The good lawyer is the great salesman.

Hear, O seekers of justice, the sharp and piercing words of Janet Reno, who declared: “The good lawyer is the great salesman.” At first, the phrase may sound cynical, as though justice itself were reduced to mere trade. Yet upon reflection, her words reveal a deeper truth: that persuasion, skill in speech, and the ability to move hearts and minds are at the very core of the legal craft. Law is not only about statutes written on parchment; it is about the human art of convincing, of presenting a case so that truth may shine more brightly than falsehood.

The meaning of Reno’s declaration lies in the recognition that a lawyer is never merely a technician of rules, but a persuader of souls. Like the merchant who must sell his wares to survive, the lawyer must sell his case—to the jury, to the judge, to the court of public opinion. A good lawyer does not rely solely on facts and statutes but presents them in such a way that others are compelled to believe, compelled to act. To master law without mastering persuasion is to hold a sword but lack the strength to wield it.

The ancients knew this well. In Athens, the art of rhetoric was prized above all else, for in the courts of that democracy, victory belonged not always to the one with the better cause, but to the one who spoke more persuasively. Demosthenes, the great orator, transformed his stammer into thunderous speech, moving crowds and swaying verdicts. His life shows us that the power of persuasion is not accidental but cultivated. In Reno’s words, the “salesman” is not a mere peddler, but a master craftsman of rhetoric, shaping thought with words as a sculptor shapes marble.

Consider the story of Clarence Darrow, perhaps the most famous lawyer of the twentieth century. In the Scopes Trial of 1925, he defended a teacher accused of teaching evolution. Though the law was against him, Darrow’s eloquence turned the trial into a broader debate on science, reason, and freedom. He did not win in court that day, but he “sold” his vision of intellectual liberty to the world, and the echoes of his words still resound. Here we see Reno’s point: the greatness of the lawyer lies in the greatness of their persuasive art.

Yet Reno’s words carry also a warning. For the gift of persuasion can be used to defend justice—or to pervert it. A great salesman may sell the truth, but may also sell falsehoods cloaked in beauty. History is filled with lawyers who defended the indefensible, who twisted truth into lies with polished tongues. Thus, persuasion must always be tethered to morality, else it becomes a weapon of corruption. The good lawyer, she reminds us, is not simply persuasive, but uses persuasion in the service of justice.

The lesson for us is profound: whatever your craft, words are your currency, and persuasion your power. Whether in the court, the marketplace, the classroom, or the family, to speak persuasively is to move the world. But let that persuasion be guided by truth, anchored in integrity. For only then does persuasion become greatness, not manipulation.

Therefore, O listener, train your tongue and sharpen your mind. Learn not only the facts of your trade but the art of presenting them with clarity, passion, and conviction. Read the words of the great orators, practice the discipline of clear speech, and above all, root your persuasion in justice. For the world is moved not merely by what is right, but by what is made to appear compelling. And so, as Janet Reno reminds us, the good lawyer—the one who weds truth with persuasion—is indeed the great salesman, and through this union, justice itself is sold into the hearts of men.