Professor Conor Gearty KC (Hon)

Toast to Conor, Matrix, 16 October 2025

Good evening all - Matrix colleagues, past and present, and, most especially, Aoife.

We are so very moved, Aoife, that you have carved out a space in your grief to be with us this evening, to remember and honour your darling Conor.

It is so very fitting that this gathering is taking place this week, which is – almost unbelievably – just over a month since Conor’s devastating death. It reflects a very beautiful, old Irish tradition, called the “Month’s Mind”, still very much observed – when the community gathers around the bereaved family, a month or so after the death, often for a requiem Mass (any excuse for a Mass…), to pray for the deceased, to show continuing support, to hold one another in grief, to tell stories, to laugh, to cry, and to raise a glass or two.

We are gathering this evening with family, as family, and as I understand it, no formal speeches are planned, but I have been asked just to say a few words and lead a toast to Conor.
That in itself is a mark of what we have lost as a collective. It is of course Conor himself who would have always been the go-to person at Matrix for things of this kind. Just as he was the go-to person to chair or to speak at any difficult meeting at Matrix when unity was called for, or indeed to speak at celebratory events. His speech at my KC party was a particular tour de force - like so much of what he did - which I have listened to over and over this past few weeks. Because Conor always, always had the words: to encourage; to inspire; to bring together; to entertain; and always – subtly and gently, but very profoundly – to teach.

Conor was not only a founding member of Matrix and an engaged and engaging colleague and friend and mentor to so many of us here. He has been, without a shadow of a doubt, the beating heart and soul of our organisation for the past 25 years.

Our grief and loss are, of course, dwarfed by those of Aoife, Eliza, Owen, Éile and Fiadh, and the rest of Conor’s family. But it is nevertheless difficult to know what we will do without him, what the world will do without him – without his brilliance, his guidance, his extraordinary ability and desire to give of himself – particularly in these dark times, when his voice is needed more than ever, and he had so much more to say.

But Conor held no truck with despair or disillusionment, even in the most difficult of times. He had a profound conviction in hope over cynicism, a defiant hope, that dared always to believe in better, for ourselves, for others, for the world. To no doubt misquote Seamus Heaney: “Hope not as optimism, which expects things to turn out well, but something rooted in the conviction that there is good worth working for”. A belief that “better shores are reachable from here”.

That hope was borne out of the radical compassion and empathy that Conor rightly believed should be at the core of the concept of human rights, its theory and practice. A radical compassion and empathy which informed not only his legal scholarship but also how he led his life. It is that that led him to confront and challenge injustice, to identify it and to call it out, courageously and defiantly. Not just in relation to his native Ireland – although it is there that the spark was lit. But in the long and proud tradition of Irish advocates, to raise his voice also for other people and peoples similarly oppressed by colonialism, State power and violence. His deep humanity shone through particularly brightly, recently, through his moral clarity, outrage, and powerful advocacy on behalf of the Palestinians in Gaza.

That is the example he has shown and the legacy he has left, and the challenge that he has laid down for all of us: to carry forward that hope, empathy and radical compassion; to believe that better shores are reachable from here, and to do what we can to bring them closer; to be more Conor – in our work, in our lives and in our dealings with others.

So, I would ask you all to raise your glasses to Conor. A truly extraordinary, warm, kind, intelligent, principled, and hilariously funny man. A man of Faith. A proud Irishman; indeed a proud – some might say inordinately proud – Longford man, and a Kentish Towner. A giant of a human being, whom we are so exceptionally lucky to have known, to have loved, and to have learned from, and whose contribution to our organisation and to the world simply cannot be overstated.

Ní bheidh a leithéid arís ann. We will never see his likes again.

To Conor. With deep gratitude for everything you were, everything you did, and everything you stood for. May you have reached those better shores you forever believed were reachable. Rest easy, in peace, in power, and in purpose profoundly fulfilled.

Buíochas mór ó chroí, a chara.

I met Conor when I won a term studentship at Wolfson College. I was a cop and we met nearly every night in the bar. We discussed Irish literature. Conor told me that 'Ulysses' was a short story that got out of hand. The most delightful man I ever met and probably a genius. We disagreed on most things but he left a mark and I cried when I read of his passing.

