The world, as we know it, is changed. Every profession, every educational institution, every way we deal with life's necessities. That will remain so! There will be a new normal, whether we like it or not.

But I can only speak to the lawyers, particularly litigators. Aside from safety and health, how we practice law will remain paramount for us (and our clients). Yes, hard as it is to hear, we know that judges typically decide cases on the papers before they get on the bench. Some Supreme Court justices have actually told the bar that they have been rarely so moved by oral argument that their "tentative" and personal pre-argument vote has changed from "for" to "against," or vice versa. For these jurists, at least, the written argument is often the ball game (although, interestingly, one appellate judge who recently participated in a class I teach on "How Judges Decide" offered that he (helpfully) gains from oral argument what his colleagues might be thinking from the questions they pose to counsel).

Still, let's be honest. Litigators have egos—we continue to believe to the depth of our souls that we can "overcome" an impending defeat simply because we have the innate capacity to persuade. That's who we are. Maybe we think its simple eloquence of our words; our physical presence; our ability to think quickly outside the box and bring to the fore that unanticipated argument in response to a question. Perhaps it's an idiosyncratic belief that when we look the judge in the eye or gesture by raising our voice at that apex moment in our argument that we can seize victory, or at least move the needle. Judges are human after all. They react, as do all beings, to what's literally before them.

Can it be the same when a judge tries to separate the chaff from the wheat in an argument over a computer screen? Particularly so when the judge has had no prior experience with us, which theoretically might make all the difference in the world? And are we able to gain the contextual clues of what might be appealing to the judge in our adversary's argument, or disturbing in the extreme in what we are saying, by looking at a screen on our desk? Can we pick up those subtle, or not so subtle, cues ('move on counsellor') from behind our computers?

I've in-person observed oral arguments at the Second Circuit where one of the litigators was arguing remotely (from Connecticut), when the presiding judge (remotely) was demonstrably sickened by what he was hearing from him, and the fact that the lawyer was (unintentionally) interrupting the judge's questions because there was a slight time delay in the equipment. Yet the litigator, maybe through no fault of his own, simply couldn't pick it up by video. Yes, it's anecdotal, but can't we see that being repeated time and again if digital advocacy were to become routine? And, frankly, when a judge calls us in for a digital settlement conference where she's trying to knock heads together to get a result, how effective will she be if she fears that other people, maybe the clients, are listening, or someone is recording the intended-to-be confidential tête-à-tête?

This may sound far too analytical but it goes way beyond the analytics. A good advocate picks up—simply put—the "vibe" a judge is throwing out that she can't possibly pick up through a screen image. Not to mention the oral quality of a judge's disfavor with a particular point. And there are other more subtle things recently pointed out to me by a skilled courtroom advocate. Sure, there may be an ease that will eventually come to courtroom advocates when they can practice from a distance without having to go to court and, instead, present their arguments from their home office. But they won't gain the benefit of (call it) "just being in the courtroom" before their case is called. Talking to the clerk, maybe your adversary. Seeing and assessing the judge's mood; or watching him reject out of hand one of you lesser arguments made by another lawyer, that you may now decide not to make. The judge can see you from the bench, and appreciate that you are listening intently, or reviewing your argument (rather than clicking away at your phone) while the case before you is heard. And you can possibly, for lack of a better phrase, size him up and decide "what will work."

But way beyond that—the good advocate simply believes in his cause and has sincere passion about it when he's arguing. That passion is often clear and actually identifiable to the judge in a way she will never see or hear over a screen. How more compelling can an advocate be than when the listener sees and senses that the advocate truly believes what he is saying. Without that in-personam visual, the advocate may be arguing with one arm tied behind her back.

And the really skilled advocate, when he's about to make his most compelling point, prefers to stop short of its precipice and, if he's as good as they say, he may strategize to lead the judge to herself make the argument in the give and take—recognizing that the best point is made when the judge herself comes up with it. The whole "feel" of the argument—the occasional Socratic back and forth of it—is simply not there when the advocate is a digital divide away from the judge.

On a broader level, in things that are important to us in life we always want—or even need—to do them in person. A doctor shouldn't have to tell her patient that he has an inoperable brain tumor over the telephone; and the patient shouldn't have to hear it with no human interaction. You don't propose to your soulmate by Skype. You don't (or shouldn't) break up with him or her by text. You don't want to present for your PhD thesis by Zoom. You don't (except in these extremely trying times) say "goodbye" to a loved one lying on his or her death bed on FaceTime.

Now, of course, some will say, these examples far more compel the need for in person interaction than a court appearance. And they do. But we who are committed lawyers want to do the best we can for our clients—always. And doing it remotely simply isn't that. We know deep down that our best advocacy, in any part of life, exists when we are "there." As we all fully recognize, it's far too easy to reject something we put forth when the individual doing the rejecting doesn't have to look you, or your client, in the eye rejecting it. How much easier it is to say "no" when the rejecter is, how do we now say, socially distant across a digital divide.

Judges, particularly those who have been litigators in their careers, surely recognize the value of an in person appearance. I fear, though, that when this is over—and it will be—there will be "drift." It will be drift that superficially makes litigation more efficient and expeditious and, frankly, cheaper, in favor of on line advocacy (except for jury trials). Just the same as how "drift" will lead to greater on-line business so that it is the rule not the exception, when the masks become unnecessary and life before the plague resumes. Yes, in business too, physical presence can be important in deal making. But, in the business world, it is money that's at stake—not, as in the criminal or immigration realms, for example, where it's all about an individual's liberty.

Would you want your lawyer arguing to a judge about anything through a camera pointed at him on his computer, particularly your freedom? We need to make sure that, when this is over, the camel takes his nose back outside the tent. What may, indeed, prove necessary in pandemic times shouldn't be allowed to become the norm when this is behind us.

Joel Cohen, a former prospector, is senior counsel at Stroock & Stroock & Lavan, where he practices white collar criminal defense. He is the author of Blindfolds Off: Judges on How They Decide (ABA Pub. 2014) and is an adjunct professor at Fordham and Cardozo Law Schools, where he teaches "How Judges Decide."