TO BE VULNERABLE IS TO BE STRONG

THE ART OF CALM

TO BE VULNERABLE IS TO BE STRONG

Many lawyers, accountants and other professionals yearn for a life more creative; to be artists or writers. But, too often, practicalities such as family pressures or financial constraints, get in the way of these dreams.

Martin Wade is an artist who was a lawyer. Truth be told, he never had an interest in art either as an observer visiting galleries and even less so as a participant, making art himself. He was a lawyer who wanted to be one. But fate had different plans for him.

When Martin first qualified, working in a specific niche area of law did not resonate with him. He says that “as a Sagittarian, I have a smorgasbord of interests. I am someone who likes to venture out of the box, to travel and to mix things up a bit.”

He was searching for a role in the legal world that was not restricted to working for clients in private practice and, having a grandfather who had served his country, he considered the Armed Forces. He quickly dismissed the RAF because he didn't like the “off the peg uniforms and the enormous pockets” which he says would have driven him mad. And eventually decided to join the “rough end of the forces”; the Army.

He applied, was successful and began training at Sandhurst in the September of 1999, six months after qualifying as a solicitor. Having lawyers in the Army is something that is enshrined in international law as it is decreed in the Geneva Convention that commanders going into war

I painted from an extremely painful and confused state of having PTSD and what was strange was that not only was I overwhelmed with shame but also people did not even know in those days what PTSD was.

must have access to legal advice. At the time Martin joined there were around 100 lawyers in the Army. He served in Northern Ireland, Kosovo, Bosnia and Afghanistan and had “the best and worst of experiences.”

“On the upside, I frequently felt how lucky I was to be doing what I was doing. Working in such challenging and exacting circumstances does give you a professional high. You are at the top of your game But having the authority to make the decisions that shape the battlefield was something which weighed on me very heavily, particularly in Afghanistan. There was no ‘phone a friend’. Most of what we were doing was classified as secret so we couldn’t discuss matters with anyone. I had to make what felt like life or death decisions. And I had to make them alone.”

In 2005, when Martin was sent to Afghanistan, he was the dedicated royal marines legal adviser and was the subject matter expert in the laws of war, i.e.the expert in the legal ways of using lethal and non lethal force.

“It was like having my hand on the volume control of force. The more you rank it up, the higher the chance of collateral damage and killing civilians - and the less you ramp it up, the more chance there was of our own men being killed. I became acutely aware that, because the chain of command would rely on my advice as to the way they took offensive and defensive operations, I was intrinsically linked to the consequences of the operations. In order to cope with such a chaotic situation, and engaging an enemy that followed no rules that resembled the laws of war, I began absorbing all the responsibility for everything that happened. When I was being shot at it felt more normal, perhaps more understandable, than advising how we use lethal force and its inevitable consequences.”

What may have seemed tactically, strategically or politically correct often conflicted with legal realities and moral dilemmas. A reliance on intelligence could be misleading or even deliberately false. The Army was losing people on a daily basis so the instinct was to fight hard

- but that had its own consequence of civilians getting caught up in the aftermath. It was a no win situation. Martin had to train the marines on how to identify the enemy - and then how to react to any perceived threat.

“You don’t have time on the ground to ponder over thoughts. You must act instinctively. If you don't open fire when you should, either you are dead, your fellow serviceman is dead or the people you are trying to protect. I conducted the pre-deployment training and in-theatre training, wrote the legal annexes to the operational orders, wrote up too many reports to remember as well as acting as a pre-eminent member of the targeting boards. As the only person in Helmand providing the legal direction, often referred to as the ‘moral compass’, the stress was mounting up on me. I was aware my decisions could later be analysed in the cold light of day in Whitehall where there was the time, space and calm to address the situations much more rationally over a coffee - and where maybe they would arrive at a different outcome. The ground truth was my reality, ensuring that as many marines as possible came back home was difficult and daunting and gnawed away at me.”

Martin Wade is an extraordinary human being who has done and continues to do extraordinary things and yet who failed to see quite how incredible he was and felt ashamed at his vulnerability which he perceived as weakness.

After Martin completed his time in Afghanistan, he was sent to Germany and it was at this point that he felt something was wrong within him, but he could not identify what it was. The quality of his work did not suffer; he continued to get excellent reports, but he found himself feeling more and more exhausted, drinking too much and just not feeling normal. He spoke to a doctor who sent him for a psychiatric assessment. He felt hyper vigilant, hyper aroused and experienced prolonged episodes of dissociation. In 2010 he was admitted to a German psychiatric hospital with post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and later Complex PTSD.

“That diagnosis chills me to the bone even to this very day. I was given a leaflet on PTSD with all the symptoms listed and I had all of them. I immediately got this huge rush of shame; how could an army officer, a Lieutenant Colonel who was not an Infanteer, suffer so badly? “

It was while he was at this hospital that Martin was introduced to art as part of his occupational therapy. He had never put paint on canvas before but he was told to do it and so he did. He says he began to paint what was inside of him; not blood and guts of war but the vulnerable state of the human condition and all the finite feelings and emotions that go with that.