I was so sad to hear that Conor is no longer with us. His powerful and incisive contribution to human rights practice and scholarship in the UK and globally will live on for many generations and his warmth and charisma will be sorely missed. With many condolences to Aiofe and children, and to all his students and colleagues. Sandy Fredman.

Thank you Conor for your care and encouragement. Every lecture was a joy: thought-provoking, often hilarious and always inspirational. My thoughts are with your loved ones.

I had the tremendous good fortune to be taught constitutional and criminal law by Conor at Cambridge in 1987 and subsequently to work with him in the Civil Liberties Research Unit at King's College London. He was an inspiring teacher and generous colleague. He managed to combine intellectual intensity and academic rigour with a light and humorous touch. Back in 1987, he would teach a small group of only three or four of us at a time. One of us would read out our essay and then the debate would begin. He had very high expectations: he would have read all the cases and articles set for that week and he expected us to have done the same. He was always genuinely interested in what we had to say and relished an informed debate. He had no favourites, although I think he always secretly liked hearing most of all from the more conservative students among us. He wanted to hear from them why they held the beliefs and assumptions they did about constitutional law and whether they could defend them. His supervisions were a fascinating counterpoint to the constitutional law lectures (which started with Dicey and seemed to end in about 1958). By contrast, Connor taught us constitutional law (and criminal law) through the prism of the Spycatchcer trials and the miners' strike. I have never emerged from a seminar in any institution as energised as after a supervision with Conor.
He relished his position as an outsider within the Establishment. In 1987 it was still compulsory in Cambridge for law lecturers to wear gowns (communicating at a glance where the lecturer stood in the academic hierarchy). Those like Conor with a PhD got to wear gowns with long floor-trailing sleeves. He thought the rule was ridiculous, of course, but rather than moaning about it, he used the gown to great (and sometimes comic) effect in his tort lectures by intermittently twirling his sleeves in the air or wrapping them tightly around his arms then dramatically releasing them to emphasize key points in his lecture.
When I joined Conor at the CLRU at King's in 1993 to work on a project about Anti-Terrorism Law in Northern Ireland, I was struck by two things: Conor's work ethic and his commitment to engagement across political divides. He would get up every day at 4.15 a.m. take a cup of tea up to his study at home and do a good two hours writing before breakfast. This he said was his golden work time. I, by contrast, would struggle to get into our office on the Strand by 9. Though a proud Irish Republican, Conor was not interested in partisan positions or writing. For our project he sent me to interview senior figures in the Royalist community and security forces in Northern Ireland. He was for many years heavily involved in the work of British Irish Association in bringing all sides in the conflict to together to speak to each other which helped pave the way for the Peace Process.
I was devasted last week when I heard the news of his death. I had only recently watched a podcast in which Conor talked with typical honesty (and self deprecation) about his bike accident and how it made him reevaluate certain aspects of his life and work. It was poignant too to read his last article in this week's LRB on the Supreme Court's lack of regard for Human Rights jurisprudence. It was typical Conor: penetrating and tightly argued but with some delightful playful asides. As so often when reading something by him, I found myself transported back to the atmosphere of those supervisions in 1987. I will miss him greatly and deeply regret that I never got to tell him how much he meant to me.

