Readers are forced to confront how racism evolves.
In a time when conversations about race and power often feel reactive or performative, True North by Sal Naseem arrives as both a grounding force and a necessary provocation.
This is not a memoir cloaked in triumph alone but a searing exploration of what it means to challenge institutional racism from within.
Naseem’s journey from a working-class upbringing in Kilmarnock to his tenure as London Regional Director at the Independent Office for Police Conduct (IOPC) is marked by both resilience and confrontation.
Yet, it is the honesty of his voice, unflinching, thoughtful and deeply rooted in lived experience, that makes True North such a compelling read.
Rather than centring on self-celebration, Naseem instead draws attention to the systems he sought to challenge, notably within UK policing.
The book’s title is not just a metaphor for personal morality, but a guiding principle for those determined to live ethically in ethically compromised institutions.
His candour, particularly when discussing incidents such as Operation Hotton and the death of Chris Kaba, exposes the limitations of reform in structures unwilling to face their truths.
In doing so, Naseem offers more than a memoir. He delivers a call to conscience.
This narrative isn’t just for those familiar with the inner workings of British policing or public sector institutions.
It resonates more broadly, especially with marginalised readers who understand the cost of speaking truth to power.
Naseem’s experiences reflect a collective struggle, but his insights provide a personal roadmap for those seeking to remain principled in the face of systemic resistance.
His clarity, and at times vulnerability, is what elevates True North from a recounting of events to a landmark contribution to anti-racist literature.
Confronting Institutional Racism through Lived Experience
At the heart of True North is an unflinching examination of institutional racism.
Naseem writes with the authority of someone who has lived the problem, not merely studied it.
His recollections from childhood, enduring racist bullying in Kilmarnock, are the book’s earliest warning signs of a world that doesn’t know how to value difference.
These early chapters are not merely anecdotal but set the tone for what becomes a deeper interrogation of institutional power.
The transition from these formative experiences to his role at the IOPC is seamless, yet jarring.
Readers are forced to confront how racism evolves. It becomes more covert, more procedural, more deniable.
Naseem’s accounts of cases like Child Q and the murder of Chris Kaba are disturbing but necessary.
He details how institutional denial operates through silence, red tape, and the marginalisation of dissenting voices.
The inclusion of Operation Hotton, which revealed the misogynistic and racist culture within the Met Police, underscores the urgent need for reform.
Research by the Runnymede Trust has consistently highlighted how institutional racism remains embedded in the UK’s policing structures, despite decades of recommendations and inquiries.
Naseem’s work confirms these findings and, more importantly, personalises them.
His perspective not only lends credibility but also brings an emotional resonance that statistics alone cannot achieve.
The High Stakes of the Glass Cliff
One of the book’s most insightful contributions is its discussion of the “glass cliff”, a term referring to the phenomenon where individuals from marginalised backgrounds are elevated to leadership roles in times of crisis, only to be set up for failure.
Naseem offers a sobering look into how this played out during his time at the IOPC, where he was entrusted with high-profile cases but denied the support and autonomy to succeed.
His reflections reveal a leadership environment steeped in hypocrisy.
Naseem faced reputational attacks, micromanagement, and what he describes as “structural sabotage”, a deliberate undermining of his credibility, despite consistent delivery.
In this section, Naseem does not position himself as a victim but rather as a witness to the tactics used to preserve white institutional dominance.
By naming these practices, True North challenges organisations to look beyond tokenistic representation and to interrogate the hostile conditions often awaiting those who break through.
Inner Armour and the Role of Core Values
Throughout True North, Naseem emphasises that his strength came from what he calls his “inner armour”, a framework built on faith, family, and fight.
These aren’t just sentimental anchors. They are the strategic tools that enabled him to survive a system designed to isolate.
The book’s tone becomes more introspective here, offering readers an opportunity to reflect on their own sources of resilience.
In discussing the emotional labour of challenging racism, Naseem offers a warning: compromising one’s values to fit in is a form of self-erasure.
He likens this to “losing chunks of an apple”, a metaphor that succinctly captures the cumulative damage of moral compromise.
This section will particularly resonate with professionals of colour who constantly negotiate between survival and authenticity in their workplaces.
This value-driven lens also critiques performative allyship.
Naseem calls out the empty statements and token gestures that dominate corporate and public sector responses to racism.
His message is clear: real change demands real sacrifice, especially from those who hold power.
These insights echo sentiments raised by Black and Asian leaders in the wake of the Black Lives Matter protests, who have long argued that anti-racism requires structural, not symbolic, action.
The Emotional and Psychological Toll of Advocacy
Where True North is most affecting is in its depiction of the psychological price paid by those who speak out.
Naseem is candid about the impact on his mental health, discussing sleepless nights, paranoia, and the erosion of trust.
Naseem doesn’t dramatise this toll, but he doesn’t downplay it either.
His strength lies in his ability to articulate a complex emotional landscape, burnout, grief, guilt, but also moments of peace and pride.
By doing so, he permits readers to acknowledge their own exhaustion without shame.
He also stresses the importance of knowing when to step back, framing self-care not as withdrawal, but as a political act.
This transparency is vital in dismantling the myth that anti-racist work must always be heroic.
True North reminds us that such work is messy, painful, and often thankless but still worth doing.
The book offers a rare combination of critique and compassion, inviting readers to honour both their rage and their rest.
A Manifesto for Collective Accountability
While deeply personal, True North ends with a broader vision.
Naseem is clear that individual efforts, however admirable, are not enough.
He calls for collective action that goes beyond allyship and demands systemic accountability.
He challenges institutions to implement enforceable measures, not just aspirational statements, if they truly wish to dismantle racism.
This final section brings together the book’s recurring themes: truth, courage, and community.
Naseem urges readers to find their “true north” by asking not only what they are willing to stand for, but what they are willing to risk.
His belief in people power is not naïve; it’s grounded in a recognition that while systems resist change, they are ultimately made up of people who can choose to act differently.
His call aligns with research from the Equality and Human Rights Commission, which stresses that meaningful reform must include leadership accountability, policy enforcement, and community consultation.
Naseem goes one step further, advocating for whistleblower protections and legal reforms to ensure that those who speak out are not left to bear the consequences alone.
A Blueprint for Navigating and Transforming Systems
True North by Sal Naseem is more than a memoir. It’s a guidebook for navigating power with principle.
It unpacks systemic racism with both analytical precision and personal vulnerability, offering insights that are as strategic as they are heartfelt.
By blending lived experience with structural critique, Naseem delivers a narrative that speaks to both the head and the heart.
The book’s strength lies in its duality: it is at once an indictment of institutional failure and a tribute to human endurance.
Naseem doesn’t offer easy answers, but he does offer a roadmap, one built on values, fortified by truth, and oriented towards justice. For anyone committed to making change, True North is essential reading.
In the end, Sal Naseem leaves readers with one pressing question: What will you do when your values are tested?
It’s a question that lingers long after the final page.
To find out more about the book, click here.
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