Melting Pot-Luck: Can Legal Civility Principles Save Thanksgiving?

The Bencher | November 2024

By Erin V. Wallin, Esquire

Like many Americans, I watched the presidential and vice-presidential debates from the comfort of my home—and liquor cabinet. During both viewings, my mind could not help but drift to my own upcoming public debate. No, I am not in politics; but I will be hosting a large family gathering for Thanksgiving dinner mere weeks after the national election.

Each year my family and my husband’s family unite to share a common table, family stories, and gluttonous amounts of American fare. What we do not share is a common political viewpoint. This isn’t surprising considering there are bankers, lawyers, teachers, artists, small business owners, retired people, and teenagers around our table. In many ways we are a picture of modern America, each coming to the table with their unique interests and fierce opinions.

When my brothers and I were young, our father taught us the art of debate at the dining room table. We were about as civil then as politicians in the 1980s and 1990s were (which is to say that we debated ideas with wit and occasionally snark, but never outright disrespect). I have no doubt that those moderated dinner conversations played no small role in my becoming an attorney. By the time I entered law school, making arguments felt as homey as a weeknight chicken dinner.

Over the years, however, as our nation’s political discourse has grown more contentious and as confirmation hearings have morphed into something one might experience in London’s infamous Star Chamber, so too has our family discourse declined. My father no longer moderates, though he does nod when a good point is made or smile when a verbal jab is landed (one that aligns with his beliefs, of course). Within the hour, my mother begins to remind her adult children that “we don’t talk about politics and religion at the table,” though she knows we always do and has no doubt already begun to pray. Thankfully, no one has ever come to fisticuffs or left in any lasting anger, but each year we dance closer to a line of incivility that undermines the very reason we gather—to give thanks rather than to complain.

Perhaps inspired by the markedly more civil vice-presidential debate, I began to wonder if the principles of civility we attorneys employ in the practice of law might offer some guidance for our family dinner. Growing up watching legal television shows, I believed the most successful lawyers were the most litigious. In the actual practice of law, I observed the most successful attorneys as those slow to speak, mild (and well) mannered. This “quiet strength” approach instills confidence in judge and jury alike, not to mention concealing from opposing counsel what the attorney is (actually) thinking. Knowing this to be true for law, shouldn’t it also be true for family? Couldn’t other civility principles apply then? After some bemused reflection (ever grateful there are no pre-dinner emails), I’ve decided to adapt the following legal principles in hopes of a more civil dinner:

Discovery and Curiosity

In the legal world, we conduct discovery before we file for summary judgment. Black’s Law Dictionary defines “discovery” as “[t]he act or process of finding or learning something that was previously unknown…” Attorneys conduct discovery because though each side has a theory of the case, the court will base its decision on facts. Admittedly, this issue of “facts” could be an article in and of itself as I am increasingly more convinced that Americans are no longer dealing in a common set of data points. In an age where anyone can find a media outlet (or online platform) to provide them with “news” tailored to meet their preferences, how can anyone hope to agree on outcomes? We cannot. But we can remain curious and seek discovery even when our opinions are fully formed.

Instead of launching into our own opinions and facts, what if we sought discovery? When that first family member launches into a political comment (it will be my middle brother, by the way), I hope to remain curious. Instead of counterattack, what if I respond with:

• “Where did you read that?”
  
• “Would you send me that article, I’d love to read it?”
  
• “Why do you think this issue strikes such an important chord with you?
  
• “Would you mind if I sent you an article I read recently?”
  

I am not so naïve as to believe either of our minds will change but maybe we will each learn something, even if it is only how to have a more pleasant dinner.

Avoiding Personal Attacks

In my earliest years of legal practice, I remember receiving a very unprofessional email from one particular opposing counsel. She not only laid into me for my client’s position, but she attacked me on a personal level. Thankfully, I did not shoot back the email that I desperately wanted to send (one which addressed each of her points in turn, vindicated myself, and even gave her a dose of her own medicine). Instead, I had an after-work drink with two legal mentors. Extremely unsettled, I shared the email with my mentors and asked their advice. I will never forget what they said: “Erin, send a one sentence response. Only one sentence. Do not let it get personal on your end. If it is personal on their end, you’re probably winning.” I did as they instructed and sent the following email response: “I’m sure everything will get worked out in court on Monday.” And you know what? It did.

I wish that it were as simple to avoid personal attacks at Thanksgiving. The problem is that we know so much about those we love and share life with, and it can easily become ammunition. Upon reflection though, if I’m discounting another’s adverse opinion because I remember they were a bed-wetter (not my middle brother, just to be clear), then I am probably losing the debate. And if a family member resorts to hurling less than flattering facts about me, then perhaps I am winning the point.

What if I strictly avoided using that familial arsenal of information and instead came to Thanksgiving dinner equipped with one table-turning sentence to deploy when I feel my own hurt feelings rise to the surface? Instead of retaliating, what if I said, “I am sure that time will work this issue out.” Honestly, I am sure it will.

Firm Reputation

Whether attorneys work for the government or a law firm, we are taught early on that the entire group’s reputation is affected by the conduct of each of its individual members, for good or for bad. Hence, firm life and family life aren’t so different after all. Inside of both, we share copious amounts of time, coffee and food, stress, victory and defeat, resources, and reputation. Likewise, we belong to both a firm (or unit or chambers) and a family. The truth is that we are on the same team even when it feels like we are not.

Both firms and families garner various reputations based on the actions of their members. When I was younger, my dad prepared weeks in advance for Halloween. He not only decorated our yard with gruesome body parts erupting from the dirt, pumpkins, and cobwebs, but he also sat a scarecrow on the wooden bench next to our door. Over time, our neighbors grew accustomed to seeing that scarecrow on the bench. So, they did not notice when, on Halloween night, my father sat dressed in the same scarecrow attire on that same bench…just waiting to scare unsuspecting trick or treaters. My family, the Millers, were known for being a fun (and scary) Halloween house. On a more serious note, both my parents and my in-laws built their own successful businesses from the ground-up. My husband, Bart, was the first in his family to earn a college degree and I was the first in my family to obtain an advanced degree. Both of our parents made tremendous sacrifices for our educations, and we have done well. So, I think many would look at our family and see the American dream. Scary and beautiful—isn’t that what family is? The gore and the grit.

When our differences are on full display—with real and important issues at stake—it’s easy to forget that we are all family, all Americans. I am hoping that by incorporating a few rules of legal civility, that my family will not only enjoy a good and fun reputation with outsiders but will also enjoy a bountiful dinner with each other.

After all, I’d much rather eat my Thanksgiving meal at a dinner table than at a political podium.

Erin V. Wallin is a law clerk to Judge Nicholas W. Whittenburg of the U.S. Bankruptcy Court for the Eastern District of Tennessee. She was the recipient of a 2023 Pegasus Scholarship and is a Barrister member of the Justices Ray L. Brock Jr.–Robert E. Cooper American Inn of Court in Chattanooga, Tennessee.