From the desk of a mentor who once walked the same path —
one of many reflections in the spirit of
“Emails to a Young Lawyer.”

I did not come to law school the way students in the United States typically do. In Turkiye, as in much of the world, legal education begins right after high school. At eighteen, I was a law student. By twenty-two, I held a law degree. A year later, I had my attorney license — all before I had ever practiced law.

When I arrived in the U.S. in 1999 as an LL.M. student, I encountered not only a different legal system but also a radically different philosophy of education. My JD classmates in some of my classes weren’t law students at eighteen. Many had studied other disciplines first — history, engineering, literature, philosophy — or even worked in unrelated fields before turning to law. They brought with them not just ambition, but a depth of perspective shaped outside the legal field.

That was the beginning of a quiet shift in me.

My journey eventually led me back to Turkiye, where I spent nearly two decades writing, teaching, and mentoring future lawyers. But I carried with me that early sense of contrast—not just between legal systems but also between ways of becoming a lawyer. When I later returned to the U.S. as a visiting scholar, I began to see this contrast more clearly. Legal education, I realized, is not just a path to a profession. It is a transformative journey that shapes your personhood, your understanding of the world, and your role in it.

 

NOT JUST TECHNICIANS, BUT INTERPRETERS

The U.S. legal education system quietly assumes that before becoming a lawyer, you should first become something else — a communicator, a problem-solver, a citizen, a critical thinker. Legal study is typically preceded by an undergraduate education that encourages broad inquiry across disciplines — from literature to biology, philosophy to engineering, art to economics. This isn’t incidental. It’s foundational.

In my experience, at its best, American legal education values the intellectual and moral maturity that grows from diverse learning experiences. It is grounded in the recognition that lawyers do more than recite statutes — they interpret human conflict, mediate between cultures, and reason ethically across systems. In principle, it is a model that rewards judgment as much as knowledge.

 

ECHOES FROM THE PAST

The idea that legal education should shape the whole person, not just the legal technician, was not entirely new to me. Long before I stepped into an American law school, I had been shaped by the legacy of Turkish legal education — and its silences. This concern about the narrowness of legal education has been raised before. Prof. Dr. Hamide Topçuoğlu,^ı identified this very issue in her 1966 publication originally named “Neleri Öğrenmek İstiyorlar?” (“What Do They Want to Learn?“).^ıı Her empirical study of law and medical students studying in two prestigious universities in the capital, Ankara, noted a lack of engagement with ideas beyond the exam syllabus, a reluctance to foster discussion, and an educational culture that treated students as passive receivers, not active interpreters. She wrote: “Even the best students soon forget the substance of what they learned… They are not sufficiently encouraged to pursue scientific inquiry beyond the syllabus… Students must be intellectually engaged, their opinions invited, their capacities cultivated.”^ııı

That study could have described the law school experience at Istanbul University, which I knew in the 1990s. It remained largely unchanged during the years I taught at the Istanbul University Faculty of Law. And yet, I witnessed something else: some of my students went on to succeed in international legal settings. The common thread? It wasn’t the prestige of their degrees — whether earned locally or abroad. It was their ability to think across disciplines, languages, and cultures — the very qualities Prof. Topçuoğlu called for, and the ones I had come to recognize as essential.

 

A GLOBAL CONVERSATION

In the past twenty years, several countries —including Japan and South Korea— have looked to the U.S. model, reforming their systems to introduce graduate legal education. But this is not just about borrowing structure. It reflects a deeper question: How do we prepare lawyers for the global stage?

In legal education systems where students begin law school directly after high school, the conversation around reform continues, particularly around how best to prepare lawyers for an increasingly global and interdisciplinary world. While many institutions have introduced interdisciplinary electives and international components, these additions often remain peripheral — more about checking boxes than shaping minds. Of course, the effectiveness of such efforts varies widely. In some systems with smaller student bodies and stronger academic support, these elements may be more thoughtfully integrated. But in many environments I’ve observed — including my own years of teaching at a major public law faculty — such reforms struggle under the weight of limited resources, large class sizes, and institutional inertia.

One example is Legal English instruction. During the many years I taught courses on the general concepts of law and contract law — in English — at Istanbul University Faculty of Law, I approached Legal English not as a technical skill for employability, but as an intellectual bridge. I saw it as a way to introduce students to the cultural logic, rhetorical style, and ethical assumptions embedded in Anglo-American legal thinking. For me, these classes were opportunities to show how law is not simply practiced in another language, but reasoned, argued, and imagined differently.

In many non-English-speaking educational settings I’ve observed, however, Legal English instruction is treated narrowly: reduced to vocabulary drills, case summaries, or standardized templates. The deeper opportunity to foster global literacy and intercultural legal reasoning is frequently overlooked. While circumstances vary across institutions — especially depending on resources and student load — the broader challenge remains: integrating global perspectives meaningfully, rather than superficially, into the education of future lawyers.

