An Oath for the Profession: What Do We Owe Each Other?Author(s): Joseph A. Greenaway Jr.Source: Litigation, Vol. 35, No. 1, JUST DESERTS (Fall 2008), pp. 3-4, 71Published by: American Bar AssociationStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/29760688 .

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From the Bench

An Oath for the Profession:

What Do We Owe Each Other?

"For unto whomsoever much is given of him shall be much required."

Luke 12:48

For much of our nation's history, lawyers have learned their profession through apprenticeships. It has been the obliga? tion and the challenge of experienced lawyers to act as mentors. We have all heard the stories of Abraham Lincoln and other early lawyers learning at the feet of those more skilled and experi? enced. The process of learning and men?

toring is continuous and extends to those who are fortunate enough to serve in the

judiciary. When I took the oath of office in Sep?

tember 1996,1 thought I was prepared for the job of being a federal judge?presid? ing over trials, making rulings, deciding dispositive motions, and writing opin? ions. This is, so I thought, the nuts and bolts of it. But what I was not prepared for, candidly, is our role as teachers, both in the profession and in our community. I quickly learned that the civics lessons

taught to every generation, including mine, were now a part of my job descrip? tion. Visits to the courthouse by students from first grade up to the third year of law school are commonplace. Students

drop by, often unannounced, eager to

by Joseph A. Greenaway, Jr. U.S. District Court Judge

District of New Jersey

learn firsthand, from a "real" judge, what

judges do and how they do it. Although I was somewhat intimidated at first, I soon began to welcome these visits as a

respite from the sometimes solitary work of a district judge. I found that I relished

talking about our Founding Fathers, the Constitutional Convention, the Supreme Court, recent trials, and everyone's obsession: sentencing.

During these encounters with stu?

dents, their teachers, and the eager par? ent chaperones, I have heard a persistent theme in their questions and comments about the reputation of lawyers, the

unpleasantness of what lawyers do, and, generally, the public's perception? often negative?of the profession. Hopefully, I have dispelled some of the

negativity and distrust, but it did make me ponder: What roles do we have as federal judges, in court as well as in the

community at large? Our role as mentor to each of

our clerks is a hallowed one. In our

profession, this relationship is as close to the original concept of apprenticeship as still exists in the law. Our clerks now

learn, as I had during my own clerkship with the late Vincent Lyons Broderick, by doing and observing. I try to give my law clerks as complete an education in the practical side of judging as possible.

We visit other courtrooms and judges. My clerks go to lectures and speeches (of my own, which they cannot escape, and those of more notable orators). Law?

yers from varying areas of practice visit

my chambers to share their experiences and expertise. But more important than these encounters is my attempt to pro? vide guidance on how to treat litigants, lawyers, court personnel, and everyone

with whom we come in contact in the courthouse.

My own experience in the cham? bers of Judge Broderick was extremely instructive. Judge Broderick was not

loquacious, but the lessons I learned in his chambers about respect, the pursuit of excellence, and attention to detail are ones I still contemplate and embrace.

Although I have refrained from belting out Aretha Franklin's famous anthem, much to the delight of everyone in cham? bers, the message?respect?does leave

an indelible mark.

Litigation Fall 2008 Volume 35 Number 1

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As my clerks progress through their

clerkship, invariably there is some men? tion of, or allusion to, civility. The dis? cussion usually goes something like?"I can't believe that the lawyers said ..." Or "Judge, why would an attorney who knew that 4X' wasn't true attest to it

anyway?" Or "Judge, the papers allude to a deposition where the attorney did 'Y' ... Do lawyers really do this?"

We, as jurists, have fielded these

questions from our law clerks, interns, or law students innumerable times.

Invariably, we smile and tell one of our stories (hopefully brief and poignant or hysterically funny and poignant) to

bring the point home. Recently, I chal?

lenged myself to do better. In the public's view, there was a

time when the status of practicing lawyers rivaled (or in centuries gone by, surpassed) that of doctors. Today, of course, many believe and think the worst of our profession. There are myr? iad reasons for this state of affairs, but it is in some measure caused by our treat?

ment of one another. Much has been written about civility and profession? alism. It is not my intent to add to the

scholarly writings that occupy our legal periodicals.

My own view is that the beginning of this journey to respect lies with our oath as lawyers. I challenge any of you read?

ing this article to recite the oath you took when you were sworn into the bar. I am not embarrassed to say, frankly, that the exact words do not come to mind. Yet, if asked, we all know the crux of the

Hippocratic Oath: Do no harm. This observation provided me with

the idea for the message that I deliv? ered at the commencement address of Cardozo School of Law in June 2006. I focused on what I thought would be an oath the students would more readily remember, recite, and live to uphold? that is, one that they spoke not roboti

cally or formulaically, but one that they made to each other, for all 5,000 guests to hear, digest, and dissect.

