Two years ago, I ambled out of the bar exams eager to put years of law school behind me. I had crammed all my education, over four Sundays, into eight bluebooks worth of essays. I was ready to put it all into practice.
It is a precious feeling, something similar perhaps to walking away from jail – literally from behind bars, pun intended. To believe, no matter how fleetingly, that the world is your oyster is simply sublime.
Before entering law school, I had already decided how I wanted to do it. When asked by professors, I said I wanted to do litigation. From what I knew then, that’s where I get to talk a lot, bring on funny retorts, battle wits. And hey, maybe bring out the drama once in a while. (“Your honor – cue exasperated sigh – this is a tragic misappreciation – throw fierce look – of the law.”)
Going to the “big firms”, as they are monickered, had no allure for me. In my formative years, my mother had been a government lawyer – as PAO in her later years – who worked not for the money, before going into solo private practice. It was largely from her, I think, that I learned how to to value experience, how to be unpretentious about lawyering.
I look back at my short career as a people’s lawyer so far and share some realizations on the ground.
1. Know where you stand.
During law school, I affiliated with a lawyers’ group that focuses on human rights cases and public interest law. I believed in the work so much, I was back at my desk the week after the bar.
There is a fine distinction between the terms up in the air for “alternative lawyering”: human rights lawyering, public interest lawyering, developmental legal aid, and our own expression, people’s lawyering . I like ours because it specifies who we work for: the people, or the 1%. This would preclude me going ala-Amal Clooney, who for the sake of human rights, argued in favor of someone notorious from the 99%. It also deliberately grounds me, when an issue is very hot at the moment and public clamor is very tempting. A people’s lawyer does not simply go guns ablazing without an organized group behind and a methodical array of options in front.
I chose this field because I always think of myself as an activist, who happens to be a lawyer. Proper perspective is important – that’s why you need to know who you are and what you want to be. Carefully study your options and your positions before committing. Attend career fairs, try the internships, read all you can about all it. Then, jump in, wholeheartedly.
2. Set your own goals.
“Mainstream” lawyering is rife with stereotypes. In the “big firms”, the young associates log in ridiculous number of hours and bury themselves in the minutiae; the olders one get to bark orders and terrorize everyone in the office. Everybody wants to be partner. There are car plans, annual trips, wine and cheese for everybody.
The “alternative” is to go mid-sized, with the same things scaled down, or to go farther down the spectrum, to lawyer for the poor and the marginalized. There’s government work that can either be cushy or miserable – maybe both at the same time – for those who genuinely believe in the gains with public service. Then, less secure and more uncertain, there’s NGO work.
Comparing yourself with others, benefits-wise, won’t get you anywhere. For sure, as I can attest, NGO work has very little monetary perks but it pays off with accelerated experience and meaningful, profound achievements. Because public interest work concerns transcending selfish interests to accommodate larger ideals, it attracts genuises and sapiophiles. Working with them is a reward on its own.
3. Be practical; find a paying job.
Being a lawyer is a profession, but it’s not a job per se. Passing the bar doesn’t automatically give you a windfall (though topping it might). Lawyers’ capacity to pay depends on the job they have. Some lawyers take the tricycle too. Some work out of internet shops. My lipstick is a trying-hard Mac dupe from Ever Bilena. It doesn’t really make too much a big difference because we arrive and appear in court all the same as the others.
To be clear, lawyering for the poor doesn’t necesarily mean you go poor yourself. In my group, our clients shell out for actual expenses, and then some. We give our intellectual work for free, at a discount, or in exchange for other things – meaning, we cooperate for the compensation. We can take on private cases or accept retainers and consultancies, as long as not against set principles. In my case, I can take on private cases as long as not for any landlord, big bureaucrat-capitalist, labor management, rapist, and so on. It is unlikely I will starve or go homeless, but for recreation and the extraneous I will have to live within my means.
