Suicide isn’t always about mental illness. Sometimes it’s about silence. Stress. Isolation. And in law, that can be a dangerous combination, writes Rebecca Ward, MBA.
Content warning: This article discusses suicide, depression, and mental health distress among legal professionals in Australia. Discretion is advised.
It happens more often than we talk about. Every year, lawyers die by suicide. Some are young. Some are senior. Some had families. Some didn’t. Some were known to be struggling. Others came as a complete shock.
The legal profession continues to report higher-than-average rates of depression, substance misuse, anxiety, and, yes, suicidal ideation. A 2023 US study found that lawyers experience nearly double the rate of suicidal thoughts compared to the general population (Krill, Johnson & Albert, 2023). It’s not just stress. It’s what comes after prolonged stress: silence, disconnection, hopelessness.
This isn’t just an article about statistics. It’s a quiet message to anyone reading who might feel like they’re not coping. You are not the only one. It is OK to ask for help. It is OK to not be OK.
Suicide is not just about depression
There’s a common misconception that suicide is the endpoint of untreated mental illness. That may be true in some cases, but not all. Many lawyers who die by suicide were never formally diagnosed with depression. Some were high-functioning. Some were still billing. Some were still showing up to court.
Suicide is often less about a single cause and more about the gradual accumulation of strain: overwork, shame, burnout, grief, the quiet erosion of self. It doesn’t always look like sadness. Sometimes, it looks like withdrawal. Other times, it looks like someone who’s “just busy”.
In law, we’re trained to manage risk. But we rarely apply that framework inward. We treat human suffering like something outside the scope of legal competence. The trouble is, it’s already in the room.
The risk is real and foreseeable
Lawyers report higher rates of suicidal ideation than the general working population — and the drivers are often occupational. Multiple studies estimate that around 10–12 per cent of lawyers have seriously contemplated suicide. This risk is not abstract. It’s occupational.
A major 2023 study identified five strong predictors of suicidal ideation in lawyers:
Notably, high stress alone increased suicide risk by 22 times (Krill et al., 2023). That number should stop all of us in our tracks.
What’s unique about law
Most lawyers don’t need a lecture on ethics or professionalism. What’s harder to admit is how those same values, perseverance, self-reliance, and high standards, can also become obstacles to seeking help.
Law school often filters for perfectionism and trains for emotional detachment. In some corners of the profession, to speak about mental health is still wrongly seen as a weakness. But hiding isn’t the same as coping. And endurance isn’t the same as health.
In practice areas like family, criminal, and immigration law, the emotional load is even heavier. Secondary trauma, compassion fatigue, and moral injury are real. Over time, they wear down even the most experienced practitioners.
Other countries are changing
In the US, the National Task Force on Lawyer Well-Being has called for mental health to be embedded in continuing education, professional standards, and firm culture. Firms are beginning to offer confidential support that doesn’t compromise advancement.
In the UK, the legal support service LawCare encourages peer-based support and storytelling. Their 2023 campaign, “Someone You Know”, aimed to break down stigma by reminding lawyers that those struggling are often colleagues we admire. These are slow shifts, but they are shifts. Cultural change takes time. It also takes people who are willing to quietly go first.
Australia has resources, but we need more honesty
Services like BarCare, LawCare WA, and the Queensland Law Society’s counselling program exist, but uptake is low. Not because the need isn’t there, but because silence is still safer than disclosure. We need to talk more, not just in the aftermath of tragedy, but upstream. Before the obituary. Before the leave of absence. Before the crisis.
Supervisors, judges, peers, none of us are immune to missing the signs. But we can do better. We can create cultures where asking for help isn’t seen as a liability. We can make sure mental health isn’t just a panel at CPD, but part of the way we work.
If this is you?
If you’re reading this and something is resonating, maybe you’ve been feeling tired in a way that rest doesn’t fix, or finding it harder to care, or thinking you don’t want to keep going like this, it’s OK to say something.
Help is not a performance review. You don’t have to justify why you’re struggling. You don’t need to have a breakdown to deserve support. You just need to start by saying something. Even if it’s only: “I think I’m not doing OK.”
What we owe each other
Law is a profession built on advocacy. On seeing problems and acting. If suicide in the legal profession is foreseeable, and it is, then inaction is no longer an option. We need to model care, not just competence. We need to be willing to intervene. And we need to remind each other: You are not weak. You are not alone. You are not the only one who has felt this way.
Because behind every headline, every case, every carefully worded submission, there’s a human being. And being human should never disqualify you from being helped.
If you or someone you know is in crisis, support is available. In Australia, contact Lifeline (13 11 14), Beyond Blue (1300 22 46 36), or your state’s legal assistance service.
Rebecca Ward is an MBA-qualified management consultant with a focus on mental health. She is the managing director of Barrister’s Health, which supports the legal profession through management consulting and psychotherapy. Barristers’ Health was founded in memory of her brother, Steven Ward, LLB.