“I painted from an extremely painful and confused state of having PTSD and what was strange was that not only was I overwhelmed with shame but also people did not even know in those days what PTSD was. My Army PAX insurance did not cover me for mental health injuries - there was no compensation whatsoever. At this point I knew my whole career was on the line. I had worked so hard to achieve my success. I had my law degree, my professional exams, I was a qualified solicitor and risen in the ranks in the Army. I was trusted and relied upon. And whilst I delivered, it came at a personal cost to me. I tried to get back to work; it took me a year. I went on a graduated return to work programme and eventually I was posted back to the UK to be Commander Legal of London District at Horse Guards. I was having regular psychiatric therapy but often was sent back to hospital

because I was self-harming or abusing my prescribed drugs as a way of coping. I will never forget having to go to the Board where I was assessed as to whether I could remain in the Army or not. I was sitting on a chair and the consultant lent over into my personal space and shouted ‘BOO’ and I nearly fell off my chair. I was that hyper primed to unannounced noise. I was living on my wit’s end. He told me I could no longer serve. As a result, I had to leave the Army immediately. And I lost everything. My job, my friends, my purpose.”

Martin then spent a total of 18 months as an inpatient in psychiatric hospitals mostly at the Bethlem Royal Hospital in London where he continued to paint and it was during this time that people began to express an interest in his art and to pay him for pieces. Thus circumstance, not choice, dictated that he become an artist.

Martin’s career as an artist began to blossom. Law firms particularly were interested in his story and his work and commissioned him to do some pieces for their offices. Martin also began giving some talks in law firms too about his journey of how his mental health had led him to the easel and what he had learned about resilience, about being human, about feelings and emotions. The lawyers listening were relating and realising they had to be careful, to be vigilant and observant of their own anxieties and stresses and find outlets for them and coping mechanisms. Finally things were taking a turn for the better for Martin.

Then COVID hit and the momentum was lost. After the pandemic, people were going into the office less so the need for meaningful art on the walls diminished.

Even though Martin is still on the Solicitors’ Roll, he is still not capable of working full time at the moment and isn’t even sure that is what he wants even if it were a viable option.

“What I do want, if possible, is to try and make a living from my art. In fact I’ve just had a hugely successful solo exhibition in Chelsea. But I would also like to talk about my experiences and to try to help dilute that feeling of shame which is the biggest thing in my story. That shame is a cancer. It chokes you. You feel you cannot hold your head up anymore. I would like so much to help people understand there is no shame in illness.” We are privileged to feature one of Martin’s artworks, ‘Vulnerability’ on the cover of this issue. Martin shares with us the thinking behind the painting;

“So often we avoid vulnerability or see it as a weakness. Showing true vulnerability requires great courage. Just being "you", trusting you are enough in your perfectly imperfect humanness is a step towards authenticity, liberation and an acceptance of your rightful place in our shared common humanity. It is the beating heart of compassion.

This painting is my raised right hand asserting that we all exist and wish to connect with each other. However, the hand is in danger of slipping into the cold water beneath as it feels the fear of expressing a simple need. Expressing our needs, clinical or otherwise, is part of vulnerability.

The genuine connection we feel when we have our needs met is vital for us to flourish particularly when we show true vulnerability in overcoming fears of rejection, judgement or criticism in expressing those needs. At our peril do we only meet the needs of others. This painting is symbolic of the courage we all show in this pursuit of balance.”

Martin Wade is an extraordinary human being who has done and continues to do extraordinary things and yet who failed to see quite how incredible he was and felt ashamed at his vulnerability which he perceived as weakness.

He is in a position where he can really help make a difference to how our profession copes with mental health by speaking of his experiences and helping us to understand there is no shame at all in suffering with our mental health any more than there is shame in, say, breaking a leg or getting cancer.

We can help Martin too by commissioning him to come in and give these talks and by adorning our walls with his deeply significant, relevant and meaningful art which can serve as a daily reminder to us on the importance of understanding our feelings and emotions and how to overcome the difficulties of raising your hand.

“Everything I feared about admitting to my PTSD never happened. People did not sneer or see it as weakness but genuinely tried to support me. We all suffer with our mental health in varying degrees and we can all support each other to be the best versions of ourselves in a safe environment.” 

This is a great opportunity for lawyers to help lawyers; for us to help Martin and for him to help us.

For more information on his art visit https://www.martinartist.com/

To contact Martin about booking him for talks email him on martinwadeartist@gmail.com

Everything I feared about admitting to my PTSD never happened. People did not sneer or see it as weakness but genuinely tried to support me. We all suffer with our mental health in varying degrees and we can all support each other to be the best versions of ourselves in a safe environment.