4. Be clear about what’s black and white.
In this profession, there will be many many temptations. The strain of the work, along with societal perceptions, will usher in different opportunities that may be hard to decide on when the stress is all too real. As early as now, try to figure out what you would do when you find yourself in the gray area. Inappropriate behavior? Boss-subordinate fling? Sexual harassment? Lawyer-client relationship? Lawyer-client privilege? Under-the-table gifts? What if the gift is below P5,000? What if the giver is also a friend of yours? What if the court staff asks for merienda?
The world is rarely black or white. But as long as you have defined yours in the the context of family, love, religion, reputation, etc. you can better identify and rectify those moments you find yourself on the dark side.
5. Seek good mentors.
According to the roll of attorneys, there are some 70,000 (including the dead) Filipinos who have passed the bar. Find, among them, the best to emulate.
I had the awesome privilege to sit in a meeting with the late Romeo Capulong, founder of people’s lawyering in the Philippines, while still a student. (I actually just made digests of cases for the Morong 43 defense). It is an indelible memory. I now work with those who continue his legacy: Neri Colmenares, Rachel Pastores, Carlos Zarate, Jobert Pahilga, Ming Saladero, Amylyn Sato, Edre Olalia, Rey Cortez, Jun Oliva, among others.
Because I engaged myself in law school and beyond, I learned so much – and continue to learn – from the example, experience, and guidance of Chief Justice Reynato Puno, Justice Marvic Leonen, Raul Pangalangan, Beth Pangalangan, Tony La Vina, Harry Roque, Ted Te, Evalyn Ursua, Vicky Avena, among others. I seek their opinion, read what they write, or listen to what they say.
6. Work hard.
Alternative lawyering goes up against a phalanx of resources every so often. Few lawyers choose this line of work, so we find ourselves swamped with the legal and even non-legal stuff. To illustrate: in some documents, there is an explanation at the bottom that “due to lack of personnel, lack of time...” personal delivery to the other parties cannot be effected. So true. In this line of work the lawyer may have to do everything. I have found myself with one other staff member-law student at the courier on a Sunday night, so we can be ready for filing the following day. I am friends with the postal office clerks out of sheer necessity and circumstance.
When our group challenged the power rate hikes, the other side was pew-filled with coats and ties, boxes of data, research and researchers on hand. We were a scrawny bunch of fifteen, including two underbars, researchers included. Happily, our side of the room was filled by consumer groups and civil society leaders. Our detailed work on the regulatory regime and practices in the Philippines fought off the rate hikes temporarily, though there has been no final disposition.
But it is more terrifying to realize sometimes that the law itself is unfair. There are times when it’s frustrating to argue for the poor and the right, because the law is precisely designed to protect the rich and the wrong. I will always remember how one professor of mine put it evocatively: we study at the College of Law, and not the College of Justice. It implies a challenge: work hard to make them mean the same.
7. Keep on learning.
You’re only as good as your last argument – whether it was an appearance in court or your last pleading. Holmes is spot on when he says, the life of the law is experience. Forging a career is a lifelong effort.
After every release of a wrongly-detained prisoner, I cannot stop and bask long in the celebration. I pause and think – who else next? Every achievement, as well as failure, is a lesson that will be passed on and charged to collective experience.
I am fortunate to have clients so erudite and outspoken. I am humbled by interactions with sectoral leaders, and oh most especially, the political prisoners in Camp Crame and Camp Bagong Diwa. Most of them are revolutionaries who desire not only their own release, but that of everybody else from systemic oppression (whoa there). They know more about – and work against – injustice than I do.
I try my best to pay it forward by reaching out to law students, hosting interns, making contacts here and abroad. A few of them, with all good intentions, have asked me, for how long are you going to do this? For as long as I can.
So until then, hello young ones! See you in court.
Krissy Conti, a graduate of the University of the Philippines, was admitted to the bar in May 2014. She is assistant secretary general for campaigns of the the National Union of Peoples’ Lawyers (NUPL). NUPL cooperates on cases with other groups such as the Public Interest Law Center (PILC), Sentro para sa Tunay na Repormang Agrayo (SENTRA), and the Pro-Labor Legal Center (PLACE).
