In Conversation with Heidi Stonecliffe KC

Mental health is increasingly part of the conversation within the legal profession, but barristers continue to work in an environment shaped by demanding workloads, significant responsibility and, particularly in criminal practice, regular exposure to trauma.

Few people understand those pressures better than Heidi Stonecliffe KC. Heidi has spent much of her career at the employed Bar, defending for ten years before moving into prosecution. In 2020, she became the first woman at the Crown Prosecution Service to take silk and overall fourth CPS barrister to take silk. It was a huge moment and something worth celebrating, but Heidi hopes the profession will reach a point where milestones like this are no longer unusual enough to require celebration. Instead, they should simply be the norm.

Alongside her practice, she is a Bencher and Master of Wellbeing at Inner Temple and Vice Chair of the Bar Council, where wellbeing is one of her key areas of focus.

Heidi also acts as a point of contact for students and practitioners who may be experiencing difficulties. Sometimes that means listening. Sometimes it means intervening or directing someone towards the right support. What matters is creating an environment in which people are willing to speak and seek help.

As Vice Chair of the Bar Council, and soon to be Chair, wellbeing is one of the issues Heidi wants to continue focusing on. For her, wellbeing should not be an add on or something separate from professional life. She believes looking after wellbeing should be treated as routinely as having an accountant or dealing with the other practical necessities of practice.

Her route to the Bar was not always straightforward. Growing up in the Medway towns, neither of Heidi’s parents went to university. She decided she wanted to become a barrister around the time of her GCSEs after reading To Kill a Mockingbird. Without family funding, she worked throughout her legal training, at one stage getting up at four in the morning to work as a cleaner before pupillage, alongside waitressing in the evenings and at weekends.

After not securing tenancy following pupillage, Heidi faced a choice between leaving the profession and moving into employed practice. She chose the latter and has remained at the employed Bar ever since, an experience that has shaped her perspective on the pressures faced by employed practitioners.

Her commitment to wellbeing is also informed by personal experience. Heidi speaks openly about experiencing anxiety during her career and about the emotional impact that difficult criminal cases can have on practitioners. For her, wellbeing should not be an add on to professional life, but an integral part of sustaining a career at the Bar.

Outside work, Heidi’s go to source of solace is her three Bengal cats, which take up plenty of her time and help give her perspective.

And one slightly less conventional moment from her career: during her second six of pupillage, Heidi helped deliver a baby at court.

As part of the Young Legal Aid Lawyers Mental Health Pledge campaign, co-chair Priya Pandya spoke to Heidi about mental health at the employed Bar, vicarious trauma, asking for help, the role of senior practitioners and what needs to change to make the profession more sustainable.

1. What does the Mental Health Pledge mean to you personally, and why do you think it is particularly important for the Bar?

For me, the Mental Health Pledge is about taking mental health seriously: recognising it as a necessity and a priority, rather than an add on or a box to tick.

When we talk about mental health pledges, mental health first aiders and similar initiatives, the important thing is that wellbeing becomes part of our core professional practice and continuing professional development. There is a very simple reason for that: we need to sustain the lawyer if we are going to sustain the legal system. Unless practitioners are thriving, they cannot perform at their best.

That starts at grassroots level. Looking after your own wellbeing makes you a better practitioner. Acknowledging that you are struggling is not a sign of weakness. Taking proactive steps to address it is a way of taking control of your practice.

Leadership is particularly important. Unless senior practitioners, whether in chambers, employers, the Inns or the Bar Council, are willing to speak openly about these issues, how can we expect junior practitioners to take them seriously or feel comfortable asking for help?

Those of us in senior positions have to set an example. We need to make mental health and wellbeing a genuine priority and demonstrate that there is no need to apologise for asking for help.

For me, it is also about paying that experience forward. If you have learnt something that may help somebody else, use it positively.

2. You have spent much of your career at the employed Bar. Do you think employed barristers face any particular pressures or challenges when it comes to maintaining their mental health and wellbeing?

The simple answer is yes.

Historically, there has sometimes been a perception that if you are employed, everything is “sunshine and rainbows”. You receive a salary, so you do not experience the same financial anxieties that a self-employed barrister might. But financial pressure is only one element of wellbeing, and employed practitioners are certainly not immune from the pressures of practice.

When I joined the CPS in 2006, there was also a misconception about the employed Bar, that we worked nine to five, or even ten to four. That simply was not the reality. Our work is driven by the same professional obligations: our Code of Conduct, our duty to act with integrity and our responsibility to do justice to our cases. Workload remains a very real issue.

