Maureen Clark, who topped a UN poll this week to become a judge of the new International Criminal Court, was an opponent to be feared among Irish barristers, writes Carol Coulter, Legal Affairs Correspondent
Maureen Clark was working on her judgment for the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, in the Hague, when the news came through that she had topped the poll of UN diplomats as a judge of the newly-created International Criminal Court. "I didn't even expect to be elected on the first round," she says. And she insists her election is not attributable to her own qualities, but to "the fantastic people working for us \ in Washington and New York". She also had the support of non-governmental organisations, particularly the Caucus for Gender Justice and Amnesty International.
She had promised the secretarial staff in the Hague tribunal who were rooting for her that, elected or not, she would have a party when she got back from New York, and she returned on Monday last. So she ordered six bottles of good champagne and took out her stash of west Cork smoked salmon, and all the secretaries came.
"Then, little by little, all the judges came and said: 'How come we weren't invited?' and we had a lovely party."
It is characteristic of her that her first guests were the secretaries, as she insists she could never have been successful in her career without the support of those helping her, both at work and at home. She was one of only 20 women at the Bar when she was called in 1975. She followed the gruelling route of the circuit Bar to become a leading prosecuting counsel for the State before being elected to the Hague tribunal.
The International Criminal Court, which is expected to be operational by the end of this year, will try special cases of crimes against humanity, war crimes and genocide. It has a mandate to try individuals rather than states.
Clark was born in Scotland to a Scottish Presbyterian father and an Irish Catholic mother, but spent most of her childhood in Malaya, where her father worked as an engineer. Her school was run by an order of French nuns, and she and her sister were the only Europeans there. The language of the school was English, the nuns spoke to each other in French, and all the girls spoke Malay, so she also speaks both these languages.
The family moved to Ireland when she was 12. She spent a year in the University of Lyons before returning to Ireland to study law in UCD. While there, she met and married an American medical student, and she went with him to the US when she graduated. They had two children, a boy and a girl. But the marriage did not last, and she came back to Dublin with the children and continued her legal studies in Trinity College and the King's Inns.
She describes being a single mother in Dublin in the 1970s as "ghastly". But she is full of praise for her family and friends, who made it possible for her to qualify and begin her career at the Bar.
"My family were marvellous. They took the children for two weeks every summer while I was doing my Bar exams. Natalie Newman, who ran the Montessori school they went to, would take them in early and keep them late."
Her children also made it easy, she says. "My friends used to call them drip-dry kids - easy care. They were great fun, we grew up together. They were non-complaining, nice kids." She is very proud of them both, John, a statistician and Kate, a doctor. "They're good citizens."
They had to be in boarding school while she was on circuit. She opted for this gruelling job, rare for a woman, because she took the advice of Mary Robinson, who told her: "If you want to be a real barrister you have to do what the men do. You have to go on circuit." So she did, prosecuting on behalf of the State on the south-eastern circuit for more than a decade, before becoming a senior counsel and concentrating her work in Dublin.
"Don't be misled by the gentle appearance," says a colleague. "She wasn't taking any prisoners when she was prosecuting. She was seen as an opponent to be feared."
Given her gender, unusual background and colonial accent, Clark would have stood out in the clubby, boozy and very male environment of the circuit Bar, and she was the butt of some teasing, good-natured and otherwise. It is clear she met considerable hostility because she was a woman, and she is acidic about some of her less enlightened colleagues. But she is also very generous about the many who encouraged and supported her, and insists that they be acknowledged in any media interviews.
She is not clubbable, but socialises with friends, as well as enjoying the company of her children. She also enjoys solitary pursuits, such as fishing, bird-watching and gardening, and has a house in west Cork with a stepped garden that she loves.
"The one sad thing about this is that I was really looking forward to coming back," she says. "I was looking forward to a more normal life. But you never know, do you?"
She may yet get back for a while at least. Although 18 judges will join the panel of the International Criminal Court, which will sit in the Hague, only three will be full-time, the president and two vice-presidents. Lots will be drawn for the others to serve different terms of six, three and nine years. So, uncertainty has not ended for Maureen Clark. But her friends and colleagues believe that neither this nor anything else will daunt her.