Page 9 of Behind Frenemy Lines
Charles
Moot went off without a hitch. There were a couple of decent arguments run, one or two good speakers, and one genuine entertainer among the cohort. Might not make a lawyer, but I wouldn’t be surprised to see him in a film some years down the line.
Could have stayed on for dinner, but I’ve had enough dinners at the firm’s expense. Crept away to check my emails instead, until the Graduate Recruitment lady messaged that the students were done with dinner. It was time for Kriya and me to do our duty as hosts.
It was awkward to start out with—contrary to Kriya’s assurances, but entirely consistent with my expectations. Stood staring at the university students while they stared back at us. After a while, one of the students said:
“So… do you guys do any human rights law?”
CG: “No. It rarely comes up in my practice.”
Student: “Oh. Right.”
She looked a bit squashed. Didn’t mean to squash her. Remembered her from the moot: Razia, British Bangladeshi, first girl in her family to go to university. Round, earnest face under a black headscarf. Reminded me a little of my oldest half-sister, though Teo’s younger.
CG: “I have done a case where we sought to rely on the EU Charter freedom to conduct a business, but it didn’t take us very far. The limitations on the right are such that—”
Kriya: “But you do a lot of pro bono work, right, Charles? Like that CICA case you’ve got on.” To the students: “That’s a government scheme that allows victims of violent crime to seek compensation. Charles has got a tribunal hearing—is it next month? He’s representing a woman who was trafficked.”
CG: “Yes. But that’s a statutory scheme. It’s got nothing to do with the Human Rights Act.”
Razia, perking up: “It sounds interesting. What does CICA stand for?”
Turned out she was doing her dissertation on how the Human Rights Act 1998 has shaped litigation. Interesting topic. When I’d explained the Criminal Injuries Compensation Act to her satisfaction, we went on to discuss the deployment of rights-based arguments by corporates.
Evening was significantly less painful than expected. Was surprised when I glanced at my watch and saw it was past nine. Hadn’t noticed the time passing. Never happened at a social event before.
The difference, I concluded, was Kriya, even though she’d moved away to mingle. Her presence seemed to make the whole thing easier. Couldn’t tell how she did it.
Watched her surreptitiously, trying to figure it out. She talked a lot, but not too much. Asked questions. Looked people in the eye while listening. Smiled and laughed at the right times.
I went through a phase of trying to make eye contact, early in my career. Resulted in supervisor telling me people found me “a bit intense.” Allowing for softening effect of British corporate speak, what that meant was I was coming off like a serial killer.
Probably helped that Kriya was attractive. People are nicer to attractive women. I read an article about it, there are studies.
Was mulling on this when Razia said:
“Can I ask you a question? It’s a bit personal.”
CG: “Yes?”
Razia: “To be honest, I feel like some of the lawyers I spoke to today, they were fronting when they talked about enjoying their work. But you seem to really like your job. Like, genuinely.”
CG: “I suppose so. It can be demanding, but it’s interesting work. And it’s well paid.”
Razia: “You mentioned Swithin Watkins does a lot of pro bono and corporate social responsibility stuff. That’s great, but… at the end of the day, your clients are, well, they’re big companies, right?”
CG: “We represent a few private individuals, but yes, they are in a minority among our fee-paying clients.”
Can’t be helped. Most human beings can’t afford our fees.
Razia: “I was looking through the list of clients on your website. And it was all these businesses in, like, oil and gas, and tobacco, and finance, and tech. Industries that arguably don’t do much for society, that are, you know, exploitative.
Have you ever wondered if—I mean, do you ever worry about that? ”
So taken aback I stood there blinking. Not the sort of thing anyone would say out loud at Swithin Watkins.
Of course, Razia not employed by Swithin Watkins. Not learned the norms.
Rest of the group shooting looks at one another, like school kids worried about getting a telling off.
Razia, nervously: “I’m not trying to catch you out. It’s just… with my family circumstances, I’m going to have to prioritise financial security when I’m looking for a job. Which means going into one of those industries, or something related. I don’t know how I feel about that.”
CG: “Yes. I was… similarly placed. It sounds like you’ve thought more deeply about these issues than I did, at your age.”
Hesitated. Not used to talking about this sort of thing. At work, focus is on how to do the job, not why one does it.
Anything I said risked sounding false, given my position. Self-justifying. But I felt she deserved a real answer.
CG: “It must be right that everyone is entitled to legal representation. That is a fundamental right. One could question whether it is correct for corporations to be afforded that right. But that is not a decision for you and me. That is a decision of Parliament and the courts. We live in a democracy. We have the good fortune to be able to criticise those decisions freely, to challenge and test them. But the best way to test a legal principle is to apply it to a set of facts. You saw that today, at the moot. What you and I can do, as lawyers…”
Next part was a little embarrassing to say out loud.
But Razia and the other students’ eyes were fixed on me, as though what I said might hold the key to the secret of their lives. Perhaps it did.
CG: “What we can do is the best we can. In acting for our clients, in discharging our duties to the court, we serve the rule of law. Which means no dictators.” Thought of everyone back home.
Ma doesn’t want to leave Hong Kong—she says she’s too old to make a new start in a foreign country—but you can see why people do.
“It means no one’s above the law. We contribute to that, in a small way. ”
Palms were damp. Something quite mortifying about admitting one believes in one’s work as a corporate lawyer. It’s far less exposing to pretend one’s simply doing it for the money.
Behind me, Kriya said: “That’s a good argument.”
I started. Might not have been quite as sincere if I’d known Kriya was listening. Had a feeling she didn’t have a high tolerance for corporate apologism.
There was a gleam in her eyes, as though she was tempted to argue the case for the opposition. But all she said was:
“We’ve got to finish up here. They’ve got another booking coming in.”
Ought to have been relieved. Had an eight a.m. with an Australian client the next day. But the sensation I felt—so unexpected it took me a moment to identify it—was disappointment.
I’d hardly got to talk to Kriya all evening. True, I’d see her in the office, but that wasn’t the same.
Heard myself saying:
“Do you want to go on to Cittie of Yorke for a drink?”
Kriya looked surprised. Not nearly as surprised as me. I’ve spent most of my career trying to avoid going to the Cittie of Yorke. Passed too many endless evenings there as a law student and trainee, until I worked out I could decline the invites.
Kriya: “Sure, let’s go.” Glanced around the group. “Anyone else want to come?”
Not what I’d intended. Most of them said they’d come along, vexingly. (Didn’t they have essays to write? Exams to prepare for?)
But Razia said: “I’m heading home. Thanks so much.”
She was looking at Kriya, despite muggins having laid himself open to ridicule, holding forth on the rule of law. Kriya smiled back at her.
My resentment receded. Could see Razia’s point of view, to be fair. I’d gaze at Kriya as goopily as she was doing, hit with a smile like that.
Razia, shyly: “I wanted to say, it’s really meaningful to see Asian people in senior positions in law. Thanks for answering my questions.”
This time she was talking to me, too.
CG: “It was my pleasure.”