It is an irony, and one Conor surely would have ridiculed, that his death day, 9/11, was coincidentally the very day that triggered the Global War on (or of) Terror to which so much of his coruscating scholarship was devoted, especially his last book, "Homeland Insecurity: The Rise and Rise of Global Anti-Terrorism Law". The last time we met, for lunch and a beer at the Dealunay near LSE, we chatted about this book and counter-terrorism (Conor wanted to hear about my father’s experiences in the Spanish Civil War and how London Cypriots in the 1930s were treated as a ‘suspect community’ and subjected to similar surveillance techniques later used against the Irish and Islamic communities during and after the 1970s), neoliberalism in modern universities (he much enjoyed the satirical humour in Errol Blackadder’s "Campus Chainsaw Massacre"), and reminisced about his wonderful Hamlyn lectures, "Can Human Rights Survive?" delivered 20 years ago, which is when we first met and got to know each other. More recently, we corresponded about the destruction of Gaza and litigation before the ICJ. Conor was an exemplary scholar and teacher, and like so many others whose lives Conor enriched, I feel privileged to have known him. The loss to his family is unimaginable, and his friendship, collegiality, humour and kindness to colleagues and students are irreplaceable and will not be forgotten, nor will his massive contributions and unique insights to the study and teaching of human rights. It is a measure of Conor’s eminence that the lives of so many who never knew him, including Palestinians and other underdogs, will continue to feel his benign influence, both directly and indirectly, for many years to come.

Conor was one of those people who made an impact on your life that stayed with you even when you weren't with him. He was generous with the most important thing, his time. He always made you feel like you were important and that what you had to say was worth listening to. He also left you feeling happier when you spent time with him.
I am grateful to have had him in my life and send love to his family at this sad time.

As a former undergraduate law student of Conor’s from 1993-1995 at Kings College London, I am beyond devastated to hear about his sudden passing. Words cannot express how much he impacted me and how special it was to be taught by him.

Reading the condolences below, as well as hearing his wife Aiofe and children speak at his funeral today, it is evident that not only was Conor universally beloved but that his remarkable energy, vibrance, kindness and openness touched us all.

I first encountered Conor as a 1st Year law student age 18, in the KCL lecture theatre, where from his first utterance in that gloriously disarming Irish accent, he pierced through the Tuesday morning apathy that accompanied our 9am Constitutional Law lecture and made everyone sit up a little straighter, pay a little bit more attention and vie to contribute just to engage with him.

Conor was special - as a teacher, but more in fact as a human. He had this way about him that drew you in and made you want to be in his presence. When he was speaking to you one to one, you basked in the glow of his attention. He made you feel special and important, not for any of your accomplishments but by virtue of you being a fellow human.

Being lectured by him got me hooked! It was therefore a no brainer that I picked Human Rights as my sole elective in 2nd Year just to have the opportunity to be taught by him directly and I thanked my lucky stars when I was in fact assigned to his seminar group. His riveting Human Rights seminars quickly became the highlight of my week. Conor was passionate, hilarious, inspiring and endlessly charismatic - hands down my favourite tutor. Even now 30 years on I can still remember the feeling of being in his presence and the awe that I felt at his brilliance, kindness, energy, wit and charm. 

When I qualified as a solicitor in 2001 I went back to Kings to take a walk down memory lane. Upon visiting the law school, I was excited to discover that Conor was in his office so I climbed the maze of stairs and knocked on his door. He answered with his trademark smile, recognised me immediately (which I was delighted by of course!) and we proceeded to catch up outside his office. As he opened the door to go back in I was surprised and amused to find a circle of students waiting patiently for him to resume his tutorial - of course they were - Conor was always worth the wait!

I am bereft that I didn’t reconnect with Conor in recent years and now will not have the opportunity to do so. Upon leaving the law I have used my voice to speak about things that I believe in and I have loved discovering that Conor consistently used his voice and strong moral convictions to speak out for Palestine and against other forms of injustice and oppression.

The world most definitely feels a little dimmer but as his daughter Eliza said today at his funeral, if we can embody what Conor taught us and the values he held dear, we can keep him alive not only in our hearts but also in the world.

My heartfelt condolences to his wife Aiofe, his children Eliza, Owen, Éile and Fiadh, his mother Margot, his siblings and other family and friends. I know that the loss of Conor is immeasurable but I hope that reading how he made people feel and the light he brought, brings you all some comfort at this time.

One of the best teachers I've ever had. I can still feel the energy and brillance of his presence thirty years later. My deepest condolences to his wife and family.

It is not easy to put into words the impact of a teacher whose scholarship has shaped the understanding of law for so many. For those fortunate enough to study under Prof. Gearty, learning was never confined to doctrinal theory. It was an encounter with conviction, a call to courage, and above all an invitation to carve out a better future – grounded in principles and backed by reason.

