Seligman Swartzman Gillis Sandman Joffe Yachad Lederman Fleishman

The Order of the Baobab in Gold - Republic of South Africa Awarded to Lord Joel Joffe (1932 - ) for 'His excellent contribution to the struggle against racial oppression in South Africa.' Lord Joel Joffe was born in South Africa in 1932 and was educated at the University of the Witwatersrand, obtaining a BCom and an LLB degree in 1955. He worked as a human-rights lawyer from 1958 to 1965, including at the infamous 1963-64 Rivonia Trial, representing Nelson Mandela and his co-accused. On 11 July 1963, police raided Lilliesleaf farm at Rivonia near Johannesburg, arresting members of the high command of Umkhonto we Sizwe. Together with the already imprisoned Mandela, they were put on trial, charged with conspiring to overthrow the apartheid government by armed revolution. Their expected punishment was death. In “The State vs. Nelson Mandela”, Joffe was their defence attorney in what was clearly the most important trial in South Africa’s history, enabling him to expose the astonishing bigotry and rampant discrimination faced by the accused as well as showing their courage under fire. He therefore stood as an astute human-rights lawyer in the war on apartheid and in the struggle for justice and human rights. Lord Joffe left South Africa on an exit permit in 1965 after his passport had been confiscated. He continued to support South African causes, and in 2000 became a member of the British House of Lords. He became a champion of tertiary education for extremely disadvantaged South African children through the Community and Individual Development Association (Cida) United Kingdom Foun­dation that supports the Cida City Campus in Johannesburg. http://www.thepresidency.gov.za/pebble.asp?relid=7611

Lord Joel Joffe CBE, ex-Chair of Oxfam GB and the lawyer who defended Mandela at the Rivonia Trial Lord Joel Joffe CBE was the young lawyer who defended Nelson Mandela at the famous 1963-4 Rivonia trial. Exiled to Britain in 1965, he co-founded Allied Dunbar Assurance. Joffe was involved with Oxfam for 17 years from 1981 both as a Trustee and Chair. Oxfam championed the anti-apartheid movement, including withdrawing its business from Barclays who were heavily associated with South Africa. Lord Joffe says: “Nelson Mandela was an extraordinary human being and I was honored to have had the privilege of representing him as one of his lawyers in the Rivonia Trial. When I first met him at Pretoria gaol, he came into the interview room to meet the team of lawyers dressed in prisoner’s clothes of sandals and short trousers, but typically took command of the meeting. He was a natural leader with great charisma who listened carefully to his colleagues before taking decisions. During my time at Oxfam, we also supported the anti-apartheid movement by withdrawing our business from Barclays which was heavily associated with South Africa. Oxfam has a long history in South Africa, working with people to overcome poverty and injustice. I was delighted that Oxfam was one of just two charities invited by the ANC to attend Mandela’s inauguration in recognition of its contribution to the cause of justice and equality. In addition to his great achievements, I will always personally remember Nelson Mandela for his wonderful sense of humor. He had an easy smile and infectious laugh. He was a very warm person who treated everyone the same, as simply another human being.”

