Key takeaways:

• • • Deploying AI and governing it are two different things 鈥� Most tax, audit & accounting firms are further along on deployment of AI than they are with setting up how it will be governed.

    • AI literacy and understanding will be key attributes 鈥� The skill that will define the next generation of auditors isn’t knowing how to use AI; rather, it’s knowing when to distrust it.

    • Risk assessment needs to be re-thought 鈥� The risk assessment gap is a structural problem, not a technology maturity problem. And no better model is going to fix it.

There is a version of AI adoption that looks like progress, but isn’t. It involves a pilot program that runs well, gains a positive internal review and a mention in the firm’s next thought leadership piece 鈥� and then nothing changes throughout the firm. The workflow that got automated stays automated, and everything else stays the same.

This pattern is more common than many tax, audit & accounting firms want to admit. The organizational work that scaling AI actually requires 鈥� such as deciding who owns the outputs, redesigning quality review, working out what happens when a model gets something wrong 鈥� doesn’t surface in a pilot. Instead, it surfaces in production. And those firms that have been running the same pilot for more than a year aren’t being cautious, they鈥檙e simply avoiding those decisions.

A recent survey by tech market research group International Data Corp. (IDC) of 1,005 audit and accounting professionals globally captures the gap precisely. The study showed that two-thirds of firms have AI embedded in strategy or underway in pilots, but only 7% . That distance between deployment and readiness is where most of the real work is hiding.

The audit profession is underinvesting in a key skill

Ask most audit firm leaders what skills their people need for an AI-driven practice, and the answers come back quickly: data analysis, AI literacy, and technology proficiency. Those aren’t wrong answers, but they’re incomplete in a way that matters.

The skill that will actually define audit quality in an AI-enabled environment isn’t the ability to use the tools; rather, it鈥檚 the ability to pressure-test what those tools produce. To read an AI-generated summary and identify what it might have missed, or to recognize when a flagged pattern in a data set is just noise rather than a red flag, or even to override a confident-sounding output when professional judgment says something doesn’t add up.

That’s closer to editing than accounting 鈥� and it’s a fundamentally different capability than simply being familiar with AI systems. Yet most re-skilling programs are building that familiarity, while it鈥檚 the understanding and judgment that separates auditors who use AI well from auditors who use it credulously.

Indeed, excessive trust in AI outputs is the specific failure mode the profession needs to train against 鈥� and that鈥檚 not getting enough attention.

The risk assessment problem is permanent

There’s a version of the AI-in-audit story in which every limitation is temporary 鈥� the AI models will improve, the training data will get better, the accuracy will increase. For most audit applications, that’s probably true, but for risk assessment, it isn’t.

Risk assessment requires professional skepticism: the trained disposition to question, probe, and not accept appearances at face value. AI models are trained to find patterns and produce coherent, confident output. Those two orientations are in direct tension. A model that identifies a pattern and presents it with confidence is doing exactly what it was designed to do. However, the problem is that professional skepticism sometimes requires distrusting precisely that kind of coherent, confident output 鈥� and then asking what the pattern is missing, who might be motivated to produce it, and whether the data behind it can be trusted.

That gap isn’t a technology maturity problem. It’s a structural problem. Nearly 80% of audit leaders in the IDC survey say they recognize the risk of algorithmic bias in functions like risk assessment and fraud detection 鈥� and that recognition points at something real. The right response isn’t to avoid AI in risk assessment entirely, of course, but it is to be clear-eyed about where AI’s role ends and where the auditor’s begins. Summarizing, flagging, and organizing are appropriate uses of AI, but the judgment about what the output means belongs with someone else.

Governance that actually means something

Most tax, audit & accounting firms have an AI policy; however, far fewer have built the infrastructure that makes it operational.

The two requirements that matter most are traceability and explainability. Traceability means that every AI output cites its source 鈥� if it can’t show its work, the firm shouldn’t rely on it. Explainability means the auditor who is reviewing the output can follow the reasoning and form an independent view of whether it holds together. Both of these concepts should be requirements, not preferences. The audit partner signing the report needs to be able to stand behind every conclusion in it, and that requires being able to read the chain from input to output.

Naturally, the more difficult governance question is what “human in the loop” actually means when the processes are operational. As a principle, everyone agrees that the “human in the loop” is critically important. However, as a set of design decisions 鈥� determining at which specific points in a workflow human judgment required, how does the interface prompt it, and who is accountable when it doesn’t happen 鈥� most firms haven’t worked that out. That kind of imprecision is where audit risk can accumulate quietly.

Where AI is genuinely earning its place

None of this is an argument against AI in audit, of course. Document extraction, first-draft writing, data summarization are all areas in which AI is delivering real value, and the gains aren’t marginal. Contracts that once took days to review can be turned around in hours. Workpaper summaries and client communications that traditionally consumed senior staff time are now being handled in the first-draft stage by tools that do it well. Those hours are going back to partners and managers, and their work is better for it.

The honest picture of AI in audit is not the hype version 鈥� transformational overnight, replacing roles, reshaping everything at once. Instead, it’s more incremental than that, more uneven, and more dependent on organizational decisions than technology ones. The audit firms making the most of it aren’t the ones that moved fastest; rather, they’re the ones that were clearest about what they were trying to solve, built governance structures that could handle the friction, and invested in the human judgment that AI can support but cannot replace.

That clarity 鈥� about what AI is good for, what it isn’t, and what it requires of the people using it 鈥� is where the real work is.

You can find more about the challenges facing audit service professionals here

Key insights:

• • • Law firms and clients are both redesigning for AI 鈥� Both sides are rethinking how legal work gets done, including thoughts on operating models, talent, technology, and the role of automation in delivering services.

    • There鈥檚 a communication gap despite shared dependence 鈥� Even though each side鈥檚 AI choices directly affect the other, many law firms and legal departments are still planning separately, without enough transparency or coordination.

    • There are 5 critical shared questions they need to address together 鈥� Law firms and their clients need joint conversations about pricing, work allocation, trust, talent development, and wider industry standards to better shape a sustainable future together.

A law firm choosing its 2030 strategic business model without knowing how its clients are evolving is navigating blind 鈥� and vice versa.

And yet, across the legal profession, that is exactly what is happening. Law firms and corporate legal departments are each embarking on significant transformations 鈥� redesigning their operating models, reimagining their talent models, and making decisions about technology. What is striking is how often they are doing so in isolation from each other, retreating into their respective silos at precisely the moment when their futures are most deeply interconnected.

The pace of change raises the stakes. Ninety-one percent of corporate C-Suite leaders say the rise of AI will have a significant impact on their five-year business strategy. Further, AI adoption has nearly doubled across the legal sector over the past 12 months, and half of legal professionals say they expect agentic AI to be central to their workflow within two years.

