Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom’d caves of ocean bear Full many a floww’r is born to blush unseen And waste its sweetness on the desert air

— Thomas Gray , “Elegy”, 1751

Jai Ram Reddy, former Fiji statesman, judge and international jurist, has died in Auckland aged 85.

In his passing, Fiji has lost one of its most distinguished sons of the 20th century.

We mourn his passing but, in truth, we mourn for ourselves, for he has left the silken bonds of this earth to find rest and respite in the company of Fiji’s immortals. He is now one for the ages.

This gifted man will continue to shine as a beacon for those who fight for fairness and justice and a higher purpose in life, and for a decent country to live in.

The words of Urdu Laureate Allama Iqbal are apposite: Bade Mushkil se Hote Hain Chaman men Deedawar paya.

Men of great clarity of vision are born rarely on this earth. Jai Ram Reddy exemplified the finest traits and traditions of his people.

He was born on May 12, 1937, the eldest child in a humble, hardworking family in the heart of Fiji’s cane country.

Transcended the limits
But he transcended the limits and limitations of his time and place and circumstance to reach the highest pinnacles of his profession in law and in international jurisprudence, with a distinguished record of public service in his native country.

Reddy graduated in law from Victoria University of Wellington in 1961. After several years at the law firm of the legendary lawyer AD Patel, he joined the Crown Law Office.

Declining the offer of the Office of the Director of Public Prosecution from Chief Justice Sir John Nimmo while still in his early 30s, he joined the law firm of Stuart and Company where he remained for the rest of his legal career.

Law was his passion, he used to say, and what made all the difference was that he was so good at it.

He was the finest criminal barrister of his generation. After a short, ill-fated stint as Fiji’s Attorney-General and Minister of Justice in 1987, he accepted appointment as President of Fiji’s Court of Appeal, to the great delight of Sir Timoci Tuivaga, the Chief Justice, and Qoriniasi Bale, the Attorney-General, who counted Reddy as one of his two heroes in the law, the other being the judicial titan Justice Ghana Mishra.

Reddy’s judicial career reached its pinnacle as a Permanent Judge of the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, ICTAR, in Arusha, Tanzania, where his judicial acumen and integrity won him accolades as a “consummate judge” respected for his “wisdom, fairness and sense of justice”.

‘A sheer privilege’
The president of ICTAR, Justice Eric Morse of Norway, wrote that it was “a sheer privilege to sit with judge Reddy on the bench”.

From law into politics which he entered in 1972 as a senator and the House of Representatives in April 1977. In Parliament he remained a commanding performer, never bested in debate, quick on his feet, withering in response, one of the best he had seen, said Dr Apenisa Kurusiqila, the Speaker.

“The Parliament will not be the same without you, Jai,” he said when Reddy left after his electoral defeat in 1999. His early years in politics were unproductive ones for him and for the people he represented, caught in the quagmire of communal wrangling, hobbled by division and disunity, and drifting.

But to his everlasting credit, he transcended that in the second phase of his career to become an honoured elder statesman, respected across the communities for his vision and essential, transparent fairness and “sincerity of purpose”.

The political reconciliation he achieved with his once arch political nemesis Sitiveni Rabuka in the teeth of rancorous opposition and deep skepticism on all sides, will remain one of the shining moments of 20th century Fijian history.

And Reddy’s evolution from a communal politician to a venerable statesman is a story for the pages of history books, too. Jai Ram Reddy was a “reluctant politician”, his critics charged. And they were right although for the wrong reason.

A vehicle for social service
Jai Ram was not in the thrall of politics, making small talk, trimming the truth, mixing easily with the crowds, glad handling. He readily acknowledged his essential shyness in public spaces. Politics for Jai Ram Reddy was a vehicle for social service, not a path to personal enrichment and accumulation.

Swami Rudananda’s influence on him was profound. Reserved and shy in public, Jai could be great fun in private. His laughter was infectious. He loved music and was a social singer in his early years.

We could talk endlessly about the Hindi movies of the 1950s, the songs and the actors he remembered. He was fond of horses and once owned one he impishly named Shabana Azmi, after the great Indian actress.

But all these private passions gave way as public duties increasingly came to consume his time. Jai Ram was an intellectual who believed in the power of ideas to change society and to enable sustainable social reform.

His enlarging vision saw a unity of purpose and common space for all the people of Fiji. “We are fellow human beings travelling in the same canoe,” he used to say.

“This country is big enough for all of us,” he said to a soldier who told him menacingly in Nadi in September 1987: “In this country, Mr Reddy, you take what we give you, no more.”

That Jai Ram refused to allow such taunts and provocations to derail or define him spoke volumes about the man. In one of the defining speeches of Fiji’s 20th century history, Jai Ram shared the deepest fears of his people with the Great Council of Chiefs in 1997: He spoke movingly of history and the making of history, of truth and destiny, words the chiefs collectively had heard for the first time from an Fijian of Indian descent leader.

“Indians of Fiji brought to these shores as labourers did not come to conquer or colonise.