To truly prepare students for the complexities of global legal practice, we must move beyond checkbox approaches. This means embedding philosophy, ethics, and cultural studies meaningfully into legal education and fostering environments that encourage active learning through debates, simulations, reflective writing, and intercultural dialogue. Such reforms would not only enhance cultural fluency but also develop the critical thinking and moral judgment necessary for navigating diverse legal systems with confidence and care.

Because today’s legal challenges — from climate disputes to AI ethics to cross-border trade arbitration — demand more than technical and language skills. They demand moral reasoning, cultural fluency, and intellectual agility.

This realization isn’t confined to courtrooms or classrooms. Sometimes it comes in quieter forms—

My husband and I have developed a quiet ritual of watching Jeopardy!^ıv nearly every evening, when we are in the U.S., and what began as a simple routine gradually took on deeper meaning. The show’s format—with its emphasis on general knowledge, mental agility, and the art of precise thinking—feels increasingly rare in a media culture dominated by shows built on spectacle, emotional drama, or sheer chance. Over time, I began to reflect on how even the subtlest elements of our surroundings—what we choose to watch, read, or listen to—can either sharpen or dull our ways of thinking. It’s easy to remain immersed in content that entertains but does little to challenge us, unaware that it may be quietly narrowing our attention and ambition. Legal education, too, unfolds within this broader intellectual climate. If that climate favors distraction over depth, consumption over contemplation, it becomes harder to cultivate the kind of lawyers who are reflective, principled, and prepared to think independently. For me, watching Jeopardy! each evening became a small but intentional act of alignment—choosing, even for a moment, an environment that stimulates thought rather than stifles it. In that sense, our everyday habits—no matter how ordinary—are never neutral. They are shaping who we become.

This, too, is part of the education that lies beyond the syllabus.

I’ve seen this firsthand in international arbitration settings, where lawyers from different countries meet not just with different laws but with different ways of analyzing facts, framing questions, and interpreting meaning. Native English proficiency may offer fluency, but it does not account for the difference in depth, approach, and judgment. That difference lies in education, not only in its content, but also in its culture.

 

TO THE LAW STUDENTS AND YOUNG LAWYERS READING THIS

If you are studying or have studied law in an undergraduate system, you are not disadvantaged — unless you allow your growth to stop at the classroom door.

I don’t offer a critique of your education. I offer an invitation — to go deeper.

You may not have been trained in liberal arts. But you can still become a liberal-minded lawyer who reads beyond doctrine, engages with history and ethics, and seeks understanding across borders. You can cultivate curiosity. You can think critically, read literature, appreciate art, explore systems, and learn to ask better questions.

Here are some starting strategies:

Read widely — not just legal texts, but essays, novels, philosophy, and science.

Join study circles or legal discussion groups in person or online.

Attend interdisciplinary lectures or public forums.

Volunteer with legal aid clinics that serve culturally diverse communities.

Write and publish reflections that connect law with the world around you.

Seek out mentors — or shadow professionals — whose backgrounds, perspectives, or paths differ from your own.

And take advantage of tools and opportunities that didn’t exist in earlier eras:

Enroll in open-access courses on legal theory, ethics, or global justice from platforms like Coursera, edX, or FutureLearn.

Participate in online moot courts, arbitration simulations, or policy competitions that bring together students and professionals across borders.

Curate your digital feed intentionally — follow legal thinkers, cross-border practitioners, and public intellectuals who challenge and inspire you.

Use AI tools not to shortcut your thinking, but to help clarify it — as a way to test arguments, explore translations, or prompt deeper questions.

Watch or listen to legal-themed documentaries, podcasts, or films that illuminate how law intersects with identity, justice, power, communication, and culture in real lives.

 

These are not detours. They are part of becoming the kind of lawyer the world will need.

If you’re wondering where to begin expanding your legal education beyond doctrine, two books have stayed with me. Fareed Zakaria’s In Defense of a Liberal Education^v makes the case that critical thinking, clear writing, and broad curiosity are not only valuable — they’re essential tools in a world defined by complexity.

A more personal counterpart to Zakaria’s work is Roosevelt Montás’s Rescuing Socrates.^vı Now a professor at Columbia, Montás reflects on his own beginnings as a Dominican immigrant student navigating the university’s Great Books program — not as an academic abstraction, but as a life-changing encounter with ideas that helped him make sense of who he was and who he wanted to become. For young lawyers, especially those trained in systems that didn’t offer this kind of learning, these books can serve as a guide, not only for what to read, but for how to grow.

An LL.M. can be a valuable step — and for many internationally trained lawyers, a necessary one for U.S. bar eligibility or professional transition. At Emails to a Young Lawyer, we understand and support that path. But the real difference lies not in the degree itself, but in the mindset it helps cultivate — if you let it. A mindset shaped not only by what you know, but by how you’ve learned to understand. It is not the letters after your name that define your readiness, but the habits of thought, the capacity for reflection, and the ability to bridge legal systems with clarity and care.

 

TO THE INSTITUTIONS SHAPING THE NEXT GENERATION

This is also a call to legal educators, law faculties, and academic institutions, particularly in countries where law is taught at the undergraduate level, to shape the next generation of lawyers.
We are no longer educating lawyers for single jurisdictions. We are educating for complexity. For conflict. For leadership. That means creating environments that do not just reward memorization but foster conversation. That don’t just deliver content, but develop judgment.

While the challenges facing legal education are deeply rooted and multidimensional — spanning issues of scale, quality, and governance — this essay speaks to just one layer of that broader picture.

It means taking seriously the advice of those like Prof. Topçuoğlu, who decades ago urged us to treat students not as silent subjects, but as minds in formation. It also means valuing intellectual diversity — across disciplines, languages, and life experiences — as a core component of legal training.

Legal education must do more than prepare professionals. It must help shape people.

 

BECOMING BEFORE PRACTICING

It wasn’t a single exam, a professional license, or even a degree that taught me what it means to become a lawyer. That understanding came gradually through shifts in roles, systems, and expectations; through the challenge of thinking and working across borders. In the end, it is not the credential that matters most. It is the kind of person you become — someone who can be trusted with the weight of law.

In practice, moral reasoning appears in how we advise clients beyond what is merely legal, by asking what is just, responsible, or sustainable. Cultural fluency shows in how we communicate with empathy across differences, in negotiations, mediations, arbitrations, and even daily correspondence. These are not idealistic add-ons; they are essential skills in today’s legal world, especially for those working across borders or before international tribunals.

If I could speak to my younger self — or to you — I would say, “This is not the end of your education. It is the threshold of it.”

And the global legal world needs you, not just as a practitioner, but as a whole person. Curious. Reflective. Respectful. Capable of holding complexity with clarity, care, and conviction.

That journey is yours to begin. I hope this message meets you on the way.

It is one message among many. Through “Emails to a Young Lawyer,” we continue to live, think, learn, and write — across borders, generations, and legal traditions — offering reflections for those who navigate law not just as a profession, but as a path to personhood — and a practice that lives across borders.

 

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^ı  Prof. Dr. Hamide Topçuoğlu (1929–2007) was a pioneering Turkish legal scholar and educator known for her contributions to legal sociology, legal pedagogy and empirical research on higher education. Her 1966 study Neleri Öğrenmek İstiyorlar? (“What Do They Want to Learn?”) examined the motivations, intellectual aspirations, and learning environments of law and medical students in Ankara. The work remains a rare and early example of empirical inquiry into the culture of legal education in Turkiye, critiquing the passive, exam-oriented model and advocating for deeper student engagement and interdisciplinary learning.

^ıı  I am grateful to Dr. Furkan Güven Taştan for bringing renewed attention to Prof. Dr. Hamide Topçuoğlu’s 1966 study through a recent post on his personal blog https://fgtastan.com. His thoughtful engagement with this early work reminded me of its enduring relevance and inspired me to integrate it into this essay. https://fgtastan.com/wiki/neleri-ogrenmek-istiyorlar-hamide-topcuoglu/

^ııı  Prof. Dr. Hamide Topçuoğlu, Neleri Öğrenmek istiyorlar?- A survey on student interests conducted among 1,166 university students at Ankara University Faculty of Law and Hacettepe University Faculty of Medicine, (Yargıçoğlu Matbaası, Ankara, 1966). 

^ıv  Jeopardy! is a long-running American quiz show that tests contestants on general knowledge across a wide range of topics. Known for its distinctive format and emphasis on precision, recall, and intellectual breadth, it has become a cultural icon in the United States since its debut in 1964 — and a rare example of popular entertainment that celebrates knowledge.

 ^v  Fareed Zakaria, In Defense of a Liberal Education (W. W. Norton & Company, 2015). Zakaria, a journalist and international commentator, explores the relevance of liberal education in the 21st century, emphasizing how broad-based learning supports creativity, communication, and resilience in a dynamic global economy. 

^vı  Roosevelt Montás, Rescuing Socrates: How the Great Books Changed My Life and Why They Matter for a New Generation (Princeton University Press, 2021). Montás, a senior lecturer at Columbia University, blends memoir and critique to champion the transformative power of liberal education, particularly through deep engagement with classical texts.