The exhilaration of having crafted a different and, hopefully, meaningful oath was quickly replaced by trepida? tion: Suppose the students refused to take the oath? I was somewhat comforted by

my law clerk's astute comment: "Judge, are you kidding?" Having allayed my concerns, this is my address. I hope it

ignites a discussion in your own courts about what our mentees in the law owe to each other and to our profession.

Commencement Address

My remarks today are focused on one main theme: commitment. As each of you leaves Cardozo, you are not only embarking on a new life adventure, but also on a new set of commitments. These commitments are similar to the ones many of you have taken in your religious lives. In the Christian faith, a common right of passage is confir? mation?a personal affirmation of an

understanding of the Christian life and a

personal promise or commitment to fol? low that life.

Many of you here enjoyed or endured a similar journey when you had a bar mitzvah or bat mitzvah. You became a son or daughter of obligation. You learned and understood all of the accor? dant obligations and responsibilities of

your faith. Confirmations and bar mitzvahs cul?

minate in ceremony and affirmation. Each reflects an understanding of the

solemnity of the occasion and what is

required going forward. These commit? ments endure.

This ceremony today?commence? ment?is your rite of passage into your legal life. You are now sons and daugh? ters of obligation to our profession. The

question I'd like to discuss with you today is what should be the nature of that commitment?

During the graduation ceremony from medical school, graduating doctors com? mit themselves to the profession by tak?

ing the Hippocratic Oath. As I reflected on my remarks, I thought, what is it that we ask of our law graduates on this occa? sion when they commence their profes? sional life? To be sure, there is more serious work to be done?study, the bar, the job?which is why now is the appro? priate time to reflect and commit.

The modern version of the Hippocratic Oath no longer swears to Apollo, the phy? sician. Now, in plain terms, the oath sets forth the moral and professional obliga? tions of all those who swear to it. I chose the Hippocratic Oath as a point of com?

parison today because I believe it takes a more humane and practical approach to the life-long obligations and respon? sibilities that doctors have and that we, as members of the bar, should consider

and, I believe, embrace.

The first covenant reads:

I will respect the hard-won sci? entific gains of those physicians in whose steps I walk, and gladly

share knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow.

The essence of this covenant is the obli?

gation to remember the past, but, more

important, to remember that each doctor

is, and shall always remain, a teacher.

Although our profession's history in these United States has been to learn law, in large measure, through apprenticeship until the twentieth century, that method of training is long gone. My friend, Peter Hurst, who sits among you today, loves to tell anyone who will listen that I learned the law at his feet, much like Plato learned at the feet of Socrates, but that is not exactly what I mean. Should not each of us, as we progress, make a

commitment to each other and the pro? fession to help train, inform, elucidate, warn?if necessary?those who come

after us? Much of what I see in the way of dis?

ciplinary matters before our court are the

type of matters that evidence a lack of care, attention to detail, or simply a lack of knowledge of the law. These types of travails could be easily addressed through

mentors guiding the uninitiated through the vicissitudes of practice. Are we our brother's keeper, to evoke a hackneyed phrase? Perhaps not, but a vital part of each lawyer's growth, not solely as a new

lawyer, is to be both mentor and men tee. This type of obligation to our fellow

attorneys should be part of our vow to the

profession, whether spoken or not. The last two covenants of the Hippo

cratic Oath are, in my view, worthy of reflection here:

I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human

beings, those of sound mind and

body as well as the infirm.

If I do not violate this oath, may I

enjoy life and art, respected while I live and remembered with affection thereafter. May I always act so as to

preserve the finest traditions of my calling and may I long experience the joy of healing those who seek

my help.

As I reflected on this portion of the

Hippocratic Oath?its meaning and breadth?it enunciates a commitment more broad than we envision or employ

(Please turn to page 71)

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From the

Beneh (Continued from page 4)

as our own in the legal profession. When each of you is sworn in as a

member of the bar, you will be asked to take a version of the following oath:

I do solemnly swear that, to the best of my knowledge and ability, I will

support and defend the Constitu? tion of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and that I will bear true faith and

allegiance to the same; that I make this obligation freely, without any

mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I demean myself as an attorney at law of this court, uprightly and according to law. So

help me God.

