I worked as a lawyer; as a member of the teaching staff of a

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the chilling confession of Hans Frank, who once spoke these words: “I worked as a lawyer; as a member of the teaching staff of a technical college; and then I worked principally as legal adviser to Adolf Hitler and the National Socialist German Workers Party.” This utterance is not merely a recounting of labor and profession. It is the admission of a man who placed his intellect, his discipline, his sacred calling as a lawyer, in service of tyranny and blood. His voice is a warning, echoing down the corridors of time, that the might of knowledge without the compass of conscience leads not to glory, but to ruin.

For what is a lawyer, if not one who binds themselves to the covenant of justice? A lawyer is meant to wield words as swords of truth and shields of fairness, to guard the people against cruelty and the state against corruption. And yet Hans Frank, once trained to honor law, betrayed its spirit. He bent his wisdom not to protect the innocent, but to armor the guilty. Thus, the sacred became profane, and justice was disfigured into the mask of legality worn by the Third Reich. His confession reveals the abyss into which a man falls when his talents are yoked to an unholy cause.

Let us recall the tale of Marcus Tullius Cicero, the Roman statesman and orator, who stood boldly against dictatorship in his time. Cicero, though threatened by the wrath of power, defended the republic and raised his voice for liberty. He met his death for daring to resist, yet his legacy still shines as a beacon of what a lawyer may become when guided by principle. Contrast this with Hans Frank, who chose not resistance but compliance, not liberty but enslavement, and so his name lives in history not as a hero, but as a servant of infamy.

This is the truth: skills and intellect are but tools. They may be used to build or to destroy, to heal or to wound, to liberate or to enslave. Hans Frank’s path teaches us that the greatest danger is not the barbarian with no knowledge of law, but the lawyer who cloaks barbarity in the garments of legality. For the tyrant thrives not only on brute force, but on the cunning counsel of those who know how to twist words into chains.

The lesson, O children of tomorrow, is clear: never allow your talents to be severed from your conscience. Whether you are a lawyer, a teacher, a craftsman, or an artist, you are given gifts not only for your own gain, but for the protection of what is just and good. To wield your skill for oppression is to betray your own humanity. To wield it for truth is to become immortal in the memory of the righteous.

What, then, must you do? When you stand at the crossroads of opportunity and temptation, remember Hans Frank’s confession and weigh your choice. Ask: Will this labor uplift the innocent, or trample them? Will it strengthen truth, or cloak lies? If it cloaks lies, turn away, even if riches beckon. If it strengthens truth, walk forward boldly, though it lead to hardship. For better to die a Cicero, remembered in honor, than to live a Frank, condemned in shame.

Take practical steps: align your profession with your values; question those who employ you, asking not only what they pay, but what they pursue; refuse to serve causes that would make you complicit in cruelty; and remember that silence in the face of injustice is itself a form of counsel. In every decision, choose the path where law and conscience walk together, and you shall not stumble into the abyss.

Thus let Hans Frank’s words, cold as stone, ignite a fire within you. Hear not only the tale of his life, but the judgment it carries. Let his fall serve as your warning, and let Cicero’s courage serve as your guide. For the gifts of mind and profession are sacred—guard them well, and let them serve always as instruments of justice, never of tyranny.