Call of justice
Human rights lawyer Jennifer Robinson is known for her high-profile cases. Having returned home to Australia, she reflects upon the humble upbringing that shaped her legal career and her passion for building a legacy aimed at inspiring the next generation.
Human rights lawyer Jennifer Robinson is known for her high-profile cases and celebrity clientele. Having returned home to Australia, where she continues to work internationally, she reflects upon the humble upbringing that shaped her legal career and her passion for building a legacy aimed at inspiring the next generation. By Jessica Montague. Styled by Harriet Crawford. Photographed by Robbie Fimmano.
When Amber Heard fronted the world’s media outside London’s High Court in July last year and spoke of how “incredibly painful” it had been to relive the “traumatic” details of her break-up with husband Johnny Depp, it wasn’t just the 34-year-old Hollywood actress who made headlines. Following an explosive three-week libel trial, articles swirled about the identity of the woman standing steadfastly next to Heard. The one dressed in a beautifully tailored red dress who had also accompanied her to court each day, sometimes even holding her hand.
Back in 2014, when the same woman was snapped riding stylishly on the back of a water taxi at the Venice wedding of her close friend and work colleague Amal Clooney, the world’s media jumped to identify her. Who was that blonde wearing a backless Johanna Johnson dress laughing along with fellow guest Bill Murray as they waved to well-wishing onlookers?
As it transpires, Australian human rights lawyer Jennifer Robinson has never coveted making her own headlines. But since the global attention of the Johnny Depp case, she’s inadvertently gone from being a behind-the-scenes resource and confidante to being labelled the ‘A-list’s go-to lawyer’ by UK media.
Over breakfast on a brisk Bondi morning, wearing a silk shirt the colour of clotted cream, Robinson insists she didn’t aim to make headlines purely for publicity, especially with her wardrobe choices.
“I don’t choose my clothes to make a statement, I choose my clothes because of what I feel good in,” she clarifies. “And as a lawyer, why shouldn’t I wear what I want? What I wear shouldn’t be the subject of conversation … But, it was interesting, there was a lot of commentary about my fashion choices during the [Johnny Depp] trial, which was not something I set out to do or sought.”
The reality is Robinson is much more comfortable commanding a courtroom, running in high-powered circles in London where she’s lived for the past 15 years and meeting with politicians to advocate for clients – such as Julian Assange, who she’s also represented as part of his legal team for the past 10 years – than having her outfits dissected in the media.
Even more surprising is the fact she’s perfectly at ease kicking off her heels entirely and enjoying a morning surf which, unbeknownst to many, is what she’s been doing for much of the past 18 months in Sydney’s eastern suburbs.
Robinson spent most of the 2020 lockdown under the radar in Australia and only returned to London twice, where she is a barrister at Doughty Street Chambers under distinguished founder Geoffrey Robertson QC. First, for
the Johnny Depp trial, which resulted in the actor’s libel claim against The Sun (which had labelled the actor a “wife beater”) being dismissed, and later for the latest Julian Assange trial, which saw a judge rule against the WikiLeaks founder being extradited to the United States on the basis of mental health grounds.
For years Robinson had been toying with the idea of spending more time back in Australia and a silver lining out of Covid is that it’s allowed her to finally make that shift.
“My practice out of London continues, but I’m doing it from here. It means being up late in the night and early in the morning. I’m on phone calls and Zooms at wild and wonderful times,” she says with a laugh, “but I’m used to that because my work is so international. For me, it’s the best of all worlds to be based out of Australia and still be able to work. I’m loving being home.”
While she does have court dates, Robinson explains they are still being held remotely, so she can now log on at seven at night instead of 10 in the morning. “Covid has enabled that. I even did a court hearing from my mum’s place on the South Coast,” she says. “I went surfing during the day, came home, got online and did a hearing in London. For me it’s amazing, because I miss home. I miss Australia.”
A large part of her homesickness and desire to return has been family. While Robinson may have a global reputation for legal victories and famous clientele, she hails from a much more unassuming upbringing in the New South Wales coastal town of Berry, where she grew up the eldest of four siblings to a racehorse trainer and teacher. Her parents and extended family (as well as a half-brother and half-sister from her father’s second marriage) are still based here, while her siblings and a handful of nieces and nephews, whom Robinson adores, are all in Sydney.
“My family grounds me in massive ways and coming from the country, going back there, it grounds me. It doesn’t matter what I’ve done, it doesn’t matter what my job is or where I’ve been. It’s what I love about coming here … When I’m down in Berry,” Robinson shrugs, “I’m just Jen.”
Whether it’s her most recent birthday – her 40th, celebrated earlier in 2021 – or simply returning to her roots after so long living in London, Robinson has not only been reflecting on her achievements this year, but also fixing her gaze firmly on the legacy she wants to build.