Those working in people facing areas such as crime, family and personal injury are also regularly exposed to trauma. In publicly funded work, we are operating within a system under enormous pressure. Employed barristers are also sitting in court in 37-degree heat with inadequate facilities while simultaneously dealing with distressing material and significant workloads. All of that affects wellbeing, whether you are employed or self-employed.

There has historically been another pressure for employed advocates: the sense that you somehow have to prove that you are every bit as good as somebody at the self-employed Bar. As a junior barrister defending, I was once told that I was not allowed into a robing room because I was not a “proper barrister”. Thankfully, attitudes have changed substantially since then.

But at the time, my response was to put additional pressure on myself. I felt I could not simply be as good as everybody else. I had to be better than the best person in the room.

My view now is very straightforward: everybody deserves respect and courtesy. How somebody is paid should never dictate how they are treated by their peers or by the judiciary.

That is also why relationships between senior and junior practitioners are so valuable. Talking to people who have experienced these pressures before helps you realise that you are not alone.

3. What role do you think employers can play in creating an environment where barristers feel able to speak openly about their mental health?

When I was Vice Chair of the Employed Barristers’ Committee, we ran focus groups, and one of the things that struck me was that employers did not always understand how to deal with barristers.

Even large organisations did not necessarily understand the individual pressures of practice: court deadlines, professional duties and the obligations that come with being an advocate.

I have seen significant change since then. At the CPS, for example, I have seen a greater willingness to listen to those who conduct advocacy and to understand the particular pressures they experience.

One lesson applies equally to employers, chambers and other professional organisations: encouraging people to speak only works if somebody is prepared to listen.

I often make the comparison with advocacy. Speaking is only half of advocacy. You also have to listen. Wellbeing is no different. There is little value in encouraging somebody to ask for help or speak openly if the person or organisation on the other side is not genuinely prepared to hear what they are saying.

Employers should therefore have real conversations with their people about the difficulties they experience and then respond to what they hear.

We also need to stop performative wellbeing. Wellbeing should not be a tick box exercise or something an organisation does simply to acquire a badge. Unless you are doing something practical and tangible, it risks becoming performative.

Listen, and then act.

4. Your practice involves serious and often distressing criminal cases, including homicide and organised crime. How do you manage the emotional impact of dealing with difficult material while maintaining the resilience needed to do the job?

I think the first important thing is to be honest: sometimes we do not neatly “manage” the emotional impact of our cases. It can be hard.

People sometimes look to senior practitioners for a magic solution, but there is not one. The only way completely to remove the emotional impact would be to remove our own humanity, and that is not the answer.

We are human beings. We still have to maintain a professional approach and discharge our duties, but that does not mean difficult material stops affecting us. People coming into the profession should understand that there will sometimes be hard days, and that experiencing them does not mean they are alone.

In crime, we often deal with bereaved families. They may understandably be angry and are living through terrible loss in terrible circumstances. They need to be heard. As advocates, we listen and support them, but inevitably we absorb some of what we hear.

That absorption can have an impact. When I started practising, nobody talked about vicarious trauma. We overlooked the fact that closing a brief or shutting a laptop does not necessarily mean that your mind closes off everything you have heard and seen.

For me, talking is enormously important. I speak to friends and colleagues, while of course maintaining confidentiality. I speak to people in both my professional and personal circles. Where necessary, I believe in speaking to professionals, a counsellor or therapist, for example. That is not a sign of weakness.

Trauma can creep up on you. As barristers, we become very good at finishing one case and immediately moving on to the next, but eventually things can catch up with us. You need a safety valve.

If I have been reviewing particularly difficult material at home, when I finish I deliberately leave the room and do something life affirming. That might be making dinner or going into the garden and playing with my cats. Even if it is only five minutes, it takes my brain out of that moment and gives it an opportunity to settle.

I remember dealing with evidence concerning the murder of an elderly woman by her son around Christmas. After viewing the material, I cried. I simply said: “I’m not okay.” I knew how the case ended for that woman and it was hard. Speaking to my partner helped, and then I left the room and did something else.

We should not beat ourselves up because a case affects us. The Bar needs human beings.

We are sometimes the voices of people who no longer have a voice themselves. In that particular homicide case, the victim had been isolated before she was killed. There was a privilege in being able, through the justice system, to give her a voice again.

If listening to and watching difficult material was part of bringing humanity back into that case, then it was difficult, but important.

5. The Bar has traditionally had a culture of simply carrying on, even when things are difficult. Do you think that culture is changing, and what more needs to happen to make asking for help feel normal rather than exceptional?

The culture is changing, although slowly.

