Sunday, October 13, 2019

The Adversarial Process and Our Mental Health

Many of us became lawyers because we wanted to help people, and most, if not all, of us do just that as part of our practice. In this sense, being a lawyer can be deeply satisfying and meaningful work.

Yet, the trauma that we deal with on a regular basis can take a toll. We know it's true of other professions that engage with traumatized people and it's also true of us. We can learn a lot from first responders and healthcare professionals who struggle with similar issues.

But one aspect of the way we engage with trauma is unique to our profession, and I feel we need to think and talk about it more, as we begin the process of examining the traumatic effects of our work. When we engage with traumatic fact patterns, we aren't just there to help. We're there to help from the perspective of, and within the confines of, our particular roles in an adversarial process.

As I need not explain, our system is designed to be adversarial. There are reasons for this, as it's believed to be essential to the truth-seeking function of the justice system to have dedicated and passionate advocates on each "side." Nothing I say in this post is intended as a critique of the way the system is built. But, as advocates working within such a system, my view is that we need to, for the sake of our own wellness and effectiveness, start reflecting on, discussing, and addressing the impact it has on us to engage with such highly traumatizing subject matter (and traumatized people) in this way.

We frequently deal with extremely traumatic situations. Often, our role is a compassionate one. Whatever "side" of the process we happen to represent, acting within the constraints of our roles, we have many opportunities to directly and compassionately interact with traumatized people in some manner. Within the criminal justice system, for instance, accused persons are often deeply affected by trauma, as are many complainants and witnesses. Consequently, whatever our roles happen to be, we'll have the chance to make a positive difference in the lives of traumatized people.

Yet, regardless of which "side" we are on, the opposite is also true. Because the process is adversarial and because so many of its participants are highly traumatized (and the process itself is often focused directly on the trauma they've experienced, and can itself be inherently re-traumatizing for those involved), we will unavoidably also sometimes play a role in attempting to oppose the interests of (and thereby potentially re-traumatize) other traumatized persons. So we aren't merely passive observers or neutral "helpers" in the trauma that plays out before us: we're direct participants in its aftermath, helping some and perhaps hurting others (albeit not with any malice, and with the entirely legitimate and necessary aim of doing our duty for the interests we represent).

So all I'm saying, as someone who has been on both "sides" of the process, is that we need to recognize that there's no shame in taking note of the impact that engaging with trauma in this adversarial way has on us. It doesn't mean we aren't dedicated to our roles and to the system itself if we acknowledge that it weighs on us sometimes. And, although I can find no research addressing it (which is not surprising, since the recognition of vicarious trauma in our profession is relatively new), I can't imagine that this aspect of our work doesn't impact us in a unique way. Exposure to trauma can have a profound impact on those who are there to help or those who merely observe. But it's something we as a society are just beginning to examine and understand. When we start raising that consciousness in relation to our own profession, my view is that we need to have regard to the unique ways that plays out for us, given the nature of the system within which we work. In particular, we need to feel free to discuss those unique impacts of our work, and retain mental health professionals to examine them in our particular professional context and provide support tailor-made to address them.

I have many of my own thoughts about how this might impact us (or at least me) that I won't share now. But I'd love it if we'd discuss this more. That's the only purpose of today's post.

Comment added after the fact: Also, if there are imperfections in the system that cause it to be needlessly re-traumatizing to any participants (which I'll refrain from expressing my own views on here), then we should also explore the impact this may have on professionals required to work within the system and participate in that needless re-traumatization  (the idea of "moral injury" has been applied within the medical profession, and may also be considered here). Such imperfections may include any racial, gender, or other forms of inequality that may inadvertently be perpetuated or inadequately addressed by the system, thereby re-traumatizing those affected (as well as harming the well-being of the lawyers who have to participate in it).

Note: In the criminal law context, I'm, of course, highly aware that the prosecution (in Canada, referred to as representing "the Crown") doesn't win and lose, and in many very important senses isn't on a "side." For some discussion of the role of the Crown, see, for instance, here. I won't get into the nuances of that here. But, of course, prosecutors still have a particular role within which they act in the adversarial process, and it's in that sense that I refer to a "side." Nothing I write here should be taken as in any way detracting from the special roles and responsibilities that apply to the prosecution. I'm just oversimplifying things to enable a discussion of the impact of the adversarial process on anyone who happens to participate in it. A more nuanced discussion with the details of each particular role definitely can and should take place as part of the ongoing discussion of the impact of our particular work on our well-being.

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:  

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