The Soft Underbelly of the Family Law Industrial Complex

Family law in Australia has become less about resolution and more about revenue.

Behind the polite emails, mediation invitations, and “we’re here to help” slogans lies a machine that feeds on conflict — a sprawling ecosystem of firms, counsellors, experts, and consultants whose livelihoods depend on keeping families at war.

When relationships collapse, the system doesn’t reward peace; it rewards persistence. The longer the fight, the larger the bill.

How the Cycle Works

It starts with reassurance.

A newly separated client — often a woman — is told she has “a strong case” and can expect 70% or more of the property pool.

Men are told the opposite: that they’ll “lose everything” unless they fight back aggressively.

In both cases, the goal isn’t to find truth; it’s to secure trust, and with it, a long-term billing relationship.

Each “round” of litigation becomes a product — mediation prep, affidavits, discovery disputes, interim hearings — all billed hourly, often by multiple staff for the same work.

The system is designed to incentivise litigation because that’s where firms make their money.

And when two lawyers are on opposite sides of the same family — each promising victory to their respective clients — what follows isn’t justice. It’s trench warfare, at $500–$800 an hour per gun.

Judicial Warnings Ignored

In Renner & Renner [2023] FedCFamC2F 1499 (14 November 2023), Judge W.J. Neville called out what he described as a “licence to print money” — observing that family law litigation has become “excruciatingly, and in many respects, unjustifiably and alarmingly high” in cost.

The court described “over-servicing”, “duplication of work,” and the use of eleven personnel on a simple cost dispute as “a remarkable number.”

Judge Neville went further:

“How and why this is not an exercise in usurious practice must be considered a concerning issue and may warrant examination by the Law Society.”

He compared family lawyers’ rates — often $530 to $810 per hour for juniors and directors — with seasoned barristers charging less in the High Court, calling the discrepancy “unseemly” and a “remarkable extravagance.”

This wasn’t about one firm. It was about a culture — an industrial complex where excessive fees have become normalised and unchecked.

The Keddies Parallel

The pattern isn’t new. Sydney’s personal injury powerhouse Keddies collapsed in 2010 after a string of overcharging scandals.

One client’s $3.5 million settlement was nearly swallowed by $800,000 in legal fees, with nothing left for the victim. Managing partner Russell Keddie was struck off in 2011 for professional misconduct, and partners repaid millions before being bankrupted.

Keddies’ fall should have been a warning to the legal industry: bill padding and “litigation by attrition” aren’t sustainable. Yet family law firms across Australia have continued to walk the same path — emboldened by poor oversight and a client base too emotional, exhausted, or broke to complain.

Keddies are unlikely to be the only law firm that has overcharged clients.

When “Strong Advocacy” Becomes Exploitation

The family law business model thrives on asymmetry: one side terrified, the other “protected.”

Clients rarely understand how much a case should cost or what’s reasonable under the Legal Profession Uniform Law (LPUL).

That’s why 40% of all complaints to regulators now involve overcharging or fee disputes.

Disbarment requires proof of “gross or deliberate overcharging,” typically where fees exceed fair value by 50–90% — a level courts have called “professional misconduct.” (Legal Services Commissioner v MB [2009] NSWADT 313.)

In family law, the misconduct threshold is often reached silently. Few men ever audit their bills. Few women ever see how much of their settlement went to “interim applications,” “reading in,” or “strategy conferences” that achieved nothing.

Why the System Rewards Conflict

A successful law firm isn’t one that resolves disputes. It’s one that invoices.

Court appearances, urgent applications, and “responding to correspondence” are the profit centres.

The average Australian divorce involving property and parenting issues now costs between $80,000 and $200,000 per side, according to industry data. Each “direction hearing” — often lasting less than an hour — can generate several thousand dollars in prep time and attendance fees.

Every delay means more “updates,” more “strategy discussions,” more billable hours.

Meanwhile, mediation, which could end disputes early, is treated as a procedural step, not the main event.

The Need for a Reckoning

Australia has never held a Royal Commission into Family Law Costs, though calls for one have circulated for decades.

The Attorney-General could initiate one under the Royal Commissions Act 1902 (Cth) with a single recommendation to the Governor-General — but it would take public pressure and volume of evidence to force action.

New South Wales, through its Office of the Legal Services Commissioner (OLSC), is best positioned for cost-related complaints. It can order binding overcharge refunds up to $100,000 and refer practitioners directly to NCAT for misconduct.

That’s where reform starts: complaints, audits, and exposure.

A Call to Action

If enough men come forward — not just those falsely accused, but those overbilled, misled, or manipulated into unnecessary litigation — the culture can change.

A coordinated series of costs complaints, audits, or even a class action could pierce the veil of respectability around the “Family Law Industrial Complex.”

Because every five-star law firm with the marble foyer and the empathy-laden marketing tagline is, in truth, a business. And their business model depends on you not realising that your pain is their profit.

Final Word

Family law was supposed to heal. Instead, it’s become a slow-motion financial amputation.

Judges like the Honourable Dr W J Neville have started naming the disease: overcharging, duplication, and extravagance.

Until there’s accountability — through complaints, costs reviews, and public exposure — nothing will change.

It’s time to pull back the curtain on the soft underbelly of Australia’s most profitable tragedy: the family-law machine.

This is the vulnerability exists in the system. Let's hold them to account.

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