Clearly, the decisions being made today about talent, technology, pricing, and relationships will lock in outcomes that are hard to reverse.

The AI view from corporate law departments

On the in-house corporate side, General Counsel are contending with broadening mandates, increasing demand and complexity, and a pace of business that shows no signs of slowing. Not surprisingly, AI is increasingly the strategic response: , up from 25% who said that last year. And for most that means AI-enabled capability to do more, faster, and at greater scale.

成人VR视频 Institute鈥檚 GCO 2030 research maps out what the transformed legal department could look like 鈥� from tech-forward functions that scale routine work through automation, to seamlessly integrated teams that blend internal and external expertise, to legal departments that actively supercharge peer functions like HR and Finance.

The common thread through all of this is a shift toward strategic selectivity: Doing more with sharper focus and engaging outside counsel differently as a result.

The AI view from law firms

Among law firm leaders, AI is unavoidable 鈥� in every leadership conversation that 成人VR视频 Institute researchers held with managing partners in recent months, the issue of AI came up. For many, it is seen as a lever for growth, although law firms vary considerably in how far they have moved from consideration to execution.

In fact, our recent research points to four possible models emerging on the horizon that have AI-native disruptors built around agentic automation, elite advisory boutiques in which senior judgment is the product, integrated powerhouses that combine top-tier brand with AI-enabled delivery at scale, and those that hold back from AI adoption (although the research suggests this is a delay, not a strategy). What unites the more progressive scenarios is that strategy requires genuine commitment: A firm simply cannot pursue all models at once, and the choices made about talent, pricing, and client relationships will compound over time.

You can access the full feature article,听The 2030 legal department: 5 ways AI will transform how in-house teams work听here

The problem, of course, is that both sides are designing futures that will inevitably shape the other 鈥� yet two-thirds of GCs say they do not know how their outside firms are approaching AI, and law firms report genuine uncertainty about what their clients want. This shows a clear communication gap at the heart of the legal ecosystem, and it is opening at precisely the moment that demands coordination.

The futures being designed in those silos are not mutually exclusive. When a corporate legal department shifts its model 鈥� whether automating routine work, restructuring how it engages external counsel, or reorienting toward strategic advisory 鈥� it changes the demand profile that law firms face. When a firm repositions itself around premium complexity or agentic delivery, that changes what clients can rely on externally, and therefore what they must build internally. Each side鈥檚 choices narrow or expand the options available to the other.

Addressing 5 critical questions together

Against that backdrop, there are several questions the legal profession cannot answer from within a single organization 鈥� questions that require genuine conversation between firms and the clients they serve.

The first is the question of value and pricing 鈥� In an AI-enabled legal market, how is value defined and paid for, and can the answers be fair to both sides while still encouraging innovation? If AI dramatically accelerates the delivery of advice, does efficiency become the new floor or the new ceiling? Are clients paying for outcomes, risk reduction, speed 鈥� or some combination of all three? And which side absorbs the productivity dividend?

The second question concerns where the work lives 鈥� As both law firms and legal departments expand their AI capabilities, the traditional allocation of work between in-house and external counsel will shift. Determining what genuinely belongs in each place and why 鈥� based on, for example, risk, complexity, relationships, and strategic importance 鈥� is a conversation that requires honesty from both sides.

Third is the question of trust and transparency 鈥� How can firms and their clients build shared frameworks for disclosure, governance, and accountability around AI use in a way that strengthens relationships rather than undermines them? Without these frameworks, AI integration risks eroding the relationship foundations upon which legal advice depends.

Fourth, the talent pipeline question 鈥� As the type of routine work that historically served as the apprenticeship model for past generations of lawyers rapidly disappears, both firms and legal departments face a shared responsibility for how legal talent is trained and developed.

Fifth, and perhaps most structurally significant, is which challenges are ecosystem-wide? 鈥� Data standards, interoperability, shared risk frameworks, and ethics and assurance are not problems any single organization can resolve alone but rather, are ones that require coordinated action across firms, legal departments, technology providers, and academia.

Indeed, none of these questions can be resolved in isolation, and avoiding them does not preserve the status quo, it simply locks in poor defaults. Leadership in this moment doesn鈥檛 mean having all the answers, but it does mean being willing to ask the questions out loud, with the people who need to be in the room.

The firms and legal departments that come to these questions together, rather than arriving at the table with entrenched positions already locked in, will be better positioned to build a future that is resilient, transparent, and sustainable.

To start, pick one of the five questions above and put it on the agenda for your next client or firm meeting. Not as a negotiation, but as an open conversation worth having.

That is how the communication gap between law firms and corporate legal departments gets closed 鈥� one honest conversation at a time.

Start your legal department鈥檚 future planning using our reimagine guide from the Value Alignment Toolkit

Key insights:

• • • Unauthorized practice of law rules have repeatedly come into conflict with new forms of legal self-help 鈥� Each major wave of consumer-facing legal assistance has tested the boundaries of UPL doctrine and forced courts, regulators, and lawmakers to decide where legal information ends and legal advice begins.

    • Technology has expanded access to legal information faster than regulation has adapted 鈥� LegalZoom and other justice tech companies showed that legal tools could be delivered at scale, while UPL doctrine often struggled to accommodate new models of legal assistance designed for consumers with unmet legal needs.

    • The rise of AI makes the old UPL framework increasingly inadequate 鈥� As GenAI tools provide legal research, document assistance, and guided analysis directly to the public, regulators should move beyond the LegalZoom-era battles and consider a framework focused on consumer protection, transparency, and actual harm.

This two-part blog series examining how regulators, the legal profession, and individual litigants are looking at the unauthorized practice of law (UPL) first looks at the history of UPL and then suggests a consumer protection-based method of regulation to replace today鈥檚 supplier-based regulations.

With three-quarters of state court cases including at least one self-represented party, and with 92% of Americans with a legal problem not getting the legal help they need, it鈥檚 not surprising that the unauthorized practice of law (UPL) is a concept that鈥檚 not far from people鈥檚 minds.

It does not have to be this way, of course, and there are solutions to the thornier issues with UPL; but first, it may be helpful to understand how we got to this place and how UPL has evolved.

Legal self-help in a pre-Internet world

In the late-1800s, before UPL was formally articulated, John Wells published “Every Man His Own Lawyer”, a widely circulated guide that explained legal principles and provided practical forms. Its popularity reflected sustained public demand for accessible legal information. Around the same time, the organized bar began to emerge, along with more structured efforts to define and protect the boundaries of legal practice.

