Cultivating Humility to Meaningfully Address Trauma and Mental Health in the Legal Profession

I've always felt that humility is the most important attribute that decision-makers and other actors in the justice system can possess. We deal with extremely complex and difficult issues. If we assume we have the right approach the first few times we try to address these difficult issues, we're never going to accomplish meaningful change. In fact, we are going to continue to render invisible and leave behind those who don't fit our cherished narratives. And without an ongoing commitment to humility, marginalized voices will feel like a threat to us, since they suggest that, despite all our efforts, what we're accomplishing simply isn't good enough. To effect real change and include those who have been excluded, in my view, we therefore need to always be humble and never rest content with what we're already doing. We need to always be ready to hear that what we are doing isn't good enough and a commitment to the difficult process of change is still required.

The same goes for wellness and mental health in the profession. I'm not saying that we shouldn't applaud measures that are already being taken. But they just aren't enough. Not even close. And we need to never forget it.

If we insist on spending too much time and energy applauding initiatives already in progress, then we will miss out on the opportunity to learn from the profound discomfort that comes with knowing we are failing. In my view, we need this discomfort (and need the humility to be able to tolerate it) to push and inspire us to do better.

We must recognize that when we provide only relatively short-term and generalized assistance and outreach, we don't just leave behind those who have more serious and/or complex needs (e.g., some trauma survivors) or those in need of care appropriate to their cultural background or other health needs, we also inflict harm, as yet another way we send a message to those who have been marginalized and excluded that they don't belong.

In this sense, half-measures aren't just insufficient--they can cause real  harm to those who (inspired by narratives celebrating the support that's available) reach out only to be told "no, we didn't mean you." "Your needs are too complex or somehow different from the norm." "You're not what we had in mind when we designed these supports." In other words, you don't belong. If you're going to make it here, you're going to have to find your own supports. Fend for yourself or there's the door.

In this way, mental health supports that don't reflect an appreciation of the circumstances of those with more complex needs or those who are already marginalized are yet another tool of exclusion. Also, let's not forget that for someone dealing with trauma and/or mental illness, reaching out is incredibly difficult. Reaching out only to be turned away is not an acceptable outcome.

So let's be humble with every step we take. Let's get excited about what we are doing but then stop, remind ourselves of the need for humility, and ask ourselves who is being left behind and potentially even harmed by what we are doing. If the measures we are taking serve only to benefit those who are the least marginalized to begin with, then what we are doing simply isn't good enough. Let's be ready to rethink things and then do better.

Note: With respect to trauma in particular, this post was inspired by recent discussions on social media of law schools that provide counseling to students but turn away those who reach out in relation to serious trauma (e.g., sexual assault) because they will need more care than what the session limits permit. Also inspired by my experience of listening to messaging in relation to vicarious trauma that fails to acknowledge that some members of the group will have their own experiences of trauma (as I wrote about here). Also by discussion of measures such as mindfulness courses in law schools that may very well be a good thing, but not if they aren't approached in a nuanced way that takes into account and provides some protection in relation to the unique needs of those who may be present in the classroom (including but not limited to trauma survivors, who may find the exercise triggering). As referenced above, there are also issues in relation to cultural sensitivity and accessibility that I have alluded to here that must also be taken into account (which means humbly listening to voices that would otherwise be ignored).

In a general sense, I have previously written about the need to make sure appropriate supports are available when we encourage people to reach out (here) and also that we be ready to support and validate those who reach out and have a bad experience, rather than effectively "gaslight" them (here).

As always, please note that I am a lawyer, not a mental health professional of any kind. I have no expertise in trauma or mental health. Also, please note that any opinions and views expressed in this blog are solely my own and are not intended to represent the views or opinions of my employer in any way. For more information about the purpose of this blog, please see here and for a bit more information about my personal perspective on this issue, please see "my story" here

I am very grateful to have received a "Clawbie" Award for this blog (which reflects the importance of this topic): https://www.clawbies.ca/2019-clawbies-canadian-law-blog-awards/

For some of my external writing on this topic, see:  

• https://www.canadianlawyermag.com/news/opinion/a-more-inclusive-discussion-on-the-impact-of-trauma-on-lawyers-mental-health-is-needed/276166 
• https://www.cbabc.org/BarTalk/Articles/2020/February/Features/Speaking-Up-About-Trauma-and-Mental-Health    
• https://www.canadianlawyermag.com/news/opinion/changing-the-conversation/326240