Florida’s Rule Is Subtly Pushing Back on Non-Lawyer Ownership

The Florida Supreme Court quietly amended Rule 4-8.6 of the Rules Regulating the Florida Bar, expanding authorized business entities, including certain not-for-profit structures. The changes also clarify governance limits and reinforce that only licensed lawyers may direct legal judgment in Florida.

But beneath the procedural language sits a question the legal profession can no longer avoid. Is Florida drawing a line in the sand against alternative business structures, or is it merely borrowing time in a transition that is already underway nationwide?

Alternative business structures, or ABS, allow non-lawyers to hold ownership stakes in law firms. Proponents argue that they unlock capital, improve access to justice, and modernize a profession that still largely operates under a 20th century partnership model. Critics warn that they threaten professional independence, client loyalty, and the ethical core of legal practice.

Florida’s amendment doesn’t explicitly reject ABS. But it does something subtler and arguably more powerful. It reasserts traditional professional boundaries at a moment when those boundaries are under pressure across the country.

The amended rule emphasizes that non-lawyers may not serve in policy-making roles, hold certain titles, or direct the professional judgment of lawyers practicing in Florida, subject only to narrow exceptions already embedded in existing rules. It’s a restatement of first principles. Legal services aren’t just another commercial product. Lawyers aren’t merely service providers. The profession remains self-governing, and the locus of authority stays firmly inside the bar.

That choice matters because it lands against a backdrop of rapid experimentation elsewhere.

Arizona famously eliminated its ban on non-lawyer ownership in 2020 and put wind behind the sails of this new law in 2024. Utah followed with a regulatory sandbox allowing nontraditional legal service providers to operate under supervised conditions. Other jurisdictions are watching closely, weighing whether capital infusion and innovation justify a departure from long-standing ethical frameworks.

Florida, by contrast, is signaling caution. It’s saying modernization doesn’t require surrendering control, innovation doesn’t demand restructuring the profession around outside ownership, and the risks of ABS aren’t hypothetical.

Those risks deserve to be taken seriously.

When non-lawyers own law firms, their incentives are not shaped by professional responsibility rules. They are shaped by return on investment. That distinction matters. It changes how firms decide which cases are worth taking, how aggressively matters are staffed, when clients are pushed toward settlement, how legal services are marketed, and where resources are ultimately deployed. Even when lawyers are said to retain control on paper, capital has a way of exerting pressure in practice. Economic power does not need a vote to influence outcomes.

Florida’s amendment underscores a belief that professional independence is not something to be hedged. Either lawyers control legal judgment, or they don’t. Either the duty to the client comes first, or it competes with financial interests that sit outside the profession.

Seen through that lens, Florida isn’t merely tweaking a rule. It’s reinforcing a model of law as a profession rather than a platform.

Still, the larger question remains into 2026 and beyond: Is this resistance sustainable?

ABS didn’t emerge in a vacuum. It’s being driven by structural forces that aren’t going away. Legal services are expensive. Access to justice gaps are widening. Technology companies are already delivering quasi-legal tools at scale. Litigation finance, private equity, and data-driven marketing have reshaped how cases are sourced and funded, even without formal ownership stakes.

In that environment, it is easy to argue that ABS is inevitable. Capital will find a way in, whether through ownership, partnerships, or parallel service entities. Jurisdictions that resist may simply push innovation elsewhere.

But inevitability isn’t the same as wisdom.

Florida’s approach suggests a third path between outright prohibition and full liberalization. It allows organizational flexibility while drawing a bright line around who controls legal judgment. It invites modernization without opening the door to outside ownership of the core professional function.

That model may appeal to other large states that value stability, consumer protection, and the institutional role of lawyers in civic life. If Florida’s position spreads, the national map may fragment. Some states become laboratories for ABS. Others become bastions of traditional professional governance. Lawyers, firms, and investors respond accordingly.

What matters most is that this debate finally be treated as what it is. Not a technical ethics question, and not a turf war between incumbents and innovators, but a fundamental choice about the future identity of the legal profession.

Is law a profession with commercial elements, or a commercial enterprise with professional constraints? Can those two visions coexist under the same regulatory roof? And who bears the risk if they can’t?

Florida’s answer, at least for now, is clear. The profession retains the wheel. Non-lawyers may ride along, advise, and support, but they don’t steer.

Whether that stance becomes a national trend or a last stand remains to be seen. But one thing is certain. As capital, technology, and consumer expectations continue to reshape legal services, silence is no longer an option. Every jurisdiction is signaling something. Florida has simply chosen to speak plainly.

This article does not necessarily reflect the opinion of Bloomberg Industry Group, Inc., the publisher of Bloomberg Law, Bloomberg Tax, and Bloomberg Government, or its owners.

Author Information

Aron Solomon, JD, is Chief Strategy Officer for AMPLIFY, and leverages his deep expertise to shape the future of legal marketing.

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