By the early-1900s, auto clubs were providing legal help to their members, demonstrating an early form of a prepaid legal services plan that exists to this day, but with typically a wider array of services. As would be the case in later years, an economic downturn soon brought a fight as lawyers used threats of UPL to fight competition. Not long after the Great Depression began, the ABA formed the Committee on Unauthorized Practice of Law, and a wave of litigation ensued to essential end the offering from auto clubs.

Similar dynamics appeared later in the 20th century. In the 1960s, soon before the recession of the 1970s, Norman Dacey鈥檚 “How to Avoid Probate!” offered readers tools to manage estate planning without engaging a lawyer. The response included investigations and attempts to suppress the book. Courts ultimately clarified that providing general legal information, even when presented in a structured and practical format, does not constitute individualized legal advice and falls within the scope of protected speech.

Tech enters the equation

By the 1990s, these ideas had moved into a digital environment. Companies such as Nolo and Parsons Technology translated legal forms and guidance into software and the Texas State Bar sued in federal court. Although the bar initially prevailed, a legislative response introduced a software exception to UPL that remains in effect today, reflecting an early acknowledgment that technology-based tools required a different regulatory lens.

By early 2000s, LegalZoom extended these concepts at scale. By automating document creation across a wide range of legal needs, it brought structured legal tools directly to consumers in a more accessible format. While not the first provider of self-help legal resources, it demonstrated how technology could move online and operationalize these services at a national level 鈥� not surprisingly, this effort would face resistance at a whole new level.

Launched in 2001, LegalZoom argued that it just represented the modern evolution of books like those written by Wells and Dacey. The response from the legal establishment was ferocious. It began with state bar inquiries trying to understand what LegalZoom was offering, and as the Global Financial Crisis began in 2007, class action lawsuits and regulatory challenges followed.

These suits sought significant damages without alleging specific consumer harm, creating substantial pressure on a still-developing sector and signaled resistance to new models of service delivery. The objections were ostensibly about consumer protection, while more reflecting concerns about changes to established structures in the legal profession.

LegalZoom won some of the class actions and settled others on friendly terms, typically agreeing to limit the use of certain words in its advertising, paying some class member claims, offering its attorney-access plans on a complimentary basis, and paying attorneys鈥� fees.

Supreme Court precedents

Two U.S. Supreme Court decisions would prove highly important to the UPL battles. The first came in in which the Court ruled that companies could include class action waivers in arbitration provisions. Soon after, LegalZoom began implementing this type of arbitration provision to coincide with the resolution of several major class actions to make sustaining a class action against it in the future more difficult.

The second Supreme Court ruling to impact UPL came in in which the Court ruled that a state occupational licensing board cannot claim state-action antitrust immunity if a controlling number of its decision-makers are active market participants in the occupation it regulates and the state does not actively supervise the board. This decision put state bars at risk.

The fight that changed the conversation was the LegalZoom lawsuit against the North Carolina State Bar (NCSB) that was modeled after the result in the Dental Board matter. LegalZoom had built a prepaid legal services plan offering attorney access to its customers 鈥� a narrower version of what the auto clubs had offered in the past. These types of plans historically were supported by the ABA and National Association of Attorneys General, but a few states pushed back on LegalZoom offering one. Most notably, North Carolina objected and LegalZoom sued the NCSB for a declaratory judgment that it was not engaged in UPL as well as on antitrust and other grounds, leading to a settlement and cooperative legislation that cleared the way for LegalZoom to continue operations, including launching its legal plan, in that state.

Upon the case’s conclusion, University of Tennessee College of Law professor , LegalZoom fought the North Carolina Bar 鈥� and LegalZoom won. Barton opined that the 鈥淪outh Carolina [where the Supreme Court had found LegalZoom practices lawful] and North Carolina precedents will likely end all state bar action on UPL.鈥� He was largely correct, as future LegalZoom and other industry skirmishes would not amount to much, allowing the industry to thrive.

The future of UPL

Today, the LegalZoom fights look quaint. It was essentially a fight over the online equivalents to form books, when a few years later AI would explode onto the scene and upend everything. We now have everything from foundation models such as ChatGPT, Claude, and Gemini to legal specialists available to the public and generating research memos at the push of a button.

This, perhaps, brings us back to where we started. And now may be the time to ask whether a new system of regulation is needed around UPL, because no other justice tech company should have to run the gauntlet of fights that LegalZoom faced.

In the next part of this blog series, we will look at how the issues raised by UPL in the AI age may require a new regulatory solution, possibly one based on a consumer protection model that would replace today鈥檚 supplier-based regulations

Key highlights:

• • • The theory-practice gap is now an AI-era crisis鈥� Integrating legal training with hands-on pro bono experience is the future of legal education.

    • A collaborative model merges learning and doing into a single platform鈥� The model connects law students with vetted pro bono opportunities from legal services organizations, while also offering targeted, skills-based training at the moment students step into those matters.

    • Pro bono work is uniquely suited for responsible AI training鈥� On-demand programs led by expert faculty are available to help students sharpen pro bono skills, understand the use of AI in today鈥檚 legal practice, and stay on top of developments in numerous industry and practice areas.

Legal education has operated on a familiar, decades-long divide that saw students spend their first years learning the law in the classroom and then after graduation, gaining substantive experience practicing the law in the real world. This gap has always been costly for both students and legal employers, and now it鈥檚 emerging as untenable in an era in which AI is rapidly reshaping what junior lawyers do.

Pro bono and skills training close this gap

A new partnership between , a pro bono management platform, and the (PLI), a nonprofit provider of learning resources for legal professionals, is designed to close this gap while showing something larger about where legal education must go.

The partnership is designed to equip students with on-demand, actionable training that supports effective pro bono engagement by offering access to PLI’s training programs directly through Paladin’s platform. Since launching with 30 law schools in August 2025, students have signed up for thousands of pro bono cases through the platform, according to , Co-founder and CEO of Paladin.

For years, experiential learning in law schools was something students had to piece together on their own by hunting across spreadsheets, clinic listings, and externship postings for opportunities, says Sonday, adding that too often students were given little guidance on what they were walking into.

The partnership is designed to equip students with on-demand, actionable training that supports effective pro bono engagement

“What’s fundamentally different is the integration and centralization of learning and doing,” Sonday explains. “Historically, legal education has separated theory, training, and practice.” Now, she notes, a student can learn a concept, build confidence through targeted training, and apply it in a real-world setting within a short amount of time.

, Chief Strategy Officer at PLI, describes the experience from the student’s perspective: 鈥淲hen a first-year logs into the Paladin platform, they are not thrown into the deep end. Instead, they can access skills-based programs, such as a PLI program specifically on how to interview a pro bono client before they ever sit across from someone in need. This leads to a better experience for the student, the law school, and especially for the client.”

