*/
By Hashi Mohamed
Profile Books (January 2020), ISBN 978-1788161121, Hardcover (320 pages)
Reviewed by Malvika Jaganmohan
There is something reassuring (or smug and self-congratulatory, depending on how you look at it) for barristers to be able to say to themselves: we didn’t get to the Bar because of any particular advantage, but because we deserve to be here.
Hashi Mohamed lays waste to the idea of a meritocratic Bar in his book People Like Us: What it Takes to Make it in Modern Britain.
This is not intended to be a shining example to those with a similar background to him: a former asylum seeker with unexceptional GCSEs from a failing school in a deprived area who was in receipt of welfare benefits.
He doesn’t feed the myth that if you want it enough, you will eventually reap what you sow: ‘If I genuinely believed that what I have achieved and overcome was possible for anyone, then I would have profoundly misunderstood the overarching lesson of my life.’
Readers are urged to let go of the idea that all that’s required to succeed against the odds is ‘some hard work and determination’. This is what makes the book an uncomfortable read.
While there are parts that don’t add much to a crowded conversation – Mohamed acknowledges that he has explored some ‘well-trodden paths, such as the role of education in social mobility’ – the passages that sparkle are his reflections on the tension between wanting to change the system and becoming part of the system.
Mohamed is pragmatic. In a nutshell: this is a game and here is how best you can play it, when the game is not set up for you to win. The Bar reflects many societal prejudices, whether we like it or not. For people from underrepresented groups to challenge any of those structural disadvantages, they must enter the profession in the first place. To enter the profession, they must play the game. For Mohamed, this isn’t a betrayal of your origins or acquiescence to institutional prejudice, but a realistic understanding of the world in which we live.
For instance, in one chapter, Mohamed admits he is criticised for encouraging his mentees to adapt to the system rather than forcing the system to change for them. In doing so, is he not simply propping up the status quo? His response is straightforward and brutal: ‘Change will come when people with diverse understandings and experiences of the world are truly represented at high levels in society – but it ain’t gonna happen if they’re falling at the first hurdle.’
In another particularly compelling chapter on language, Mohamed writes about ‘code-switching’: adapting your language to your environment to best obtain the result you want. Again, some may criticise him for suggesting that you have to change yourself in order to be accepted or taken seriously. This is tackled head on. ‘Is it fair?’ he asks. ‘No. But it is effective.’
Mohamed goes on to write: ‘I believe that, once we get to a place where young people are trained, prepped, pushed and encouraged to be articulate, where they can deploy a wide vocabulary with a clarity of thought, and are armed with new and exciting ideas, then we might be in a position to reshape the current linguistic landscape in favour of social, cultural and ethnic diversity. Perhaps then we will have found a way of neutralising prejudices instead of playing right into them.’
Who would want to admit that their path to the profession was a combination of hard work, privilege and sheer dumb luck? Mohamed forces us to confront these inconvenient truths:
‘The chance of you succeeding in Britain today is down to many factors: the wealth and profession of your parents; the kind of school you attended; your mental and physical health; and the quality of your early environment, in terms of stability and attention. You’ll need to work harder than you ever imagined – and hope that whatever talents you have… are going to still be needed when you grow up... You’ll need a lot of luck as you go; and let’s hope that, along the way, someone explains the unwritten rules of the world you want to join. And you’ll need to make it through all that with your belief in yourself – and your vision for the future – still intact. And then – maybe – you’ll make it.’
A ‘bit of a mouthful’, he readily admits, but a ‘damn sight more honest than anything with the word “meritocracy” in it’. Next time you feel tempted to wax lyrical about the meritocratic Bar, think again.
There is something reassuring (or smug and self-congratulatory, depending on how you look at it) for barristers to be able to say to themselves: we didn’t get to the Bar because of any particular advantage, but because we deserve to be here.
Hashi Mohamed lays waste to the idea of a meritocratic Bar in his book People Like Us: What it Takes to Make it in Modern Britain.
This is not intended to be a shining example to those with a similar background to him: a former asylum seeker with unexceptional GCSEs from a failing school in a deprived area who was in receipt of welfare benefits.
He doesn’t feed the myth that if you want it enough, you will eventually reap what you sow: ‘If I genuinely believed that what I have achieved and overcome was possible for anyone, then I would have profoundly misunderstood the overarching lesson of my life.’
Readers are urged to let go of the idea that all that’s required to succeed against the odds is ‘some hard work and determination’. This is what makes the book an uncomfortable read.
