In the United Kingdom (most specifically in England and Wales) lawyers can apply to become Queen’s Counsel, which is an elite status given to attorneys who have shown a high level of competence and impressed their peers with their abilities. Because Queen’s Counsel can wear special court dress made of silk, they have the colloquial name of “Silks.” An example is illustrated here — that’s Cherie Blair, the Prime Minister’s wife, who is an accomplished barrister. Solicitors may also “take silk,” although this is a recent phenomenon.
The application process is quite elaborate and not without some restrictions on the lawyer’s practice, mainly in the form of requiring the permission of the court before taking on a case against the Crown, such as a criminal defense matter or a claim against the government (although such conflict waivers are routinely granted). It is also quite expensive — if one’s application to the Queen’s Counsel accepted the first time, the attorney can count on shelling out at least ₤7,500 for fees and the new, fancier robes and wigs necessary to take silk. Of course, the initial application fee (₤2,500) does not guarantee admission; it seems that only about 1 in 3 applications are accepted. The benefit, of course, is that a QC barrister (and now a QC solicitor) can charge a significantly higher fee for legal services. And apparently taking silk gives you a reasonably high (.1% or so) chance of being married to the Prime Minister, but that’s a different story.
So it’s with some hand-wringing that the Law Society (the equivalent of a state bar for all of England and Wales) notes that applications to become Queen’s Counsel are down by about 25% this year. The primary criticism has been the high application fee. But I have to think that can’t be the problem — a silk can charge half again what she charged before getting her letters patent, so it should only take a few cases before the application fee, dues, and expense of the new robes are all paid for.
I wonder whether the QC system is running out of steam for the Brits because they have found a taste for egalitarianism despite their historic and stereotypical obsession with class and rank. This is the country, after all, that gave us the Great Chain of Being and for nearly five hundred years has had some trouble letting go of the concept. So maybe barristers are simply not interested in taking silk and would rather let the marketplace sort out how much fee they can charge. But I just can’t see that being the case, either; lawyers in the UK are made of pretty much the same stuff as they are here, and they are just as vulnerable to things that stroke their egos. They would want the distinction simply because it is a distinction. The problem may not be a problem at all — it may just be a statistical blip, an unusually low year for applications, and the Queen’s Bench should have no reason to panic.
There is nothing remotely like this in U.S. law, to my knowledge. The closest it comes is the Solicitor General wearing morning dress to argue before the Supreme Court, but even so this is an incident of the office that the attorney occupies and not a distinction personal to the attorney. I wonder whether we in the U.S. can take any wisdom from the QC system. Does it profit the legal profession to have a special class of attorneys who are recognized for their high skills and abilities?
Lawyers here can take an LL.M. or an LL.D. as an advanced law degree, but that doesn’t really affect one’s billing rate very much, at least not directly; outside of the world of tax law, an LL.M. is primarily useful for someone looking at an academic career, and even then it does not seem to be necessary. In many cases, the advanced degree is simply the result of a desire to delay entry into the working world for a year.
An attorney can also become a certified specialist; California recognizes certified specialties in nine practice areas, and there are some national certifications as well. This would have a more direct effect on rates, but there is really not much more prestige or recognition within the profession. If I hear “So-and-so is a certified workers’ compensation specialist,” my response is, “Oh.” It just doesn’t impress me all that much. Maybe it should, but it doesn’t.
And maybe I shouldn’t be so impressed with a silk, either. Just because a British attorney takes silk and gets to add the letters “QC” after his name may not necessarily mean much of anything other than that he’s been around for the requisite 15 years and has lots of friends who will say nice things about him. My 15-year anniversary as an attorney is not that far in the future and I have lots of friends who will say nice things about me. And I can probably find a better use for $15,000 than buying myself a title and the right to wear an itchy, heavy wig. Maybe that’s how more British lawyers feel, too, which would account for the shortage of new silk at London’s Inns of Court.