Pro bono work suited to responsible AI training

The urgency behind this partnership is inseparable from the impact AI is having on the entry-level legal market.

“We’re already seeing AI reduce the time spent on tasks like initial legal research, document review, drafting memos, and summarizing case law,鈥� Sonday says. 鈥淭his is work that has traditionally formed the foundation of junior associate training.鈥� The skills AI cannot replicate 鈥� such as judgment, issue spotting in ambiguous situations, client communication, and ethical decision-making 鈥� are what students need to develop deliberately earlier in their legal careers.

Indeed, those human skills are essential to the effective use of AI, Talmage says. The lawyer of the future will be a strategic advisor and creative problem solver, which are the very attorney roles that AI cannot fill, she explains, adding that those must be cultivated through experience. “You always need to be questioning and verifying and authenticating 鈥� and that’s generally a lawyer鈥檚 role.鈥�

For years, experiential learning in law schools was something students had to piece together on their own by hunting across spreadsheets, clinic listings, and externship postings for opportunities.

There is a particular logic as to why pro bono work is the right fit for learning to use AI responsibly. Pro bono is “a built-in, humans-in-the-loop model” in which students are always supervised by attorneys, Sonday says. And this supervision creates a structured environment in which to learn how to use AI tools, apply them to real matters, get feedback, and iterate. The result, Sonday argues, will be more attorneys who are AI-fluent early on and throughout their careers.

A message to law school leaders

For law school leaders, both Sonday and Talmage highlight that AI use has already changed the legal profession. The choice then for law schools is whether they evolve by design or by default.

Students know the legal profession has changed and so do employers, CLE providers, and clients, Talmage explains.

Sonday agrees. “The pace of change in the legal profession is accelerating, and students need to be prepared not just for the law today, but also for the practice of law in the future,鈥� she says. 鈥淚ntegrating pro bono platforms and AI-specific training aligns legal education with reality.”

The Paladin/PLI partnership offers a blueprint for what legal education must become in the future, transforming itself into a space that鈥檚 grounded in applied legal knowledge, human-supervised, and AI-informed. Indeed, the best way to train the next generation of lawyers is to give them real clients, real cases, and real responsibility while they still have room to grow.

You can find more about the challenges facing law schools and legal education here

Key insights:

• • • AI is changing legal鈥檚 role, not just its workload 鈥� Going forward, AI will do more than automate routine tasks, it also will help in-house legal teams become more strategic business partners.

    • The 5 archetypes make the transformation concrete 鈥� There are five practical ways in which AI could reshape legal work, including automation, stronger advising, better collaboration, and global scale.

    • Every organization鈥檚 AI transformation will be different 鈥� 成人VR视频鈥� own legal transformation journey shows the common and unique aspects of this process.

Beyond the automation, productivity boosts, or the now-familiar promise of doing more with less, the question over how AI will really transform the work that corporate legal departments do on a daily basis, has yet to be truly answered.

To deepen our understanding of where in-house legal is really heading next, Norie Campbell, 成人VR视频 Chief Legal Officer, and Lizzy Duffy, a Senior Director of the 成人VR视频 Institute, produced a new feature article, The 2030 legal department: 5 ways AI will transform how in-house teams work听that steps back from the day-to-day noise around AI and asks the bigger, more interesting question: 鈥淲hat is the legal function actually becoming?鈥�

Importantly, the article recognizes that in-house legal teams are navigating real constraints around time, budget, and clarity even as expectations continue to evolve. It also acknowledges how GCs are balancing rising demands with a growing focus on efficiency, while also working to define what effective and meaningful AI adoption should look like for their teams.

Indeed, this human pressure is one of the most compelling aspects to the questions corporate law departments are facing today, and it reverberates beyond a simple theory of AI in legal to really reflect a profession at a turning point.

The five archetypes

The feature also lays out five archetypes 鈥� distinct models for how AI could reshape legal work, from high-volume automation to better strategic advising, stronger business partnering, smarter collaboration with outside counsel, and truly global leverage across teams and languages.

By referencing these five archetypes, legal department leaders can start asking where their own teams fit, and what they need to do to get better prepared for the AI-driven legal future of 2030.

These archetypes cover everything from deciding on the best ways to leverage AI-led automation to helping legal teams become more proactive strategic advisers. The archetypes also detail how to foster collaboration that can allow other corporate functions to act more confidently without constant legal intervention. And how to use AI to reduce barriers caused by language and time zones, enabling multinational legal teams to work more effectively across geographies.

By referencing these five archetypes, legal department leaders can start asking where their own teams fit, and what they need to do to get better prepared for the AI-driven legal future of 2030.

成人VR视频鈥� own journey

This feature article also builds a practical, grounded picture of the future from inside 成人VR视频鈥� own General Counsel鈥檚 Office (GCO), showing readers a transformation that鈥檚 already taking shape.

This insider perspective offers a front-row look at how one GCO is trying to move from experimentation to real transformation and tells a bigger story than technology alone. Today鈥檚 transformation of the corporate legal department is really about leadership, ambition, and the choices department leaders need to make now if they want to stay relevant by 2030.

More than anything, the feature article stresses that adopting AI tools is not the same as true transformation. To move beyond incremental gains, legal departments must redesign workflows, improve data infrastructure, invest in training, and hire for adaptability and technical literacy. Ultimately, the central message is that efficiency is only a by-product 鈥� the real challenge is deciding what kind of legal function an organization will need in 2030 and how to start building toward that vision now.

You can access the full feature article, The 2030 legal department: 5 ways AI will transform how in-house teams work here

Key highlights:

• • • Curriculum听redesign must start now 鈥� One law school鈥檚 approach illustrates the necessity of mapping the entire curriculum to identify which skills to preserve, evolve, or build from scratch.

    • Training faculty in AI use is critical 鈥� Faculty AI training should be a multi-layered approach including hands-on training with specialized legal AI tools, guidance on redesigning curricula, and more.

    • AI simulations may be the key 鈥� Law school leaders need to act now by experimenting with small pilot projects and building simulation-based learning tools to replace the developmental depth that once came naturally in the first years of practice.

The debate about AI consuming most of the work that teaches essential lawyering skills to junior attorneys is forcing a reckoning with the long-held assumption that law schools were never designed to produce practice-ready lawyers and that it was always the profession’s job.