It is a precious feeling, something similar perhaps to walking away from jail – literally from behind bars, pun intended. To believe, no matter how fleetingly, that the world is your oyster is simply sublime.
Before entering law school, I had already decided how I wanted to do it. When asked by professors, I said I wanted to do litigation. From what I knew then, that’s where I get to talk a lot, bring on funny retorts, battle wits. And hey, maybe bring out the drama once in a while. (“Your honor – cue exasperated sigh – this is a tragic misappreciation – throw fierce look – of the law.”)
Going to the “big firms”, as they are monickered, had no allure for me. In my formative years, my mother had been a government lawyer – as PAO in her later years – who worked not for the money, before going into solo private practice. It was largely from her, I think, that I learned how to to value experience, how to be unpretentious about lawyering.
I look back at my short career as a people’s lawyer so far and share some realizations on the ground.
1. Know where you stand.
During law school, I affiliated with a lawyers’ group that focuses on human rights cases and public interest law. I believed in the work so much, I was back at my desk the week after the bar.
There is a fine distinction between the terms up in the air for “alternative lawyering”: human rights lawyering, public interest lawyering, developmental legal aid, and our own expression, people’s lawyering . I like ours because it specifies who we work for: the people, or the 1%. This would preclude me going ala-Amal Clooney, who for the sake of human rights, argued in favor of someone notorious from the 99%. It also deliberately grounds me, when an issue is very hot at the moment and public clamor is very tempting. A people’s lawyer does not simply go guns ablazing without an organized group behind and a methodical array of options in front.
I chose this field because I always think of myself as an activist, who happens to be a lawyer. Proper perspective is important – that’s why you need to know who you are and what you want to be. Carefully study your options and your positions before committing. Attend career fairs, try the internships, read all you can about all it. Then, jump in, wholeheartedly.
2. Set your own goals.
“Mainstream” lawyering is rife with stereotypes. In the “big firms”, the young associates log in ridiculous number of hours and bury themselves in the minutiae; the olders one get to bark orders and terrorize everyone in the office. Everybody wants to be partner. There are car plans, annual trips, wine and cheese for everybody.
The “alternative” is to go mid-sized, with the same things scaled down, or to go farther down the spectrum, to lawyer for the poor and the marginalized. There’s government work that can either be cushy or miserable – maybe both at the same time – for those who genuinely believe in the gains with public service. Then, less secure and more uncertain, there’s NGO work.
Comparing yourself with others, benefits-wise, won’t get you anywhere. For sure, as I can attest, NGO work has very little monetary perks but it pays off with accelerated experience and meaningful, profound achievements. Because public interest work concerns transcending selfish interests to accommodate larger ideals, it attracts genuises and sapiophiles. Working with them is a reward on its own.
3. Be practical; find a paying job.
Being a lawyer is a profession, but it’s not a job per se. Passing the bar doesn’t automatically give you a windfall (though topping it might). Lawyers’ capacity to pay depends on the job they have. Some lawyers take the tricycle too. Some work out of internet shops. My lipstick is a trying-hard Mac dupe from Ever Bilena. It doesn’t really make too much a big difference because we arrive and appear in court all the same as the others.
To be clear, lawyering for the poor doesn’t necesarily mean you go poor yourself. In my group, our clients shell out for actual expenses, and then some. We give our intellectual work for free, at a discount, or in exchange for other things – meaning, we cooperate for the compensation. We can take on private cases or accept retainers and consultancies, as long as not against set principles. In my case, I can take on private cases as long as not for any landlord, big bureaucrat-capitalist, labor management, rapist, and so on. It is unlikely I will starve or go homeless, but for recreation and the extraneous I will have to live within my means.