Conor was careful to avoid any tendency to idealize human rights. He knew their fragility, their contested history, their vulnerability to political backlash, and their current backsliding. His early writings had been sharply critical of how power remains complicit in eroding liberty. He was even sceptical of the Human Rights Act in its infancy, worrying it would place too much authority in the hands of unelected judges. Yet in later years, he came to see how the legislation could serve as a shield for the vulnerable and defended it with his characteristic eloquence. This was not an inconsistency; it was courage - to re-think, evolve and to continue to hope.

That same courage shaped his teachings. His legacy remains in not merely forwarding dogmatic principles, but in showing us how reasoning itself forms the foundation of rights. To many of us, engaging with his teaching style meant grappling with first principles of law. Yet, it was also an affirmation that nothing was beyond reason or debate. To him, disagreement was a sign of life; and ideas tempered by critique only grew stronger with a classic “Gearty Grilling”. As a student, that experience was liberating. It was not just an invitation to learn, but to question, to venture, and to know that our own voices and actions, however small in the grand design of things, mattered.

Hope, for him, was not vague optimism. It was active, demanding and audacious. It meant speaking truth to power, as he did through public debates, his writings across forums, and arguments in courtrooms. It involved building institutions, like the Centre for the Study of Human Rights at LSE and Matrix Chambers, that would outlast him. It also implied mentoring students with patience, consideration and empathy; and equipping them to take their own steps while being made aware of challenges that lie ahead.

Personally, his mentorship was transformative. Many arrived at LSE uncertain if their knowledge or ideas were any good, or whether one really belonged to such academic spaces. Conor listened, encouraged, teased, and challenged. He pushed students to refine their arguments, to be braver in their writings, and to own one’s perspective. I look back on my meetings with him during office-hours, that began as nervous conversations but soon became a platform to bring forth bold arguments and ideas; it prepared to me to be amazed, embarrassed, praised and critiqued – all with equal dispassion.

Looking back, he also had a way of making those around him laugh, often at oneself, and more often at the absurdities that come with law, life and beyond. That wit was an innate gift. It punctured pomposity and reminded those around him that even amidst the most intense of struggles, there lies space for levity and connection.

Prof. Gearty’s scholarship is infused with similar sentiment. He never shied away from exposing failures or hypocrisies, but he never gave in to despair. He insisted that law, when properly mobilised, could be a tool for justice. That insistence was contagious. It shaped generations of students, like me, who left his classroom believing that even in the face of setbacks, it was worth persisting, worth speaking and worth hoping.

To lose him is to lose a remarkable scholar, advocate, and teacher - and for me, personally, a mentor who combined incisive intellect with an extraordinary generosity of spirit. But his legacy does not rest simply in books written, cases argued, or citations gathered. It lives amidst the people he mentored, the communities he inspired, and the questions he urged those around to keep pursuing.

For me, his presence endures in the extraordinary conviction that stands to value hope over despair. That conviction is lighthouse of his scholarship - that resists cynicism, that dares to believe in better, and above all, engages with reason for a brighter future. His work enabled generations of students to confront injustice in the darkest of corners; to name it, to challenge it; and yet to believe stubbornly, courageously and even joyfully- that change is possible. To me, that is his gift, his challenge, and his enduring legacy.

Conor was fearless. He conceded nothing to the populist age we live in and was profoundly critical of those who sought to somehow accommodate the zeitgeist. When I saw him at seminars or other engagements he was without doubt one of the most lively, engaging and amusing speakers I had ever come across. His passion, erudition and determination flowed from his pen and from his speeches and inspired many of us to be more resolute and more courageous lawyers. We have lost one the great human rights lawyers of his generation but his passion will live on in those he taught, worked with and inspired.

Heartfelt condolences to his family at this difficult time.

I was very shocked and saddened to learn today that Dr. Conor Gearty has passed.
Conor taught me at Emmanuel College and left a life-long impression on me - for his intellect, his integrity, his humour, his passion for human rights and his dedication to his students and to the study of law. He held us all to very high standards. My condolences to his wife and family.
Anthony B. Webster

Conor lit up every event he spoke at, from chamber's meetings to lectures, to farewell dinners for colleagues. The need for his work to live on and illuminate the importance of human rights seems greater with each passing day. There is no doubt that it will continue to do exactly that.

