Legal Advice Centre Diary
This diary captures the Legal Advice Centre’s activities during the 2025–2026 academic year, celebrating the people, projects and moments that shape our work.
Entry nine: The Sustainability Law and Policy Clinic, part two (River Thames)
From global finance to the river on our doorstep.
If the ClientEarth project asks whether legal accountability can reach the darkest edges of the financial system, the second Sustainability Law and Policy Clinic project asks something equally unexpected: whether the River Thames can be brought into the room of negotiations where decisions about its own future are made.
The project is a partnership with the Environmental Law Foundation, a national charity whose mission is to empower communities to use the law to protect their environment, mapping rather neatly onto what the clinic was created to do. While the Foundation has long collaborated with Environmental Law Clinics across London and the UK, the LSE Sustainability Law and Policy Clinic set up an inter-university collaboration with clinics at University College London, King’s College London, the School of Oriental and African Studies, and Birkbeck University of London. This means that the students recruited from the LSE LLB, LLM, BA in Law & Anthropology, and MSc in Human Rights and Politics programmes, work and collaborate with students from four different universities in London.
This year’s project concerns a question that would have sounded faintly eccentric to a law student a decade ago: can the River Thames be granted rights?
A student remarked: ‘Reimagining the River Thames as a rights-bearing entity, and engaging directly with councils, NGOs, and local stakeholders to consider what that might mean in practice, offered a unique opportunity to examine the institutional durability of transformative legal thought. The possibility of contributing to stronger protections for nonhuman life and the communities connected to it felt exciting and urgent.’
It isn’t quite as radical as it sounds. The River Ouse in Lewes already has a Charter of Rights, and the concept of legal personhood for natural entities has gained real momentum internationally. The Environmental Law Foundation’s research from the previousacademic year, carried out by teams at UCL and Birkbeck, identified concrete mechanisms under existing law that could make something similar possible for the River Thames. The clinic’s task is to take that baton and run with it.
‘Working on an issue with tangible environmental and community implications was both energising and grounding. The River Thames was not an abstract case study, but an important presence in the city’s life, and stakeholder engagement brought that reality into sharper focus. Knowing that our proposals could influence how the River Thames is treated within governance processes – and, in turn, affect the human and nonhuman lives connected to it – gave the work a greater ethical weight.’
The students are working across three distinct legal avenues. The first concerns whether London boroughs bordering the Thames could establish a joint arrangement under the Local Government Act 1972 to collaborate on a Charter for the Rights of the River. The second investigates whether the Greater London Authority, individual councils, or the Port of London Authority could use their respective statutory powers to introduce enforceable protections for the river’s health and wellbeing. The third is perhaps the most conceptually ambitious. Drawing on recommendations from the National Infrastructure Commission for Wales, it explores whether the River Thames could itself be formally incorporated as a stakeholder in flood management and decision-making procedures?
The project believes in the importance of working on legal questions where the doctrine is still forming. For the students, that’s both the challenge and the appeal. There is no settled answer to reach. It’s just a river, a set of legal tools, and a question of whether the law can be used imaginatively enough to protect something that cannot speak for itself.
Previous entries
Welcome to the LSE Legal Advice Centre, where legal theory meets human reality and students discover legal practice bears very little resemblance to glossy courtroom dramas. They quickly learn that practising law involves significantly more paperwork and considerably less evidence tampering, though the coffee consumption remains impressively high.
The Legal Advice Centre is returning for its second year, following last year’s launch of the pilot programme, a milestone for the LSE Law School. The clinic’s first year delivered genuinely impressive numbers: 115 enquiries, 36 clients served, and not a single student abandoned ship mid-semester. Those are the kind of numbers that make everyone quietly pleased with themselves.
Diana Kirsch, the clinic’s brilliant Director, has returned with the kind of infectious enthusiasm that could power a generator. She has wonderfully ambitious plans that sound either visionary or dizzying, depending on how much sleep you’ve had.
I’m looking forward to welcoming our new cohort of Legal Advice Centre students. I had a busy summer of interviewing students and I was really impressed with their enthusiasm for our work. We’ve got some exciting new projects and we are pleased to be welcoming two new colleagues – our new Deputy Director Saher Osman and our Clinic Coordinator Behnia Naemi.