Indeed, AI is forcing that uncomfortable truth into the open faster than anyone anticipated because essential lawyering work 鈥� the document review, contract markup, research memo creation 鈥� dictated how a junior lawyer learned to spot the issue buried on page 47, to sense when a clause was off, and to develop the instinct that no classroom can fully replicate. Now, as more law firms deploy AI to handle precisely those entry-level tasks, the organic training moments that used to define the first two to three years of legal practice are evaporating.

, Executive Dean, Faculty of Law at Bond University, and Co-Chair of the Council of Australian Law Deans, says he sees where this is leading. The ultimate results will be firms hiring fewer junior lawyers today because AI has taken over that entry-level work, James explains, adding that means there will simply be no pipeline of mid-level, experienced lawyers to draw from in three to five years. Indeed, this is a slow-moving crisis, already in motion, and yet to fully arrive.

This crisis lands at the center of what the AI and Future of Legal Practice (AIFLP) initiative exists to address because at the core of this crisis is what does being job-ready really means when the job itself is being redefined. Answering this question requires law schools, law firms, licensing bodies, and technologists to do something they have historically struggled to do 鈥� that is to think and act collaboratively.

Rethinking the curriculum before AI does it for you

leads IE Law School鈥檚 AI initiative and is steering the school鈥檚 efforts to embed AI across the curriculum. To do so effectively, her approach requires going back to a broader set of foundational questions in legal education such as: For what is legal education meant to prepare students? How do students learn to develop legal judgment? What makes legal advice genuinely valuable? And what skills are essential to deliver that value in an AI-enabled profession?

鈥淟ayering AI tools on top of an unchanged curriculum serves no one,鈥� Perez-Llorca explains, adding that without answers to the fundamental questions, 鈥測ou are just adding technology to a structure that was never designed to handle it.鈥�

Check out how one law school professor is building AI simulation tools

IE law school is currently mapping its entire curriculum to determine which skills need to be preserved, which need to evolve, and which need to be built from scratch, while also using the AI-boosted curriculum to train faculty. Perez-Llorca describes the school鈥檚 faculty AI training as a multi-layered approach encompassing university-wide LLM training, substantive AI law curriculum review, hands-on training with specialized legal AI tools, guidance on redesigning curricula, and assessments to reflect students’ growing AI proficiency. Before students can be taught with AI, professors need to understand the tools themselves and how to use them in teaching, in simulation, and in assessment, she adds.

An AI tutor that meets students where they are

Bond University鈥檚 James says he has spent the last several months building an AI tutor designed to walk students through course material the way a patient, attentive instructor would. His vision for the AI teaching assistant supports the professor meeting students where they are. 鈥淚t [the AI tutor] introduces the week’s topic, outlines learning outcomes, guides students through the readings, checks comprehension with short quizzes, and then adapts in real time based on how the student responds,鈥� James explains, adding that the AI tutor will pull any student who is struggling deeper into the material until the learning outcome is achieved. 鈥淭he conversation never stops until the learning does.鈥�

However, James is careful to draw a clear distinction about what the tutor replaces and what it does not, stressing that AI is a substitute for the lecture recording, the static reading list, or the passive video watched at midnight before an exam 鈥� but it chiefly exists to support the law professor. This approach frees up class time, turning it from content delivery to more meaningful the time between the human instructor and students, he adds.

Act by design or default

The approaches by both Perez-Llorca and James point to a way to address the question of disappearing tasks that teach essential lawyering skills as well as shift the center of gravity in legal education toward ways to foster developmental skills and legal judgment. Indeed, inertia is not a strategy, and law school deans and associate deans can be at the forefront of this fight by taking decisive action, including:

• • • Experiment freely 鈥� Investigate with AI on your own by starting small with a pilot project.
    • Strategically assign where AI goes 鈥� Decide where AI belongs in the curriculum, such as in courses focused on legal research and drafting as they become commoditized by AI. Also, determine in which instances AI does not belong, such as counseling clients through ambiguity, navigating ethical complexity, and advocating persuasively. Make sure these all remain led by human lawyers.
    • Focus on skills 鈥� Map your law school鈥檚 curriculum by identifying which skills need to be preserved, which skills need to evolve, and which need to be built from scratch.
    • Build AI-assisted teaching tools 鈥� Make experiential and simulation-based learning central to the curriculum.

鈥淭he choice is between dealing with this crisis by design or by default,鈥� James says, noting that the pipeline problem he described is already in motion while the practitioners, educators, technologists, and licensing bodies that need to solve this together are not yet consistently in the same room.

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Key insights:

• • • Law firms have moved from restricting GenAI use (Don鈥檛 use tools that leak client data) to mandating it (Incorporate AI into your practice and market our firm鈥檚 GenAI capabilities)鈥斕齆either phase has given rank and file lawyers what they really need: Guidance on in which instances GenAI actually helps deliver better, cheaper, and faster legal services, where it introduces serious professional risk, and how to tell the difference.

    • GenAI鈥檚 capacity to transform legal work for the better is real, but so is its capacity to degrade it听鈥擥enAI can significantly boost speed and quality on tasks involving breadth, synthesis, or straightforward analysis, but it can weaken performance on complex judgment and revision tasks 鈥� especially for stronger professionals 鈥� by encouraging overconfidence, missed issues, and superficial reasoning.

    • A use-mode framework can close the听gap鈥� A proposed governance framework can give law firm leadership a practical tool for identifying in which situations GenAI enhances legal work, where it introduces serious risk, and where professional judgment is non-negotiable.

This article synthesizes findings from the author鈥檚 paper,

Your law firm undoubtedly has a policy around generative AI (GenAI), which probably tells lawyers to avoid tools that leak client data, admonishes them to look out for hallucinations, and encourages them to incorporate AI into their practice to satisfy client demands.

However, it likely does not tell them which cognitive functions they should delegate to GenAI, which they should not, and where the line between the two is absolute. In the space between restriction and mandate, lawyers are making consequential decisions about GenAI delegation every day. Meanwhile, most law firms have not addressed that space with meaningful governance.

GenAI can make legal work worse

GenAI鈥檚 capacity to transform legal work for the better is real, but so is its capacity to degrade it. Most law firm leaders know that AI can hallucinate; yet far fewer know that it can make expert legal judgment and work product actively worse.

The best evidence of this dynamic comes from a with consultants from the Boston Consulting Group, who were given similar tasks and allowed to use various levels of AI assistance, including no AI. For professional tasks requiring breadth and option generation, GenAI delivered, showing that output quality improved by 40% and consultants worked faster. For tasks requiring judgment and synthesis, however, something unexpected happened. Consultants using GenAI were 19% less likely to produce correct solutions than those working without it.

Governing GenAI鈥檚 uneven performance requires asking a question that most law firms are not asking: What cognitive function is being delegated to GenAI at each step in the workflow?

