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Where did legalese come from? Part of the answer to why lies in history. Legal English has been shaped by Latin, French and Old English influences over centuries – a scholastic and linguistic legacy that lingers in our modern drafting. Then there’s the legal mindset: lawyers are trained to anticipate every possible interpretation of a word or phrase. Ambiguity is the enemy of a well-drafted agreement. Certainty and precision often take priority over plainness, to the point of pleonasm.

Consider a term like “will and testament” – a legal doublet of the English “will” with the Latin-rooted “testament” (from testamentum, which literally means “a will”). Legal English stems from a conservative culture of caution and convention. In the often high-stakes contexts of commercial contracts or legislation of today, that still makes some practical sense.

In defence of “legalese”

I have a possibly unpopular (or maybe just boring) confession to make: I am personally quite fond of legal English. Not so much a robotic application of jargon and redundancy, but for the somewhat poetic rhythm that might be found in well-drafted legal documents (I can hear you snoring). There's something oddly satisfying about a well-written clause.

As touched on, some elements of legalese do serve genuine functions. Legal terms of art (such as, consideration and trust) carry specific meanings that everyday language can’t replace without losing nuance. If everyone understands the shorthand, why not use it? The formality of legal language can also reinforce the weight and legitimacy of the law.

As far as I’m concerned, legal English isn’t in and of itself a bad thing. The issue is when it becomes a barrier to understanding, particularly for people outside the profession.

The push for plain language (and why it matters)

While legal English serves a purpose, it can pose an accessibility problem. Things like government forms, tenancy agreements and consumer contracts are often full of baffling language that can be hard to fathom. 

Various “plain language” movements, championed by organisations like Clarity International or the Plain English Campaign, call for legal and official documents to be written in a way that makes them easier to understand. The UK Government and other organisations have largely adopted plain English. As a legislative example, the Consumer Rights Act 2015 requires that consumer contracts be written in “plain and intelligible language”.

Legal education is catching up on this too. Many universities now have a greater focus on teaching students to write in legal and plain English, depending on their audience – after all, lawyers need to know both. The basic premise here, helpfully summated by the late professor Richard Wydick, is that “good legal writing should not differ (without good reason) from ordinary, well written English”. For further reading, Wydick’s Plain English for Lawyers, now in its seventh edition, is an extensive work on this topic.

Can lawyers (and law students) ever speak normally?

To answer the titular question: we can, and we should, when the situation calls for it. 

Talking to a friend, or writing a client advice letter? Plain English will suffice. 

Drafting a commercial contract and need to sound smart? Ferus ire. (I studied Law, not Latin.) 

The key is to know your audience. Clarity doesn't per se demand simplicity (and simple certainly doesn’t mean simplistic), but it does require being intentional with your language. Therefore, perhaps the question isn’t whether lawyers can speak normally, but rather: can lawyers speak with care?

If you’re a law student or trainee, don’t be afraid to embrace the eccentricities of legal language, while also learning how to communicate these concepts to someone who hasn’t studied them. You don’t have to abandon it entirely (and for some work you can’t!) – just know when to wield it wisely. 

After all, the best lawyers can speak fluent legalese and talk like a human.