America. As I told him right off the top, a lot depends on context. Future legal careers will vary considerably by jurisdiction, industry sector, and practice type. So my response to him was necessarily broad in scope. But I thought it had enough generally applicable value that I would reproduce it, with some edits, here.

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This is not a good time to enter law school if you’re intent on becoming a “traditional” lawyer — that is, someone who knows the law, carries out various legal functions, collects a paycheque every two weeks, and repeats the foregoing for six to ten years until partnership comes calling. That type of career is close to being on life support.

The truly elite lawyers — unparalleled expertise, tremendous advocacy skills, heavyweight presence — sure, they’ll still call their own shots and make scads of money. But there’s no way for you to know whether you’ll become that type of lawyer. The safer thing is to assume you won’t, simply because the odds are heavily against it. That’s not a knock against you — it’s simply a reflection of the fact that maybe 1 in 100 newly graduated lawyers will follow that path to a successful conclusion, and most will be as surprised as anyone that they wound up there.

It’s a better time to enter law school if you have a relatively clear vision of what you want to achieve with the law degree and where you want it to help take you. Because if there’s one change I’ve seen with regard to a law degree over the past 10 to 15 years, it’s the evolution of the degree from being an end in itself to being a means to an end.

When I entered law school in 1990, to the extent I had any effective vision of why I was doing so (which I didn’t really), I viewed a law degree as an asset that, once obtained, I could immediately put to use by being hired somewhere to work as a lawyer. I don’t think you should rely on that outcome anymore.

Obtaining a law degree to help you get somewhere specific, though — eyes wide open and fixed on the prize you want — that makes a lot more sense to me. If it’s your goal to acquire a specific type of position within a particular industry or government sector, and you’ve concluded (with some evidentiary support) that a law degree is both a qualification and an experience that will help you get there, then it’s a much better bet. That’s a law degree worth pursuing — a stepping stone towards a larger goal that you’ve set for yourself and that you reasonably believe, because of your other qualifications and assets, you can achieve.

If you don’t have a specific life goal in mind, though, or if you’re set on engaging in the private practice of law regardless of what form it takes in future — well, on balance, I’d still endorse obtaining a law degree, so long as each of the following criteria are met:

1. The financial cost of the degree won’t crush you, now or later. Basically, if you can afford the risk that you could sink $150,000 (more or less — in some cases, way more) into something from which you’ll never derive much value, then sure, go for it. Bursaries and scholarships aren’t a solution unless they cover about half of all your costs — otherwise, they function more as enticements to enrol in a system that has a very loose connection between qualification and employment. It’s true that some legal education providers are trying to reform the system, and we should support those efforts; but it’s also true that many law schools have decided they’re okay with being training grounds for the already elite, and they assume at this point that you know this as well. So if you simply can’t afford the risk that this investment won’t more than pay for itself, act accordingly.

2. You’re bringing something to law school other than intellect and enthusiasm. My 23-year-old self brought nothing to law school beyond those two qualities, and I was finished as a practicing lawyer within 18 months of graduation. And that was back in the 1990s, when even halfway-decent law graduates could wind up on a six- to seven-figure partnership track. Try that today, and you’ll be a statistic before you know it. But if you’re older, if you’ve already acquired some skills and qualifications, if you’ve got first-hand experience managing or running a business or organization, or if you can use a law degree to amplify your existing assets in a known direction, then it’s worth pursuing. This is especially the case if you have technology, systems, or engineering skills — you will be in serious demand, and not just by law firms.

3. You’re truly flexible about what you might end up doing. It’s a myth that “you can do anything with a law degree.” But I think a slightly alternative take on the old saw applies: “A law degree can lead you almost anywhere.” A good legal education, in addition to providing you with some marketable knowledge and skills, should also set you up to pursue myriad paths in life. This is especially true now that a wide range of new legal careers is opening up. Recognize that “practising law” represents only a sliver of the many legal employment options that will be available to you from 2020 to 2060, and that many of the “alternatives” will wind up being more engaging and fulfilling than you might currently imagine. And if your path takes you outside the legal industry altogether, well, that’s fine too. A law degree should change your mind about some important things and set you looking, if not travelling, in unexpected directions.