What was your earliest ambition? I had no particular ambitions. I just took things as they arose, but actually my earliest ambition was to escape from boarding school — Marist Brothers, Observatory, in Johannesburg. Did you go straight into law at university? I did a BCom at Wits and drifted into law. It proved a good place to end up in. In what way? Initially, just because it was a profession, but when I got into it, I realised the law was about justice, which appealed to me. And the human rights work? I was articled to Edward Nathan and Friedland. When they learnt I had built up a legal-aid practice without their knowledge, they said I couldn’t carry on with that. So I moved on and eventually went to the bar. You worked for the Defence and Aid Fund, and became Nelson Mandela’s defence lawyer during the Rivonia trial of 1963 to 1964. That must have been stressful — and exciting? I’m not sure exciting is the right word. It was daunting and stressful for the defence lawyers, though not nearly as stressful as for the accused — Mandela, Sisulu, Mbeki and the others, whose lives were at risk. They seemed to handle the stress rather better than we did. What was the main source of stress for the defence? Our priority as lawyers was to save our clients’ lives. The ANC leaders decided that saving their lives was of secondary importance. Of most importance was to turn the trial into a trial of the apartheid system in the court of world opinion; if they were sentenced to death, they would accept it in the belief that it would inspire their people to carry on the struggle. The trial’s outcome must have reduced that stress somewhat? It certainly did, and dramatically raised the profile of the liberation movement throughout the world and the appalling evil of the apartheid system. Did the stress ever tempt you to stop that kind of work? No. I went on to defend the reserve ANC high command who took over from the Rivonia accused, and the trial of Jacob Zuma, who was just 20 at the time, and was arrested at the border on his way to military training. After the trials, your passport was removed, and you had to leave SA on a one-way exit permit in 1965. When was your first visit back? The apartheid regime let me in for one visit — when my parents were dying; apart from that, I never went back until just before Madiba was released. Did you ever think he would be released in your lifetime? No. I expected apartheid to fall in about 2020. The day he walked out of prison was one of the happiest days of my life. Did you ever think of returning? Yes, after the ANC took over I thought I could do something useful in the new SA. On reflection, I concluded I did not have any exceptional talents that could make a real difference, and I was doing useful work in the UK as chair of Oxfam. What do you miss most about SA? The sunshine, friends, family, and being part of the country in which I grew up. But we’ve been very fortunate in England. You were awarded a CBE (Commander of the Order of the British Empire) in 1999 and raised to the peerage as Baron (Lord) Joffe of Liddington in the County of Wiltshire in 2000. What has that meant to you? It is a great privilege to be in the House of Lords, and it did give me an opportunity to try to do something for the country that gave me refuge, and opened up such opportunities. When you first worked in the financial services industry in the UK as a co-founder to set up Hambro Life Assurance — very different from human rights work. Why the change? I never wanted to do commercial law, and in those days human rights wasn’t a subject that was particularly relevant in the UK. I only took the job by chance. Who gave you the chance? At Wits University, one of the two most brilliant students was the man who is now Sir Mark Weinberg. I had been in England for three months applying for jobs. Nobody seemed to want me. Mark offered me a job. What did you know about the insurance industry at the time? Nothing, apart from my BCom, and law is an important part of financial services. Three of us built up Hambro Life (later Allied Dunbar) — Mark Weinberg, Sydney Lipworth, the other brilliant law student at Wits, both of whom were knighted — and me. We were a triumvirate of South Africans. Why did you leave the industry? It was an important industry, but there was much abuse. I left to mount a campaign to clean it up. You became trustee and chairman of Oxfam, the biggest development agency in the UK. What prompted that move? It was a natural thing; I wanted to work with an agency concerned with poverty and deprivation in the developing world, and to try to make a positive difference. You are known for your life’s work on voluntary euthanasia, and legislation to make it legal. What got you into it? For me it is a human rights issue — to be able to make a decision in relation to my life, to end it if I so choose. I became a member of the Voluntary Euthanasia Society in 1975, when it was an unpopular cause. It has since changed its name to Dignity and Dying, and is the main campaigning organisation pushing for a change in the law. When I first introduced the bill I did so with their backing. Have you had mentors in life? Not formally, but three people who have had have a key influence: Ben Mansell, a partner at Edward Nathan, and Friedland. He taught me about the importance of excellence in any legal work you do, getting it exactly right. You have to be a stickler for detail to be a good lawyer. Another was my partner