The same pattern appears in research evaluating GenAI use in legal analysis. An empirical in the Journal of Legal Education confirmed that AI dramatically improves performance on straightforward analysis while producing no measurable benefit for complex reasoning. And in the case of complex reasoning, GenAI use also introduced recurring failures, such as jumping to conclusions, missing less obvious issues, and generating confident prose that masks superficial analysis.

from the University of Minnesota focused on legal tasks showed that GenAI assistance on a synthesis task improved performance by nearly 60% and produced a surprising downstream benefit. Those participants who used AI for synthesis outperformed the control group on the subsequent independent reasoning task even after GenAI was removed. However, when GenAI was introduced at the revision stage, the picture changed. GenAI helped weaker performers, but it actively degraded the work of stronger ones. Indeed, the best lawyers in the study produced worse revised work product when they used GenAI than when they worked without it.

A use-mode governance framework

Given all these findings, governing GenAI鈥檚 uneven performance requires asking a question that most law firms are not asking. Instead of determining whether GenAI is appropriate for a particular deliverable 鈥� such as a brief, a contract, or a board presentation 鈥� the governance question instead should be: What cognitive function is being delegated to GenAI at each step in the workflow?

My proposed framework, outlined below, organizes common GenAI uses into seven recurring modes following the sequence in which lawyers actually use GenAI to produce legal work product. Then, governance controls are calibrated to the risk profile of each mode.

Modes 1 and 2: Retrieval and organization

At the mechanical end of the cognitive spectrum are two distinct functions. In retrieval mode (Mode 1), a lawyer reviewing a merger agreement asks GenAI to identify every representation and warranty in the document. In organization mode (Mode 2), a litigator reviewing 50 depositions asks GenAI to construct a timeline from the testimony. The first locates material that already exists. The second arranges it into a usable structure. No new content is created in either case, and both uses are low-risk and should be actively encouraged, subject to modest verification controls. Firms that unduly restrict these use modes are leaving value on the table.

Mode 3: Summarization

Summarization (Mode 3) introduces selection risk. In this mode, GenAI chooses what to emphasize, include, and omit. Consider a lawyer preparing a board presentation on the results of an internal investigation. GenAI can condense dozens of witness interviews into key points and themes in minutes; however, a summary may focus on procedural detail while missing credibility issues that a lawyer would immediately recognize as material. The appropriate control is to mandate meaningful review by a lawyer with first-hand knowledge of the source material. A lawyer encountering the summary cold has no reliable way to evaluate what GenAI missed.

Mode 4: Candidate generation

Mode 4 is exploratory. A lawyer drafting a brief might ask GenAI to generate a list of potential arguments, propose alternative framings, or identify supporting authority. This candidate material expands options and accelerates iteration. The work product is not filing-ready and must be treated as provisional. GenAI can suggest, but a lawyer must decide.

The authority verification obligation at this stage deserves special emphasis. GenAI will identify cases, summarize holdings, and weave them into an argument structure. Thus, the output will read fluently and cite real-looking cases. However, a lawyer cannot assume the model has accurately characterized the holdings or context, and any authority cited in an external filing must be independently read and verified. GenAI can help find the cases, but a lawyer must read and apply them.

Mode 5: Editing and rewriting

In Mode 5, a lawyer asks GenAI to tighten a dense contract provision or restructure a wordy paragraph, risking, of course, unintended meaning change. An edit may read cleanly while subtly narrowing a representation, softening a covenant, or eliminating a carve-out. The revision risk is not hypothetical. The University of Minnesota study referenced above found that stronger performers produced worse work product when GenAI revised their independently produced memos. In this mode, a lawyer must confirm that the edit produced no shift in meaning and introduced no new factual assertions.

Mode 6: Critique and stress-testing

Mode 6 may be the most underutilized GenAI capability. Before filing a brief or presenting to regulators, a lawyer can ask GenAI to identify weaknesses in their argument. In this way, GenAI finds vulnerabilities before adversaries do; and unlike every other mode, the risk here runs in one direction. Lawyers who skip this step are missing one of GenAI鈥檚 core value propositions. Law firms鈥� governance frameworks should not merely permit it but actually require it in appropriate cases.

Mode 7: Evaluation and decision

The boundary against AI delegation becomes absolute when GenAI is asked to evaluate or decide. A lawyer advising a board on whether an event requires disclosure cannot delegate that determination to GenAI. A litigator assessing settlement value cannot outsource probability judgments because these are core expressions of professional responsibility. In this mode, GenAI may inform background analysis, but it may not substitute for lawyer judgment in making the call. This is a categorical prohibition 鈥� professional judgment cannot be delegated.

Going forward with GenAI

Law firm leaders who have moved their GenAI policy from restriction to mandate without governing the space between have not finished the job. Their lawyers are making consequential decisions about GenAI use every day without the guidance they need and deserve.

The use-mode framework presented above gives firm leadership a practical tool for filling that gap. It identifies the instances in which GenAI enhances legal work, where it introduces serious risk, and where professional judgment is non-negotiable. Firms that govern at that level will capture GenAI鈥檚 value; and those firms that do not will have policies that look serious but govern nothing important.

The views expressed in this article are solely those of the author in his individual capacity and do not represent the views, positions, or opinions of Foley & Lardner LLP, its partners or clients, or the University of Wisconsin Law School.

Key insights:

• • • UK law firms face a more selective growth market in 2026听鈥� Client demand remains steady, but external legal spend expectations have cooled, with growth concentrated in areas such as Regulatory, Labor & Employment, and international work.

    • Legal expertise alone is no longer enough 鈥� UK legal buyers increasingly favor law firms that combine technical excellence with commercial judgment, business understanding, and practical guidance aligned to client priorities.

    • AI adoption is becoming a client expectation听鈥� Corporate legal teams are moving faster than their outside law firms on GenAI, and many UK legal buyers now expect outside counsel to use AI to improve efficiency, workflows, and the quality of legal work.

The legal market in the United Kingdom today has shifted into a new normal. While law firms saw an explosion of demand and spending immediately following the pandemic, increasing client caution has resulted in a shift in priorities. Today鈥檚 law firms cannot simply rely on their old ways of providing legal service to succeed, as UK clients expect firms to combine expertise, commercial judgment, international reach, and visible AI-enabled improvements in how legal work is delivered.

Jump to 鈫�

2026 State of the UK Legal Market

A new report from the 成人VR视频 Institute, “2026 State of the UK Legal Market,” reveals how the UK legal market is shifting, as more judicious clients are beginning to force law firms to reassess their strategy. Overall anticipated net spend from legal clients has seen declining growth rates in recent years, and while some practices like Regulatory and Labor & Employment continue to see strong demand growth, other practice areas such as Insurance, IP, and Disputes face potential contraction.

