Once a Student, Lawyer Now on Chess Board

ARTICLE
COMMENTS
CHESS
SCHOOLS
11 3
By RICHARD MORGAN
Philip Montgomery for The Wall Street Journal Student Luis Delbusto, left, and
Mark Maher play at Chess in the Schools in Manhattan.
No chess piece can move in a full circle, but chess devotee Mark Maher did
just that last month when he joined the board of the nonprofit that taught him
to master the game of kings as a lowly sixth grader in Washington Heights.
Maher, a 29-year-old now living in Brooklyns Williamsburg neighborhood, has
become the first-ever alumnus of Chess in the Schools to take a leadership
role with the group. He accepted a seat on the board in June
Its exciting, said Maher, an associate at the Manhattan law firm of Simpson
Thacher & Bartlett LLP. It makes the message of success tangible. And it also
shows that a new generation is interested in chess and the lessons that come
with it.
Started in 1955, the American Chess Foundation was as a kind of support
group for chess grandmasters. In the 1980s, it was renamed Chess in the
Schools and started appearing in classrooms. It has since spread to 50 Title-1
schools, defined by the federal government as serving low-income families,
teaching chess to 13,000 students a year through 15 instructors.
By the time the chess organization reached him at P.S.187 in Manhattan, the
young Maher had already learned a love of board games from his family and
was intent on gaining any edge to defeat his father in chess. The game joined
Monopoly and Clue in the family mix when he was six years old.
Maher can still recite the cheesy mnemonic devices through which he
absorbed new strategies: Knights on the rim are grim, he repeated during a
recent interview.
Other lessons of the game he first encountered through Chess in the Schools
have followed him into his profession, including the concept of zugzwang, a
situation where any allowable move weakens a players position. It was a
good lesson for a would-be lawyer to absorb.
Chess, Maher said, forces you to make do with what you have, not to
squander your opportunities, and to think ahead.
The program that Maher credits, in part, for putting him on a path to the
citys elite public Stuyvesant High School, Columbia University and Harvard
Law School had lost track of him. It was only by pure coincidence his law
firm purchased a $10,000 table at an annual fund-raising gala, and Maher

volunteered to fill an unused seat that he reconnected with Chess in the

Schools.
We didnt have great record-keeping back in those days, said Marley
Kaplan, the current executive director at Chess in the Schools. And this was
before Facebook, before email, even before cellphones. It was easy to lose
touch .
But now we can follow them into college and beyond, she added. Although
it helps when they literally show up at your doorstep, like Mark.
These days, Maher still places chess against his family only the games are
played through a Chess With Friends app.
Its a nice way of communicating, said his father, Leo Maher. After Mark
comes over for a visit and heads back to Brooklyn, I can see that he got home
safely because he made another move in our game. Its really nice.
Maher and his fathers victories are now split 50-50, with still neither
admitting to letting the other win.
http://blogs.wsj.com/metropolis/2012/07/06/once-a-student-lawyernow-on-chess-board/
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People who want to improve should take their defeats as lessons, and
endeavor to learn what to avoid in the future. You must also have the courage
of your convictions. If you think your move is good, make it.
http://www.chessquotes.com/player-capablanca
By capablanca
*****************************************************

Thrillable Hours: Sung Chang, Writer & Lawyer

MAY 27, 2013BY JODI ETTENBERG
As I often say, (most) lawyers are assholes. Stop being an asshole, and you
will start having fun. A mentor once told me that good lawyering is
worrying. Horrific, but it is hard to argue against that predicament. Our
profession makes a living by taking on others problems and charging them
for solving those problems. Whether you are in litigation or deal-making,
good lawyers, like master chess players, think two, three steps ahead of
their foes to deliver a legal victory for their clients. Translated, this can also
mean that good lawyers worry two, three steps ahead; everything that