before I went to the bar, a crusty old communist bachelor, Fred Zwarenstein. What did you learn from him? He taught me that law was not primarily about making money, but about justice. He had what he used to call his "out-patients practice" — all the people he worked for free of charge. And the third person? My hero, Braam Fischer, who led the defence team at the Rivonia Trial and died in jail. He was the most wonderful human being. You dedicated your book, The Rivonia Story (Mayibuye Books, 1995), to him, that was later updated and changed to The State Vs Nelson Mandela: The Trial That Changed South Africa, (Oneworld Publications, 2007). How long did it take to write? Three months, in London in 1965. What moved you to write it? I wrote it not to get it published, but as a tribute to Madiba, and the others I thought would die in jail. I wanted people to know what extraordinary human beings they were. What’s the biggest lesson you’ve learned from life? I think it’s much easier to criticise than to do; and luck plays a very important part in life. I’ve had more than my fair share of good luck. Where is paradise? I live in it, as I am fortunate to have a beautiful home in the lovely English countryside. If you could edit your life, what would you change? I would wish I had a talent for dancing, music, and fun, but you have to live with what you have. When your time comes, will you opt for assisted dying? If I judge there is no quality of life left for me, I would want to end my suffering by choosing to end my life. It’s important that it be when I judge. What’s your greatest fear? Having a stroke, being unable to communicate or move, and therefore unable end my life. Any hopes and dreams? That my family will be happy and well, and in time the world will be a better place for the disadvantaged, the marginalised, and the poor. http://www.bdlive.co.za/life/health/2012/09/05/vital-signs-a-human-right-choosing-death-with-dignity-over-a-life-in-pain

Joel Joffe (1932 - 2017) Joel Joffe CBE was the young lawyer who defended Nelson Mandela at the infamous 1963-4 Rivonia Trial. Exiled to Britain in 1965, he worked at a fledgling insurance company to support his family, which grew to become Allied Dunbar. Involved with Oxfam for 20 years and Chair from 1995 to 2001, he was awarded the CBE in 1999. In 2000, he became a Labour peer as Baron Joffe of Liddington. In later life, he was a vigorous campaigner for assisted dying for the terminally ill. Asked what drove him to realise the extraordinary achievements of his life, Joel Joffe said it was a passion for justice and a desire to help those less fortunate than himself. Whether that injustice was apartheid, poverty, terminal illness or human rights, Joffe campaigned with a lawyer's forensic eye for detail, self-deprecating humour, and a fearless approach to authority. Born in 1932 in Johannesburg, South Africa, to a mother born in Palestine and a father born in Lithuania, Joel Goodman Joffe grew up in a Jewish household before being sent to Catholic boarding school. He studied business and then law at the University of Witwatersrand. While articled to a big commercial firm, Joffe began taking on cases for poor people for free. When the partners of the firm objected, Joffe resigned and went into partnership with an elderly communist called Fred Zwarenstein and a lawyer called James Kantor, whose brother-in-law represented the African National Congress. This was 1960, a turbulent time in South African history. On 21st March, there had been a massacre at Sharpeville - where police had opened fire on unarmed protestors killing 69 people. Around the same time, the government declared a state of emergency, arresting political leaders. Many people began leaving South Africa at that time, and Joffe booked a passage to Australia where he intended to emigrate with his artist wife Vanetta, and two baby daughters Deborah and Lisa. James Kantor's brother-in-law, Harold Wolpe, the ANC's lawyer, had been arrested but managed to escape from South Africa by bribing a warder. Kantor was then arrested. Joffe agreed to delay his passage to Australia to wind up Kantor's affairs. While he was doing so, Winnie Mandela approached him - would he take on the defence of her husband Nelson? Mandela and eight other ANC members were to be tried for 221 acts of sabotage aimed at overthrowing the apartheid system. "I told her I'd be glad to," Joffe recalled. Joffe remembered meeting Mandela in the visiting rooms of Pretoria Jail, where the prisoner had been flown in from Robben Island. Mandela was wearing sandals, a torn shirt, and shorts - the uniform of a black prisoner under apartheid. "He walked into the room totally unselfconscious and just assumed control, and we all sat back and waited to be told what we should do," Joffe recalled. In the book Long Walk to Freedom, Mandela described Joffe's role in the Rivonia Trial, as "the General behind the scenes in our defence". The rooms where Joffe was allowed to meet Mandela were bugged and the lawyer described how Mandela would write key names and information on a piece of paper and then the men would burn them in an ashtray. "For me it was about saving the lives of these wonderful people," Joffe recalled on Desert Island Discs. "But that was not the main objective of Nelson Mandela and his colleagues… They wanted to put the Government [of South Africa] in the dock. "The nine members of the ANC were the finest people I had ever met - such courage, such