In the classic film Groundhog Day, Bill Murray’s character Phil Connors finds himself living the same day over and over again. Every morning at 6:00 am he is awakened by Sonny and Cher’s rendition of “I Got You Babe,” and he is off to repeat the day before.
I am reminded of this movie every time I see new stories about gender discrimination and the #MeToo movement in the legal profession. How is it that we are still dealing with these challenges when women have comprised one-third or more of law school entering classes for nearly four decades?
Yet, countless articles, books, shared anecdotes, and frustrating conversations later, we are still looking at data that demonstrates gender disparities in compensation, assignments, the achievement of key leadership roles, and promotions. And over the past few years, we are reading surveys and learning of harassment and misconduct long hidden by fearful silence.
It feels as if we are caught in a time loop, waiting for change the way fictional weatherman Phil Connors waited for Punxsutawney Phil to emerge. The groundhog may be a poor metaphor for equality, but the seemingly endless wait seems sadly apt.
Yes, of course, gains have been made during the past 40 years, but they have generally involved the breaking of barriers that never should have been erected. Stories of those early female pioneers—the first accepted into each recalcitrant law school, or allowed to work as a lawyer where becoming a partner was an impossible goal, or who endured sexual misconduct where silence was the only acceptable response—leave most women feeling simultaneously grateful for their sacrifice and angry at the cost exacted from their ambition to succeed in their careers.
Silence and Fear
Twenty years ago, as president of the Boston Bar Association, I convened a Task Force on Professional Challenges and Family Needs to address the costs of the increased attrition that was occurring as women felt forced out of their chosen profession, particularly after they had children. That work was motivated by countless conversations I had with women who shared similar stories of lost assignment opportunities and access to key partners, and described experiencing their first negative performance evaluations when they returned from maternity leave.
The task force report, Facing the Grail: Confronting the Costs of Work-Family Imbalance, provided a groundbreaking analysis of the costs to law firms that can result from adhering to an outdated workplace model replete with biases about the role of women in our society.
In preparation for this article, I reread Facing the Grail to see how dated it felt now that 20 years had passed. Instead, a sense of sadness washed over me as I reviewed language that could have been written today, including this cautionary statement:
We are in danger of seeing law firms evolve into institutions where only those who have no family responsibilities—or, worse, are willing to abandon those responsibilities—can thrive. . . . Most senior managers in law firms will tell you that the profession is troubled, but that their own law firm is grappling with these problems well. Most young attorneys contribute to that perception by failing to state within their own law firms the perceptions that they are willing to share with outsiders: that their firms are not addressing these issues in a meaningful way. . . . This discrepancy between what firm owners and managers see as the truth and what associates experience must be addressed. Firms need to develop mechanisms for lawyers to speak openly and honestly—and even critically—about these issues. The lack of open and honest communication between partners and associates, and even among young partners themselves, is a contributing factor to the difficulty in solving issues relating to law firm culture. . . .
The rest of the report was similarly relevant—and to be clear, it was not our intention to create a report to withstand the test of time. Rather, our goal was to help spur much-needed change in the profession.
Looking back at this language, I am struck by its reference to a dynamic that continues to this day. It is a dynamic that is seen in survey results and related research, and one that underlies the #MeToo movement, even as it exists in a wide range of other circumstances as well.
This dynamic is as simple as it is ubiquitous. People continue to fear speaking up about such concerns as unfair treatment; discrimination in all its forms; inequality of opportunities; patterns of unconscious bias such as maternal wall bias; compensation disparities that result in women earning less than comparably skilled and experienced male colleagues; policies that do not align with actual practice; and workplace harassment and other forms of misconduct.
This silence manifests in a reluctance to use reporting procedures that may exist or even to raise concerns on a less formal basis. Lost is the opportunity to have an open dialogue about issues that have driven so many women—and an increasing number of young men—from their law firms.
Silence and the Illusion of Objectivity
The silence, however, has an additional negative result. It allows leaders to confidently conclude that, because there are hardly any complaints, their organizations are on the right track, even as the profession itself may have challenges. When leaders allow themselves to reach such a conclusion, they are actually engaging in another pattern of unconscious bias: the illusion of objectivity.
The illusion of objectivity is the tendency to see ourselves as being more even-handed and objective than we may be in reality. Leaders feel comfortable inferring from the silence that their management is fair and based solely on merit.
Most law firm leaders, regardless of the firm’s size, would claim that their workplace is a true meritocracy where anyone can succeed. But in actuality, when a firm describes itself as a meritocracy, generally the real message is that lawyers succeed by working exceptionally long hours as a demonstration of dedication and commitment. And even in the face of technological advances that allow work to be done from anywhere, commitment is too often still measured by visibility, and dedication is marked by being seen as a team player. This illusion of objectivity allows leaders to shield themselves from their own biases, further feeding the myth of meritocracy.
Those who push back against perceived inequities, a lack of clear policies, or ineffective reporting procedures can quickly be labeled. In the culture of a law office, those who are branded as complainers are easily stigmatized by others and can soon find themselves out of the mainstream, leading to an isolation from those who control career success and advancement. The next step is generally out the door, reinforcing to others that silence is indeed golden.