If you grew up in – or were alive during – the 1990s, chances are you know the story: a young cub is destined to inherit his father’s kingdom, a jealous relative schemes to take it instead, and chaos follows because nobody thought to put anything in writing. Ignore for a moment that lions cannot write, since they lack opposable thumbs.
When you strip away all of the Disney magic, you’re left with something that unfortunately is very familiar to anyone who works in trusts and estates law: a succession plan that failed at the worst possible moment.
Let’s look at where things went wrong in Pride Rock, and what they can teach us about doing this properly.
A Kingdom Without a Plan
The opening scenes establish Mufasa as a beloved and capable ruler and family patriarch who intends for his son to succeed him one day. What we never see, however, is any kind of formal mechanism for that transition. Given the proud announcement to the animal kingdom, there is no lack of witnesses. (Florida law requires only two). Later, the heir-apparent receives lots of fatherly wisdom and is instructed on how to continue his father’s legacy, but there is absolutely no documentation.
This is, unfortunately, how a lot of real families approach their own legacies. Everyone assumes they know who’s supposed to get what, and that there is plenty of time to formalize it later. Verbal intentions and family assumptions aren’t a plan — they’re a starting point for future disputes.
If Mufasa had a will, he could have nominated a designated regent to serve until Simba came of age and clear terms for what should happen if he died unexpectedly. With that, an entire kingdom’s worth of turmoil – famine, bad weather, territorial invasion by hundreds of hyenas – could have been avoided.
The Problem With an Undefined Successor Trustee
Scar is, structurally speaking, the closest thing this story has to a successor fiduciary. Scar is obviously ready to step in, he is related by shared blood and of course is, an adult. The trouble is that no one vetted him for the role, built in any oversight, or considered whether his interest actually aligned with the family’s long-term wellbeing.
This is exactly why naming a successor trustee or alternate personal representative isn’t just an option – it’s a necessity. It matters whether that person is trustworthy, capable, and free of the kind of conflicts of interest that make bad outcomes more likely. It also matters whether there’s any check on their authority — a co-trustee, a trust protector, or reporting obligations to beneficiaries — so that one person’s judgment isn’t the only thing standing between an estate and disaster. As I like to say, someone has to “run the show” once you’ve passed. Either you choose those people (in your estate plan), or a judge is going to choose for you. Most people would rather decide for themselves.
Simba’s Long, Unnecessary Exile
After Mufasa’s death, Simba doesn’t contest anything. He doesn’t consult an attorney, review any paperwork, or assert a claim to what should rightfully be his. He simply leaves, believing he has no legitimate path forward, and spends years in exile while someone else controls everything he was supposed to inherit.
More often than you’d think, beneficiaries do the same thing, though less dramatically. People walk away from inheritances they’re entitled to because they don’t understand the process, don’t know their rights, or assume that challenging a family member’s control over an estate is more trouble than it’s worth. Formal probate administration exists precisely so that rightful heirs don’t have to rely on a wise mandrill named Rafiki – whom many would call Simba’s estate planning attorney – wandering into their life to convince them to come home. A clear estate plan, properly administered, gives beneficiaries a defined path to what they’re owed — no jungle exile required.
Scar’s Mismanagement Was Entirely Foreseeable
Under Scar’s control, the Pride Lands fall into visible decline — resources are mismanaged, the community suffers, and the kingdom is left in far worse condition than it was before.
To avoid this, modern estate plans build in safeguards: accounting requirements, the ability to remove and replace a fiduciary who isn’t acting in beneficiaries’ interests, and sometimes a trust protector empowered to intervene. None of this is about assuming the worst of the people you name. It’s about making sure a plan can survive contact with a bad actor, an incapacitated decision-maker, or plain incompetence.
A Happy Ending Wasn’t Guaranteed
Simba eventually returns to reclaim his birthright and restore order — but it took a few allies, a dramatic confrontation, and more than a little luck. That’s a satisfying ending for a movie. It is a terrible way to plan an actual estate.
The real-world equivalent of Simba’s homecoming is a probate or trust litigation matter — expensive, adversarial, and never guaranteed to end the way anyone hopes. Families who end up there didn’t fail because they lacked the right emotional showdown at the right moment. They failed because nobody built a plan sturdy enough to prevent the showdown from being necessary in the first place.
Humans Should Plan Their Estate Before Scar Ruins Everything
The circle of life keeps turning whether or not anyone plans for it. The only real choice is whether that transition happens smoothly, according to clear and enforceable terms, or whether it turns into years of upheaval before things get sorted out.
A good estate plan doesn’t need a stampede, an exile, or a climactic battle atop a burning mountain. It just needs a will, the right fiduciaries clearly named, and a plan for succession that doesn’t rely on everyone being on good behavior. Pride Rock could have used an estate planning attorney. So can most families — long before their own version of Scar gets any ideas.