“We, their descendants, do not seek to usurp your ancient rights and responsibilities. We never have. We have no wish, no desire, to separate ourselves from you.

“Fiji is our home. We have no other. We want no other.”

It was a majestic moment of truth and reconciliation, none better.

At his finest, eloquent
It was Jai Ram Reddy, the statesman, at his finest, eloquent and truthful in his thoughts. We all basked in the glory of his great achievement. But it was not to last long. He was gone soon afterwards. And we can only ponder what might have been had his vision succeeded.

“What might have been” must be among the saddest words in the English language. Jai Ram Reddy was a complex man. He had a very short fuse as some of us close to him knew well. He suffered fools badly. But no-one minded. We knew he was a person of complete, unimpeachable integrity.

He said in private what you heard from him in public. Often, he spoke from the heart.

“I have said what I felt,” he often said. Transparency of purpose defined him. He had a fine mind. He could cut through clutter in a canter. He readily won respect; he was a man who could be trusted to keep his word, as Sitiveni Rabuka has often said.

That, I think, lay at the heart of his life in politics and in public. Trust and integrity will be two words most closely associated with Reddy in the long years to come. In one of my last extended conversations with him in Auckland before his ailment claimed him.

He asked me how things looked in the country to which he had given the best years of life. I replied with the words of Firaq Gorakhpuri: Suraj ke nikalne men zara der lagegi. (The sun will take a little while longer to come out.) Is raat ko dhalne men zara der lagegi. (The night will take a little longer to fade away.)

Jai looked at me wordless for a while as if to say he understood.

We are grateful
And now he is gone. We are grateful and give thanks for the gift of his life which enriched us all. Jai Ram Reddy will not be forgotten.

His words and deeds will not die, nor allowed to perish on the silent shores of Fiji’s public memory.

We bow our heads in silence and respect as Mr Reddy embarks on his final journey.

May the angels light his way to Amar Lok, that sacred place of eternal rest for humanity’s immortals. Goodbye Jai, Goodbye Mr Reddy, goodbye sir.

The late Professor Brij Lal is the author of In the Eye of the Storm. Jai Ram Reddy and the politics of postcolonial Fiji (ANU Press, 2009) and most recently of Girmitiyas: Making of their Memory Keepers (New Delhi, 2021). He and his wife Padma were banned from Fiji for life. Professor Lal wrote this tribute before he died in exile on Christmas Day in 2021. Republished with permission from The Fiji Times.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

“My Fiji
I offer a vision which sees this beloved land of ours united in its diversity, forged out of its adversity, and built on trust. I offer you a vision of Fiji which historians will say that, in the midst of tragedy, we found courage and wisdom, and foresight and determination to lead the nation away from the precipice into a prosperous future. I can only hope that my vision for this most wonderful of nations will fulfil its promise. I can only pray that we who have the moment at hand will find the courage, the strength and the determination to let the past be the past and build a nation that will stand not just to 20/20, but down through the centuries.”
— Jai Ram Reddy, 1993

This moment asks a lot of me and all of us. I write these words with a heavy heart but also a sense of great pride and privilege which is only afforded to me because I happen to be the daughter of the lawyer, judge, and Indo-Fijian statesman, Jai Ram Reddy, who died in Auckland last night aged 85.

Historians, political commentators, and analysts will define their narratives about my father. I am a daughter who simply seeks to celebrate and mark his life and legacy with a personal perspective about him, his legal and political career.

I am conscious that many of those who will read this piece are, like me, the descendants of indentured labourers “Girmitiyas”, who were brought from India to Fiji during colonial rule.

Like many of their generation, my grandparents, Pethi and Yenkatamma Reddy were farming folk who wanted a better future for their children. They worked the field and saved with a view to sending their eldest son, Jai Ram, to study law in New Zealand.

Their dreams were realised, and my father was admitted as a barrister and solicitor in 1960.

Further to his admission to the New Zealand bar, Dad returned to Fiji and enjoyed a long and illustrious career as a lawyer. He was the Minister of Justice and Attorney-General of Fiji (during the short-lived Bavadra Labour government of 1987) and President of Fiji’s Court of Appeal in the early 2000s.

I never did have the opportunity to observe my father in the courtroom, but I have heard and read much about his formidable advocacy skills and forensic legal mind. His areas of practice were broad, but he was particularly invested in criminal law and practice.

Unwavering commitment
I understand he could be a pit-bull in the courtroom and had an unwavering commitment to his clients.

In 2003, the United Nations General Assembly elected Dad as a member of the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR). He was based in Arusha, Tanzania, and my son and I visited him in 2007.

He was sitting on a bench comprised of two other international jurists, one of whom was the President of the Tribunal, Judge Eric Mose. The four defendants were military men accused of genocide against the Tutsi population in Rwanda during the early 1990s.

On the day we attended his court room, I distinctly recall Dad challenging one of the Canadian advocates on a technical point to which the advocate responded, “Judge Reddy always asks the difficult questions”. He was considered one of the finest judges there.