may go wrong, every statement and its counterstatement, every motion,

every document, every morsel of mental energy. Although it may have an
illusion of exhilaration, this is not fun. If youve ever sat in a downtown D.C.
caf and observed the pedestrians wandering the sidewalks, you could
probably pick out the lawyers; they look unhappy.
http://www.legalnomads.com/2013/05/thrillable-hours-sung-chang.html
****************************************************************
ALL THE RIGHT MOVES
THINK FAST. THINK UNDER PRESSURE. THAT'S HOW YOU WIN IN BUSINESS -AND IN CHESS. HERE IS A MASTER CLASS FROM BRUCE PANDOLFINI, ONE OF
THE WORLD'S GREAT CHESS TEACHERS, ON HOW TO THINK LIKE A
CHAMPION.
BY ANNA MUOIO
22 SHARES
Has there ever been a more confusing time to think about business strategy?
Your most important customer can also be one of your chief competitors -and one of your key suppliers as well. The fastest-growing markets (especially
those driven by the Net) might be the least-profitable markets today -- but
they are the markets that will shape the future. The news pages bring word of
mergers and strategic alliances that shift the competitive playing field
overnight. The name of the game in business strategy today: Think fast.
Think under pressure. Think several moves ahead.
It sounds a lot like chess. Bruce Pandolfini doesn't know much about business
plans or Internet deals. But he knows more than almost anyone else about
thinking strategically. Pandolfini, 51, is one of the most sought-after chess
teachers -- and one of the most widely read chess writers -- of the 20th
century. He is to chess what Peter Drucker is to management or what Carl
Sagan was to science: an instructor, a chronicler, a commentator, a celebrity.
The popular spotlight shone brightest on Pandolfini back in 1993, when
Hollywood released "Searching for Bobby Fischer," a film based on the life of
one of Pandolfini's students: whiz kid Josh Waitzkin. (Ben Kingsley portrayed
Pandolfini.) But Pandolfini's history as a chess master goes back long before
his 15 minutes of fame. His role as an analyst for PBS's coverage of the 1972
match between chess superstars Bobby Fischer and Boris Spassky launched
him into the limelight. He is the author of 25 books, including "The ABCs of
Chess: Invaluable, Detailed Lessons for Players at All Levels" (Fireside, 1986)
and "Chess Target Practice: Battle Tactics for Every Square on the Board"
(Fireside, 1994). He's also a columnist for "Chess Life," the bible of the chess
world.
Today Pandolfini is so well known among chess enthusiasts that he has to be
careful about giving out his telephone number or his address. Frantic players,
stumped by a problem, have been known to track him down at all hours of

the night. Pandolfini no longer frequents chess clubs in New York City, where
he lives, because members bombard him with questions about chess
problems. He rarely attends his students' tournaments: Other students'
parents invariably want him to be their children's teacher too. When he plays
online, he usually plays under a pseudonym.
Pandolfini carries an average of 15 private students at a time. But he makes it
clear to them (and to their parents) that he is not teaching them how to
become great chess players. He is teaching them how to think. "My goal," he
says, "is to help them develop what I consider to be two of the most
important forms of intelligence: the ability to read other people, and the
ability to understand oneself. Those are the two kinds of intelligence that you
need to succeed at chess -- and in life."
Pandolfini recently offered Fast Company a master class in the theory and
practice of chess -- and in how to think like a champion.
If You See a Good Idea, Look for a Better One
There are lots of misperceptions that influence how people think about -- and
play -- chess. Most people believe that great players strategize by thinking far
into the future, by thinking 10 or 15 moves ahead. That's just not true. Chess
players look only as far into the future as they need to, and that usually
means thinking just a few moves ahead. Thinking too far ahead is a waste of
time: The information is uncertain. The situation is ambiguous. Chess is about
controlling the situation at hand. You want to determine your own future. You
certainly don't want your opponent to determine it for you. For that, you need
clarity, not clairvoyance.
So the real issue isn't how far ahead great players think, but how they think
in the moment. Great players consider their next move without playing it -and then consider their opponent's response to that move. And they ask
questions. The most revealing question is also the simplest question: What
would I like to do if I could count on my opponent doing nothing? It's that
simple.
But the majority of players don't think that way. Most players look for a "bit":
They see a good move, and they make it. That's an error. You should never
play the first good move that comes into your head. Put that move on your
list, and then ask yourself if there is an even better move. I have seen Gary
Kasparov practically sit on his hands to keep himself from making a move. "If
you see a good idea, look for a better one" -- that's my motto. Good thinking
is a matter of making comparisons.
There's one other misperception about chess: People believe that the better
you are, the faster you should win. Chess doesn't work that way. When people
tell me that they just won a game in three or four moves, I usually conclude
that they're not a very good player -- and that their opponent is a terrible
player. Great players want to build their position and to increase their power
-- so that, when they strike, there is no defense. You can't do that in only a

