In the 30 years since Stephen Lawrence was murdered on a dark street by racists, he has come to be seen as an iconic symbol of the herculean attempt by his parents to make that outrage mean something. They have become symbolic figures after leading a campaign that made Britain look at itself and face up to the unfairness and racist inequalities that blighted it.
But as their lawyer, working closely with them for so many years, I was privileged to see behind the symbols and to know something of Stephen for what he was: a young, lively, bright and sociable Black Londoner navigating his way through what was left of his teenage years and planning his future. And to see his parents for what they were and are: ordinary, brave, warm, public-spirited people who speak to the truth that society can be changed for the better by courageous people who raise a voice. On behalf of their son, on behalf of us all, they raised a voice.
It was hoped back then that Stephen’s murder would be a turning point, and the inquiry that followed would lead to a reckoning for police services across the country and, in particular, the Metropolitan police. That reckoning has been delayed by three decades. It is only now said to be beginning. When Stephen was murdered he was the fourth victim of a racist killing in south-east London, which had been dubbed the racist capital of the country.
As a lawyer, I had been painfully aware of the racism of the police, having defended Black individuals as suspects and represented them as victims of police misconduct. Police racism was rife but, as in the rest of society, it was seen as an accepted part of everyday life, whether it was on our Saturday night TV screens or on the football terraces. Of course, there were many who fought against it, but the state, through its institutions, was far stronger. Britain had had centuries of learning from its imperial past how to instil racism into every aspect of society. The police were just part of that institutional scaffolding.
It is this situation that gave rise to Sir William Macpherson’s definition of institutional racism, which sought to explain why the Met failed Stephen’s family so badly. It was not that one individual Met police officer was racist: it was the procedures, processes and conduct of the institution that had produced a discriminatory outcome. Lawyers such as me, familiar with police practices, recognised that well, but many in society, including the Lawrences, were unaware of it, largely because they had no cause to be in contact with the police.
As a result, before 1993 it was an uphill task trying to convince the public that young Black men were being stopped just because of their skin colour and not because they had done anything wrong. It was the same when it came to trying to explain why there were so many young Black men in prison or why they were more likely to die at the hands of the police compared with their white counterparts; or why getting a complaint upheld against a police officer was nigh on impossible.
On 22 April 1993 this narrative began to change. As the brutality of Stephen’s murder and the vicious racism of his killers came to be known, together with the sheer magnitude of the police failures to catch those responsible, there was a realisation that all was not as it appeared with the police. The subsequent public inquiry and report six years later into the killing turned that suspicion into fact: the police were institutionally racist. With his advisers, Macpherson’s findings had pricked the chimeric vision that Britain was a tolerant, fair and just land with equal opportunities for all.
Racist tropes on our TV screens may no longer be acceptable, while footballers display their anti-racist credentials by taking the knee, but scratch the surface and it is clear racism is still rife in our society; whether it is the continuing alarming rate of deaths of Black men in custody or the differential treatment of Black mothers-to-be in the health system.
On the last day of the public inquiry, I recall thinking how life would change now discrimination had been so comprehensively exposed. It never happened. There were individual success stories here and there. Some pointed to the marriage of Meghan Markle to a royal, and to the diverse nature of the Tory cabinet, but that just highlights the paradoxical nature of the society we live in.
They give the appearance of change without there being any actual change because at the same time we see that more than a third of people from ethnic and religious minorities have experienced some form of racist assault. This is precisely why we need to acknowledge and accept the concept of institutional racism. If those in power don’t change the procedures, processes and conduct of those in their charge, discriminatory outcomes will continue to occur. This is why it was baffling to hear the Met commissioner, Sir Mark Rowley, unequivocally accept Louise Casey’s damning report into his force recently but then refuse to admit institutional racism.
When the Macpherson report was published in 1999, many chief police officers robotically accepted the notion of institutional racism, as did other public services. It became a badge of honour. But it was simply an outward sign of penitence, for public consumption – and we bought it.
The real driver for the Met has never really changed. It is to protect its own, and that has repercussions. When your chief operating officer gives you licence to act in a racist, misogynistic, homophobic and corrupt manner, many will do so. When they oversee a complaints system designed to protect you at all costs, what stops you from acting with complete impunity?
I had high hopes, even pride, standing at Doreen Lawrence’s side after the public inquiry, and thinking that we were at the start of a huge wave of change for the better. How depressing to now feel that the police were thinking the complete opposite.
On this anniversary of Stephen’s death, the sad truth is this: the Met has wasted 30 years in which it could have fully implemented the Macpherson recommendations; decades in which untold millions of taxpayers’ money has been misspent; in which thousands of complaints have been dismissed; in which untold numbers of Black young men have been unnecessarily stopped and searched.
There was a chance to root out the racism, the misogyny, the homophobia and corruption. Perhaps the lives of so many who have died at the hands of serving police officers could have been saved.
After Stephen’s death we demanded change; we still demand it. We owe him no less.