4. Be clear about what’s black and white.
In this profession, there will be many many temptations. The strain of the work, along with societal perceptions, will usher in different opportunities that may be hard to decide on when the stress is all too real. As early as now, try to figure out what you would do when you find yourself in the gray area. Inappropriate behavior? Boss-subordinate fling? Sexual harassment? Lawyer-client relationship? Lawyer-client privilege? Under-the-table gifts? What if the gift is below P5,000? What if the giver is also a friend of yours? What if the court staff asks for merienda?
The world is rarely black or white. But as long as you have defined yours in the the context of family, love, religion, reputation, etc. you can better identify and rectify those moments you find yourself on the dark side.
5. Seek good mentors.
According to the roll of attorneys, there are some 70,000 (including the dead) Filipinos who have passed the bar. Find, among them, the best to emulate.
I had the awesome privilege to sit in a meeting with the late Romeo Capulong, founder of people’s lawyering in the Philippines, while still a student. (I actually just made digests of cases for the Morong 43 defense). It is an indelible memory. I now work with those who continue his legacy: Neri Colmenares, Rachel Pastores, Carlos Zarate, Jobert Pahilga, Ming Saladero, Amylyn Sato, Edre Olalia, Rey Cortez, Jun Oliva, among others.
Because I engaged myself in law school and beyond, I learned so much – and continue to learn – from the example, experience, and guidance of Chief Justice Reynato Puno, Justice Marvic Leonen, Raul Pangalangan, Beth Pangalangan, Tony La Vina, Harry Roque, Ted Te, Evalyn Ursua, Vicky Avena, among others. I seek their opinion, read what they write, or listen to what they say.
6. Work hard.
Alternative lawyering goes up against a phalanx of resources every so often. Few lawyers choose this line of work, so we find ourselves swamped with the legal and even non-legal stuff. To illustrate: in some documents, there is an explanation at the bottom that “due to lack of personnel, lack of time...” personal delivery to the other parties cannot be effected. So true. In this line of work the lawyer may have to do everything. I have found myself with one other staff member-law student at the courier on a Sunday night, so we can be ready for filing the following day. I am friends with the postal office clerks out of sheer necessity and circumstance.
When our group challenged the power rate hikes, the other side was pew-filled with coats and ties, boxes of data, research and researchers on hand. We were a scrawny bunch of fifteen, including two underbars, researchers included. Happily, our side of the room was filled by consumer groups and civil society leaders. Our detailed work on the regulatory regime and practices in the Philippines fought off the rate hikes temporarily, though there has been no final disposition.
But it is more terrifying to realize sometimes that the law itself is unfair. There are times when it’s frustrating to argue for the poor and the right, because the law is precisely designed to protect the rich and the wrong. I will always remember how one professor of mine put it evocatively: we study at the College of Law, and not the College of Justice. It implies a challenge: work hard to make them mean the same.
7. Keep on learning.
You’re only as good as your last argument – whether it was an appearance in court or your last pleading. Holmes is spot on when he says, the life of the law is experience. Forging a career is a lifelong effort.
After every release of a wrongly-detained prisoner, I cannot stop and bask long in the celebration. I pause and think – who else next? Every achievement, as well as failure, is a lesson that will be passed on and charged to collective experience.
I am fortunate to have clients so erudite and outspoken. I am humbled by interactions with sectoral leaders, and oh most especially, the political prisoners in Camp Crame and Camp Bagong Diwa. Most of them are revolutionaries who desire not only their own release, but that of everybody else from systemic oppression (whoa there). They know more about – and work against – injustice than I do.
I try my best to pay it forward by reaching out to law students, hosting interns, making contacts here and abroad. A few of them, with all good intentions, have asked me, for how long are you going to do this? For as long as I can.
So until then, hello young ones! See you in court.
Krissy Conti, a graduate of the University of the Philippines, was admitted to the bar in May 2014. She is assistant secretary general for campaigns of the the National Union of Peoples’ Lawyers (NUPL). NUPL cooperates on cases with other groups such as the Public Interest Law Center (PILC), Sentro para sa Tunay na Repormang Agrayo (SENTRA), and the Pro-Labor Legal Center (PLACE).