few moves. Trying to win a game in the fewest number of moves means
hoping that your opponent is incompetent. I don't teach students to base
their play on hope. I teach them to play for control.
To Win Big, Think Different
People have been playing chess as we know it since the 15th century. Chess
strategies have been analyzed, refined, and reanalyzed. That's why so many
players learn one set of principles and then follow those principles
mechanically. They begin each game the same way. They respond to a certain
attack the same way. They are "playing by the rules" -- but they are also
setting themselves up to lose to someone who has rethought those rules.
From the beginning, Bobby Fischer operated at the cutting edge of ideas. He
would develop new moves to introduce early in a game, or he would discover
and reinvigorate old moves that people had forgotten. I used to see him early
in the morning at the Marshall Chess Club, in New York City. The club had a
cupboard filled with index cards -- records of games from the 19th century -and Fischer would be poring over those records. I asked myself, "Why is the
world's best player reading about games from 150 years ago?" Sure enough,
during the U.S. Championship one year, he played an opening that was
inspired by one of those old games. And he didn't just play the same opening
-- he put his signature on it. That was one of his great gifts: finding unusual
moves and revitalizing them.
Small Advantages Produce Big Results
Chess is a game of small advantages. It all goes back to Wilhelm Steinitz, the
first great modern chess teacher. Steinitz developed the theory of positional
chess, which assumes that, to get an advantage, you have to give up
something in return. The question then becomes "How can anyone win? Why
isn't the game always held in dynamic balance?" The answer is that you play
for seemingly insignificant advantages -- advantages that your opponent
doesn't notice or that he dismisses, thinking, "Big deal, you can have that." It
could be a slightly better development, or a slightly safer king's position.
Slightly, slightly, slightly. None of those "slightlys" mean anything on their
own, but add up seven or eight of them, and you have control. Now the only
way that your opponent can possibly break your control is by giving up
something else. Positional chess teaches that we are responsible for our
actions. Every move must have a purpose.
There's one last point to keep in mind. Players often give their opponents too
much credit. If a move doesn't make sense, if your opponent has put you in a
position to take a piece and you don't understand why, keep looking for a
reason. But if you can't find a reason, if it seems that your opponent has
made a mistake, then take the piece! The only way you can punish your
opponent is by taking that piece. If you do, one of two good things will
happen: You just might be right, and you'll win. Or you'll be wrong, and you'll
learn something. But don't be afraid to stand by your analysis.

Mind Games Are Part of the Game

There's an expression in chess: "Play the board, not the man." That's not
quite right. You want the bulk of your moves to be objective and analytical.
But being good at chess also requires being good at reading people. And
being good at reading people starts with being able to read their eyes.
People often ask me, "How can you tell if a kid has talent?" By observing how
a child looks at the board, I can tell if the child has a sensitivity to the game.
When most children look at the board, they stare at a single point. But chess
is a game of spatial relations. If I see a lot of eye movement, that's usually a
reflection of real thinking. The thinking may be incorrect -- kids are kids -- but
that eye movement tells me that the child may have something.
Few people think of chess as an intimate, personal game. But that's what it is.
Players learn a lot about their opponent, and exceptional chess players learn
to interpret every gesture that their opponent makes. And sometimes it
comes down to psychological warfare. Kasparov breaks people down. He'll
use grimaces, or he'll chuckle in a very humiliating way whenever someone
makes a bad move. That can be debilitating to an opponent. When Kasparov
played Deep Blue, he lost that advantage. He was playing a machine. All of
his body language, which can break down other human beings, had no value.
I remember a match between two Russians, Anatoly Karpov and Viktor
Korchnoi. Korchnoi was a defector from the Soviet Union, which made the
match all the more intense. Karpov had a "psychologist" named Vladimir
Zukhar on his team. But Zukhar was really nothing more than a specialist in
staring. His role throughout the entire match was to stare down Korchnoi -which unnerved Korchnoi tremendously. Karpov ended up winning by a very
small margin.
Never Let 'Em See You Sweat
Making a mistake in the middle of a game can be a shattering experience.
But exceptional players become skilled at maintaining an absolute sense of
calm and confidence -- at least outwardly. Great players may question one of
their moves, but they never question themselves. They may admit that they
made a mistake, but they never reveal that to their opponent. One of the
worst things that you can do at the championship level is to let your
opponent see that you've made a mistake. Even when you know that you've
screwed up terribly, you simply must hide that reality. Now, there's a big
difference between a mistake and a retreat. Retreating is not necessarily a
bad thing. Often, to get an advantage in chess, you need to give something
up. In fact, a retreat can be a brilliant attack maneuver. There was a classic
example of this tactic in one of the greatest, most competitive games
between children that I've ever seen. It was a 1985 match between two thirdgraders: Josh Waitzkin (the prodigy featured in "Searching for Bobby Fischer")
and Jeff Sarwer. I don't want to portray a game played by two Mozart-like
children as a game played by two masters, because it wasn't. It was fraught
with errors. But these were very interesting mistakes, dynamic mistakes.

