Lawyers have an obligation to defend the defenseless, and that duty guides how they accept cases.

When the door opens and a client walks in with a problem they can’t fix alone, a lawyer’s first instinct matters. It’s not about profit, prestige, or the number of cases you can tally in a week. It’s about justice, community, and the duty to lend a hand when someone is defenseless or oppressed. That’s the heartbeat behind a core ethical idea you’ll encounter in the Multistate Professional Responsibility framework: lawyers should take defenseless or oppressed clients.

Let’s clear up a common mix-up first. Some people think there’s a rule that says a lawyer must take every case, no questions asked. Others imagine a blanket right to refuse any case for any reason. And then there are the voices that imply the only motive should be money. None of those ideas captures the professional obligation we’re talking about. The truth sits in the middle: lawyers have discretion about which cases to take, but they’re expected to use that discretion with a genuine sense of duty toward those who lack resources or voice.

So, what does “defenseless or oppressed clients” really mean in the day-to-day life of a lawyer? It isn’t about a charity badge you pin on your lapel; it’s about ensuring that people can access legal help when they’re most at risk of being silenced. Defenseless can mean someone who cannot afford counsel, someone who faces systemic barriers, or a marginalized person whose rights are at stake but who won’t get a fair hearing without a lawyer. Oppressed covers cases where power imbalances are obvious—where left to navigate the system alone, the person would stand little chance of a just outcome. The ethical impulse is to stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves.

A quick map of the terrain helps. Lawyers aren’t told to take every case, nor are they told to take none. They’re encouraged to use their skills to help those in need, to extend the reach of the legal system to people who might otherwise be left out. That doesn’t mean you work for free every time or abandon reasonable self-care or professional boundaries. It means there’s a recognized public-service dimension to what you do. The profession often frames this as a pro bono ethos—the idea that contributing time and expertise to the greater good strengthens the whole system. The American Bar Association, along with state bars and ethics opinions, emphasizes this spirit as part of responsible legal work.

Here’s the thing you’ll hear echoed in ethical discussions: the right to accept or decline a case is part of professional judgment, but the choice should reflect a commitment to access to justice. In plain terms, if a client is defenseless or oppressed, a thoughtful practitioner should seriously consider taking the case or, at a minimum, helping the client get a fair shot—whether by taking the case themselves, offering limited-scope assistance, or referring to someone who can help. It’s not softness; it’s strategy that upholds the integrity of the system.

What does this look like when you’re standing at the crossroads of a real decision? Consider these guiding ideas:

• Assess the balance of burdens and benefits. If taking a case would meaningfully improve someone’s situation and you have the capacity, that’s a strong signal to engage. If you’re overwhelmed or lack the expertise, it’s reasonable to refer or collaborate with others who can help. The aim is not to overextend yourself but to prevent someone from being left without a voice.

• Check for conflicts and competence. You don’t want to trade one disadvantage for another. If there’s a significant conflict of interest or you lack the necessary knowledge to represent the client well, you should seek a referral instead of squeezing a square peg into a round hole.

• Remember the public service aspect. Pro bono work isn’t a gimmick; it’s a professional obligation many lawyers choose to embrace as part of their identity. The ABA has long encouraged lawyers to aspire to a measurable level of pro bono service each year—an intentional reminder that fees aren’t the only currency in the courtroom.

• Protect the client’s dignity and rights. When a client is vulnerable, every step you take—how you communicate, how you recruit resources, how you handle deadlines—can either reinforce trust or erode it. The ethical duty emphasizes respect, transparency, and steadfast advocacy.

You might be wondering: does this mean lawyers should be social workers, too? Not at all. It means they should be sufficiently mindful of how the law touches people who are most at risk, and they should do what they can to connect those people with the counsel they deserve. And yes, this can include pro bono work, community partnerships, and referrals. It also means recognizing when your specialty or your schedule doesn’t align with a specific case, and then guiding the client toward someone who can help. The goal is access to justice, not personal convenience.