“I think like any milestone birthday, it’s a great opportunity to think about where you are and what you want to achieve in life, just like when I turned 30,” she says of her recent musings. “I’m proud of what I’ve done to date, but there’s still so much I want to do. And actually, I think my birthday has given me impetus to tick those boxes of the things that have been on my list for the last decade. It’s time to get on with it.”
A major driving force for Robinson is, she says, “to contribute to Australia” after so many years abroad. The first of these ambitions was realised a few months ago when she launched the Acacia Scholarships in partnership with the Public Education Foundation, an initiative tied very much to her personal history.
As a pupil of Bomaderry High School, Robinson was a well-rounded and diligent student thanks to her mother’s focus on education and father’s daily example of strong work ethic (the highest insult in her family was to be labelled lazy).
“I was always quite certain I wanted to do well and give myself the best chance I possibly could at high school, but I also played a lot of sport and went to a lot of parties,” Robinson remembers fondly. “I guess I’m not so different to the person I am now. I’m the kind of person who works hard, but plays hard and lives a very full life away from work.”
Even so, Robinson had limited mentoring opportunities and didn’t know anyone in the legal profession growing up. When she expressed interest in becoming a doctor or physio at high school, one particular teacher told her to lower her expectations.
A keen interest in Indonesian studies led to a degree in Asian Studies at the Australian National University (ANU) in Canberra, which she combined with law (upon her mum’s insistence on completing something ‘vocational’). This led to a lifechanging trip at the age of 21 to West Papua, a conflict zone, where she worked with an NGO investigating cases that involved police brutality against students, women raped by the military, forced disappearances and eventually, the trial of Benny Wenda (the West Papuan independence leader), who was then being held as a political prisoner.
“That experience changed my life so I couldn’t just come back [to normalcy]. I came back, but I was devastated,” Robinson recalls. “In retrospect, I was so traumatised by what I’d seen and I couldn’t [sit and] do nothing, but I didn’t know what I could do about it either. My whole perspective of my life had changed. Friends from uni were talking about what they were going to wear to the pub on a Friday night. I was just like, ‘Who cares?’ There are so many bigger things happening in the world.”
She was later awarded a Rhodes Scholarship after learning about it during her final year of uni, which saw her complete a Bachelor of
“My whole perspective of my life had changed. Friends from uni were talking about what they were going to wear to the pub on a Friday night. I was just like, ‘Who cares?’”
Civil Law and Masters in Public International Law at Oxford. It was during her time here that Robinson acutely became aware just how much of an anomaly her upbringing and background was.
“I remember looking around and realising that I was one of the few public school kids there [in Oxford],” she says. “I did a bit of a survey of the Australian Rhodes Scholars over time and in my year, for example, 11 scholarships went to Australia and three of those were women. Two of the women went to a public school, everybody else went to private schools [which] I learned was pretty standard across the years. I was like: ‘Wait a second, why are there so few public school kids applying for this?’”
Robinson says it’s always been ingrained in her family to give back as much as you can, either financially (“no matter how much money we had”) or by donating your time. After cementing a career in London, she found a way to do this by visiting and speaking with students about her career path at both Bomaderry High School and ANU whenever she returned home.
“Because I wish I’d had mentors and people who I could speak to about my future when I was younger, I’m very conscious about trying to share the experience I’ve had with those who are coming up behind me,” she says. “I don’t remember ever having that in a school assembly, having someone come and talk to us about what might be possible, so I did that independently.”
The Acacia Scholarship is a formalised extension of Robinson’s commitment to inspiring the next generation since she now admits, “I can’t be at Bomaderry High every year and I can’t always guarantee I’ll get back to have that conversation with the kids”.
Launched earlier this year, a number of public school alumni will donate $3,000 across three years to a student in their old school district, as well as knowledge and experience in the form of mentoring. Robinson signed up high-profile friends (and fellow public school graduates) to help roll it out, including writer Kathy Lette, comedian Adam Hills, actor Rhys Muldoon and TV presenter Tom Tilley. It is her hope, however, that any public school graduate who wants to give back will be able to join the program and that eventually, every school district in Australia will have a fellow assigned to mentoring local students.
In naming the scholarship, Robinson was keen to find a uniquely Australian metaphor for what she was trying to instil in the next generation of graduates. Ironically, it was a girlfriend from her days at Bomaderry High who helped her nail it: Acacia, because it refers to wattle, Australia’s national plant, but also because sometimes the seeds require fire to flourish. “With public education, you have everything that you need to succeed and sometimes it just takes that spark to inspire you,” she says.
Robinson has been “overwhelmed by the reaction” since its launch and especially since sharing her journey on ABC’s Australian Story in March. She has also been personally reminded of the power of paying it forward and recalls one such encounter over email with a girl named Sarah Dobbie, also from ANU.
