Abdul Majid Cockar: The introvert who became Chief Justice

Former Chief Justice’s memoirs reveal how he overcame racism and graft in the Judiciary to rise to the top. PHOTOS | FILE

What you need to know:

  • In the story of Justice Cockar’s rise in the judiciary, one sees the value of the “shy, tongue-tied” introvert in a world where everyone is talking. That value is, in Cockar’s own words, “a duty to listen carefully even if submissions on the face appear to be worthless”. This, coupled with his humility, was the hallmark of his career on the bench.
  • Cockar weathered the storms of unfair promotions which saw some like P.N. Khanna resign on principle when their juniors, Mr. S.K. Sachdeva and Mr. J.H.S. Todd were promoted to the High Court. Sachdeva snuggled up to Njonjo by convicting political “agitators”.

“… I just did not know how to cross-examine. I knew the basics but I did not have the knack or perhaps the technique of wording the question; or perhaps the sequence of approach to be adopted to trap a lying witness giving a rehearsed story. I did not have the ready wit of an oral conversationalist or the craft of framing the type of question that could trap such a witness.”

 

It is difficult to imagine that the man who started practising law with this nervous trepidation and self-doubt is the same man who rose to be Chief Justice of Kenya between 1994 and 1997. In his memoirs, Doings, Undoings and Misdoings by Kenya Chief Justices 1963-1998 (2012), Justice Abdul Majid Cockar, who died early this week, readily admits that early in his career, his “humility … was treated contemptuously by the Punjabi advocates, as a weakness in his character”.

In this, as in many other instances, Justice Cockar overturned our common assumptions. The image of lawyers that is created by many television court-room dramas — and which was reinforced by the televised proceedings of the International Criminal Court (ICC) — is that of boisterous, fast-talking bullies who always have a quick riposte. They exhibit nothing but bravery. They are all extroverts.

And yet, in the story of Justice Cockar’s rise in the judiciary, one sees the value of the “shy, tongue-tied” introvert in a world where everyone is talking. That value is, in Cockar’s own words, “a duty to listen carefully even if submissions on the face appear to be worthless”. This, coupled with his humility, was the hallmark of his career on the bench.

Abdul Majid Cockar’s memoirs detail the social fabric of colonial life. His family settled in Kenya in 1903 but he was born in Amritsar, India, in 1923. He joined primary school in Nairobi at the age of five and was always 24 to 28 months younger than his classmates, a fact that contributed to his “devastating lack of confidence”. After secondary school, he studied by correspondence. Later, he went to London where he qualified as a teacher and a lawyer.

WEATHERED STORMS

Along with Cockar’s personal journey, this memoir is also a scathing critique of the Judiciary after independence. Under the Overseas Development Aid (ODA), white British judges were retained under lucrative terms that set their earnings and perks far above their Asian counterparts. Cockar outlines the discrimination and the irony of a Judiciary where unequal terms prevailed.

Two things held back the process of de-Europeanising this expatriate bench. First, Attorney General Charles Njonjo, who enjoyed the confidence of President Jomo Kenyatta, had a personal bias for white judges whom he saw as more accomplished. But Kenyatta went against Njonjo’s wishes and in 1967, he appointed Kitili Maluki Mwendwa as the first African Chief Justice.

Ironically Mwendwa’s tenure stymied the de-Europeanisation of the bench after he was implicated in the 1971 coup attempt that was linked to the Chief of Defence Staff, Major-General Joseph M. Ndolo. Mwendwa was quickly replaced by Justice James Wicks and senior positions on the bench remained largely staffed by non-Africans until the eventual fall of Charles Njonjo.

Cockar weathered the storms of unfair promotions which saw some like P.N. Khanna resign on principle when their juniors, Mr. S.K. Sachdeva and Mr. J.H.S. Todd were promoted to the High Court. Sachdeva snuggled up to Njonjo by convicting political “agitators”.

Cockar has a stinging description of Sachdeva as a “notorious … corrupt magistrate”. Sachdeva’s nefarious scheme included two well-placed government personnel of Asian origin — a senior policeman and a prosecutor who was a confidant of Njonjo. “It was a very sophisticated plan of extortion and corruption… the victims of this vicious plan were South Asians only”.

Typically, an Asian businessman would be arrested on minor criminal offences such as possession of small foreign currency notes or unauthorised storing of milk by confectioners. The arraignment in court would be staged in such a way that it “played on a South Asian’s mortal dread of spending a night in remand or jail”. Every new charge would come before Sachdeva who was in charge of the criminal courts and he would decide whether to grant bail. Clearly, Sachdeva’s scheme was the forerunner of the enterprise now known as the cartels in our courts.

Aside from corruption, Cockar narrates, with measured humour, the folly of the high-handedness on the bench. In Kisumu, Judge Trevelyan had formed the habit of humiliating A.H. Kneller, then a magistrate, in open court. Revenge came when the fully-robed and wigged judge was mysteriously locked in a stuffy toilet, one hot and humid morning, as everyone waited for him to inspect a police guard of honour before the day’s proceedings could begin. Trevelyan eventually emerged, suitably deflated.

Legal minds are infinitely praised for mastering oratorical skills, but Cockar observes that his own growth came from listening. “During my lengthy stay in the civil section (as a magistrate), I gradually developed patience and learnt the useful time and labour saving lessons of letting the advocates teach me law. The advocates did the research, produced the authorities for me to study and to decide on the application of the authorities on the issues before me … This was the gradual development of self-confidence”.

CANDID INTROSPECTION

Cockar had started his working life as a high school teacher. He quickly realised that his position gave him a false sense of “cosy superiority” over his students. He was wary of being domineering and whatever confidence teaching gave him was eroded as soon as he was thrust into the new environment of the courts, as a lawyer.

It seems Cockar never shied away from learning something new. Because of a shortage of sporting equipment during the Second World War, he did not start playing tennis until he was 22 years old. In no time, he became a valued national asset on international circuits where he was already turning out with the cricket team. The bug of an active sportsman never left him. In later years, Cockar would play an 18-hole round of golf at dawn, before reporting for work at the courts.

Justice Cockar’s memoirs are striking for their candid introspection including his glaring dislike of Punjabis. He was a man of faith who believed in destiny; a man who lived by the tenet that “if a person is destined to get something then nothing will stand in the way, but if he is not destined to achieve the aspired goal, then nothing will be of any help”.  Cockar valued this counsel from his younger brother, Justice Saeed Cockar of the Industrial Court, who always urged him to be patient in his aspirations.

Abdul Majid Cockar’s career in the Judiciary was never built on promoting human rights or fighting big constitutional transgressions. How ironical then, that upon his retirement he was left with no choice but to vigorously pursue his right to a befitting pension through protracted and combative litigation.

That fight went totally against his nature — this spartan Chief Justice who always drove himself in a Peugeot 504, shunning the sybaritic splendour of a chauffer-driven Mercedes S Class. His memoirs are a pleasurable read and a useful guide for every parent who is raising a shy, quiet child.