KEY POINTS:
It was hard to get any fix on what Sir Kenneth Keith, ONZ, first New Zealander to be a judge on the International Court of Justice, esteemed jurist, would be like.
There were few clues in the files. But he is a judge and they can either be a bit lofty, a bit grumpy or, the most intimidating prospect, very grand.
There was one clue that he wouldn't be the latter: a picture of him, taken some years back admittedly, wearing what looked to be a hand-knitted jumper. It probably wasn't hand-knitted, at least not by his wife, Jocelyn, Lady Keith, because she's very high-powered too, but nobody a bit grand would ever have been seen out in such a jumper.
It is possible that Jocelyn, Lady Keith did knit it. But I accidentally on purpose forgot to ask the question: "Does your wife knit your jumpers?" After what Sir Kenneth told me about her I didn't have the nerve.
On that ONZ, which he gets on August 28, he had to consult "various people" after he thought, "how on earth do you qualify for one of those?" The main person he had to consult was his wife. "About, you know, another man getting one of those."
She obviously approved, despite his being another man. "Well, you know, she's worked hard at the Council of Women and other places and there's a proposition that there should be more women [and] getting voluntary work recognised."
I suggest that once he's got it he could give it to his wife, but I think he regards it as being for both of them anyway. They've been married since 1961 but have known each other since they were 10 and at primary school in Howick together. They were in the top five in their class and competed fiercely to come first. "That was a bitter battle; it certainly wasn't love at first sight."
I meet him at Red Cross House in Wellington. He and Jocelyn have long connections with the organisation and until last year she was the president. He is to act as chairman for a Commonwealth Law Conference on international rules governing armed conflict, hosted by the Red Cross and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade from August 29 to 31. I think this comes under what he avoids calling duty.
At Red Cross House they call him Sir Ken, which is quite sweet. He is wearing a suit which is smart but not flashy in any way, although he could afford to be. He earns ¬170,000 a year, tax-free, at The Hague but still looks like a man who could wear a hand-knitted jumper. He's on his summer hols (it's summer in the Netherlands, which is where the court is and where he'll live until his nine-year term is up) but, "I thought I should dress up.
"Well, I had lunch with some of the Supreme Court judges so I thought I should dress up for them, too. They wouldn't have minded, but you know ... "
He is also wearing one of those ties that judges seem to favour, the more flamboyant the better. "Well, it's the only thing you can wear ... ! This is from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I think from an Iranian, Persian carpet or something. Actually, I've got a really good Australian Red Cross tie which has got a whole lot of smiling faces because most Red Cross ties are really boring, you know. And this Australian one's called a happy tie and it's superb."
All right, I did ask him about the tie. And if it seems ridiculous to ask Sir Kenneth Keith etc about what he's wearing, I did it because he is to get his ONZ from the Governor-General on August 28 and the GG is also uncommonly fond of flamboyant ties (he likes elephants on his.)
It was a reasonable guess that Sir Kenneth and the GG know each other pretty well and of course they do. It's a small country. So Sir Kenneth will get his gong from His Excellency and then they'll probably go back to being Ken and Satch (which is what almost everyone who has met him seems to call Anand Satyanand.)
"Yeah, I guess so. Well, he has to be very formal at times and he should be and he's really good at it. It's not very straightforward, that job. All that standing around and talking. You need good stamina. Boy, that's hard work."
And having to be grand? "Ha, yes, getting it right." You'd think Sir Kenneth might have to be grand on occasions, too. "I suppose very occasionally." He is not, though, very grand, obviously. "No! no, it's not in my nature."
No. He told me a good joke about judges within five minutes. It was in relation to the response in England to the proposal that the wig and robes be put away except for special occasions. "How many judges does it take to change a light bulb?" Answer: "Change?"
Judges lead funny sorts of lives because they are not allowed to have public politics or opinions or bias. They have to keep such things in a locked box somewhere, under the bed, perhaps.
He is terribly clever, one of our cleverest people and far too smart to make the instigator of a whimsical exchange about a tie, or keeping one's opinions in a locked box, feel a fool.
The downside, from my perspective, is that he can see a question coming from as far away as The Hague. I ask about politics and friendships. He wards it off a couple of times. "It's a question of what the word [politics] means" and segued effortlessly, elegantly into a nostalgic look back at his own education and what a fair go means.
Sir Kenneth is usually described as a liberal. I asked twice whether that was about right and the second time he grinned away and said: "Fortunately I didn't ask you what a liberal was." But he doesn't mind it as a description? "No, no, no. Well, it's funny the way liberal gets used, isn't it?" And proceeds to set out the ways in which it can be - except when pertaining to him.
Another guess: that he knows the PM pretty well. So I ask whether he can be friends with politicians. "Oh, sure. I know people get anxious about that. But I mean, in this small town or international world scene there are a lot of people who have political roles whom I know."
Is Helen a mate, then? "Well, I've certainly known her a long time." "Welcome back to New Zealand," I say, slightly aghast at having used Helen and mate in the same sentence to Sir Kenneth Keith etc.
"Ha, ha. I've known her for a long time and it's always great to catch up with her because she's always so interesting to talk to. So, yes, a number of people on both sides of Parliament you've seen a lot over the years and who you enjoy talking to."
Both sides. How very impartial. "Well, it's true." He demonstrates this truth by telling a story about "Steve" Franks and how he saw him the other night when they were both the last to leave a party and how years ago he was "the social committee" of the Court of Appeal and how Franks and Jim Bolger were the last to leave a party then. He couldn't get rid of them - "these two guys don't really have a home to go to" - so he rang his wife and asked if she could fit in two more for dinner.
Nice story that and I don't mean that he was being tricky. He's pretty straightforward, I think, but in a thoughtful way. He is a good observer and he tells good stories about people, mostly stories about other people - he's on the periphery, listening, which is what judges do, really.
We had quite a nostalgic sort of conversation, which I'm sure had much to do with that sort of fresh eye on the landscape people bring with them when they come home. But also, perhaps, because as soon as I walked in he asked whether my grandfather might have been the teacher who taught him French at Auckland Grammar. Which I mention only because it is a small country and because it is possibly why he talked so much about the value of his very good education.
This is lodged in his consciousness - his appreciation of that education and the desire to live up to it. I don't think it's a stretch to say it grounds him.
His work may have been on the grand scale that is the international judicial stage; he is modest without being ridiculously humble. And he does believe in duty; he just doesn't go on about it.
He is a product of the generation who, as Clive James puts it, "remembers what it was like to be young in the free countries after World War II, when all adults could still remember their lesson in the value of liberty". You did, says, Sir Kenneth, "get a sense of the sacrifices that had gone before and the opportunities that you now had".
His education was his liberty and he is not likely to forget it. His parents left school at 14 during the Depression. His father was a photo lithographer. His mother sewed. She made the curtains for the cinemas and he remembers going to the movies in the 40s and she'd say: "I did that one."
"Just getting on with it" was the expectation of his childhood. If there is any sense that he has done a bit more than that, you're not going to get it from him.
So you'll have to take it from me, and in my not at all impartial opinion, he's a grand bloke. But not in that way.