A practical lens helps here. In a busy practice, you’ll encounter cases that seem urgent and others that require a long-term commitment. Some clients can’t pay, some are newcomers to the system, and some are facing discrimination or coercion. The ethical expectation isn’t to solve every problem in a single move; it’s to be part of a continuum—advocating, advising, and, when needed, connecting people to resources that can sustain their rights over time.

Let’s talk about the real-world landscape a bit. The legal community isn’t a charity alone; it’s a network. Law firms, solo practitioners, public-interest groups, and legal aid organizations often collaborate to expand access. You might see clinics offering free consultations, or you might see firms dedicating a portion of their billable hours to pro bono cases. It’s not glamorous every day, but it’s meaningful. The public service thread runs through the fabric of the profession, and that’s a powerful reminder that the field is designed to protect more than a paycheck.

If you’re just starting out, you can cultivate a stance that aligns with this duty without sacrificing your sanity or your bottom line. Here are a few approachable steps:

• Build relationships with legal aid organizations and clinics. A steady pipeline helps you match cases with your strengths while keeping your workload manageable.

• Establish a referral network. When you can’t take a case, refer to trusted colleagues who share a commitment to serving the defenseless and oppressed. A strong network benefits everyone.

• Stay informed about ethical expectations. Familiarize yourself with the Model Rules and related opinions from your state bar. They’re the playbook that helps you navigate tricky decisions with confidence.

• Balance ambition with generosity. You don’t have to abandon your personal goals to help others. Often, meaningful advocacy creates its own momentum—opening doors you didn’t expect.

A few misconceptions still float around. Some people worry that honoring this duty means you give up the chance to earn a living. The truth is more nuanced. The profession thrives when it blends skill with responsibility. Lawyers who take on defenseless or oppressed clients aren’t downgrading their standards; they’re elevating them by anchoring their work in fairness. Others fear that you’ll be forced to accept any case that crosses your desk. That’s not how professional ethics works. There’s room for judgment, boundaries, and strategic decisions that protect both the client and the lawyer. Finally, the idea that lawyers only practice for money misses the broader invitation to contribute to the common good. Pro bono work isn’t a distraction from a legal career; it’s part of what makes a career in law respectable and durable.

The moral compass here isn’t just about ticking a box on a checklist. It’s about an enduring belief: access to counsel is a cornerstone of justice. When people face the system with little power or money, the presence of a capable attorney can alter outcomes in ways that ripple through families, communities, and lives. The legal world isn’t a fortress; it’s a bridge. And the bridge should be wide enough for everyone who needs it.

To bring this full circle, the takeaway is simple, even if the path isn’t. Lawyers should take defenseless or oppressed clients, whenever it’s feasible and appropriate, because that duty lies at the heart of the profession’s legitimacy. It’s a reminder that the law isn’t just a set of rules to be memorized; it’s a tool for protecting people who might otherwise be unheard. The other options in the question—taking every case, refusing without reason, or chasing only financial gain—don’t capture the ethical core we’re talking about. Real professional responsibility sits in the balance: discretion guided by a belief in justice and access to counsel for all.

If you want a takeaway you can carry into your day-to-day work, it’s this: when you face a case that involves a defenseless or oppressed client, pause and ask, “What does justice require in this moment?” The answer isn’t always a dramatic public gesture. Often, it’s a careful decision to advocate, to refer, or to partner. It’s showing up for someone who might not have a say in the matter otherwise. And that, more than anything, helps keep the scales of justice from tipping too far in favor of the powerful.

In the end, the profession isn’t just about mastering a set of rules; it’s about shaping a system that protects the vulnerable. If you ever wonder whether your work truly matters, remember the client who wouldn’t have a voice without you. That’s the real measure of professional integrity.

So, who benefits when lawyers take defenseless or oppressed clients? The client, obviously. The system, too. And maybe, just maybe, all of us who want a fairer, more humane society. That’s the enduring truth behind this ethical strand—and it’s a reminder worth keeping in view as you navigate the complex, rewarding world of law.