I remember going to court desperately unwell around 12 or 13 years ago with a kidney infection because I felt I still had to deliver my closing speech. That was part of the culture: you simply carried on.

Things like this conversation help to change that. I have also seen very brave posts on platforms such as LinkedIn from practitioners who have experienced significant health difficulties. Those are not necessarily negative stories. Somebody may have experienced something that changed the course of their career, but they can also be positive examples of what happens when people take time to reflect, speak out and take control of their health and wellbeing.

People get well. They return to practice, often with a renewed understanding of how important their health is. Speaking to people in order to get help is okay, and it matters when senior members of the profession are open about that.

I know that from personal experience. At around ten years’ call, I was dealing with an extremely difficult case and a great deal of pressure. One day, completely out of nowhere, I was sitting on the Central line when I had a panic attack. I genuinely thought I was going to die or that something terrible was happening.

I subsequently struggled badly with generalised anxiety disorder. I forced myself to go to court every day and did not speak about it or ask for help.

Eventually, I mentioned it to somebody. Their response was simply: “I’ve had that too, and this is how I dealt with it.”

The weight that lifted from my shoulders was enormous. Suddenly, this was something that could be addressed. Until then, part of me had wondered whether it meant I could no longer do the job.

I went on to have cognitive behavioural therapy, which helped me understand how to retrain the way I was responding to things. I am now very open about that experience, including when people come to me through wellbeing clinics.

We also need those managing workloads, including clerking teams, to understand that people cannot simply be pushed indefinitely beyond normal limits of endurance. Mental health difficulties do not necessarily appear from nowhere. Pressure builds and, eventually, the jug overflows.

We need to recognise signs in ourselves and in others and not wait until somebody reaches crisis point.

The message is simple: speak up. Talk to us. The joy of the Bar is that, at its heart, it is humane. I have seen people in robing rooms drop what they are doing to help somebody else.

Do not be afraid to say: “I’m not okay.”

6. You have spoken about the importance of seeking support before reaching crisis point. What signs should barristers look out for in themselves or colleagues that might indicate someone is struggling?

There are some obvious signs: somebody becoming unusually irritable, quiet or withdrawn, for example. The important distinction is between somebody simply having a bad day and a change in mood or behaviour that is prolonged or ongoing.

For me personally, sleep is often affected when I am dealing with a difficult case or another issue. Overthinking and tunnel vision can also be warning signs. When several of those things begin to come together, that is when the storm can develop.

We should keep an eye on one another. Sometimes we operate in a tunnel and do not notice what is happening around us.

A very simple question, “Is everything okay?” or “Is there anything I can help with?”, can create the moment somebody needs to say that they are struggling.

At times, it can feel as though people in this profession need permission to say they are not okay. Asking that question may give somebody that permission.

There are also resources available across the profession. Circuits, Bar associations and the Bar Council provide support, and Wellbeing at the Bar is a very useful resource. Specialist Bar associations, including the CBA, have initiatives available too.

LawCare has also been valuable to me personally. After a difficult trial a couple of years ago, I realised that I needed to speak to somebody outside the profession simply to “brain dump” what I had experienced. I used LawCare’s one to one peer support for three or four sessions. In hindsight, I wish I had done it during the trial rather than waiting until afterwards.

The resources are there. Use them.

7. As someone who has held senior leadership roles within the profession, how important is it for senior barristers and leaders to be open about the pressures they experience and to model healthier ways of working?

It is crucial.

If those of us in senior positions pretend that pressure never affects us, we risk creating an impossible standard for the people coming behind us. Junior practitioners may assume that struggling means they are somehow less capable or less suited to the profession.

That is why I think senior practitioners speaking openly about their experiences matters. It shows people earlier in their careers that difficult periods are not necessarily incompatible with a successful career.

I have had panic attacks. I have experienced anxiety. I have cried after reviewing distressing evidence. I have needed professional support. Those experiences have been part of my career, and being open about them can help other people recognise that they are not alone.

Senior practitioners therefore have an opportunity to normalise those conversations. When people in leadership positions are willing to talk about wellbeing, it sends a message to junior practitioners that they can do the same.

But it is also important to demonstrate healthier behaviour in practice, rather than simply talking about it. Wellbeing cannot be something we promote publicly while privately expecting people to work beyond reasonable limits.

Leadership sets the tone. If senior people are willing to acknowledge when something is difficult, seek help where appropriate and listen properly when somebody else asks for support, it becomes easier for others to speak up too.

8. If you could introduce three changes tomorrow to improve mental health in criminal legal aid, what would they be?

There are three overarching things I would change.

First, funding.