As a result of Diana’s tireless work, some exciting updates are underway.
The clinic is settling into its new home on the bright and airy eighth floor of the Cheng Kin Ku Building, allowing the students to meet their vitamin D quota. The new space deserves its own proper introduction. More on that soon.
The employment law clinic, which handled over half of last year’s cases, is continuing to expand to meet growing demand. New partnerships are also taking shape, alongside a brand-new Sustainability Law Clinic, because apparently, saving the planet has been added to Tuesday’s to-do list.
Amidst all of these changes, the Centre Diaries are our attempt to document what happens when law students encounter actual human problems in all their messy complexity. Think nature documentary, but the wildlife wears business casual and occasionally has an existential crisis about legal ethics. You’ll witness the delicate choreography of students learning to balance overwhelming compassion with professional judgment, a process roughly as straightforward as learning to parallel park in central London.
Each term follows its own theme, because law schools do love their organisation. To kick off the Diaries, the Autumn Term explores “Building a Clinic”, covering everything from what it takes to set up a clinic to digging into the work. The team is already off to the races, armed with unfettered determination and an impressive collection of highlighter pens.
Welcome to year two. The doors are ready to open, and there’s work to be done.
As with any great literary saga, we must begin by setting the scene. However, the LSE Legal Advice Centre is defined not so much by the space it occupies as by the people who have lovingly shaped it into existence. So that is where we begin, with the visionaries of the clinic.
At the helm of our trusty ship is a name you’ll recognise, Diana Kirsch, the clinic’s Director. Diana is by now seasoned in setting up legal clinics, having previously established BPP’s Criminal Appeals Project and the award-winning Hertfordshire Law Clinic, the Shelter Court Runner Scheme, and the Stevenage Welfare Benefits Appeals Project, after a decade of working as a criminal defence solicitor. Needless to say, she has sailed these waters before.
Supporting, and hoping to match Diana’s limitless drive is Saher Osman, the clinic’s Deputy Director and in-house Employment Law specialist. Saher has quickly learnt the ropes after joining the clinic this academic year. She has practiced employment law for 12 years, including 5 years leading the employment team at Camden Law Centre. Here she set up and ran a student volunteer partnership with SOAS and is now enjoying working with students again. Saher easily connects with clients and students alike and explains legal concepts in plain English. Despite her short time at the clinic it is evident that Saher, also a mediator, is approachable and empathetic. One might see her as a perfect port in the storm when the student advisers need guidance and reassurance.
Behnia Naemi rounds out the core team as the Legal Advice Clinic Coordinator. Behnia is tasked with supporting the development of pro bono projects and student engagement within the Legal Advice Centre. He has been an active member of two award-winning university law clinics, at Hertfordshire and King’s College London, where he contributed to cases including family, immigration, housing, and employment law. With experience spanning multiple clinics and practice areas, Behnia knows how to keep the ship running smoothly—even when the students are steering.
What initially strikes you about this crew is how they’ve created an environment where students feel supported enough to tackle challenging cases without being frozen by the weight of responsibility. It’s a delicate balance: they must provide enough guidance to prevent disasters, while allowing sufficient independence for real learning to occur.
With the clinic officially underway, Behnia is very busy booking the clinic’s first appointments. There has already been a flood of enquiries, 60 so far. That’s more than half of the total number from the clinic’s first year. To keep up with demand, the team is in the midst of training up students for the different clinics, helping them to already meet and advise clients, all whilst also actively recruiting more students to get more hands on deck.
It’s safe to say we might want to reconsider that 'setting the scene' bit, as the action is well underway.
Before we charge headfirst into the action of the developing clinics, we would be remiss not to introduce you to another keystone in this operation (we happen to have multiple). Beyond our operational team of Diana, Saher, and Behnia, we have two remarkable supporting academics: Dr Martin Husovec and Dr Marie Petersmann.
Dr Martin Husovec leads the European Court of Human Rights Intervention Clinic, where students are soon to discover that human rights law and developing digital technology are in constant battle with one another. Dr Husovec’s academic research investigates questions of innovation policy and digital liberties surrounding online platforms, intellectual property, and freedom of expression. He’s one of the leading experts on the EU Digital Services Act and literally wrote the book on it: Principles of the Digital Services Act (an attractive addition to your nightstand).