The crux of the oath is your vow, our

vow, to support and defend the Consti? tution of the United States. The corner? stone of our republic is, of course, our Constitution. It has been the life blood of our country since 1789 and remains so today. There is no more sacred vow that each of us could make. But should we ask more of ourselves as we make our foray into professional life?

Some commentators have referred to

lawyers as the gatekeepers of society's morality. After all, many of the dream? ers who helped conceive this nation were indeed lawyers. Then as now, we

lawyers have helped to shape the moral and political discourse in our country? what is right or wrong, ultimately, what is legal or not.

As we contemplate this role in our

society, should we frame our commit? ment and obligations more broadly, more akin to the Hippocratic Oath? What is particularly striking about the Hippo? cratic Oath is its focus on the humane.

Imagine our own profession if each of us required of ourselves that we must remember and act upon "the spe? cial obligations we have to all of our fellow human beings," not just those with whom we share the relationship of

attorney-client. We toil in a profession where the best

and the brightest work on the most com?

plex problems of those who can afford

our talents, rather than those that need us most. We merely suggest consideration of others, but never require more.

What a revolutionary notion it would be if lawyers as a profession contem?

plated: "[enjoying] life and art, as well as the respect of one's neighbors."

The last sentence of the oath is the most telling. "May I always act so as to

preserve the finest traditions of my call?

ing and may I long experience the joy of

healing those who seek my help." No one would quarrel with the notion

that we should preserve the finest tra? ditions of our calling: truth, justice, fairness.

But what of the notion of the joy of

healing? When was the last time you spoke to someone in our profession and the term "joy" was used at all? For me, it's been quite some time, but who can

change that? Only we can. The joy in our profession comes from

pursuing an area of practice we love. There appears to be some empirical basis for this as well. Recently, I came across a discussion of a soon-to-be pub? lished work?the Cambridge Handbook

of Expertise and Expert Performance by Professor Anders Ericsson of Florida State University. He studied experts in scores of fields. One of the conclusions the study reached, examining people who excelled, was that when it comes to choosing a life path, you should do

what you love, because if you don't love

it, you are unlikely to work hard enough to become very good.

Believe it or not, I started as many of you did: my father telling me that I should be a doctor. I thought about it but chose law. He's forgiven me since then, and your parents will forgive you, too. But seriously, I have been very for? tunate in my career as a law clerk, asso?

ciate in a large New York firm, federal

prosecutor, in-house counsel, and now

federal judge. I have always enjoyed myself and the practice of law. Commit

yourself to those areas of practice that

you think you'll love, or at least like, and you too can find joy.

Our greatest conundrum as lawyers is attempting to balance the practical considerations of remuneration, fam?

ily, time, and joy. As you make your career choices and think of that bal? ance in your life, think of the path less taken. Professional fulfillment may be there for you. You may have to look

more carefully and choose more wisely, but focus on what is important: What is

my commitment to my profession and

myself? Who am I helping? Do I love what I'm doing?

You may be asking, do I suggest that we, as lawyers, take the Hippocratic Oath? Of course not, but let me suggest that, with these principles in mind, each of you, members of the Class of 2006, stand and repeat the following oath with

me and to one another.

Oath to One Another "I do solemnly swear that I shall be

civil to my colleagues at the bar, con? duct myself honorably with clients, the court, and all whom I come in contact

with, as a member of the bar, and that I shall uphold the great traditions of the bar to act as a teacher and mentor to those who come after me and to never

forget that the essence of the practice of law is the pursuit of truth, justice, and fairness."

Please take your seats.

My mother always told me to be a

leader, not a follower. As we part today, and you commence your professional lives, keep these words from the Tal?

mud in mind: "In every age, there comes a time when leadership suddenly comes forth to meet the needs of the hour. And so there is no man who does not find his time, and there is no hour that does not have its leader."

Class of 2006, this is your time to lead. Good luck. Thank you very

much.

Post-Speech Reflection After I gave this speech, much to my

genuine amazement, I found that the oath worked. Law graduates, parents, administrators, practitioners, and stu?

dents all commented positively on the oath. They all felt a connection with the words and the import of these words.

Frankly, the comments were flattering. But the sense that everyone participated in a communal experience reflecting on our commitment to the profession, our

craft, and one another was far more

important to me.

We in the profession of law are

among those to whom much has been

given. The questions each of us must ask as we progress in our careers is

what are we doing to learn of truth, justice, and fairness from those who came before us, and how shall we teach these lessons to those who come after us? Passing on these lessons is the most

important obligation we share. Q

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