integrity, so committed… They were in it for the people. It was a great privilege to defend them." Eight of the nine defendants were sentenced to life imprisonment. Nelson Mandela would spend the next twenty five years and eight months in prison. In 1965, after the trial, Joffe was offered an Exit Visa - the chance to leave South Africa safely as long as he never returned - and the family made plans once again to emigrate. Australia refused the family as "undesirable immigrants", leaving them in limbo - their luggage already sitting on Sydney Docks. Years later, invited to do a lecture tour on philanthropy, Joffe was delighted to start every talk with saying "It's a nice change to be invited to Australia rather than being rejected…" Although he would later feel deeply patriotic towards the UK, Joffe washed up on British shores by default, and began looking for work to support his family. He was unable to practice law without retraining - unthinkable with two small children. After three difficult months in North London, a friend called Mark Weinberg offered him work at the insurance firm he had just started, Abbey Life. Weinberg and Joffe later founded Hambro Life Assurance which became Allied Dunbar, one of the world's most successful insurance companies. Joffe modestly refused to take any credit for its success. "I always felt a bit guilty about earning lots of money and not doing anything," he said. His way of paying back was to become deeply involved in charity and philanthropic work. Hambro Life was one of the first British companies to give a percentage of profits to a charitable trust, and Joffe also set up the Per Cent Club which encouraged other companies to do the same. Over the years, over 150 household name companies have visited Allied Dunbar's charitable trust. He also set up his own Joffe Charitable Trust which played a significant role in supporting new initiatives for improving the effectiveness of many charities. Around the time of the birth of his third daughter, Abigail, in 1976, Oxfam approached Joffe to create a special life insurance policy where the charity would be a partial beneficiary. The policy was unsuccessful, but led to Joffe becoming an Oxfam trustee in 1980. He held various positions including Honorary Secretary, Chair of the Executive Committee and from 1995 Chair of Oxfam His background in business meant he was determined to make Oxfam an organisation that was as efficient as it was passionate. "Passion and good intentions by themselves are no value to anyone without effective implementation," he said. He was never afraid of big decisions, preparing the report that recommended that Oxfam leave Barclays Bank and being part of the delegation that went to the bank to explain to Barclays why the decision had been made. When Oxfam was investigated by the Charity Commission in 1990 for its commitment to campaigning work as well as more straightforward charitable interests, he was part of the negotiating team that defended Oxfam's position - a stance that only a few years later under a new Chief Charity Commissioner became completely acceptable. He also helped to resolve a key dispute involving the staff at the Oxfam shop in St John's Wood, who had gone on strike after accusing Oxfam of being unfair to Israel in a leaked internal discussion paper. Joffe, himself Jewish, went to see the Chief Rabbi to clarify Oxfam's position. He was acutely interested in the ways that business could be more socially responsible, and a passionate advocate of Fair Trade, which Oxfam pioneered. Colleagues report that his greatest contribution to Oxfam was made during his period as Chair from 1995. He used his exceptional mix of acute intelligence and great personal warmth to challenge Oxfam's work and organisation, often only reaching conclusions after intense questioning and debate. Once convinced, he gave his absolute and unwavering support to the volunteers or staff who were to take things forward. As Chair, he was tireless in helping to make Oxfam more effective and providing the best return on donors' contributions. He continued and concluded the reform of the Charity's governance, moving from a plethora of committees and a fifty-person Council to a highly effective Board of 12. Using his legal skills, in 1995/6 he also played a key role in setting up Oxfam International - the bringing together of the ten organisations using the Oxfam name around the world. From 1997 to 1999, he was a member of the Royal Commission for the Care of the Elderly - a manifesto commitment of the 1997 Labour Government to find solutions to a dysfunctional care system. In 1999, he was awarded the CBE by Tony Blair's government and on 16 February 2000 he was made a Labour peer, raised to the peerage as Baron Joffe of Liddington in the County of Wiltshire. In the Lords, he was hugely committed to campaigning for terminally ill people to have the right to end their lives, proposing a private members bill on the subject in 2003 and 2005. From 2000 to 2004, he was also Chair of the Giving Campaign, which encourages the wealthiest in society to give to charity - and notes that less well off generally donate a much higher proportion of their income. From 1974 to 1993 he had been Founding Trustee and then Chairman of the Allied Dunbar Charitable Trust. His own charity, the Joffe Charitable Trust, gave millions every year to mainly African causes Joffe selected partly on the basis they were unfashionable or difficult issues - like abortion for rape victims in parts of Africa or Female Genital Mutilation awareness projects - and less likely to draw financial support from elsewhere. From the mid 1980s, he was also patron and trustee on a number of African and development-related charities. But while he always remained steadfastly loyal to the country and continent of his birth, Joffe also felt deeply patriotic towards his adopted country, Britain - valuing in particular its tranquil countryside, democracy, tolerance and his favourite pastime, tennis. http://www.oxfam.org.uk/joel-joffe