This shift is also guided by emerging buyer preferences. The report reveals an increasing commerciality to the UK legal market, one in which clients increasingly favor advisors that combine legal excellence with commercial judgement, and those that are leveraging AI to bolster not only efficiency but improve the overall legal work product.

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Taken as a whole, the report paints a picture of clients that now are moving faster than their outside legal advisors, strengthening their internal capabilities, and setting clearer (and higher) expectations. This means that UK law firms cannot rest on their laurels, as clients increasingly push their outside firms to keep up with new business challenges.

The market is cautious, but opportunity remains

The report reveals that UK legal buyers are more cautious about external legal spend than they have been at any point in the last five years. That may mean law firms can no longer rely on the broad-based demand that defined the post-pandemic period and instead need to be more precise about where opportunity exists 鈥� and where it doesn鈥檛.

The report tracks buyer sentiment through net spend anticipation (NSA), which measures the share of buyers expecting to increase external legal spend over the next 12 months minus those expecting to decrease it. Since its 2021 peak, UK NSA has fallen steadily to +5 percentage points in 2025, returning the market to the more stable, single-digit baseline that was seen before the pandemic.

For those law firms looking to capture increased business, the report makes clear that legal expertise is now the price of entry, not the point of differentiation. The firms that stand out will be those that know how to apply their expertise in ways that reflect the client’s business realities.

Indeed, that is becoming even more important as corporate legal departments face growing pressure to demonstrate their own value to the wider organization, and they鈥檙e increasingly pointing to improvements in their own quality and effectiveness even before mentioning cost savings, efficiency, or time savings. Not surprisingly, more than one-third of UK legal buyers now cite business savviness as a reason they favor a particular law firm.

To help demonstrate their internal value, clients are pushing their outside law firms to leverage advanced technology to improve the overall effectiveness of legal work. Of course, this has resulted in a clear gap, the report notes, between how corporate legal teams are moving and how law firms are responding. For instance, the report shows that more than half of UK corporate legal respondents say their organizations are already using GenAI tools across the business, compared with just about one-third law firm respondents who said this.

That difference in outlook matters because clients increasingly believe AI will become a larger part of how legal work is delivered, and they鈥檙e not content to simply wait and see whether their outside counsel will fully adopt the technology. Indeed, corporate legal departments are expecting their outside law firms to keep pace with how legal work is changing, and they will reward those firms that do.

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a full copy of the 成人VR视频 Institute’s “2026 State of the UK Legal Market” by filling out the form below:

Key points:

• • • AI capability is jagged 鈥� Ethan Mollick’s frontier metaphor describes a coastline of strengths and weaknesses, in which a model that excels at contract analysis can fabricate a citation in the same conversation.

    • Human intelligence is jagged too 鈥� A century of psychology, from multiple intelligences to the Big Five, shows that each lawyer has their own coastline of strengths and weaknesses.

    • Person-AI fit is the next discipline 鈥� Firms that take this seriously will move from one-tool deployments to portfolios that match each lawyer to an AI partner whose jagged edges meet theirs.

Welcome back to The AI Law Professor. Last month, I examined how AI first drafts can blind us to other lines of reasoning and hijack our legal judgment. This month, I want to take up what determines whether an AI works for any given lawyer at all: Not which model is best, but which model is best for this lawyer, on this kind of work, at this point in their career

Professor and author gave us the metaphor that started this conversation 鈥� the jagged frontier of AI capability. Picture a coastline, irregular and unpredictable. On one side, the model is capable; on the other, it fails, sometimes catastrophically. The line itself does not run where you expect. Tasks that look hard turn out to be easy, and tasks that look easy turn out to be hard.

In terms of legal work, this means that a model that has just produced a useful contract analysis will confidently invent a citation. A model that has summarized a 90-page deposition with insight will fail at basic arithmetic. The capabilities of AI form a coastline, with bays and inlets and the occasional cliff. Mollick’s contribution was to give us a way to see this clearly. AI is not uniformly competent or uniformly incompetent 鈥� rather, it is jagged.

Humans are jagged too. Psychology has been telling us this for a century, although the message is uncomfortable enough that we keep flattening it back into a single number. The single-number version is IQ; yet the deeper issue with IQ is that it pretends intelligence is one-dimensional.

Developmental psychologist Howard Gardner’s , whatever its empirical limits, points us toward a more honest picture, one in which linguistic, logical-mathematical, spatial, musical, interpersonal, intrapersonal, and kinesthetic intelligences, are each largely independent. People are not equally strong across all these dimensions. So, it follows that a great trial lawyer and a great patent lawyer are drawing on different intelligences, and each could be lost in the other’s territory.

Human intelligence, like AI capability, is jagged, and each of us has an edge. The jaggedness is not a flaw to be smoothed; rather, it鈥檚 a feature of being a unique individual.

When two jagged edges meet

Place the two coastline maps 鈥� the human and the AI model 鈥� side by side. Press them together at random and they grind, with gaps where neither side fills the space and ridges where both claim the same territory. The lawyer’s strength overlaps with the AI model’s strength, so neither is amplified. The lawyer’s weakness overlaps with the model’s weakness, so neither is covered. The pair produces less than either party would produce alone.

However, align the same two surfaces with attention to their contours and something different happens. The peaks of one fit the valleys of the other. The lawyer’s weakness is met by the model’s strength; and the model’s weakness is met by the lawyer’s strength. The pair becomes more capable than either party alone.

A law firm that takes this seriously will not deploy a single AI tool across all of its lawyers and call the rollout complete. It will offer a portfolio of models and configurations and help each lawyer find the AI partner that works with their actual mind.

Every foundational model now ships with a model card, a document describing the model’s intended uses, training data, performance characteristics, and known limitations. The cards exist because models are not interchangeable. Read three of these cards side by side and the matching question becomes clear. A cautious generalist that hedges and flags uncertainty fits a lawyer who already holds strong views and wants a partner that will test them. A citation-anchored specialist that refuses to invent cases and stays grounded in retrieval fits a lawyer in heavily regulated practice areas in which errors are catastrophic.

The matchmaking discipline

Organizational psychology has worked on a version of this problem for 50 years under the . When a person’s strengths, values, and working style align with the demands and culture of their role, performance and well-being both rise. When they misalign, performance drops and burnout follows.

The same logic applies to person-AI fit. On the human side, cognitive style, domain expertise, personality profile, and the actual tasks performed in a typical week are key. On the AI side, behavior under different prompt styles, default tone, willingness to push back, hallucination patterns, and the shape of strengths and weaknesses across the practice areas in question may matter most. Yet, law firms are still treating AI procurement as a software decision rather than a partnership decision.