That last point is important. There’s still pedagogical and intellectual value in a law degree, and while tallying up the very real costs and risks of obtaining that degree, it’s also important to weigh on the other side of the scale the equally real rewards that a legal education, properly delivered and properly received, can provide. And that brings me to a final argument in favour of going to law school: We need more good people to be lawyers.

I’m convinced that from a business perspective, the role of the lawyer will change profoundly in the years to come. But I’m equally certain that from a societal perspective, the importance of lawyers will not change at all — unless it’s to become even more pronounced. Every few decades, during a moment of crisis, society remembers why it really has lawyers: to protect the rule of law and advance the cause of human dignity. Society calls on lawyers to do that every so often, and it’s really, really important that enough good people become lawyers that we can respond in sufficient numbers. I’m not saying the legal profession deserves all these good people — I voiced my concern more than five years ago that the profession has squandered its inheritance in this respect — but we need them all the same.

Now, if you’re reading this, and the thought of defending the rule of law at a moment of crisis bores you, then please, go become a hedge fund manager or something, where you can rake in money and prestige until the day the revolution comes. But if the prospect instead stirs in you a feeling of urgency and purpose, if you feel drawn to a profession that will offer a broad spectrum of engaging activity but is rooted in a single unifying mission — and you can somehow afford the risks involved in getting there — then please sign up. We need you.

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Hey, you know what? All this talk of law school makes me feel like having a book sale. Start of the school year, and all that.

From now until the end of the month, or while supplies last (whichever comes first), Law Is A Buyer’s Market: Building a Client-First Law Firm is available at a 10% discount. Visit the sales page for Law Is A Buyer’s Market, proceed to the checkout, and in the “Discount Code” slot, enter “SEPT”. The discount does not apply to bulk orders of 10 or more copies, for which reduced prices are already available.

Disrupting the legal education marketplace

Are you old enough to remember when the only way you could send a letter or a package to someone in another city was through the Post Office? Do you remember what it was like to deal with the employees and policies of a company that had a complete monopoly on a vital service? Remember how much you enjoyed that?

Are you also old enough to remember when the only way you could phone someone in another area code was through long-distance services provided by your local telephone monopoly or duopoly? And how you had to wait and call after 6 pm to get a discounted rate, or after midnight for an even steeper discount? How did that work for you?

It’s easy to forget how much technology and globalization have changed and improved our everyday experiences in the last few decades. Today, we take companies like Fedex and Skype for granted. We have trouble picturing a world — a very recent world — in which there was no Ikea, no Amazon, no Samsung, no Starbucks, no SouthWest. You don’t have to use these companies or like their products to recognize that their arrivals changed the markets they entered, created more choice, forced the incumbents to lower their prices or raise their games or change their offerings or all three. And I can presume that you wouldn’t go back to those old, narrow, barren markets unless forced at gunpoint.

Now, take that frustrating, constraining, 1970s-malaise feeling you recall from the old days, and apply it to legal services. Because that’s the way many people and businesses still experience the legal market: one type of provider, one set of rules and procedures, one definition of adequate service. But that’s all about to change:  our cozy little market is opening up, and new players are entering.

These new players, like the Ikeas and Southwests that entered other markets before them, will undermine clients’ existing assumptions about how legal products and services should be created, priced and delivered, and they will find many willing customers desperate for a breath of fresh air. This isn’t really negotiable or reversible. All that’s left for us to decide, as lawyers, is whether we want to wind up as the future equivalent of the Post Office in a FedEx world.

Now, here’s the better news for lawyers: there’s a growing chance that we could experience the same kinds of consumer benefits arising from the opening and expansion of another dusty, moribund market: legal education.

As you know, for all practical purposes, there is one and only one route into the legal profession: a law school degree and a Bar-administered admission process. The degree goes by different names (e.g., Bachelor of Laws, Juris Doctor) and so does the admission process (e.g., articling, Bar exam, solicitor training, Bar admission course). But the basic structure is universal and hasn’t changed for decades: three years of law school followed by a competence assessment that, in most (but not all) cases, is not especially difficult to pass.

The practicing Bar’s unhappiness with the legal education system has been thoroughly documented. But the Bar also has no one to blame but itself. By allowing a law degree to stand as the exclusive means of legal education credentialing, the legal profession has also created a monopoly that works against its own interests. If you want to become a lawyer, you must first go to law school. Legal educators, gifted with sole possession of an extremely lucrative and perennially increasing market, have responded exactly as you would expect any monopolist to respond: jacking up prices, fending off change, and ensuring their own nests are comfortably lined. (Before you start feeling too resentful about that, go back and read the fourth paragraph again.)

Law schools, of course, are currently in the process of watching their pleasure domes start to crack and crumble. Thanks in large part to recessionary forces and changes to the way law firms hire and use associates, US lawyer employment has imploded, and law schools are paying the price. You could argue — I won’t, at least not strenuously — that this is unfair to the schools: they didn’t cause the changes to the market, and if anything, they’re doing a slightly better job preparing students for practice today than they did 10 and 20 years ago. Not that that will help them now — there’s an old saying that when you sow the wind, you reap the tornado.

Anyway, the most recent US law school data is remarkably grim: as you’ve probably read, applications to ABA-accredited law schools are down 20% from 2012 and are on track to nosedive 38% since 2010. If you go back to 2004, the drop is an astonishing 50%. This has hit the legal academy like a hand grenade tossed through a window: Paul Campos has been tracking the resulting panic and shrapnel for several months now.

The problem has become large and serious enough to have caught the attention of the mainstream press: The New York Times, The Atlantic, Forbes and The Daily Beast have all picked up the story, coverage that is just going to accelerate the race away from law school enrolment. I issued a “sell” advisory on law schools 20 months ago, and nothing that’s happened since has changed my mind. (Smart schools still interested in saving themselves should read Bill Henderson’s Blueprint, today.)

That, obviously, is the bad news. The good news is that this market disruption, like every other, can create opportunities for new players and new models. Here are a couple that you should note and encourage.

In England & Wales, now widely recognized as the world’s legal laboratory, apprenticeship is poised to make a comeback in the professions. “At the moment, to become qualified as a solicitor, accountant or in insurance, the typical route involves three years at university, then on-the-job training and professional qualifications,” wrote Skills Minister Matthew Hancock in the Telegraph. “But university is not for everyone. There is no reason why you can’t attain the same qualifications, without the degree, starting on-the-job training in an apprenticeship from day one. So I want apprenticeships spanning craft, technical and professional jobs that open up work-based routes to the top.” The minister cited approvingly an apprenticeship program under development at BPP Law School, which has close ties to the profession.

Now, if you’ve been reading my work for a while, you’ll know that I think highly of apprenticeship, and that I wrote a few years ago about some promising apprenticeship programs at a handful of US law firms. (Here’s the paper I submitted to a Georgetown Law symposium on the subject.)  I imagined and hoped that this was a trend that would take off in a recessionary climate; it did not. But that was apprenticeship as a training method for new lawyers; we’re now talking about apprenticeship as a non-school route into the profession.

Hardly anyone takes that path anymore; but if it could be revived, ideally complemented with a mini-degree that provided grounding in the essentials of jurisprudence and legal theory, then law schools would have more on their hands than just a PR nightmare and a shrinking inventory: they would have competition. And unlike those first two factors, which will spawn only destructive outcomes, competition can and should be constructive for schools. Competing models that threaten to siphon off the best applicants would spur schools to make real changes in their approach to the market — it would give them a target to focus on and a framework within which to reconfigure and rebuild.

Nobody wants law schools to disappear; we want law schools to thrive — but on their merits. Putting a viable alternative up against law schools would motivate them to reconsider their own models, defend their own visions of lawyer preparation, or adapt their approaches to more closely resemble what the successful options offer. Complaining about law schools didn’t work; trying to regulate them won’t work; and putting them out of business is pointless. So give them competition: unleash alternatives that can give them a run for their money, and let them fight their way out of this mess.

A similar sort of innovation may be unfolding here in Canada, which it seems fair to say is not widely recognized as the world’s legal laboratory. But the Law Society of Upper Canada in Ontario has recently done something which could be just as bold, in its own way, as the UK’s move towards apprenticeship.

Law graduates cannot be admitted to the Bar in Canada until they’ve completed a year of articling — itself a form of apprenticeship with a practicing lawyer or law firm. More than a few US commentators have envied this approach and suggested its adoption in the US (or the British solicitor trainee program or German Referendarzeit). But articling in Canada is itself the subject of ongoing controversy, and in Ontario, articling placement — which used to be all but automatic — is now down to about 85%. That’s a problem that the US bar, facing a 55% new-lawyer law-related employment rate, would love to have.

In Ontario, however, concern about the articling crisis led to heated debates and finally, late last year, to the approval of a pilot-project Law Practice Program that would run parallel to articling and provide an avenue to those who cannot land articling positions. The program is not, shall we say, universally popular, and at this extremely early stage, it’s almost entirely speculative anyway. But I think it’s tremendously important nonetheless, for much the same reason as I think the possibility of apprenticeship is important: it creates competition for new lawyer training.

Up until now, articling in Canada has, in a sense, enjoyed a monopoly, in much the same way that law schools and lawyers have. There is only one “apprenticeship” method, one training route, for Canadian bar admission, and that’s the articling process. Knowing this, many Canadian law firms have felt free to offer articling positions without having to worry very much, if at all, about the quality of those positions. All they really had to concern themselves with was the provision of a competitive salary; it was accepted wisdom among lawyers and law graduates alike that the articling experience itself would always be uneven, and that whether you really learned much about being a lawyer would be partly a matter of your own efforts and partly the luck of the draw.

Now, introduce the Law Practice Program into this mix. Suddenly, articling programs can’t afford to be complacent, because now there’s another training option. Providers of the Law Practice Program (it’s envisioned that there would be several) can pitch themselves to the law student market thus: “Law firms won’t really train you to be lawyers, you know. They’ll have you photocopying and doing grunt work and picking up drycleaning. But we will train you, through competitive work placements and practical role-play sessions and other cutting-edge methods for inculcating business skills. We will give you the tools to be employable upon graduation.”

These providers will have to offer and deliver these kinds of benefits, because that’s the only way they’ll be able to make money. In order to attract candidates — and, much more importantly, to produce graduates attractive to employers — they will need to build a training program superior to articling (and based on some reported articling experiences, that might not be terribly difficult). They will have to do more than just be a consolation pathway for students who couldn’t find articles — they’ll have to persuade law graduates of all stripes that their programs are as good as or better than articling and are worth the investment.

And if they succeed — well, then suddenly, we have a race. New lawyer training stops revolving around the tired old question of “Whose responsibility is it?” that we’ve been grappling with for ages. It becomes a question of “Who wants the opportunity?” Which training option is better for new law grads? Which can deliver the best results? Which can draw the best students into their programs and produce the best subsequent employment rates? A market filled with new lawyer training options, competing with each other to attract law graduates into their program, would have many ramifications — the likely end of standard paid training for new lawyers almost certainly among them — but the overall impact on the profession would be highly positive.

That’s why I think the Law Practice Program for the Ontario legal profession has the potential to be a game-changer, and why the suggestion of an apprenticeship route into the British profession is equally significant. Our legal education and admission methods have grown stagnant because they are monopolies, no different from the post office or phone companies of the past. Break up those monopolies — open up these markets and let in some sunshine and fresh air — and you’ll have the first real opportunity for serious reform and improvement in the new lawyer development process.

And if it all breaks right, then just like with mail and long-distance calls, no one will want to go back to the old days again.

Jordan Furlong delivers dynamic and thought-provoking presentations to law firms and legal organizations throughout North America on how to survive and profit from the extraordinary changes underway in the legal services marketplace. He is a partner with Edge International and a senior consultant with Stem Legal Web Enterprises.