Beyond academia, Dr Husovec has represented numerous NGOs before the European Court of Human Rights and the Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU) in digital technology cases. His work has been cited repeatedly by Advocate Generals at the CJEU. This is academic equivalent of a standing ovation, except quieter, and with significantly more footnotes.
Dr Marie Petersmann leads the Sustainability Law Clinic, a new addition to the Legal Advice Centre. Dr Petersmann’s work sits at the intersection of international law, ecology, and critical theory. Her book (our academics write a lot of those), When Environmental Protection and Human Rights Collide, is another great addition to your nightstand. In all seriousness, it tackles the fundamental question of why environmental protection laws have become interconnected with human rights, and the effect of this conceptualisation.
Dr Petersmann has truly earned her specialisation in international law. Prior to joining our LSE family (<3), she contributed to institutions across Europe, visiting the Netherlands, Italy, and our neighbours in Scotland.
There you have it. Between the operational masterminds and academic guides, the students appear to be in rather good hands. Those sixty enquiries are still waiting. Time to see what happens when expertise meets real-world legal problems.
We’re halfway through term now and the Legal Advice Centre has come into its own. The clinic is now operating at a pace that was beyond the best-case scenario at the start of term. Our vision of building something substantial is taking shape in real time, one client meeting at a time, one challenging case at a time, one sleepless night spent pondering at a time.
The numbers tell their own story. Thirty-four clients have walked through the doors of the eighth-floor clinic, fifteen of them seeking employment law advice. That’s more than three employment clients per week, which sounds manageable until you realise each case brings its own labyrinthine complexity. The Advice Centre team has been tackling everything from questions of geographical jurisdiction in employment tribunals to the interplay between TUPE and insolvency. Our team reports that these are the sort of engaging legal puzzles that keep you up at night. We’re left contemplating whether this level of intellectual commitment is admirable or slightly concerning. We suspect a mix of both.
The students have organised themselves into firms of six and their newly appointed firm managers are leading meetings weekly to discuss and reflect on cases, engaging in the kind of collaborative learning that no lecture hall can replicate. Beyond their own work, our students report that they’re learning a lot from observing how their lawyer supervisors interact with clients. They’re getting a first-hand look at the delicate balance of empathy and professionalism that can't be taught, only witnessed and gradually absorbed.
The clinic’s success has created its own logistical challenges. Demand has reached the point where extra rooms need to be booked to accommodate all the client meetings. The eighth floor, spacious as it is, wasn’t designed for this level of activity. And it’s about to get busier still. A second cohort, primarily LLM students, has joined the mix. Before meeting their first clients, they completed eight hours of compulsory training, had pre-interview meetings with their supervising lawyers. They’ve quickly become integrated in the team and now work alongside the lawyers present to conduct client interviews.
The clients, for their part, seem rather pleased with the arrangement. Recent feedback from one client captures the spirit of what the clinic is achieving: “It was great seeing you today. I really appreciate any help you can provide. Your students were super lovely it was a real privilege to work with you. I feel I am super lucky that LSE have given me the opportunity for pro-bono advice.”
There’s something rather moving about being called a “privilege to work with” when you’re still perfecting how to draft an advice letter without second-guessing every comma. It’s feedback that reminds everyone why they keep hanging on for dear life.
Six weeks down, many more to go. The students are learning that legal practice is messier, harder, and more rewarding than they imagined. Which is exactly as it should be.
On the 26th of November, the Legal Advice Centre team descended from their eighth-floor hub for the launch of LSE’s Ratio 2025/26 and the Legal Advice Centre in the swanky Marshall Building. The evening brought together the Law School’s annual publication with the Centre in a rather inspired pairing: a magazine about “giving back”, celebrating a clinic built entirely on that principle. We’re giving ourselves a pat on the back for that one.
The event drew academics, students, alumni, and clinic supervisors, filling the ground floor of the Marshall Building with a buzz of excitement. It was the type of gathering where someone invariably left with an idea to alter the future of legal education, scribbled on a napkin somewhere between their second drink and third mince pie.
The Centre’s students set up their own stand, speaking one-on-one with guests about the Centre’s work. Watching our law students voluntarily engage in after-hours legal discussions after a full day of classes and revision tells us our admissions committee does some fantastic work.