My deepest condolences to Aoife, his children, his mother and family.

Kate Cook

If Oxford is the place of dreaming spires, then the UCD debating scene during the 1970s and 80s was the place of perspiring dreams. That was certainly how it appeared to us pimply Freshers squeezed into those benches on Thursday and Friday nights to watch the Law Society and L&H debates. Without Netflix or Playstation to distract us, we could focus on the lure of cheap wine at the pre-debate ‘reception,’ and the prospect after of the Montrose Hotel Bar, or perhaps even a six-pack and a party.
And in between, there were the speakers. ‘Are you not entertained?’ says Maximus in Gladiator. I wonder how Russell Crowe would have fared in front of the baying mob crowding into Theatre L or M? There were plenty of stars who did entertain us: Eugene McCague, Suzanne Kelly, Gerry Stembridge, Charles Meenan to name just some. But the brightest light of all shone from the star of Abbeylara, the late Conor Gearty.
It’s hard to identify the peculiar alchemy that made Conor so special, not just as a debater but also later as a lecturer, a lawyer and a passionate, informed and informative commentator on human rights. As well as wit and guile he had a boyish charm. His eternally youthful appearance was complimented by the idiosyncratic mop-top hair-do he sported well into his 60s. As a student he won every debating prize there was. When he and Donal O’Donnell – another clever, accomplished speaker – won the Observer Mace trophy twice in a row, the organisers considered changing the rules to stop them entering - and winning - again. Gearty also won the Irish Times Debating competition twice in a row; once with Donal, and the second time, to my great good fortune, with me - for Conor, the equivalent of being asked as a thoroughbred to carry top weight in the Gold Cup.

Although he qualified as a solicitor Conor chose academia instead, proving to be a gifted teacher in Cambridge and King’s College London before becoming Professor of Human Rights at LSE. At heart, however, he was a born advocate, and it was no surprise that he was a founder member of Matrix Chambers, whose other distinguished counsel include Cherie Booth; Conor was himself later made an honorary King’s Counsel.
‘Easy to speak,’ said Aristotle, ‘less easy to persuade.’ Perhaps Conor’s most distinctive characteristic was the infectious enthusiasm which accompanied the rigour of any argument he might make, whether dissecting the latest daft pronouncement by the UK Supreme Court or analysing the selection of the England football team’s back four. His willingness to confront established orthodoxies was frequently laced with engaging wit. One lecture he gave was provocatively titled “Was Michael Collins a terrorist or a human rights worker?” (His grandfather was a brother of Kitty Kiernan).
He wasn’t perfect. He supported Chelsea, until the antics of the club’s Russian oligarch owner became too much; he later adopted Fulham. He claimed to eschew sentimentality and nostalgia, and took self-deprecation almost to an art-form, yet he retained a borderline unhealthy atavistic devotion to his native Longford. One of the theses underpinning his many books, articles and interviews – that the concept of ‘terrorism’ is a contrivance designed to legitimise state violence against political opponents – won him few friends in the darker alcoves of the corridors of power. In the last podcast interview before his recent sudden death, he excoriated the UK Government’s proscription of ‘Palestine Action’: ‘If people are committing the offence of criminal damage,’ he argued, ‘why not just charge them with that?’ His bravery in taking unpopular stances, as well as his empathy, articulacy and humour endeared him enormously to his students. ‘What makes a teacher,’ he said, ‘is to care for the people you’re teaching.’

I am thinking now of his family, and in particular his wife Aoife, and their children Éile and Fiadh, as well Eliza and Owen, his children from his marriage to Diane, who sadly died in 2011. Their loss is immeasurable. But like so many others, I’ll miss his energy, his warmth, his distinctive chuckle, and his ability to ridicule pomposity and humbug, all delivered with his trademark humour and panache that recalled those sweaty, raucous nights in UCD. Whether listening to him speak, reading a piece he’d written, or simply chatting with him in the pub or over dinner, in his company I always felt the world was a little easier to understand – because Conor had made it so. In a time depressingly short of heroes, Conor Gearty was one of mine.