That means funding people properly for the work they actually do. So much of the work undertaken at the criminal Bar is unpaid: skeleton arguments, preparation and all the additional work we do to make sure a case does not go off the rails.

It also means properly funding the justice system itself. Practitioners need functioning court buildings: proper conference rooms, canteens, water, toilets, ceilings that do not require buckets underneath them, heating when it is cold and adequate cooling when it is extremely hot.

Those basic working conditions matter.

Second, recognition across the profession and judiciary that people have lives outside work, and that those lives make them better at their jobs.

People have children and caring responsibilities. They have relationships and social engagements. Those things give us opportunities to decompress.

I have cancelled dinners, holidays and time with people I love because of professional deadlines. Of course, sometimes the work requires sacrifices, but preparation also takes genuine time. A properly considered legal argument cannot simply be produced in ten minutes. Giving practitioners sufficient preparation time is good for their wellbeing and important for doing justice to the case.

Third, I would continue changing the culture of unnecessary combativeness within the profession.

We work in an adversarial system, particularly in crime, but that does not require us to be personally adversarial towards one another.

Respect and good working relationships with opponents make us more efficient and help everybody get to the heart of the issue, which ultimately benefits the judge, the jury and the administration of justice.

Being deliberately aggressive or combative achieves very little. There is a test I sometimes think about when somebody walks into a robing room and says who their opponent is. There are generally two possible reactions: “Oh, they’re fantastic,” or, “Oh, good luck with that.”

Nobody should actively aspire to be the person who prompts the second reaction.

Historically, we have sometimes glorified the idea of the aggressive courtroom “killer” or “rottweiler”. But there is no strength in being deliberately combative.

What we need more of is empathy. We rarely know everything another person is dealing with at a particular moment. Even taking instructions can itself be traumatic.

To return to the lesson that first resonated with me through Atticus Finch: try walking in somebody else’s shoes.

9. What practical habits, boundaries or sources of support have helped you protect your own wellbeing throughout a demanding career?

The biggest thing for me is talking.

I speak to trusted friends and colleagues, while always maintaining professional confidentiality, and I make use of professional support when I need it. I do not regard speaking to a counsellor or therapist as a weakness. Sometimes you need that safety valve.

I also try to recognise my own warning signs. If my sleep is suffering, if I am overthinking or developing tunnel vision, I know I need to pay attention rather than simply push through indefinitely.

After dealing with particularly distressing material, I consciously create some distance from it. If I have been working at home, I physically leave the room. I might make dinner, go outside or spend time playing with my cats.

It does not have to be a grand wellbeing strategy. Sometimes five minutes doing something ordinary and life affirming is enough to allow your mind to settle.

I have also learnt not to wait until things reach crisis point. There are resources within and outside the profession, from Wellbeing at the Bar and specialist Bar associations to LawCare and professional counselling.

The important thing is to use those resources when you need them, rather than convincing yourself that you ought to be able to cope alone.

10. If you could give one piece of advice to a junior barrister at the employed Bar, what would it be?

If you find yourself struggling at any stage, ask for help.

It is not a weakness. It is not a lack of resilience. And it does not mean that you are not right for the job.

Speak out and use the resources around you. That might be YLAL, LawCare, the Bar Council, specialist organisations or simply the people you meet and build relationships with at court.

Asking for help is courageous. It is brave, intelligent and sensible.

We need to change the narrative so that asking for help is understood for what it is: taking responsibility for yourself, your wellbeing and your practice.

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This conversation highlights that wellbeing at the Bar cannot be separated from the realities of practice. Workload, funding, working conditions, professional relationships and exposure to distressing material can all affect the people working within the justice system. Supporting better mental health therefore cannot rest solely on individual resilience. It also requires workplaces and a professional culture in which people listen, support one another and feel able to seek help before reaching crisis point.

There are encouraging signs that this culture is changing. Open conversations about anxiety, vicarious trauma and the pressures of practice can help make seeking support feel less exceptional. Senior members of the profession have an important role to play in that change, both by speaking openly about their own experiences and by creating an environment in which others feel able to do the same.

For junior lawyers in particular, the message running throughout this conversation is a valuable one: asking for help is not a failure of resilience. Recognising when you need support and being willing to seek it can be an important part of sustaining yourself throughout a demanding career.

For further information, guidance and support on wellbeing at the Bar, please visit the Bar Council’s Wellbeing at the Bar website.

YLAL In Conversation explores the experiences and perspectives of people from across the legal profession, looking at their routes into law, the realities of practice, the challenges they have encountered and the lessons they have learnt along the way. You can read the other interviews in the YLAL In Conversation series for more perspectives, experiences and advice from across the profession.