Queensland was perhaps fortunate to have had none other than our most eminent jurist, Paul de Jersey, to navigate that potentially hazardous diplomatic minefield.

The one-time silk, Supreme Court Judge, Chief Justice and 26th Governor of Queensland was at a formal judicial event in the late 1990s when Indigenous activist, Murrandoo Yanner, the firebrand from the Gulf country, was called upon to give an address on reconciliation.

Mr de Jersey was well aware that he had dispatched the youthful Yanner to the Big House several years earlier.

But, as Chief Justice, he decided Mr Yanner’s speech was good enough to warrant his acknowledgment.

“So I went over to congratulate him and he embraced me!’’ recalls Mr de Jersey.

“And I mean really embraced me.

“I was somewhat surprised, but I reciprocated, and that did appear to raise some eyebrows.’’

The physical affection, repeated when Mr de Jersey met Mr Yanner again up at Normanton a few years later, was in keeping with the spirit of reconciliation, he decided.

It may also be an indication that Mr de Jersey, with more than half a century’s experience in courts, has come to understand that not all those on the wrong side of the law are necessarily bad people.

“I think he is basically a nice fellow, Murrandoo.’’

Crime and punishment have been the major themes of his life. We’re sitting at Lennons Hotel in Queens Street, only a few hundred metres from his first chambers where he hung out his shingle and began his extraordinary career.

Crime and punishment, he readily acknowledges, will be the central theme of the looming Queensland election this October but, given his past positions, he’s reluctant to make too much public commentary on political matters.

He does, however, make it clear that he believes both major parties have an obligation to make it clear to the public exactly what their policies are on crime, and he adds this:

“If rehabilitation is not working, and it looks like in some communities it is not, then the rehabilitative process has to be recalibrated with the assistance of experts.

“If a recalibrated rehabilitation process still does not work, then there will be calls for more condign punishment of repeat offenders.’’

Condign is a word with a history going back to Tudor England meaning a fitting or deserving punishment.

The former Chief Justice, in his guarded way, is saying that if present methods continue to fail, there will be increasing pressure to punish and/or confine criminals in some way in order to prevent them continuing on their crime sprees.

But he won’t say a bad word about the present members of the judiciary and the sentences they hand down, declaring that would be entirely inappropriate, while his criticism of the present Queensland court system itself is a familiar and routine one – it’s under-resourced.

He doesn’t know what led him to lawyering, but the desire was always there for as far back as he can remember.

He had briefly flirted with the idea of a medical degree but by the time his schoolteacher dad had moved the family to Brisbane after stints in the regions including Longreach and Maryborough, he was moving inexorably towards the law.

The family had settled in Sherwood by the time he was reaching adolescence, Brisbane Mayor Clem Jones had sewered the city and the old abandoned outdoor toilet _ colloquially known as “The Thunder Box’’ _ provided a refuge in which to concentrate on the books.

“I turned the old outdoor toilet into a study and it was there I studied during my days at the University of Queensland.’’

His attempts at criminal law were not a big hit – “I think I had six cases and lost five of them’’ – but with wife Kaye working as a librarian and bringing in an income he was able to persevere and soon became one of the shining legal lights of his generation, capping his career by becoming Queensland’s 26th governor in July of 2014.

He still has a hand in the legal world, regularly jetting off to Tonga, that tiny Pacific nation which still has a king and “lords’’ and where he and a team of mostly retired judges form an appellate court, hearing matters dealing with criminal, civil and administrative laws.

“I have an appointment there for three or four years,’’ he says.

“I suppose I will keep going there as long as they want me to.’’

What he will also do, as demonstrated earlier this year, is speak out against what he sees as injustice.

Earlier this year he took aim at the state’s universities, including his alma mater UQ, for their “wishy washy” response to anti-Semitism and urged them to front up to the “racist” reality of the on-campus conflict.

“It was a brave move,’’ I say, and he immediately takes issue with the observation.

“Other people have said that to me, but I didn’t see it that way,’’ he replied.

“I thought I was saying something obvious.

“I have always had great difficulty understanding a rise in antisemitism.

“It is a worldwide phenomenon, we now know that, but to think of it arising here in our wonderful, calm, so-called multicultural Australia _ it was a matter of great surprise to me.

“I think the reaction, not only in governments but in parts of the community as well, has been far too muted.’’

He could not have said as much as a Vice Regal, and he appears to be almost grateful that the life of privilege up in Fernberg in Paddington is over, even if he was honoured to take on the role of Governor.

When the Labor Government asked him to stay on for a few more months as the incoming Governor, Jeannette Young, in her role as chief health officer, sorted out the COVID-19 vaccine rollout, he did so willingly.

But, as he approaches his 76th birthday, he says the work of the governor can become a bit daunting, especially as he did as Queen Elizabeth 11 personally instructed him to do and concentrated a lot of his energies on visiting the regions.

It’s instructive of the sort of man he is that, when asked about all the fascinating people he has met in his vice-regal role, he doesn’t point to royalty or prime ministers or presidents, but a man named Michael Cumner.

Mr Cumner, confined to a wheelchair, is not an official advocate for disability services but was often present at official events which required the presence of the Chief Justice and later, the Governor.

He would even wait with his carer on the corner of George and Ann streets on executive council days so he could see the Governor drive by in the Rolls Royce.

Both Mr de Jersey and wife Kaye were deeply impressed by him as he dealt stoically with a lifelong condition and they began to make a personal connection every time they saw him.

Their efforts led to Mr Cumner’s photograph being included in the book “The Governors of Modern Queensland’’ by Brisbane journalist David Fagan and Madonna King.

“Michael was thrilled by that, utterly thrilled,’’ says Mr de Jersey.

So were the de Jerseys.

“That we could put a little bit of joy into Michael’s life – that was to us a truly great privilege.’

Meal complete Mr de Jersey, ever ready for a cross examination, asks how I come to decide the rating on the steak.

“I usually say they are great, an eight to a ten, largely because work pays for them,’’ I say.

Lennons has provided us with a private room for the meal, the steaks are perfectly cooked, the staff are attentive and seem to encompass a vast array of representatives from various levels of management and the historic pub which was favoured by generations of country Queenslanders when they visited the Big Smoke looks straight over the Queen Street Mall, providing a wonderful afternoon vista.

The former Chief Justice delivers his judgement speedily.

“I’ll call it ten out of ten.’’