“She said: ‘You might not remember, but you came and spoke at ANU and I went to that talk. At the time I was thinking of quitting my law degree, but after I saw you speak I knew there was a place in the world for me.’” Inspired by Robinson, Dobbie stayed in her law degree, was awarded a Rhodes Scholarship, went to Oxford and is also now a barrister in London.
“I cried when I got that email and I still get emotional thinking about it,” Robinson says. “It’s such a little thing to give your time and to talk about your experience, but the impact you might have … even the possibility of having that impact on someone, that’s why I encourage people to come and join.”
Since Australian Story, Robinson has found herself recognised a little more than usual, but even with her public profile the highest it’s been in Australia, she jokes she’s not the most famous member of her family. As it turns out, Matt Ford from the Inspired Unemployed (the South Coast duo known for their low-fi comedy sketches with more than 1.1 million followers on Instagram) is her cousin.
She recalls how Matt and his comedic partner Jack Steele were meant to stay at her place when they were travelling in Europe before they came home and started the now famous account. “But I wasn’t there or whatever happened, it didn’t work out,” says Robinson. “They came back and I remember my brother saying: ‘Have you seen Matt’s Instagram feed? It’s really funny.’”
“I have to say, I love their stuff,” she adds. “You can imagine how stressful my days could be when I was in London, so I would watch it because it’s an easy laugh and also reminds me of where I come from. It’s that kind of Australian humour that reminds me so much of my childhood, so I found watching them both a relief but also a kind of nostalgic homesickness cure.”
Since returning home, Robinson is still working just as hard (“Long hours is just the nature of the profession,” she says), but she also appears to be less inclined to need viral videos shot from her local area to switch off.
In her late 20s she was quoted in an Australian legal magazine saying she only had champagne and “maybe a mouldy piece of cheese” in the fridge. “I was just in the media because of WikiLeaks and I was working really crazy hours at the time but also trying to squeeze in a social life and partying when I could, so that was my life,” she says, laughing. These days, she says you’re more likely to find kale, cold-pressed juices and kombucha in the fridge.
“I’m starting to get to a point where I can’t quite work and play as hard as I used to, I guess. Actually, I don’t want to work and play as hard as I used to,” she corrects herself. “I’m now quite religious about exercising and staying well, because it makes me better at my job.”
Which is understandable because looking at her current workload is an undertaking in itself. Robinson’s legal work currently canvasses the environment (she is advising small island states on climate change and has had fracking declared unlawful in the UK on climate change grounds); sport (she has advised the Matildas and the Australian players’ union on prize money equality for the Women’s
World Cup); media (she’s acting for journalists targeted by Israel both at the UN and in the International Criminal Court); and MeToo (advising journalists and media organisations on reporting and women who want to speak about their abuse or are being sued for doing so).
Locally, Robinson has also teamed up this year with RwandanAustralian man Noël Zihabamwe to lodge a complaint to the UN over the disappearance of his brothers after his refusal to spy on fellow Rwandans here in Australia. She is also taking Australia to the UN over the death of David Dungay Jr, the Dunghutti man who died in custody at Long Bay Jail in 2015, who became one of our highest profile “I can’t breathe” cases following the death of George Floyd.
In the background, she is still also working tirelessly on having Julian Assange brought home to Australia from the UK where he is currently in Belmarsh Prison, still facing extradition to the US and a possible 175 years in prison.
“I’ve been going to parliament to brief members about this case since 2010, so for over 10 years now,” Robinson says of Assange. “We’ve now got all the major parties, except for the Liberal party saying that this has gone on way too long and it’s time to bring him home. It’s taken way too long, but I think we’re getting closer.”
Another passion point is West Papua, with Robinson still acting as legal counsel to the liberational movement fighting for independence from Indonesia and its leader Benny Wenda. “I feel it’s my obligation having been there and seen what I’ve seen … It was such a pivotal moment in my life and it’s a big part of what has made me who I am,” she says referring to the trip that inspired her to become a human rights lawyer in the first place. “I feel a huge obligation to help, because of what I saw.” For this work, Robinson was awarded the Australian PeaceWomen Award in May.
In what little spare time she has, Robinson is also planning two books – one about West Papua and one she hopes will be about inspiring people to have the courage to take action against any wrongdoings they witness. “I really feel strongly about empowering people to understand that they have agency. If something is affecting you or if you see an injustice, do something about it. You can create change, it is possible.”
Naturally, questions about a future in politics are persistent, too. While she doesn’t outwardly dismiss the idea, Robinson insists she loves being a lawyer. “For me it’s all about impact and I think, at least for now, I’m still learning my craft, and I’m really enjoying the things that I’m able to do with the law for social justice and human rights.”
“But,” she pauses. “I would never rule anything out. Life is long and I’m still, in barrister terms, very young. I’ve got a lot to learn and I’m only really beginning.”
“I really feel strongly about empowering people to understand that they have agency. If something is affecting you or if you see an injustice, do something about it. You can create change”