Jeff was a fiercely aggressive player. He got the white pieces, and, right from
the start, he went straight for Josh's jugular. He quickly gained the advantage
and hammered away. But then came a key moment. Jeff, convinced that he
had won, played a somewhat indifferent move. It looked fine on the surface,
but Josh saw through it. Everything stopped. You could see Josh calculating,
looking deep into the board. And then he made an unusual play: He moved
his knight out of action and into the corner. It was a subtle retreat -- so subtle
that Jeff kept playing as if he were winning, and he made another pedestrian
move. After a few more moves, Josh brought his knight back into action,
placing it in the forking position that he had been aiming for -- which
simultaneously put Jeff's king into check and threatened Jeff's bishop.
The maneuver took 12 moves. Now Josh controlled Jeff's game. Jeff ended up
saving his king but losing his bishop. And from that point on, the game was a
trade-off: The two kings were the only pieces left standing, and the game was
a draw. But it also provided a great lesson. Josh was not going to accept
defeat. He never gave up, not even when the game looked hopeless. He
advanced by retreating first.
Mental Toughness Requires Physical Stamina
Chess can be incredibly demanding. A single game can last for hours. A
match can extend over several days. If your concentration wavers for even a
second, you're dead. That kind of mental discipline has a physical
component. There's a certain physical thing that happens to you when you're
really concentrating, when you can really feel the game. I knew a player who
would lose 10 or 15 pounds during the course of a tournament -- that's how
extreme the tension can be.
Sometimes you can win through sheer force of stamina. I remember a
photograph from the 1927 World Championship match between Jos Ral
Capablanca and his challenger, Alexander Alekhine. Capablanca was
considered invincible: He was one of the greatest chess geniuses of all time.
But he wasn't a tremendously hearty fellow. He had such natural talent that
he tended to overwhelm his opponents, and he rarely faced stiff resistance.
This photo shows the two players right before the match. Capablanca is
sitting at the board, looking incredibly relaxed. Alekhine, who had survived
the Russian Revolution, is leaning across the board, with his arms crossed and
propped up on the table. That was a sign of things to come. Capablanca lost a
game early on and never recovered. The match lasted 34 games, and each
game took at least five hours. Those games were grueling. Over time,
Alekhine's physical force just wore Capablanca down. Nothing was going to
stop Alekhine. It's hard to muster mental energy if your body isn't there
behind you.
In fact, many of the most poignant moments in chess history are about
mental and physical toughness rather than pure brilliance. Back in 1987,
Kasparov was playing Anatoly Karpov in the World Championship. Karpov was

