Mental health impact of defending human rights
By: Perseus 文光
Tags: Mental Health, Human Rights, Lawyers, Law, Depression

I had previously posted about the impact of social media on mental health, and I made a promise to make more of a conscious effort to avoid presenting a curated presentation of life. In the spirit of that promise, I want to share with you all a hidden side of working in human rights which few people will talk about: the aspect of vicarious traumatisation.

In a paper in Torture Journal titled Secondary trauma in the legal professions, a clinical perspective, the author Dr Yael Fischman, then director of the Institute for Study of Psychosocial Trauma in California, indicated that, “[m] any of the experiences and symptoms [of psychological trauma] are also commonly reported by caregivers and other providers that interact with traumatized patients of clients. “

Dr Fischman continues in her paper saying, “[t] herefore, professionals may experience, to a lesser degree, some of the same symptoms as those impacted by primary trauma. As stated above, these may include fear, helplessness, horror, anger, rage, sleep disturbances, alterations in memory, irritability, difficulty concentrating, avoidance or numbing to avoid thoughts and feelings connected with traumatic events, detachment, and estrangement from others. “

I first started legal work in the field of welfare benefits, writing submissions on behalf of clients in appeals against the Government’s decision to refuse, or limit, welfare benefits. I remember a sense of dread when working on these cases because at the back of my mind I was always aware that if I missed something, then the client’s livelihood would be at risk. When I started working in human rights law in 2008, the same sense of dread only increased when I was dealing with cases involving asylum seekers, as my work and my attention to detail would literally mean life and death for someone being repatriated to their native country when they had claimed a fear of persecution.

When I talked about these feelings to friends, they would usually try to comfort me by saying, “But they might not have been telling the truth anyway.” I did not doubt their intentions, but it hardly helped because I my response was always, “What if they are telling the truth?” One can never truly identify whether someone is lying or not just by looking externally at evidence. There could be a myriad of reasons as to why the evidence just simply does not match, but that does not necessarily mean that someone is lying, especially working with people who are fleeing persecution, with their minds already scrambled by the experiences which they have suffered.

It’s been so long ago since I started in dealing with human rights issues that I genuinely do not remember my reaction when I first received my first set of detailed instructions in relation to torture. I have two trainee solicitors under my care, and when they first received detailed instructions in relation to an account of torture, their faces had visibly paled by a few shades by the end of the appointment. When I tried to discuss with them about the instructions received and how best to proceed with the client’s case, one of my trainees actually told me he could not talk about it, and needed to leave the office for a walk.

Having worked in human rights law, and dealing with accounts of torture on a daily basis, I have learnt to numb any feelings attached to hearing or seeing evidence of atrocities. I would not say it’s a natural reaction, but more something which is learnt from years of dealing with these kinds of extreme situations. I once dealt with a major case which required an examination of international terrorism, and I was shown a photo of the aftermath of a suicide bomb attack. I remember seeing what I can only describe as looking like minced meat splattered on surfaces, and what looked like a slab of meat from the butcher’s shop, with some fabric, on top of a car. I was told that the “minced meat” and the “slab of meat” was the remains the suicide bomber. The journalist who was providing the evidence seemed more shocked that I didn’t even bat an eyelid and just carried on taking notes.

I had once popped into the offices of the Helen Bamber Foundation, a human rights charity offering support to survivors of human rights violations, in order to drop off some papers after a Court hearing. As I was leaving, the late Helen Bamber called me into her office to have a chat, asking me how I was, and if I have had any chance to talk to anyone in terms of an outlet for all the horrific stories we hear.

Truth be told, I had not thought anything of secondary traumatisation until Helen sat down with me that day in her office and talked with me about her concerns about the lack of support we practitioners get. Before that, I had been actively self-harming, probably more as a coping mechanism rather than as a stepping stone to suicide. I ended up having to see psychiatrists, counsellors, and taking anti-depressants.

Happily though, I have very supportive friends and colleagues who helped me through everything. The medication was a horrific experience, especially when you first start, or change dosage. But it has made me put my work into perspective, and made me also more aware that I also need to focus more on me rather than spending hours upon hours in the office. I had previously thought that enveloping myself in work was a helpful distraction from other issues I was facing in daily life, when in fact it was just compounding the problem. I suppose solutions always seem obvious once the problems have been solved, but better having got there late than never.

Thinking back, it’s not been an easy ride to work in human rights. Sure, I’ve been very lucky to have dealt with some very seminal cases in human rights law, but it’s not all about being famous or dealing with big cases. Big seminal cases do not come very often, but you do get a great sense of satisfaction knowing that you may have helped save someone’s life. I would not go back to 2008 and tell my younger self not to go into human rights law even if I had the chance. Nelson Mandela once said, “ To deny people their human rights is to challenge their very humanity. “ If we cannot stand up to defend people’s humanity, then what does that say about our own humanity?