CODE IN TOKYO

Why Lawyers Sometimes Make Disputes Worse: The Law Protects People, but Not Always Relationships

Recently, a dispute involving an actor, an actress, and a television network made me think about what happens when a legal solution collides with a human relationship.

During filming, the actor reportedly touched the actress’s chin as part of a performance. This raised concerns about sexual harassment.

The actress, however, had apparently told the network before accepting the role that there were limits on the physical contact she could agree to. That condition was reportedly never shared with the actor.

From the actor’s perspective, acting becomes extremely difficult when an important restriction is withheld. From the actress’s perspective, a condition she had established in advance was not honored. The network should have coordinated between them before filming began.

The dispute eventually shifted away from the original harassment concern and toward the network’s handling of the situation.

According to reports, a lawyer representing the network gave the actor two instructions:

The actor was also reportedly warned that breaking these rules could create a risk of litigation.

From a legal-risk perspective, the instructions are understandable. From a human perspective, they create an almost impossible workplace. The actor became increasingly distressed and ultimately asked to leave the production.

The network later reportedly replaced the lawyer and moved toward an apology.

Perhaps the immediate legal risk had been reduced. By then, however, the working relationship had already been destroyed.

This is not an attack on lawyers. Lawyers are doing the job they were hired to do: protect their clients.

An insurance company tries to limit payouts. An accountant looks for lawful ways to reduce taxes. A lawyer tries to keep a client from losing a lawsuit.

The problem is that the legally optimal answer is not always the best answer for preserving a relationship.

The law contains no clause that measures how intimidating a conversation feels or how unbearable a workplace atmosphere has become. Yet in practice, those factors may matter far more than the outcome of a hypothetical court case.

In Japan, Being Right Can Still Cost You the Relationship

In Japan, a legally correct answer is not always regarded as a socially acceptable one.

When someone insists, “This is legally correct,” the response may be, “That may be true, but that is not the point.”

Many relationships are sustained not by explicit rules alone, but by compromise, sensitivity to the atmosphere, and a willingness on both sides to make room for the other. If the law is placed at the center of a disagreement too early, the result may be perfectly defensible and still leave everyone thinking, “I never want to work with this person again.”

A response that may seem reasonable in a more litigation-oriented culture such as the United States can feel disproportionate in Japan. This is not a question of which culture is right. Different societies have different ways of preserving trust.

A Culture of “Someone Must Be Held Responsible” Can Damage Society

There are times when bringing lawyers to the front of a dispute makes everyone less willing to help.

I remember a case involving a fatal rescue operation on a snowy mountain. The bereaved family brought legal action against members of the rescue team. I do not know whether the family had wanted to sue from the beginning or whether legal counsel encouraged them to proceed.

The court ultimately found no negligence on the part of the rescuers.

Mountain rescue is extraordinarily dangerous. Weather can change within minutes, visibility can disappear, and rescuers themselves may become victims of a secondary disaster.

If society responds to every failed rescue by demanding that the rescuers accept legal responsibility, fewer people will be willing to rescue anyone. In that case, mountaineering groups and other supporters reportedly organized petitions opposing the lawsuit.

Work sustained by goodwill and a sense of duty cannot survive if every bad outcome automatically becomes a legal claim.

The law exists to protect society. But when it is used only as a weapon, it can destroy the goodwill on which society also depends.

If the premise is, “We will sue you if you fail to save us,” then perhaps the only honest response is not to enter a dangerous snowy mountain in the first place. A rescue team is not an insurance policy. Its members are people who risk their own lives to help others.

Every Department Can Be Right While the Organization Fails

After many years in engineering, I have seen the same pattern in other forms.

The security team adds rules to prevent incidents.

The audit team adds paperwork to prevent fraud.

The legal team makes contracts longer to prevent lawsuits.

None of these actions is inherently wrong. But if every department pursues a perfect score on its own metric, eventually no one can get any work done.

Organizations have a strange capacity to fail as a whole precisely because every specialist performed their own role perfectly.

The same is true of legal advice. A response can earn full marks for legal protection and still fail completely at preserving human relationships.

Law is a powerful tool. That is exactly why we must recognize the problems it cannot solve by itself.

There is a familiar saying: “If all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.”

For a lawyer, the law is that hammer. Human relationships, however, are not nails. If we try to drive them into place by force, we may simply break them.