ahead, 12 games to 11, with 1 game left. All that Karpov had to do was play
to a draw -- and he was the world's great master at drawing. But Kasparov
just played his heart out. He would not give in. They were playing and playing
and playing, and Kasparov just ground Karpov down. Anyone else would have
collapsed under all that pressure. But Kasparov drew on all of his reserves
and just kept fighting. Amazingly, he won the game and retained his title. It
was a truly inspiring performance -- even to people who are not Kasparov
fans.
To Learn How to Win, Learn How to Lose
There's a problem with learning chess when you're young: You're going to
lose a lot. And, of course, ego gratifi-cation is probably the main reason why a
child does anything. But if, as a young person, you can learn how to handle
defeat, you can eventually learn how to win. That's one of the primary
functions of a good chess teacher -- to get students through the pain of
losing.
My lessons consist of a lot of silence. I listen to other teachers, and they're
always talking: "Why are you making that move?" "What other options are
you considering?" I let my students think. If I do ask a question and I don't get
the right answer, I'll rephrase the question -- and wait. I never give the
answer. Most of us don't really appreciate the power of silence. Some of the
most effective communication -- between student and teacher, between
master players -- takes place during silent periods.
When I do talk with students, my goal is to help them develop what I consider
to be two of the most important forms of intelligence: the ability to read other
people, and the ability to understand oneself. Those are the two kinds of
intelligence that you need to succeed at chess -- and in life.
In my classroom, I have what I call a "hot corner." One or two students will sit
with me at a board and talk chess. They are not allowed to move the pieces
physically. They can't "show" me their moves. They have to tell me their
moves. I make them play the game in their head. They deeply fear that
moment in the hot corner -- because they don't know if they can do it. My job
is to show them that, yes, they can do this impossible thing. We all can do it.
We all have amazing capabilities. At first, playing the game in your head feels
like work. Eventually it becomes intuition.
Sidebar: The Masters
Bobby Fischer
Record: World Champion, 1972 to 1975. Won his first U.S. Championship in
1958, at age 14. Became the World Champion after winning a match against
Boris Spassky in 1972.
Review: "Fischer was a master of clarity and a king of artful positioning. His
opponents would see where he was going but were powerless to stop him. I
like to say that Bobby Fischer was the greatest Russian player ever. All of his

great opening moves came from the Russians. He studied all of their
methods. But what made Fischer a genius was his ability to blend an
American freshness and pragmatism with Russian ideas about strategy."
Viktor Korchnoi
Record: Never became a world champion but was one of the world's greatest
players. Also known as Viktor the Terrible.
Review: "A master of the counterattack, Korchnoi would take great risks at
the board. He played to make his opponents impatient and to lure them into
issuing aggressive but unsound threats. He would then exploit those threats
in a ruthless counterattack -- by thrusting out, cutting off his opponent's line
of support, and trapping his opponent's piece. Although this style sometimes
backfired, it made for exciting chess at a very high level."
Anatoly Karpov
Record: World Champion, 1975 to 1985. One of the most successful
tournament players in history. Became one of Russia's youngest masters at
age 15 and an international master at age 18.
Review: "Known as a negative player, Karpov sets up deep traps and creates
moves that seem to allow his opponent possibilities -- but that really don't. He
takes no chances, and he gives his opponents nothing. He's a trench-warfare
fighter who keeps the game moving just an inch at a time."
Boris Spassky
Record: World Champion, 1969 to 1972.
Review: "One of the soundest attacking players ever, Spassky nonetheless
took very few chances. Totally dominant until he lost to the irresistible
juggernaut known as Bobby Fischer. After that loss, he was never the same."
Gary Kasparov
Record: World Champion, 1985 to the present.
Review: "An aggressively inscrutable player, Kasparov strives to gain deep
positional sacrifices: Even when he can't calculate the end result
conclusively, he can make sophisticated generalizations. He does anything to
get the initiative and to force the play. Inevitably, he emerges from a forest of
complications -- in which his intentions aren't all that clear -- with the
advantage. He's not as artful or as clear as Fischer, but his play coincides
with the realities of the day, which are all about defense. Clarity of style no
longer makes sense. Great players hide their intentions."
Anna Muoio (amuoio@fastcompany.com) is an associate editor at Fast
Company. Contact Bruce Pandolfini by email (bpandolfini@fastcompany.com).

The "Ten Commandments of Chess" are taken from Pandolfini's book "The
ABCs of Chess."

