‘Justice is structural, not just legal’

Alam Hannan is the co-founder of Arise Foundation Australia, which supports women survivors of domestic and family violence, financial abuse and modern slavery, in their recovery and healing phase. It specialises in trauma-informed employment training and paid meaningful employment for survivors, addressing gaps in crisis-focused services by fostering long-term economic security.

Critical response saves lives, but it doesn’t change them, she told Lawyers Weekly, noting that the foundation starts from the premise that true justice for DFV survivors “isn't just the absence of violence, it's the presence of economic agency and economic justice”.

The foundation’s programs, Alam Hannan continued, reveal that when women have income, financial literacy, and a pathway to independence, she has real choices. “Without that, she may cycle back to danger simply because she can't afford not to,” she said.

“Shifting our lens to long-term recovery means recognising that justice is structural, not just legal, and that employment is a justice outcome.”

When asked how the system is still falling short in responding to and recognising the harm caused by systems abuse, Alam Hannan said systems abuse – whereby perpetrators weaponise legal processes like family court, child protection, or immigration proceedings to extend coercive control – still remains “chronically under recognised”.

“The legal system still tends to treat each proceeding in isolation, which is exactly what abusers exploit. We need more joined-up thinking across courts and agencies, and legal professionals who understand that filing vexatious applications or withholding financial disclosure is abuse, even when it looks like legitimate litigation. The harm doesn't stop when the violence does; it just moves into a different jurisdiction,” she said.

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Recent legislative changes in NSW around coercive control have been symbolically important, she said, in that the new laws have validated experiences and given language to harms that were previously invisible.

However, she added, many of the women whom her foundation works with are from refugee and migrant backgrounds, often have no idea the law has changed.

“We've had participants whose perpetrators were still using family court and immigration processes as instruments of control, long after the legislation passed, with no legal professional in the chain connecting those dots. Legislation without culturally safe implementation and adequately resourced frontline services only reaches the women who already know how to navigate the system,” she advised.

On the question of how lawyers can better support clients beyond traditional legal advice, Alam Hannah said that the most powerful thing practitioners can do in a wrap-around model is stay curious beyond the brief.

“Lawyers who ask, "what else is going on for you?" and who know how to refer well — to financial counsellors, employment coaches, community organisations like ours — make an enormous difference. The legal problem is rarely the only problem, and often not even the most urgent one. Knowing that, and responding to it, is not a soft skill. It's a professional competency.”

Lawyers, she continued, are trained to extract information efficiently, but that instinct can work against you with survivors who have deep-seated reasons to distrust institutions.

“The biggest lesson isn't about empathy; it's about recalibrating what good lawyering looks like in this context,” she said.

“A woman who doesn't disclose everything in the first meeting isn't being uncooperative; she's making a rational calculation about safety. Structural barriers like language, immigration status, and cultural stigma aren't peripheral to the legal issue; they often determine whether a woman accesses justice at all. Skilled lawyers in this space learn to slow down and build trust before building a case.”

Her work in this space has taught her a lot about herself and her role as a lawyer, Alam Hannan concluded: “Law gave me the tools to understand how power and knowledge are constructed, and who they were built for.”

“We have sophisticated language around equity and economic justice, but the legal system still moves fastest and most comfortably for those with money and access, and language without redistribution is just aesthetics,” she said.

“The women I work with don't lack resilience or capability; they lack the institutional proximity that most lawyers take for granted. That gap, between what we say and what survivors actually experience in legal and financial systems, is exactly where Arise operates, and why I moved from policy work into direct practice.”

To other lawyers across the country, Alam Hannan said that the profession has more power to shift outcomes for DFV survivors and other marginalised groups than it currently exercises.

“If you do pro bono work, prioritise this area. If you don't, learn your referral network. And if you're considering crossing into the social impact sector, do it,” she said.

“The skills translate, the need is real, and the legal system's failures in this space are not inevitable. They are a choice we keep making until enough lawyers decide otherwise.”