If we are expected to learn the practice of law through a series of Teams and Zoom logins, what kind of lawyers will we become? Attorney Diego Rosette makes the case for showing up in the Zoom era.
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I attended law school in the middle of the Zoom era. My first year was fully remote. Our sections were collections of faces on a screen. Lectures were piped through laptop speakers. Hands were raised with the click of a button. The awkward, unmuted conversations were a guarantee, and the Socratic method gave way to breakout rooms.
Once I became a baby lawyer, much remained the same — despite the return to “normal.” Motion calendar hearings were reminiscent of those law school lectures, with dozens of anonymous faces popping up on the screen. At first, I thought this was simply the nature of modern practice: efficient, time-saving and forward-looking. More senior attorneys with real experience seemed content with this new reality, so who was I, as a first-year attorney, to question the way things were done?
For Young Lawyers, In-Person Proceedings Are Essential
But two years in, I’ve come to realize how much we’re missing — and how much the profession itself is at risk of losing — by normalizing this new paradigm. Notwithstanding the civilization-altering events of 2020, the practice of law was never meant to be virtual.
Law practice is an intrinsically human endeavor — like sports, cooking or theater. And for those of us just starting out, in-person proceedings aren’t nostalgic traditions; they are essential to becoming real lawyers.
For me, the shortcomings of this Zoom era first became apparent in my communications with opposing counsel. From the onset, it became clear how much ruder, more unpleasant and more combative some of us (by no means all, not even most) can become behind a screen. The same tensions that plague our politics, media and culture are exacerbated by the nature of online discussions, which often encourage futile antagonism. It’s easy to transform into a keyboard warrior when shielded by the anonymity of a screen, and in practice, the result is a sad demise of civility and collegiality.
Conversely, when sitting in a room across from opposing counsel, we’re forced to measure our words and learn restraint.
It’s hard to interrupt or grandstand when we’re staring someone in the eyes or discussing a contentious issue in person. The rules of civil procedure and general courtroom decorum incentivize respect, and as a young lawyer raised in the era of Twitter, TikTok and YouTube, learning how to put that civility into practice seems more important than ever.
The Zoom Era Will Not Teach Us How to Become Lawyers
The common trope is that law school doesn’t teach you how to become a lawyer. It might teach you how to become a jurist or a scholar, but not an attorney. Similarly, the Zoom era — notwithstanding its undeniable benefits — will not teach the next generation how to become lawyers. In my admittedly limited time practicing, I’ve come to think of the profession as a craft that requires years of methodical, careful and dedicated practice to master. I’m eager to learn more about this craft. However, I don’t think it can be learned via a textbook or a screen. It must be honed over lunch with opposing counsel, through an in-person deposition, during an in-person evidentiary hearing, or while in trial.
I vividly remember my first in-person deposition. It took place in a stuffy conference room in Boca Raton. The deponent had issues with hearing, the air conditioning was a little too cold, my voice was shaky and opposing counsel knew I didn’t quite know what I was doing. It was terrifying but also exciting and formative. No Zoom window can re-create that moment. No screen can capture the rhythm of the questioning, the pause before a deponent’s responses, opposing counsel’s mannerisms, the enunciation of the objections or the demeanor of the witness. Those “firsts” have molded my experience and taught me more than any online CLE or remote deposition ever will.
At the same time, I’m constantly reminded that Zoom is more efficient.
And I get that. It saves clients money, keeps calendars clear, spares us traffic. All of that is true. But at what cost? I understand that there’s no reason to travel across the state for a five-minute motion calendar hearing. And I understand that the tertiary before-and-after witness does not need to be deposed in person. But is scheduling a two-hour summary judgment hearing remotely really about efficiency? What about a plaintiff’s or expert’s deposition?
Young Lawyers in the Zoom Era: Admins or Advocates?
If we are to learn the practice of law through a series of Zoom logins, what kind of lawyers will we become? Based on what little I know, my concern is that the profession risks creating a class of case administrators rather than advocates.
Convenience and efficiency will not make for better attorneys, Zoom will not make for better litigators, and texting will not make for more civil practitioners.
Twenty years from now, I hope to be the one mentoring the young lawyers. And come that time, I hope I’ll be able to offer more than tales of lagging feeds, faulty connections and remote mediations. I also hope I’ll have had the same experiences in the courtroom that my mentors have had — because I firmly believe that perfecting this craft boils down to showing up. In person. And it demands that the older generation afford us the same opportunities they once had.
Otherwise, we risk cultivating a generation of litigators raised on expediency, not experience.
More Articles on Surviving Zoom Culture
“Zoom Meetings Are Killing Your Productivity”
“Seven ‘Public Speaking’ Tips for Videoconferencing”
“Zoom Backgrounds: Looking Good in a Tiny Square”
“Converting ‘Resting Bitch Face’ to ‘Neutral Alert’”
“Five Ways to Boost Your Confidence with Clients, Judges and Everyone Else”
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