Personal views: Tackling institutional racism
Authors: Joe Collier
Journal: BMJ (1999)

The public inquiry into the London police force’s investigation of the murder of the black teenager, Stephen Lawrence, concludes that racism is rife in the police and that it was a major factor in the failure of the police to uphold justice. Other professions in the United Kingdom are also open to allegations of institutional racism, and in the view of the Macpherson report they too now face a stern test of their resolve to eradicate it. But can much of this come as a surprise?


The oddest thing about institutional racism is the blindness of the perpetrators. In a racist organisation outrageous thoughts and behaviour are acceptable, and all apparently without questioning. Racist jokes or jibes are part of office banter, racist acts or statements pass without comment, hurt goes on as though it did not matter, as though those subjected had no feeling. Worse still, the victims are caught too as they seem paralysed, unable or unwilling to protest in case they suffer more. And in this there is the assumption that racist views are held only by some key people rather than by the broad mass of the employees. Yet on entering an organisation each day there is flock conversion as others take on the corporate mantle during working hours. 


“Those who run racist institutions are powerful, unyielding, often ruthless”



But how the blindness changes if the behaviour is challenged. Such is the speed and intensity of the response that you have to assume some knowledge of the wrong doing. Those who run the institution work to ensure that anyone who dares to force change is marginalised or undermined. And, as a lesson to others, the person responsible is vilified and ostracised. In my experience, those who run racist institutions are powerful, unyielding, often ruthless, and have very long memories.

All this is obvious; my friends reminded me of it, even warned me of the consequences, but in reality I had no choice. By chance I discovered that my own organisation was deeply racist. The computer software for processing applications for student admissions was programmed to discriminate against ethnic minority candidates. When data were entered, among the information sought was the applicant’s race, crudely divided into Caucasian or otherwise. Being non-Caucasian lowered the computer generated score and reduced the chance of being called for an interview.

Clearly this had to be stopped and justice done. Despite pleading from senior officials—“We did not know it was going on”; “We can put it right”; “It used to be worse”; “It is programmed to mimic human behaviour”—the matter was reported to the Commission for Racial Equality (CRE), who, within days, stopped the programme and began a formal inquiry. I was persona non grata.

Before reporting, I had an evening to puzzle what to do. I established that I had the wholehearted support of my partner and of a senior black work colleague with whom I had published work on racism in medicine. I also ran through the ethical dilemma. Did I support my institution, or was my responsibility to the community? I decided that my loyalty should lie with the community, but ultimately it was the responsibility I had to myself that determined my action. In the past, I had revealed, and been publicly critical of, racism in other institutions. That being so, could I cover up my findings of racism at my own institution? The balance therefore was between my own integrity and the interests of my employers. Given that choice, honesty to myself was the only option.

Naturally the story got into the media. I was ostracised, became invisible, was told I had brought the organisation into disrepute, reminded repeatedly how much my actions would cost the organisation in both financial and image terms, and was told that the school would now face the risk of being overrun by poor quality students and that by my actions I had forfeited any chance of promotion. Interestingly, one of the strongest cards played by the organisation was to make it clear that I was no longer welcome in their club. But as I did not want to be member of such a club, this was relatively ineffective. There followed, however, some unpleasant years. I was buoyed by two colleagues who whispered their thanks, by letters of support from outside, by the CRE, which never faltered, by my black work colleague who shielded me on some of the worst occasions (the strength given me by sitting next to him at meetings and identifying with his feelings was indescribable), and by the steadfast support of my partner.

But that was over 10 years ago. Now, the institute is aware of its past and strives to be less racist than society (possibly with success); many in the organisation’s original establishment have left, I have been brought back into the work community, and I did get my chair. But the scars persist, and they are deep. Recently, the institute thanked me publicly for my actions, and in my reply I found it difficult not to cry. It was the first time I had been allowed to let down my guard, and the emotions were unbearable.

Institutional racism must be stamped out, but leaving it to individuals is not to be recommended. Mechanisms must be put in place to make the change corporate. In my view, nothing less is unfair or unworkable.