http://m.fastcompany.com/37127/all-right-moves

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A Lawyers Dozen: 13 Roles lawyers play for family enterprises
Posted on April 16, 2014 by FFIPRACTITIONER Leave a comment
The PractitionerChoosing a lawyer for a family enterprise engagement is not
a simple matter. In advising family enterprises, lawyers play at least 13 roles,
involving different skills, experience, approaches and temperaments.
Advisors to family enterprises whether based in finance, accounting,
insurance, management consulting, therapy, or indeed law itself should
help their clients think through the complex factors involved in deciding what
kind of lawyer would be most suited to the particular tasks at hand. One
lawyer may play a number of these roles, of course, but it is important to be
clear with the client about which may be appropriate to the particular
situation.
Gladiator: One may think of this role first the fighter for my side, the
effective player in an adversarial system, the litigator who will either initiate
or defend a lawsuit. The litigator needs to be quick to hear and respond to
the arguments of the other side and keep proceedings focused on the clients
desired outcome. Of course most lawsuits never go all the way to trial, so the
gladiator should also have the ability to make mid-course corrections and,
very likely, attempt to negotiate a settlement. Some gladiators are more
skilled at the fighting than at the negotiating.
Chess Player: Many lawyers, especially litigators, conceive of their role as
outwitting their opponent, move-by-move always in the interest of
achieving the best outcome for their client. The moves are generally carefully
arranged, from an informal phone call to the lawyer for the other side; to a
letter demanding a particular result (often an amount of money); to the filing
of litigation; to discovery requests for documents and responses to questions;
to motions for dismissal or summary judgment (decisions based on legal
argument not disputed facts); to attempts to negotiate a resolution. At times,
the interests of the client are best served by calculated moves in a game; at
other times, the basic interests of the client for example in engaging in
direct communication with the other side about the essentials of the issue
may be minimized.
Dealmaker: This lawyer is a negotiator of a transaction, simple or complex,
with the skills to draft documents clearly, marshal arguments persuasively,
and often be the glue that can hold the deal together, effectively bringing
parties to agreement. The gladiator and the chess-player should have some
of the skills of the dealmaker, or at least know where to find someone who

can supply them. Most transactional lawyers are constantly negotiating deals.
They tend to contemplate litigation only in extreme circumstances, when
impasse seems impossible to overcome by negotiations; if litigation is
required, the dealmaker may involve another attorney with special litigation
skills and temperament.
Architect: Creator of corporate or governmental structures, ownership
documentation, shareholder agreements, governance arrangements, voting
requirements, and other systems. The lawyer-architect needs to know the
pros and cons of various choices of legal structure (corporation, partnership,
trust, joint ventures, tax entities, etc.), understand how the various pieces fit
together, and provide broad guidance to the client taking into account both
short- and long-range issues. Flexibility to change such structures over time
is important in family enterprises, especially as they evolve over several
generations. Flexibility is also a factor to keep in mind as the lawyer works
with the client to establish the basics.
Engineer: Designer of forms and systems for leases, vendor contracts,
employment agreements, procedures for annual meetings all the standard
transactions that make an enterprise work efficiently. Standard forms and
procedures can be a way to avoid having to re-invent the wheel, while
maintaining flexibility to adjust to special circumstances.
Gatekeeper: The conscience of the organization with the responsibility to
steer intended action in a legal and away from an illegal direction. The
gatekeeper has the authority to command attention and is the occasional
naysayer who stands in the way of an executive who may pay insufficient
attention to the requirements of the law, whether contractual, statutory,
regulatory, or court-determined. The ability to say no should be combined
with the skill to help the client find a legal way to accomplish the clients
objectives.
Enforcer: The person charged with requiring compliance with ethical and legal
requirements avoiding insider-trading, establishing fair employment
policies, establishing systems to identify and avoid conflicts of interest. The
enforcer generally has the authority to make a binding decision, as compared
with the gatekeeper, who makes a recommendation pointing in one direction
rather than another.
Parliamentarian: The person skilled at designing procedures with both the
appearance and reality of fairness, impartiality, transparency, decisiveness
and authority with respect for both majorities and minorities. Formal
procedures are needed even in family enterprises where informality may be
the norm, because inattention to procedural requirements can appear later as
major problems for example, if the interests of family members begin to
diverge.
Problem Solver: The objective analyst of problems with the skill to understand
the issues, weigh options, point out advantages and disadvantages, and
generally apply those intellectual standards lawyers are supposed to have in
their DNA including relevance, clarity and rationality. The problem solver
engages the client and opposing sides in staying focused on finding a
solution.
Navigator: Identifier of risks, with the ability to steer between rocks and hard
places, avoid the shoals, and chart a course that seeks to minimize risks and
maximize benefits. There is a particular set of skills that enables lawyers to

