Kentridge reflects on a lifetime of fascination with the law

At the age of 100, Sir Sydney Kentridge KCMG KC has spent a lifetime in service of the law and has witnessed seminal events of the past century, from World War II to apartheid’s most heinous crimes. He celebrated a century on 5 November 2022 quietly at home with family and friends.

Though he has lived and worked in the United Kingdom for three decades, he says, “I still feel very closely connected to South Africa. I used to return frequently. One memorable visit was after the establishment of the Constitutional Court, when one of the judges was away and I was asked to fill in. So for the first few weeks of the court’s existence, I sat as a judge. It was absolutely fascinating to work with a new Constitution in a new court.”

Looking back, he says, “At the time of choosing a profession, I wasn’t sure what to do. Now, it all seems pre-ordained. Yet one always thinks one could have done better and more.”

It’s clear that Kentridge couldn’t have been more dedicated to the law, however. He’s a Knight Commander of the British Order of St Michael and St George and a Supreme Counsellor of the South African Order of the Baobab in Gold. He’s been awarded an Honorary LL.D. by numerous universities, and was elected an Honorary Fellow of Exeter College, Oxford – his alma mater – in 1986. The South African General Bar Council awards an annual prize, the Sydney and Felicia Kentridge Award, for excellence in public-interest law.

Sir Sydney recalls with crystal-clear memory how he had a “conventional upbringing in Johannesburg in a political household as my father, [Morris Kentridge], was a leading lawyer and member of parliament”. His father’s family originated in Lithuania and England, while his mother, May Shafner, came to South Africa from the United Kingdom. He was born in 1922.

“When I was two years old, my father was elected as a minister of parliament for the constituency of Troyeville, Johannesburg, and he held that seat for 34 years. So, politics was constant presence in my life,” he says. He witnessed the rise of Nazism in Europe and the strengthening of nationalists in South Africa, who “were vocally antisemitic. And the chief spokesperson who opposed them in parliament was my father”.

He finished school at 16, and went to university in 1939 to get his Bachelor of Arts. “At the end of 1941, I joined the army.” He went on to serve as an intelligence officer in East Africa and Italy. The experience had a profound impact on him, especially one incident while he was waiting to be repatriated.

“One day, a senior officer of the South African forces in Italy asked me to prosecute in a court martial. I knew nothing about the law. He said, ‘Well you have a university degree, haven’t you?’ I said yes, and he gave me a little book on criminal law, adding that he would assist me if needed. So I prosecuted in two court martials. I found the process so interesting, I knew the law was for me.”

Before the end of the war, the South African government said that any ex-serviceman could go to university on a grant, interest free, repayable only when they entered their profession. “So I went to Oxford. In those days, all it took was a letter of recommendation and there were no entrance exams. So in September 1946, I started reading law there.”

He “took to it immediately”, finishing the degree in two years, after which he came back to South Africa, where he qualified for the Bar in February 1949. He started as junior advocate, going to magistrate’s courts and acting in small criminal and civil cases.

“Then, when the Treason Trial came along in 1958, I was asked by the attorneys and senior advocates acting for the defence to come into the team as a junior. I had done ‘quasi political’ work before – Solly Sachs, the great unionist, had asked me to act for the Garment Workers Union as junior council in some of its cases.

“The Treason Trial was a remarkable experience, defending the likes of [Oliver] Tambo and [Nelson] Mandela, and working with leading council such as Isie Maisels and Bram Fischer,” he remembers.

In 1978, Kentridge was asked to represent the family of anti-apartheid activist Steve Biko at the inquest following Biko’s death in police custody. “We proved that the police account of how he met his injuries was false. Our case was that he had been assaulted by police, and that he was dying when sent to Pretoria overnight.

“I never felt under threat,” Kentridge says. “One of the odd things about South Africa under apartheid was that one was completely free in the courtroom, one could cross examine and attack the police’s version, or call one’s own evidence. Justice was done in establishing the facts.”

His son, renowned artist William Kentridge, says, “From a very young age, I was aware of growing up in a house of lawyers. One early childhood memory was the Treason Trial. I remember Albert Luthuli, one of three Nobel Prize winners that my dad had as clients, coming to the house, having supper with the family, and I wondered who this person was who elicited such awe and deference. Later on, during the Sharpeville inquest, I remember seeing the photos on my father’s desk. When I was in high school, I remember the Biko inquest, and the consternation about the arrest of Bram Fisher, who was a family friend.

“I also remember conversations when cases would be discussed, my mother’s rage at the terrible judges, the terrible prosecutors, and the terrible laws. He would keep working long into the night. I suppose this is a strange obsession that we share, that the default position is to be at work – and there’s always more work to be done than there’s time to do it.”