Perhaps we should remember the lesson of those who were killed 23 years ago. We should reflect on the lives lost most recently and be humble in our certainties. For “Alas, how?” — the lament — can only be answered with one word: hope. Whatever our politics or views, we must do better at listening to each other and finding solutions that reflect respect across our differences.
The 53rd edition of the annual marathon race in New York City is set to take place on Sunday, November 3, 2024. For the 2024 event, New York City Road Runners said that they had received over 165,000 entries for the race — the second-highest number since the race began. I ran it twice in ’95 and again in ’97 with two friends. Here’s their inspiring story.
We see our lawyers of South Auckland, so to them in this Olympic week I want to tell them this. We see your bravery at coping with workloads that would crush Hercules, we see your breathless headlong rush into courtrooms to the next big thing, we see the extraordinary way you bring your kindness in every act and the healing balm of your passionate advocacy to the poor, huddled, desperate, often confused, and angry parade.
Tonight, we light an extra candle to recognise all the victims since October 7 — the hostages and their families, the fallen soldiers and all the innocents of Gaza. We light this candle for those who have died, that their memories will be for the blessing of peace, and in their names we work together to shed light because we cannot defeat darkness with more darkness.
Perhaps we should remember the lesson of those who were killed 23 years ago. We should reflect on the lives lost most recently and be humble in our certainties. For “Alas, how?” — the lament — can only be answered with one word: hope. Whatever our politics or views, we must do better at listening to each other and finding solutions that reflect respect across our differences.
The 53rd edition of the annual marathon race in New York City is set to take place on Sunday, November 3, 2024. For the 2024 event, New York City Road Runners said that they had received over 165,000 entries for the race — the second-highest number since the race began. I ran it twice in ’95 and again in ’97 with two friends. Here’s their inspiring story.
We see our lawyers of South Auckland, so to them in this Olympic week I want to tell them this. We see your bravery at coping with workloads that would crush Hercules, we see your breathless headlong rush into courtrooms to the next big thing, we see the extraordinary way you bring your kindness in every act and the healing balm of your passionate advocacy to the poor, huddled, desperate, often confused, and angry parade.
Tonight, we light an extra candle to recognise all the victims since October 7 — the hostages and their families, the fallen soldiers and all the innocents of Gaza. We light this candle for those who have died, that their memories will be for the blessing of peace, and in their names we work together to shed light because we cannot defeat darkness with more darkness.
We all hate New Year's resolutions! Former fun friends who’ve gone down the Alcoholics Anonymous route tend not to be much joy to be with, but it doesn’t have to be that way: there is a third way between AA and the drunken highway. Following a late-night New Year's Eve talk with a judge mate who became sober, she promised me an op-ed on her journey. I found it grounding and inspiring. I hope you do too!
Griff Rhys Jones has turned 70 and revealed his anti-bucket list. Or as it’s also known, the f*** it list. Namely, the things you’re told you should do before you die — bungee jumping, hot air ballooning, white water rafting — but instead of which you would rather set fire to your own bottom. Also on the list are things you would joyfully never do again because they are so boring and/or unpleasant.
After a year of cyclones, climate disasters, inequality, poverty, social anxiety, massive Covid debt, and war, few could be blamed for feeling like our god has left the building. In a world full of fear, stress, and sadness there seems to be more pain than you can heal, more dissent than you can mediate, and more uncertainty than you can make sense of. More than ever before this year has taught me I sometimes have to borrow other people’s hope, other people’s faith.
It was in 1965, at a Thanksgiving Day dinner in the meditation room of the United Nations building, that the idea of World Gratitude Day first came into being. Spiritual and meditation leader Sri Chinmoy suggested there be a day of thanks that the whole world could celebrate together. Those present at the meeting pledged that each year on September 21 they would hold a celebration of gratitude in their country. We did so last month.
There is an apocalyptic track on David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust album that is about the end of the world; it expresses the chaos and sentiment when an alien comes to Earth and tells us we’ve got five years. That’s it.
And it makes me wonder: What would it be like if Ziggy Stardust came to Earth and told us judges we’ve only got five years? What if we knew that there was absolutely nothing we could do or not do that would change it — that in five years our courts would be gone, prisons empty, registries closed, chambers boarded up. What if none of our efforts were put into trying to survive the next list, trial, mediation, case flow management, or row upon row of box work or commercial claims?
Just for a minute, imagine with me what that kind of freedom would look like!
Well, for one, if the game is over, we would have no reason to try and justify taking our time to connect with our cases and the people in them, or angst over discounting properly for a person's difference found in a report about their personal journey into our courtroom. And maybe, just maybe, for once say to litigants and their lawyers what we really feel they need to hear.
We’d have no reason to keep buildings we can’t repair or build more prisons we could never fill. Here’s something: We could stop kissing up to toxic ignorant points of view about what we do and how many times we do it and start connecting with the people before us not counting their events in the justice system by the minute. We could cancel every single committee meeting and spend time with each other about what’s best to do. We could serve more.
Ministry speak would be immediately banned — no cascading, decanting, stakeholders, or sectorial engagement. Oh what freedom that would be! We would have no sacred cows. Nothing to be defensive about. No reason to be offended. We’d laugh more. We’d cry more. We’d celebrate more. We’d talk more. We’d connect more, and more than once every three years.
But wait a minute, our judicial service is not a rehearsal. None of this need take five years my brothers and sisters. All of it can be done if we just connect and support the things that must endure and matter.
That’s why we have our association. One simple word. Connection.
What becomes a problem is when we insist that there is one language in which we can communicate justice. Often, it just so happens to be with the language, or the art, or the culture, or the humour that we inherited and comfortably understand. While there is this one law for all, there are countless ways of understanding it. There are countless images and words and music and culture that serve to tell that justice story whether in Spanish colonies or Aotearoa.
In case you hadn’t noticed, everyone is talking about robots. Actually, one robot in particular. Last November, the public was introduced to ChatGPT, and we began to imagine a world in which we all have a brilliant personal assistant, able to write everything from computer code to condolence cards. And last week, experts said AI poses the same threat as nuclear wars and pandemics. Our Chief Justice, following wise advice, issued a cautionary interim guidance on AI platforms. JANZ dives into the world of generative AI and the law.
King Charles III was crowned at Westminster on Saturday in a service steeped in tradition and history, with modern touches reflecting the sovereign’s style. Just think, it was 70 years ago when the young Prince stood in the royal box at Westminster Abbey on June 2, 1953 – bored and unimpressed – watching his own mother’s, Queen Elizabeth II, coronation ceremonies. In the image above he’s shown flanked between Queen Elizabeth Queen Mother and Princess Margaret Rose.
