

This reflection is part of Bridging Barriers: Conversations Across Legal Cultures—an oral history series by Emails to a Young Lawyer that documents the journeys of lawyers navigating legal education and practice across borders, with a focus on how law intersects with culture, communication, and identity.
Each post in the series features the personal reflections and takeaways of the host, curator, and interviewer Can Yildirim, based on in-depth conversations with globally minded legal professionals.
For this feature, the interviewee preferred not to make the recording public, a choice we fully respect, as oral history depends as much on trust and boundaries as it does on shared insight. In place of a video, we are pleased to share both this reflection and the full transcript, which is available at the end of the post.

BRIDGING BARRIERS: CONVERSATIONS ACROSS LEGAL CULTURES
An Oral History Series by Emails to a Young Lawyer
Curated & Presented by Can Yildirim
Interview No. 6
Learn more about the Bridging Barriers series, read my reflections on the previous interviews, and watch their recordings HERE.
For Canberk Yıldız, law began as a deeply human calling. Growing up in Giresun, a relatively small city in Turkiye, he witnessed firsthand how fragile access to justice can be for families facing financial and legal hardship. That experience anchored the fundamental conviction that he carries to this day: legal help must be both powerful and reliable.
From the Istanbul University Faculty of Law to an Erasmus term in Poland, and then from a first LL.M. in data privacy in Istanbul to a second in intellectual property and information law at Boston University, his journey is one of becoming the kind of lawyer whose guidance remains steady when people most need it.
Canberk’s first class in American Law offered a shocking challenge not in its content but in its method. A cold call clashed with years of practice instilled through civil-law training. In his previous experience, mastery had always come before argument; one had to understand codes thoroughly before arguing them. However, in the U.S., reasoning itself was the gateway to mastery. The Socratic classroom demanded he test ideas publicly, revise them aloud, and defend judgment in real time.
He survived that first cold call thanks to a decade of experience. He found in this challenge a more profound lesson: agility in argument is not inherited; it is built through exposure, humility, and repetition.
In Legal Writing & Research, mastering the IRAC framework transformed not only his communication but also his consideration of legal issues. It replaced ornate displays of rhetoric with concise, disciplined clarity. Letting go of ingrained habits proved harder than any language barrier. While years of drafting Turkish petitions had trained him to value eloquence and a performance of professionalism, American legal writing taught him to value precision. Now, drafting motions and statements at a U.S. immigration firm, he relies on that discipline daily.
Canberk experienced a deeper cultural revelation about how lawyers are perceived through the contrast of his experiences. In the U.S., he found that attorneys were treated as integral participants in the administration of justice. Their task was to advocate, and one step beyond that, to uphold the integrity of the system itself. This expectation in turn reshaped his sense of responsibility. The lesson this experience writ large offers is this: technical accuracy matters, but so does moral alignment between one’s argument, the institution, and the public trust it serves.
Canberk noted another structural difference between the U.S. and Turkiye. On the one hand, U.S. practice rewards specialization without narrowing utility. Lawyers are encouraged to develop methodical skills and then leverage them regardless of their familiarity with the domain in which they find themselves operating. On the other hand, Turkish lawyers face the expectation of ubiquitous mastery. He notes seeing corporate counsels in the latter setting cast as generalists spanning everything from real estate to data privacy. His ability to navigate between these expectations now gives him an advantage over competitors in understanding the importance of subject-matter expertise and broader utility.
Today, Canberk sees his professional mission as translation, not only linguistic but also conceptual. Whether advising global corporations or assisting pro-bono clients, he wants to act as a bridge across jurisdictions, transforming confusion into comprehension.
Bridging Barriers asks how lawyers become fluent across systems without losing their center. Canberk’s path answers this question by example. He did not abandon one language for another. He did not forsake one system in his transition. He instead learned to think twice and choose the mode that best serves the moment.
That is the work of a translator of law: carrying meaning intact across borders without losing sight of one’s values mid-crossing.