A law firm that takes this seriously will not deploy a single AI tool across all of its lawyers and call the rollout complete. It will offer a portfolio of models and configurations and help each lawyer find the AI partner that works with their actual mind. The first generation of legal AI has been dominated by the question of which model is best; however, the second generation will be dominated by a different question: Not which model, but which pairing works best. Not capability, but fit.

Those lawyers that flourish with AI will not necessarily be the most technical or the most enthusiastic users. Instead, they will be the ones that found, by luck or by design, an AI partner whose jagged edges meet theirs.

When two jagged intelligences fit well together, they can accomplish more than what either 鈥� human or AI 鈥� could do alone. Today, fit is the frontier.

Tom Martin is CEO & Founder of LawDroid, Adjunct Professor at Suffolk University Law School, and author of the forthcoming

听

Key insights:

• • • Accountability, not adoption, is the central governance challenge听鈥� With many institutions using AI a variety of tasks, informal “shadow AI” use is expanding without consistent oversight.

    • Justice systems now face a parallel governance problem 鈥� They must find a way to regulate AI while using AI inside the institutions that enforce rights, while allowing responsible innovation that improves efficiency and access to justice.

    • AI needs to be integrated into broader justice reform听鈥� Without strong data governance and clear boundaries between AI assistance and legal judgment, courts risk automating inefficiency, deepening inequities, and undermining public trust.

Even as AI governance frameworks remain mired in ongoing debate, justice systems are moving ahead with implementation. Courts and dispute resolution institutions are integrating AI into their operations to more efficiently digitize records and automate workflows.

This introduces the very real challenge of parallel governance. We must now determine not only how AI should be regulated, but how it operates within the very institutions responsible for enforcing rights.

And this intersection is no longer theoretical: Does AI governance strengthen fairness, preserve independence, and expand access 鈥� or does it undermine their very foundations?

From experimentation to embedded use

Across jurisdictions, AI is often framed as an administrative tool that can handle basic tasks such as transcription, translation, case triage, and more, as well as providing analytics to identify delays or inefficiencies.

These applications respond to real constraints, such as overburdened courts, limited resources, and persistent backlogs. Similarly, dispute resolution platforms are integrating AI to guide users through processes and structure negotiations.

However, this formal adoption tells only part of the story. AI is also entering justice systems informally. Judges, clerks, and lawyers are independently using general-purpose tools in their daily work, often without guidance, oversight, or a clear grasp of the tools鈥� implications for security, confidentiality, and discoverability. As one expert observed: 鈥淪hadow AI is already happening.鈥�

The absence of governance does not prevent AI use; and, in fact, it may encourage misuse. This shadow AI simply pushes AI usage into unstructured and unmonitored areas 鈥� the risk then becomes not adoption itself, but uneven adoption that evolves beyond institutional control.

It鈥檚 no longer a question that justice systems need to engage with AI; however, that engagement has be done deliberately and in a way that allows governance frameworks to keep pace without constraining beneficial use.

While it鈥檚 no longer a question that justice systems need to engage with AI, that engagement has be done deliberately and in a way that allows governance frameworks to keep pace without constraining beneficial use.

Automating inefficiency?

Efficiency is often the entry point for AI in justice systems; but efficiency alone is not reform. And misapplied efficiency can often lead to its direct opposite: a scramble to repair broken systems or to plug technology and personnel gaps.

Many current AI initiatives remain isolated pilots 鈥� layered onto existing processes rather than integrated into broader institutional strategy. Without addressing underlying structural constraints like fragmented data, inconsistent procedures, and uneven infrastructure, AI risks automating inefficiency rather than resolving it. And without strong data governance, infrastructure, and institutional alignment, even well-designed AI tools will underperform or produce unreliable outcomes.

That means that efforts to tightly control AI deployment without addressing these foundational issues risk focusing on symptoms rather than the system itself. AI should not function as a parallel modernization effort; rather, it must align with broader justice system reform.

Clearly, the most consequential questions arise when AI tools begin to shape legal reasoning or outcomes. And while there is broad agreement that AI can support judicial work without replacing independent human judgment, in practice, however, the boundary between assistance and influence is not always clear.

Even administrative tools can shape decisions. Summaries may omit nuance, or suggested language can influence framing. Over time, reliance on system outputs can create subtle forms of dependency. In fact, this dynamic is compounded by what has been described as the myth of verification 鈥� the assumption that human oversight alone is sufficient. In reality, time constraints, cognitive bias, and limited technical fluency can make meaningful review difficult. And automation bias affects even experienced decision-makers.

Overall, these boundaries require deliberate definition. Left on their own, AI tools and their outputs will be shaped implicitly through practice rather than through principled governance.

Design determines outcome

Institutional capacity will determine how these dynamics play out because digital maturity varies widely across jurisdictions. Some courts operate advanced platforms, while others remain largely paper based. In lower-resource environments, infrastructure may not support even basic digitization. In more advanced systems, adoption may outpace governance.

Yet, one consistent challenge among all jurisdictions is reliance on external vendors. Without internal expertise, institutions risk adopting tools that meet technical requirements but fall short of rule-of-law standards, particularly in transparency, accountability, and data governance.

Justice systems are not neutral environments for technology adoption 鈥� they are the operational core of the rule of law.

Addressing this gap requires more than a procurement issue. It requires institutional literacy. Judges and administrators need a working understanding of how AI systems function, where risks arise, and how to evaluate them. Training efforts are underway, but scaling this capacity will take time. In the interim, governance gaps will persist and attempts to compensate for these gaps through overly rigid restrictions may limit adoption but do little to build the institutional capability required for effective oversight.

From adoption to accountability

Clearly, AI will not improve justice systems by default; rather its impact will be determined by institutional design, which includes clear boundaries on use, transparency around deployment, safeguards to protect independence, and mechanisms for oversight and accountability. It also requires alignment with broader justice system goals of efficiency, fairness, and accessibility.

Yet, justice systems are not neutral environments for technology adoption. They are the operational core of the rule of law. Their legitimacy depends on trust, which in turn requires accountability.

This makes the path forward not purely a technical one. It requires institutional self-assessment, alignment with human rights frameworks, and collaboration across policymakers, courts, technologists, and the public. The measure of success will not be the sophistication of the tools deployed, but whether they strengthen the system鈥檚 core functions of impartiality, accessibility, and trust.

AI tools can support those goals, of course, but only if they are designed into justice systems from the outset.

You can find other installments of听our Scaling Justice blog series here