Diana, the Legal Advice Centre Director, opened proceedings, followed by Eleni Anayiotou, a clinic student and recent graduate, who delivered a brilliant speech. Eleni made an observation that challenges the very foundation of traditional legal education: the area of law she remembers best comes from a case she was involved with as part of the Employment Law Clinic. Not from textbooks or lectures, but from the messy, challenging work of helping real clients with real problems. It validates everything the Centre stands for.
The first panel, chaired by Diana, brought together Ratio contributors and clinic students Anya Broad, Tom Bower, Felicia Fong, and Kiera Fernandes. They spoke about how the Centre shaped not just their legal skills but their understanding of what it means to practice law with purpose. The second panel featured current students Khadija Omer-Rehman and Oliver Chan, alongside supervising lawyers Aysha Ahmad, barrister at 42BR, and Rita Gupta, family law partner. Chaired by Deputy Legal Advice Centre Director Saher Osman, it demonstrated an often overlooked part of running any legal advice clinic: the generous practising lawyers volunteering to spend their very limited spare time supervising students through their first client matters.
As the reception began, the pride in all of the work that makes the Law School so special could be seen on everyone’s faces. Even your faithful author was let out from behind the typewriter to socialise, which should tell you how special the occasion was. Though admittedly, I spent much of the evening scribbling notes in the corner so I could bring you all along with me.
Watching alumni and current students swap stories about their first client interviews (equal parts terror and triumph) I was reminded why this work matters. There's something rather profound about a profession where giving back isn't an afterthought but the entire point. The evening proved that giving back isn't just a convenient theme for a magazine; it's what happens when legal education remembers it's meant to produce lawyers, not just legal minds.
Welcome back dear readers. As we enter a new term, we thought it was time to open the door on the day‑to‑day reality of the LSE Legal Advice Centre.
Over the next few entries, we will bring you along as we explore the plethora of clinics that form the Centre.
Today, we start with a clinic that is very close to the hearts of many: the Homelessness Legal Clinic. Established in partnership with Centrepoint and Shelter, the Clinic was born out of a shared concern that too many young people were being turned away from local authorities without the help or protection the law requires. What began as an idea has, in just a few short months, become something far more impactful than we could have imagined.
Since our launch in October 2025, the Clinic has supported ten young clients, all aged between 18 and 24. They are young, often isolated, and overwhelmingly vulnerable. Around 80% of our clients so far have been young women. Several have experienced domestic abuse or a complete breakdown in family relationships. Some are sofa surfing, moving from one temporary arrangement to the next. Others have been living in their cars. A few are sleeping rough.
This week, our students advised a young woman who had fled violence from her father and was sleeping rough as a result. In moments like these, the legal issues—local authority duties, interim accommodation, procedural fairness—are inseparable from the human reality beneath them. This is what makes the work both so difficult, and so deeply meaningful.
For students in the Homelessness Legal Clinic, the work strikes a chord that reverberates long after they’ve left the eighth floor. They support young people who have been unlawfully turned away by local authorities without proper assessment—a practice known as “gatekeeping”—and they see first‑hand what happens when the safety net fails. Many of the clients we support would never have accessed legal advice without the Clinic. Without an advocate, without help to put their story on paper, they would simply have disappeared from view. As part of the Clinic, students work in pairs to interview clients, carefully unpick complex personal and housing histories, and draft letters of advice and representation. This work is carried out under the close supervision of specialist housing lawyers from Shelter, whose expertise and generosity underpin the Clinic’s success. Through these representations, students challenge unlawful decisions and insist—politely but firmly—on young people’s rights being taken seriously.
The impact of this work is not theoretical. In our first few months alone, four of our clients have been offered accommodation as a direct result of our representations. Four young people who, weeks earlier, were sleeping in cars, on friends’ floors, or on the streets.
That impact extends to the students, too, who are working so hard for the clinic's mission. In their own words:
"Meeting clients over Zoom gives the work an immediacy that’s hard to capture on paper alone. Being able to hear someone’s story directly allows us to form a genuine connection and gain a much deeper understanding of their situation. Many of our clients come from disadvantaged backgrounds, with little or no support network, and often feel profoundly let down by their local councils. Through these conversations, and the letters we go on to write, we’re not just advocating legally—we’re also offering reassurance and a sense that someone is finally listening."
“I was genuinely affected by our call with today’s client. Before volunteering in homelessness clinics, I’ll admit I was largely ignorant of the scale and reality of homelessness facing young people. Speaking directly with clients—hearing about their experiences of being turned away, unsupported, and left to cope alone—has made me far more aware and sensitive to these issues. It’s reinforced for me how powerful even small acts of advocacy can be, and has only strengthened my motivation to work in public interest law.”
"Participating in the Homelessness Clinic has been profoundly meaningful. The young people we work with are often facing circumstances that feel insurmountable—navigating bureaucratic systems whilst dealing with housing instability and the stress of an uncertain future. Knowing that our efforts can help restore someone’s sense of agency and hope, or simply provide reassurance during an overwhelming time, makes every case deeply rewarding. It’s a privilege to contribute to work that genuinely improves outcomes for those who might otherwise have nowhere to turn for legal support."
It’s emotionally demanding work, the sort that reveals what kind of lawyer you’ll become when the stakes are real. Which, of course, is exactly the point.
After spending a couple of years at the LSE Law School, I thought I had seen every type of approach to the legal education possible. Yet there was always a common theme. As soon as classes ended in each December, books were closed, flights and trains home were booked, and everyone’s brains were shut off for the festive season.
However, this winter, a dedicated group from the Legal Advice Centre’s Policy Clinic had other plans. They spent their holiday crafting a response to a growing debate in criminal justice. Should drill lyrics be used as evidence in court?
In late 2025, the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS) launched a consultation seeking views on two critical issues. First, how prosecutors should handle ‘gang’-related cases, including how to define a ‘gang’ whilst guarding against bias and stereotypes. Second, whether we need formal guidance on using musical expression (drill lyrics, videos, performances) as evidence in criminal prosecutions.
Our students sought to do just that.
“Coming from West London, drill music has always been the norm. It was only until I reached the LSE, and studied criminal law, did I find out that not only was this norm criminalised, but it was used to stereotype and capture people in a net of complicity. By bringing this culture into the courtroom, prosecutors can demonise individuals and create a moral panic amongst the jury. As a sitting jury member just before this consultation, I know first-hand how important assumptions and inferences drawn from evidence are – and I wanted to bring this perspective to the project. I was drawn into this project, and willing to give up my break for it, as it was an issue close to home – and it was an opportunity to bring all the knowledge we have learnt through in the past three years to help stop this stereotyping against individuals our age.”
Over four weeks, the students worked in small teams to carry out research and draft a response to the CPS consultation on musical expression under supervision from Associate Professor Abenaa Owusu-Bempah, who is also a member of the Art Not Evidence campaign group.
“The biggest challenge for me was finding a balance between personal voice and academic rigour – I didn’t want our voice to be diluted by hundreds of references, but I also wanted to show the CPS that this was a serious exercise for us. They likely receive hundreds of responses from professors and academic bodies, but what makes us unique is that we are a group of students who care enough about this issue to dedicate our time to it, and we didn’t want that essence to be lost. I’m grateful that my team trusted me to write the introduction, because I think it captures the core of why we wanted to do this, and the academic grounding only serves to strengthen our resolve.”
The consultation closed in January 2026, and the team successfully submitted their response to the CPS.
Through their response, the students walked into a minefield of complexity. Turns out asking ‘can you use drill lyrics as evidence?’ is a bit like pulling on a loose thread. What seemed like a simple yes-or-no question unravelled into questions about freedom of expression; the economics of authenticity; whether police officers truly understand Multicultural London English; and why paintings aren’t used to prove criminal propensity, but rap lyrics are.
Prosecutors argue that drill lyrics can provide crucial evidence in serious violence cases, revealing details only those involved would know or documenting the build-up to crimes. Critics counter that using artistic expression as evidence chills creative freedom and risks reinforcing stereotypes, particularly given concerns about how ‘gang’ labels are applied. I don’t know about you, but my head is spinning.
“I learned a great deal about how consultations are structured and how legal research can be translated into clear, practical recommendations for policymakers. It also strengthened my skills in collaborative working, critical analysis and writing for a non-academic audience. I was able to transpose my knowledge of human rights into a field that was largely novel to me.”
Now, you may be wondering, what is this really going to change?
The CPS have stated that the consultation is part of their broader commitment to ensuring the criminal justice system is fair, culturally aware, and transparent, and It is hoped that our students’ response will contribute to shaping guidance that prosecutors across England and Wales will use when deciding what evidence can be presented in court.
That’s rather significant work for a Christmas project, though admittedly less festive than building gingerbread houses.
In an exciting development, LSE alumna Baroness Shami Chakrabarti has tabled an amendment to the Victim and Courts Bill to stop the CPS from presenting music lyrics as evidence except when they are “literal, rather than figurative or fictional”. The amendment was debated in the House of Lords last week, keenly watched by members of the team. Although no decision was made, the team is hopeful for more progress when the bill is next debated in a few weeks.
“It is important to use the knowledge we gain from education to make a positive impact on the world. Issues of social justice impact us all, and it is important to take part in opportunities like this to help those most impacted by institutional discrimination.”
We do tend to go on about the brilliance and commitment of the Legal Advice Centre students, but there’s something rather moving about students voluntarily spending their holiday break engaging with such difficult questions, which have such a major impact. For my part, I spent the break studiously avoiding anything resembling professional development. The laptop and I had a mutual understanding: we simply wouldn’t acknowledge each other’s existence until absolutely necessary. Different priorities, perhaps.
Not all legal clinics help individuals with their problems. Some take on the problems of the planet.
Launched in September 2025, the Sustainability Law and Policy Clinic brings together around twenty students from across the LSE to undertake real-world legal and policy work on pressing ecological questions. This year, the Clinic is pursuing two ambitious projects: one asking how the world’s largest banks might be held legally accountable for the carbon emissions they finance; the other exploring how the River Thames might be involved in the policy decisions that shape and affect its own future.
Pretty big stuff… Today, we begin with the banks.
The sustainable finance project is a collaboration with ClientEarth, the environmental law NGO titan. It tackles a critical, if often overlooked, question in climate litigation: can the world’s largest banks be held legally responsible for the emissions they enable? Not the emissions from their own office buildings, but the billions of tonnes produced by the fossil fuel projects their balance sheets make possible. In the jargon of climate finance, these are called ‘financed emissions.’ In the jargon of tort law, they are a rather tricky problem of causation.
‘The Sustainability Clinic project with ClientEarth provided a previously unfound clarity that aligned with my real-world experience regarding the ‘entrenchment’ problem—the continued financing of expanding fossil fuel projects. I view the Clinic as an opportunity to learn from brilliant minds and work alongside inspiring colleagues in the service of a greater good. The experience has indeed been more than I could have envisioned, both intellectually and personally—a true landmark from my year at the LSE.’
The partnership with ClientEarth’s Accountable Finance team aims to explore how climate attribution science and strategic litigation might be used to hold banks and financial institutions legally accountable for their financed emissions over time. The studentsare not tasked with bringing a case themselves—though several look as though they would rather enjoy the attempt. Instead, their job is to survey how courts across jurisdictions have approached causation in climate cases. They catalogue the existing methodologies for measuring financed emissions and assess their legal robustness. From this, they distil a set of guiding principles capable of anchoring future litigation strategies.
‘I’ve experienced working with NGOs before, but none that were the size of ClientEarth. Everyone I encountered from the organisation was extremely kind and helpful, and seemed genuinely invested and interested in our work.’
Your average weekend pastime, clearly... Yet the students have thrown themselves at it with characteristic disregard for their own free time.
‘The clinic’s most significant impact on my understanding of environmental law was the reassurance that it is okay to be a dreamer; it is, in fact, ordinary to face uphill battles and asymmetrical forces when seeking justice in a profit-driven world. Changes to the status quo are birthed within the minds of dreamers and then mediated into the mainstream through action.’
One of the recurring observations in this diary has been that clinical legal education transforms learning by making the stakes real. In the Employment Clinic, the stakes may be a client’s livelihood. In the Sustainability Clinic, they are nothing less than the question of whether the financiers of the global economy can be held accountable, through law, for their contribution to a warming planet. The cohort comprises twelve students, drawn from across the globe, and studying across five departments at the LSE in central London. The stakes are planetary.
It is, in every sense, a privilege to watch.