see potential horrors down the road and recommend ways to avoid them.
Lawyers may have this navigation skill to a greater or lesser degree.
Wise Elder: The counselor who knows the family and the enterprise well,
perhaps having designed estate plans and assisted in the creation of the
enterprise, gathering insights into the whole family over time. It is important
that the lawyer as wise elder be acutely aware of when he or she is beginning
to represent people in the enterprise who have conflicting interests, and
insist they obtain individual counsel. Unless there is specific, informed
consent, the attorney faces the risk of a charge of malpractice for
representing conflicting interests, even if the well-intentioned attorney is
trying to help the whole family patch things up and move on. When that
effort is unsuccessful, the risks are substantial.
Peacemaker: Justice of the Peace is still a meaningful title to describe a
lawyer who is charged with helping to create peace. Some lawyers are adept
at building consensus among seemingly warring factions, mediating difficult
disputes so the parties reach agreement, and practicing the challenging skills
of collaboration.
Umpire: Sometimes it is necessary to refer a dispute to a person with
authority to make the final call whether a judge in a courtroom, arbitrator,
or corporate or governmental decision maker. Essential requirements for this
role are the ability to listen to different sides, assess evidence, and make
decisions with impartiality, clarity and authority.
By understanding these various roles and considering what mix of legal skills
and approaches the family enterprise needs to deal with particular
challenges, it can obtain the most effective and efficient advocacy and
counseling. The wrong lawyer can be a disaster; the right one can be a savior.
The family enterprise practitioner can be key to helping the family make the
right decision in sorting through these complex, important choices.

..http://www.lawyersgunsmoneyblog.com/2010/03/revisiting-theparadox-of-the-chess-queen

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The Nobility of Failure (Defence Lawyers in Japan)
Original post by Standard member Duchess64, 24 Mar '13 22:36
Standard member Duchess64
Zugzwang
Joined : 08 Jun '07
Moves : 2120
24 Mar '13 22:36 :: 1 edit
This thread may interest some readers who have experiences or interests
in learning, teaching, or comparing different cultural expectations.

This thread's title, 'The Nobility of Failure', alludes to a book (which is

unrelated to Japanese defence lawyers) by Ivan Morris, who dedicated
it to his late friend, Yukio Mishima. (Ivan Morris and Yukio Mishima have
nothing to do with this thread's content--it was just a catchy title).
"One of the effects of Japan's astonishingly high conviction rate (my note:
almost 100% ) is that very, very few people want to be criminal defence
lawyers. Why would they? Compared to commercial cases, such work is
poorly paid...Based on the prevailing rates, the average defence lawyer
can expect to achieve an acquittal once every thirty-one years."
--Richard Lloyd Parry (People Who Eat Darkness, p. 328)
(Parry is a British journalist with much experience working in Japan.)
How long would a person usually be expected to persist at attempting
something without success? It's hard to imagine that anyone would keep
playing chess for 'thirty-one years' before winning one's first game.
Almost certainly, that novice player would have quit chess long before then.
Likewise, some men and women drop out of the dating market after
having experienced more than enough rejections; the more determined,
desperate, or clueless people keep trying.
Whenever I attempt to teach (I can help someone to learn, but I cannot
compel someone learn against one's will) anyone, I usually attempt to
give my student an early taste of 'success' if possible. Some students
seem to need this early sense of 'reinforcement' more than others.
Stereotypically speaking (which seems partly based on truth), East Asian
students, unlike most Western students, tend to expect less 'early
gratification' of their efforts, so I can be more honestly and directly critical
of East Asian students. With many Western students, I would attempt to
set up something very easy at first for them in which to succeed, and then
overpraise their results. That's far from how I was brought up (my parents
always were extremely critical and demanding in every way, often beyond
reason), but I know that's how they were brought up, so I attempt to
adapt to my students' culturally-conditioned expectations. Unfortunately,
many of these students tend to have inflated opinions of their own ability.
I suspect that everyone here has known some chess players who keep
believing that they are much stronger than their actual levels of play.
On the chessboard, of course, checkmate settles the dispute, though,
after losing their games to me, some of my opponents have continued
to boast of their obviously self-evident enormous superiority over me.
As some readers already may have noticed, I am not very tolerant of the
common swaggering arrogance, the preening and the crowing of many
writers here, who often have absurdly inflated opinions of themselves.
In large measure, that's because I was brought up early in a cultural milieu
where their (these trolls) attitudes and behaviour would have unthinkable
and quickly made them pariahs to most 'decent' people.

Would you persist in an occupation if you knew in advance that your

chances of success (apart from being paid regularly) were extremely low.
http://www.timeforchess.com/board/showthread.php?threadid=152130
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