Nothing is so unproductive as the law. It is expensive whether

Hear the piercing words of Gilbert Parker: “Nothing is so unproductive as the law. It is expensive whether you win or lose.” These words, though spoken in plainness, carry the weight of centuries of human struggle with courts, disputes, and the endless hunger of legal battles. They remind us that the law, though meant to guard justice, often devours the very fruits of life, draining wealth, time, and spirit. To enter into a lawsuit is to step into a furnace that consumes both victor and vanquished alike, leaving ashes where there once was peace.

The origin of this truth lies in the very structure of the law itself. Courts do not build, they do not sow, they do not heal; they only arbitrate, measure, and punish. The farmer who tills the soil produces grain, the craftsman who works the wood fashions shelter, but the lawyer who argues in court produces nothing that nourishes life. Even when justice is won, it is purchased at a cost so high that the sweetness of victory is soured by the bitterness of expense. Thus Parker calls the law unproductive—for it consumes far more than it creates.

History offers many examples of this ruin. In Charles Dickens’ Bleak House, the fictional case of Jarndyce v. Jarndyce drags on for generations, consuming fortunes and destroying families, until nothing remains but the hollow triumph of lawyers’ fees. Though a tale of fiction, it was drawn from the very real English courts of chancery, where endless litigation turned wealth into dust. Here we see Parker’s warning alive: whether winning or losing, both parties are diminished, and the law enriches only itself.

The ancients, too, saw the danger. The philosopher Seneca warned against quarreling in courts, declaring that the greater victory was found in peace and compromise. Roman citizens knew that lawsuits drained not only coin but honor, turning friends into enemies and neighbors into rivals. Better, they said, to settle disputes swiftly, lest the law bind a man for years and rob him of the chance to live freely. Parker’s wisdom is thus not modern alone—it echoes across time as a warning never fully heeded.

And yet, we must not mistake Parker’s words as a rejection of justice itself. The law is sometimes necessary, for without it the strong would devour the weak, and violence would reign unchecked. But he cautions us that the law should be the last refuge, not the first weapon. To rush to court over every grievance is folly, for in doing so, one spends more than gold: one spends peace of mind, trust, and time that can never be regained.

The lesson for us is clear: seek reconciliation before litigation. Choose dialogue before dispute, mediation before courts. If wronged, weigh carefully the true cost of pursuing judgment, for even victory may come as loss. True wisdom lies not in the multiplication of lawsuits but in the cultivation of harmony, in the strength to forgive, or the foresight to compromise. For every hour spent in court is an hour stolen from life’s true work of building, loving, and creating.

Therefore, let each one guard against the temptation of quarrel. Speak truth, act fairly, and honor agreements so that the path to the court is rarely needed. If conflict arises, pursue peace with patience, remembering that the greatest wealth is not the verdict of a judge, but the preservation of dignity, relationship, and inner calm. For as Parker teaches, the law is costly whether you triumph or fall. The wise man seeks a path where victory is not destruction, but renewal.

So remember these words of Gilbert Parker: “Nothing is so unproductive as the law. It is expensive whether you win or lose.” Let them be a lantern in times of conflict, reminding you that the truest success is not found in courts, but in the peace secured outside of them. Only then will your energy, your wealth, and your spirit be spent not in contention, but in the flourishing of life.