The quiet strain of the law, inside and outside the courtroom

The law is often described as a noble calling. It upholds order, resolves disputes and gives voice to rights. In Singapore, it underpins trust in institutions and confidence in the rule of law – foundations on which social cohesion and economic success depend. Yet, for those who live inside the legal system – whether as advocates in practice or advisers embedded within organisations – the profession carries a distinctive and enduring strain that is rarely acknowledged in public.

This strain does not discriminate by job title or seniority. It is felt by young associates racing against deadlines, seasoned partners managing risk across multiple clients, transactional lawyers closing deals deep into the night, and in-house counsel navigating competing commercial, regulatory and ethical demands. What unites them is not merely pressure, but prolonged exposure to conflict, uncertainty and consequence.

Law is, by its nature, a serious business. Decisions have real-world impact – on liberty, livelihoods, reputations and relationships. But seriousness, sustained over time and without adequate recognition or support, can quietly exact a psychological toll.

Pervasive pressures in practice

For lawyers in private practice, stress is visible and frequently discussed. Billable hours remain the blunt instrument by which effort and value are measured. Timelines are unforgiving, clients are anxious, and outcomes are often binary: One side wins, another loses. Mistakes can be costly, professionally and personally.

Beyond the long hours lies a subtler, less examined burden: the constant adversarial posture required by the work. To practise law well is to anticipate what might go wrong, to test every argument for weakness, and to imagine worst-case scenarios as a matter of professional discipline. Vigilance is not optional; it is the craft.

Over time, however, this way of thinking can harden into habit. Risk sensitivity can spill beyond the workplace, shaping how lawyers assess everyday decisions, relationships and even themselves. The mental reflex to search for fault. Exposure or downside does not always switch off at the end of the day. I know, as I have been down that path.

The profession has long valourised stoicism in the face of such demands. Resilience is assumed, even expected. Yet endurance, when unaccompanied by reflection or renewal, can give way to fatigue and detachment.

The complexity of in-house roles

In-house lawyers are sometimes assumed to enjoy a gentler professional life. Freed from billable hours and external client pressures, they are often perceived as having found a more sustainable path. The reality, however, is more complex.

In-house counsel sit at the intersection of law, business and governance. They are expected to be strategic partners, risk managers and, at times, the institutional conscience. Unlike external advisers, they rarely have the luxury of distance. They are part of the organisation whose risks they must manage and whose crises they must help contain.

Stress in this setting is driven less by volume than by ambiguity. In-house lawyers must balance legal prudence against commercial urgency, often with incomplete information and under intense time pressure. Saying “no” may be legally sound but commercially costly; saying “yes” may unlock value but create long-term exposure. Each recommendation carries personal accountability, even when authority ultimately lies elsewhere.

There is also a quieter loneliness to the role. In-house lawyers are frequently the bearers of unwelcome news – warnings of regulatory pitfalls, compliance failures or reputational harm. They may be welcomed for solutions, but rarely for caution. Over time, this dynamic can foster isolation, alongside a persistent sense of being “on”: always alert, always responsible, yet often invisible until something goes wrong.

Living with other people’s problems

Underlying both paths is a deeper challenge intrinsic to legal work itself. To be involved in law is to be continuously immersed in other people’s problems. Lawyers encounter conflict at its rawest: broken relationships, financial distress, corporate failure, personal wrongdoing. Even in commercial settings, the work revolves around risk allocation and loss prevention.

Success, in many cases, is defined not by what is created, but by what is avoided. The best outcome is often the absence of harm – a dispute averted, a crisis contained, a liability managed. This negative framing, while necessary, can shape how lawyers measure meaning and achievement.

From early training, many lawyers learn to suppress emotion, to maintain professional distance, to equate vulnerability with weakness. Emotional armour is functional in moments of crisis. But when worn continuously, it can become corrosive. Burnout, anxiety and depression are not aberrations within the profession; they are structural risks embedded in how legal work is organised and rewarded.

A Singapore context

Lawyers in Singapore are not immune to these pressures. As the legal sector grows more sophisticated and competitive, expectations continue to rise. Clients demand speed and certainty in an uncertain world. Regulatory complexity increases. Technology accelerates pace without diminishing responsibility.

At the same time, cultural norms still place a premium on quiet endurance and professional composure. Conversations about mental strain have become more common, but stigma has not disappeared. Many lawyers continue to struggle in silence, unsure whether speaking up will be perceived as weakness or lack of commitment.

This is not merely an individual concern. The sustainability of the profession matters to the quality of justice, governance and corporate decision-making. A legal community that is intellectually strong but emotionally depleted cannot serve society best.

Beyond hours and wellness slogans

How do we address this? The response cannot be limited to clocking fewer hours or attending more wellness programmes, important as these are. What is required is a more honest reckoning with the nature of legal work itself.

The profession must acknowledge that constant exposure to conflict has psychological consequences, and that resilience is not simply an individual virtue but an organisational responsibility. Law firms, legal departments and institutions shape behaviour through what they reward, tolerate and model.

This means rethinking how success is defined and measured. It means leaders demonstrating sustainable behaviour, not merely advocating it. It means creating environments where lawyers can speak candidly about strain without fear of stigma or professional cost. And it means equipping lawyers – from their early training (as undergraduates and legal interns) onwards – with tools to manage not only legal risk, but also emotional load.

These are not concessions to weakness. They are investments in judgment, clarity and long-term effectiveness.

The law will always be demanding. Its seriousness is inseparable from its purpose. But demanding need not mean depleting.

A profession that prides itself on foresight and balance should (and must) apply the same wisdom inward, recognising that those who carry the weight of the law must themselves be supported. Only then can the law remain not just a discipline of rules, but also a humane vocation – one that serves society without quietly eroding those who serve it.

Jeffery Tan has practised in local and international law firms. He is currently group general counsel of Jardine Cycle & Carriage and serves on several boards including the Global Guiding Council of One Mind At Work and the SGListCos Council.

Source: The Straits Times © SPH Media Limited. Permission required for reproduction.

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