As a lawyer, I found the proceedings fascinating and as a daughter, I felt very proud.

Of course, none of us are defined solely by our professional life or public profile and it would feel incomplete not to mention some of my father’s other interests. He loved the odd gamble on the horses and as a young child, I recall being dragged to the Ellerslie races on more than a few occasions.

Dad also loved literature, philosophy, and comedy. Those who knew him intimately will recall his reverence for the prose of William Shakespeare and his uncanny ability to recite Shakespearean sonnets and soliloquies — even when his Alzheimer’s was quite advanced.

Interest in philosophy
As a young, idealistic student, he developed an interest in philosophy and his outlook and perspectives were shaped by both Eastern and Western writers and intellectuals. Possessing a dry, acerbic wit, he enjoyed satire and comedy — particularly the British variety — and was an ardent fan of all things involving Monty Python and other comics of that tradition.

He also liked old Hindi songs but loved ghazals the most. He wasn’t the greatest singer but after a couple glasses of red wine, he would sing along to those old melodies with much gusto at dinner parties. It made him happy.

Like all of us, my father’s life was punctuated by both highs and deep sadness. My dear brother Sanjai’s untimely death was devastating for Dad, as it was for all of us. Despite his own grief, he remained a devoted and supportive father and grandfather to his three surviving children and five grandchildren whilse continuing a demanding role as a jurist at the ICTR.

It cannot have been easy in the circumstances. Dad undoubtedly had an intellectual disposition and for much of his life, his interests and preoccupations were principally cerebral in nature. However, with age, he became less preoccupied with such matters and his renowned social reticence, and “short fuse” receded and was replaced by a person who was more relaxed, emotionally accessible and at ease with communicating on a more personal level.

I will treasure the memory of some of conversations we shared in his later years.

As to his political life, Dad was initially a senator in the early 1970s before his election as Leader of the Opposition in 1977. Politically he was a social democrat with liberal instincts. Throughout his long political career, he argued for equity, social justice, and racial equality.

Vehemently opposed to the death penalty on the grounds it offends the inalienable right to life, he, among others, advocated for its abolition in Fiji. He also supported the legitimatisation of same-sex unions and led the parliamentary debate against French nuclear testing in the Pacific.

Committed to multi-culturalism
I suspect; however, my father will ultimately be remembered for his commitment to the values of multi-culturalism and pluralism.

When reflecting on his political legacy, I am cognisant of how urgent and prescient my father’s brand of politics might feel given the rise and global reach of ethnic nationalism and identity politics. Dad firmly believed that leadership in the Fijian context required moral courage, an empathy for “the other” and an acute appreciation of how history and context shaped the political and social fabric of the country.

It is through him; I developed an understanding of the importance of adopting a pluralist approach and working across the political aisle for the greater good of all communities in Fiji.

Similarly, I developed an appreciation of how the colonial legacy of divide and rule cultivated and fostered the deep racial divide, mistrust and communalism which have featured so tragically in Fiji’s political landscape. An appreciation of context is obviously so important, but Dad’s message was that we all share a collective responsibility to reflect, critique and overcome the historical legacies, structures and values which impede the art of empathy and compromise.

Following the military coup of 1987, my father had the singular honour of being the first Indo-Fijian to be invited to speak to the Great Council of Chiefs. It was a seminal moment as Fiji was on the precipice of ratifying a progressive new constitution. In that speech, he talked about the respective fears and interests of both the indigenous Fijian and Indo-Fijian communities.

He also spoke of the importance of power-sharing in the context of a politically and socially fractured Fiji following the military coups in 1987. I quote Dad’s final words from that speech:

“In one of his nation’s darkest hours, that courageous and visionary leader, Franklin Roosevelt, said, and I quote: ‘to some generations much is given; of other generations much is asked. This generation has a rendezvous with destiny.’

“Much was asked of Ratu Cakobau’s generation of Chiefs. Much is asked of this generation of Chiefs. Much is asked of us all.

“Let us therefore gather our courage and set ourselves united to the finishing of the noble task to which our history, our heritage and our motherland now call us. This generation must keep its rendezvous with destiny. And to future generations, much will be given.”

Defining moment squandered
From the perspective of many, that defining moment was squandered and the tragic events which have taken place in Fiji over the past two decades speak volumes. I know how profoundly disappointed my father was that his vision of an inclusive society was mercilessly rebuked by what he described as “narrow-minded partisanship”.

Of course, another military coup then took place, and the rest is history. Notwithstanding those events, may the arc of history bend towards that rendezvous he spoke of on that hopeful occasion.

May his dream of a fully democratised Fiji be realised and let it be a Fiji with fair and accessible rights to political representation, education, and economic parity for all its people.

On this saddest of occasions, it feels fitting to conclude with a quote from that great, visionary civil rights leader Dr Martin Luther King Jr:

“There comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must take it because conscience tells him it is right”.

Rest in Peace my dear father.
Om Shanti
Gole ena vakacegu

Helen Nalina Reddy
London

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz