As no doubt many of my lawyer and educator colleagues out there, I’ve been thinking about how quickly technology has become part of the client journey in modern legal practice. I read an awful lot of literature, particularly around ethics and how AI is likely to (or perhaps already has begun to) shape ethical decision making and how we go about practising law in the modern age. I find myself frolicking down hallways of ethics and legal theory, as I try to make sense of what is before us as a profession. Naturally, of course, this article is brought to you by a thought-bubble (well, several) from one of those articles.
It was this article in the UNSW Law Journal on Reflections on the Connection of Virtue Ethics to Therapeutic Jurisprudence by Adrian Evans and Michael King ((2012) 35(3) UNSW Law Journal 717) that prompted this reflection. The authors explain that Therapeutic Jurisprudence (TJ) is a framework where laws are thought to have a therapeutic (or otherwise) effect on people and that this framework sits meaningfully alongside virtue ethics (not identical twins, they say, but fraternal).
They have a shared aim: prioritising the client.
TJ prioritises wellbeing and positive outcomes and virtue ethics prioritises ethical character and habits that promote those positive outcomes and overall wellbeing. Practically, this might look like adopting TJ principles to design empathetic and human-centered processes to reduce trauma in client meetings, alongside cultivating virtue ethics through meaningful professional development in active listening, presence, emotional intelligence, and knowing when to deter discussions until the client is ready. This article helpfully bridges the theory to the practice.
TJ is an intellectual approach to the administration of justice which emphasises that in the formulation of the law, the way in which legal processes are conducted and the actions of judges, magistrates, lawyers and other legal officials, their effect on wellbeing of those affected is an important consideration. (pg 734)
Reading this made me reflect on my won career in legal practice. Even before moving wholly into legal education, I found technology offering an immense array of ways to evolve and improve my practice; the automated intake forms, AI‑generated summaries, document automation and remote meetings. Small tech improvements were going from Send to OneNote feature here to a total replacement of workflow there.
But, what does this all mean for the human work at the heart of succession law? I’m curious (and a little uneasy, if we’re being honest) about the trade‑offs we might want to make when convenience starts to replace human curiosity and connection.
The risk is not efficiency itself. It’s the erosion of the small, human, authentic moments that reveal what really matters to a client: the pauses, the halting sentences, the tears, the contradictions, the stories they share with us. Those moments are where trust is built and where the right questions are gathered (and perhaps even answered!). When we let tech do too much of that heavy lifting without a thoughtful human‑in‑the‑loop, we risk missing grief, family dynamics, cultural nuance and the moral complexity that often determines the best legal path.
In succession law, empathy is not optional; it’s a professional tool. A checklist or an algorithm can capture assets and dates, however it cannot reliably capture shame, unresolved conflict, or the quiet priorities that shape a will. My colleague in litigation know all too well how these issues surface later and how much better they are addressed early. Worse, simulated empathy (polished templates, canned responses, or AI‑generated “compassionate” language) can feel performative and hollow, and may actually damage the relationship we’re trying to build, maintain and, ultimately, protect.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m a huge advocate for adopting appropriate technology in appropriate ways, especially where it improves the wellbeing of clients and lawyers alike. It’s the balance that fascinates me the most.
Here are a few practical guardrails I think can help us keep that balance in check:
- Using tech to as a tool to prepare, not replace: let automation handle routine data capture, then schedule a human conversation early to listen and test assumptions.
- Designing human ‘checkpoints’: build in explicit moments for open questions, silence, and reflection into every intake and meeting.
- Training for presence: practice active listening, curiosity‑driven questioning and emotional literacy in every opportunity; CPD, mentoring, supervision, all of it.
- Keeping a human escalation path: when grief, mental health or family violence appear, have clear referral and support options (for your client and yourself).
- Being transparent with clients about what tech does and does not do for their matter.
If you have read any AI guidelines in the profession, you’ll have seen the endless reminders about the importance of verifying everything. This is no different. Practitioners remain responsible for the conduct of the matter, including the outputs that are generated or supported by AI. We’ve seen these things go wrong in cases already, but many matters never reach a courtroom. These warnings apply to everyone, lawyer or non-lawyer.
I’m interested in how others balance these tensions. Have you found ways to preserve the relational core of your practice while using tech responsibly? Is this something the plays on your mind? I’d welcome examples, if anyone is willing to share, of small rituals or processes that keep empathy central.
And, while we’re at it, let me know below if you think this might be a good future episode on The Heir Waves. What questions would you like Caite and I to explore?
With kindness,
Michele
With grateful thanks. Photo by Vitaly Gariev on Unsplash.