While there are parts that don’t add much to a crowded conversation – Mohamed acknowledges that he has explored some ‘well-trodden paths, such as the role of education in social mobility’ – the passages that sparkle are his reflections on the tension between wanting to change the system and becoming part of the system.
Mohamed is pragmatic. In a nutshell: this is a game and here is how best you can play it, when the game is not set up for you to win. The Bar reflects many societal prejudices, whether we like it or not. For people from underrepresented groups to challenge any of those structural disadvantages, they must enter the profession in the first place. To enter the profession, they must play the game. For Mohamed, this isn’t a betrayal of your origins or acquiescence to institutional prejudice, but a realistic understanding of the world in which we live.
For instance, in one chapter, Mohamed admits he is criticised for encouraging his mentees to adapt to the system rather than forcing the system to change for them. In doing so, is he not simply propping up the status quo? His response is straightforward and brutal: ‘Change will come when people with diverse understandings and experiences of the world are truly represented at high levels in society – but it ain’t gonna happen if they’re falling at the first hurdle.’
In another particularly compelling chapter on language, Mohamed writes about ‘code-switching’: adapting your language to your environment to best obtain the result you want. Again, some may criticise him for suggesting that you have to change yourself in order to be accepted or taken seriously. This is tackled head on. ‘Is it fair?’ he asks. ‘No. But it is effective.’
Mohamed goes on to write: ‘I believe that, once we get to a place where young people are trained, prepped, pushed and encouraged to be articulate, where they can deploy a wide vocabulary with a clarity of thought, and are armed with new and exciting ideas, then we might be in a position to reshape the current linguistic landscape in favour of social, cultural and ethnic diversity. Perhaps then we will have found a way of neutralising prejudices instead of playing right into them.’
Who would want to admit that their path to the profession was a combination of hard work, privilege and sheer dumb luck? Mohamed forces us to confront these inconvenient truths:
‘The chance of you succeeding in Britain today is down to many factors: the wealth and profession of your parents; the kind of school you attended; your mental and physical health; and the quality of your early environment, in terms of stability and attention. You’ll need to work harder than you ever imagined – and hope that whatever talents you have… are going to still be needed when you grow up... You’ll need a lot of luck as you go; and let’s hope that, along the way, someone explains the unwritten rules of the world you want to join. And you’ll need to make it through all that with your belief in yourself – and your vision for the future – still intact. And then – maybe – you’ll make it.’
A ‘bit of a mouthful’, he readily admits, but a ‘damn sight more honest than anything with the word “meritocracy” in it’. Next time you feel tempted to wax lyrical about the meritocratic Bar, think again.
By Hashi Mohamed
Profile Books (January 2020), ISBN 978-1788161121, Hardcover (320 pages)
Reviewed by Malvika Jaganmohan
In this month’s column, Chair of the Bar Sam Townend KC highlights the many reasons why barristers should pay the Bar Representation Fee and back the Bar Council’s efforts on behalf of the profession
Is now the time to review your financial position, having reached a career milestone? asks Louise Crush
If you were to host a dinner party with 10 guests, and you asked them to explain what financial planning is and how it differs to financial advice, you’d receive 10 different answers. The variety of answers highlights the ongoing need to clarify and promote the value of financial planning.
Leading legal DNA, drug, and alcohol testing provider AlphaBiolabs has made its first Giving Back charity draw of 2024 with Andrew Sibson, a Legal Officer at Leeds City Council, being chosen as its first winner
Discover Lloyd’s unique approach to financial planning and experience working with barristers
Trust Delaunay Wealth to stand by your side amid the uncertainties ahead, writes Lloyd French
Lighting fires that cast unfairness into the shadows, creating history at home and abroad, and being comfortable with who you are – the remarkable criminal and international human rights barrister Kirsty Brimelow KC
No longer an exclusive boys’ club, but still some way to go. To mark International Women's Day, Millie Rai describes what it’s like being a young female barrister at the Commercial Chancery Bar
Marking International Women's Day, Will Tyler KC interviews two female silks at the helm of two huge specialist Bar associations about their lives and careers – finding a common theme both to their success and the challenges facing their respective Bars
If we fail to nurture women’s collective talent, half the population of this country will not be properly represented – from the junior Criminal Bar right up to the senior Judiciary. We cannot let all the hard work be undone, says Tana Adkin KC on International Women's Day
In this month’s column, Chair of the Bar Sam Townend KC highlights the many reasons why barristers should pay the Bar Representation Fee and back the Bar Council’s efforts on behalf of the profession