In the American legal landscape, independence has always been a cornerstone. Lawyers have represented society’s most unpopular, most vulnerable, and most powerful alike—not because of who they are, but because of the principle that every person deserves representation under the rule of law. But what happens when the presidency becomes a tool to bully law firms into submission? When intimidation replaces justice and fear supersedes principle? What we are witnessing under Donald Trump’s second rise isn’t just political—it’s a systemic assault on legal integrity.
Donald Trump isn’t just a man seeking power. He’s a runaway train—loud, erratic, and barrelling down the tracks of American democracy, crushing institutional safeguards in his path. In his relentless pursuit of control and vengeance, he’s found a new target: the legal profession.
A Presidency Built on Fear
What began as fiery campaign rhetoric has turned into a campaign of intimidation. Trump’s tactic is simple but effective: use the weight of the presidency to punish law firms that dare to represent those investigating or challenging him. First came the executive orders stripping Covington & Burling of federal contracts for representing Special Counsel Jack Smith. Then it was Perkins Coie, which had represented clients and causes Trump disliked—resulting in not only the firm being targeted, but even third-party contractors who had retained it. The message was unmistakable: represent my enemies, and you’ll be punished.
This wasn’t governance—it was blackmail.
Perkins Coie fought back in court and won a temporary restraining order. But that defiant spark quickly dimmed across the legal industry. Paul Weiss, one of the most prestigious firms in the country, opted to capitulate rather than confront. Rather than challenge Trump’s unconstitutional overreach, they offered $40 million in pro bono services and promised to realign hiring practices to the administration’s satisfaction. It was a deal that reeked of appeasement.
Then came Skadden Arps—a legal powerhouse with deep pockets and deeper ties. Even without an executive order against them, Skadden voluntarily promised $100 million in pro bono work and a commitment to Trump-approved causes. This wasn’t self-preservation; it was surrender.
The Price of Silence
Associates at these firms tried to push back. They lobbied leadership to unite, to take a stand against the creeping authoritarianism poisoning their profession. Instead, they were met with silence, deflection, and, ultimately, betrayal. One associate—whose courageous testimony has since gone viral—resigned in protest. She wasn’t a partner or public figure, just a third-year associate, but she saw the writing on the wall. Others followed her lead.
Their departures aren’t just symbolic; they’re prophetic. These young lawyers understood that the erosion of legal norms starts not with gunfire or courtroom rulings, but with whispers of compliance and the sound of silence from those who should know better. Their courage stands in stark contrast to the cowardice of firm partners who, cushioned by their millions, watched democracy get bulldozed from their corner offices.
It’s no secret that the legal industry is driven by profits. But when the pursuit of billable hours overtakes the commitment to constitutional integrity, what’s left? Are law firms just another business—like casinos or real estate companies—whose ethics can be bought and sold?
This Is Not Normal
It is not normal for a president to dictate who deserves legal representation. It is not normal to target law firms with executive orders for taking clients. It is not normal to coerce legal professionals into silence under threat of financial retaliation. Yet, Trump has done all of this—and more—with little consequence.
These backroom deals between elite firms and Trump’s administration are more than moral failures; they are a collapse of the legal firewall meant to protect American democracy. They undermine public trust and send a chilling message: only those favoured by power deserve advocacy.
Even high-profile figures like Doug Emhoff, the husband of Vice President Kamala Harris and a partner at Wilkie Farr & Gallagher, have faced backlash for remaining at firms that cut deals with Trump. At a charity dinner, Emhoff reportedly expressed discomfort with the arrangement—only to admit he’d been overruled by other partners. Words, without action, are meaningless.
Advocacy or Appeasement?
This is a moment of reckoning. Law firms cannot claim to support justice while simultaneously kneeling to executive intimidation. The legal profession must ask itself: Are we advocates or accessories?
To be clear, standing up to Trump is risky. But if partners at multi-billion-dollar firms—some of whom make $20 million a year—are too afraid to push back, how can we expect public interest lawyers or immigrant rights advocates to hold the line?
Courage, as one associate put it, is a choice. And it’s a choice that must be made now—before the runaway train of authoritarianism leaves nothing but debris in its wake.
The American legal system doesn’t crumble all at once. It erodes through concessions, through rationalizations, and through fear. If we allow any president—especially one who thrives on vengeance and chaos—to dictate who deserves a lawyer, then the legal profession has already lost its soul.
There’s still time to apply the brakes. But the question is: who among us is brave enough to pull the lever?
By Melino Maka