Remembering My Father, Lord Joffe: A Campaigner For Justice In Life And In Death By Deb Joffe Postgraduate Student 23/11/2017 04:11pm GMT My dad, Joel Joffe, died on 18th June this year. A memorial took place last week at St Martin-in-the-Fields - a moving tribute to his lifelong dedication to campaigning for justice, attended by his peers, colleagues, friends and family. Everyone dies of course and there are many stories to be told, but Joel's experience was distinctive because, as Lord Joffe, he had twice introduced bills to the House of Lords to enable dying people to receive medical assistance to die when they felt that their quality of life was no longer adequate and there was no prospect of improvement. Despite the second bill incorporating many of the recommendations of a full committee inquiry and having widespread public support, it did not pass. Twelve years later, at the age of 85, Joel faced his own terminal illness, mesothelioma, a cancer caused by asbestos exposure which had also killed his brother Dan. Joel had a lifelong history of campaigning for social causes both as a human rights lawyer defending Nelson Mandela, and as a leading figure in numerous charities. He was particularly concerned about the people he felt were most in need, about international poverty, global corruption, injustice. Why, then, was he moved to put so much energy into a campaign for assisted dying in the UK, which would be used by only a minority of people in their last few months of life? Because Joel wanted to relieve suffering. Suffering means different things to different people according to what they value in life and their own personalities. For Joel, it was not just the prospect of physical pain, although he naturally dreaded that. As his illness developed, he lost the ability to do the things he loved and which gave meaning to his life. The illness was sapping his energy by the day, his muscles rapidly wasting away, and with it a loss of balance that threatened his safety. His voice was losing its power and he struggled to speak for more than a few minutes. He could no longer dictate to Liz, his P.A., or control his fingers on a keyboard. He wrote painstakingly by hand in spidery writing, and the notes got shorter each day. My mother and my sisters encouraged him to enjoy what he could of life, the beautiful garden, music, his family. It worked a little – he loved his daughters being around him and the little trips out that we managed with the help of wheelchairs and walking sticks. We tried to get him interested in books or TV. But it was not enough for Joel. His medical care was excellent. Joel had campaigned for assisted dying, but equally he was a long-time champion of hospices, and saw no contradiction between the two. Both can be valuable means to support people who are dying. However, the diagnosis took many months to confirm and when it came, it greatly distressed my parents – not just because it was terminal, but because well-intentioned medical staff optimistically told him he might have up to a year left to live. They offered what they thought was hope, but unfortunately they were not listening to Joel himself. Faced with, inevitable death, Joel did not want to endure another twelve months of a life which was rapidly and irreversibly declining in value for him. Knowing that he would soon be virtually immobile and in increasing pain turned this despondency to despair. He announced several times his intention to end his life while he was still able. He tried not eating and grew markedly weaker, but it proved not to be so easy for a man who loved his food, and my mother quickly tempted him back with his favourite dishes. Still he searched for a way out. He talked frankly about how difficult it was to kill oneself. Eventually he died naturally, a few weeks after the diagnosis, with excellent care and surrounded by his family. The point is that he – and we – did not know he would die so soon. If the Assisted Dying Bill had been law, Joel would have had the assurance that he could die on his own terms when he decided that it was no longer bearable, without having to endure the prospect of prolonged deterioration until death. He would not have had to waste his last weeks searching the internet for ways to die, and we, his family, would not have had to witness him in that distress. We received thousands of tributes to Joel when he died, testifying to the astonishing work that he did in the field of human rights and charity. I can think of no more fitting tribute than the passing of the assisted dying law which he campaigned for with such passion and which would have been so comforting to him at the end of his life. It did not happen in his lifetime, but I sincerely hope it does in mine. https://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry/remembering-my-father-lord-joffe-a-campaigner-for-justice-in-life-and-in-death_uk_5a15530be4b009b331ad75f7