Most of the founding members of Matrix were rather serious and earnest people. Conor enlivened our meetings with his gentle humour as well as his wisdom and his perceptive view of his colleagues. After I left Matrix for the Bench we continued to meet regularly at Middle Temple where he was a distinguished and popular Bencher. A few month before his untimely death I had the rare privilege of hearing him argue a case in the Court of Appeal. We shall all miss him terribly.

I remember dearest Conor with the greatest affection and awe. It is with the deepest sadness that I've learned of his untimely death. Although I have many fond memories of him, perhaps my fondest is of the time back in the 1990s when, as a visiting fellow at the Institute of Commonwealth Studies I invited him to open a mini-series of lectures on human rights and Northern Ireland. The audience was packed with sceptical graduate students from around the world. Conor opened the proceedings by telling them that that by far the worst terrorist operating in NI was the British state. A collective gasp of horror met this assertion. By the end of the lecture, having stood up his proposition with unassailable facts, Conor had converted the whole room. I believe, that, as always, he changed their world perspective, and probably their lives, for ever. That was what Conor did.
with love and sympathy to his family and many friends, and even some of his opponents,
Jane Winter, former director, British Irish RIGHTS WATCH.

I can’t tell you how sad I was to hear this news today. I was privileged to enjoy friendship. I will our regular chats over coffee about our lives, our families, religion, politics and more besides. He was a man of integrity with a huge heart. My best wishes to his dear family, who I know meant so much to him - Abdul Wahid

It was my honour to share a stage with Conor when he took part in the Wollstonecraft Society Lecture 2024, with Shami Chakrabarti, talking about her book Human Rights: the Case for the Defence. He was a brilliant and informed communicator, he was angry and prickly, he was also funny. His humanity shone brightly in his outrage at the genocide in Gaza.

“Human rights is a visibility project - it's about getting seen. It is therefore dynamic. It is dynamic and not finite.”

I am grateful to have met him, and to have witnessed his fearless advocacy in full flow. The world of human rights has lost a powerful voice.

What a loss. I didn’t know Conor long. But we worked closely on a project that allowed me to see how well loved he was throughout the LSE community. Conor always charmed with his peerless wit and intellect, but switched from levity to gravity when the stakes were high. I miss our tactical chats in the doorway and his worldly advice on how to be the best in every aspect of a lawyer’s life, placing family paramount. Conor will remain the exemplary professor for so many of his junior colleagues.

I am deeply saddened to read of Conor's untimely passing and send my condolences to those who loved and knew him. He took me for my first supervision at Cambridge (criminal law) when he was at Emma. It felt like a baptism of fire - he made intellectual demands of us from day 1. His feedback in supervisions could be uncompromising, but his rigour and humour also made the best of us. The pride I felt when his only comment on my essay on insanity was "excellent" was a high spot for me. For a person from a comprehensive school, this was validation that I was enough. I deserved to be there. And that sense of self has followed me throughout my career - the foundation having been set by Conor all those years ago. I was delighted to have recently exchanged messages with him on twitter and I am truly saddened by his loss.

There are few people capable of truly inspiring others, fewer still who inspire others not with hate and division, but with hope, compassion and unity. There are so many attributes that must coalesce in a person to create this virtuous charisma. And of course, as all these beautiful tributes to Conor attest, he had all those rare qualities – in bucket loads. The world is so much duller and quieter without him, and as others have noted, his untimely death has come when we have never needed his unique presence more.
Aoife, Eliza, Owen, Eile, Fiadh, Margot and all the family, my thoughts are with you.

I was not taught by Conor, sadly, but I was lucky enough to spend a reasonable amount of time with him after I joined Matrix in 2021. We did a case together. I still don’t think either of us was really qualified for it. But they had asked very specifically for Conor Gearty (and I was around and new). We were on a committee about widening categories of membership of chambers, where he managed make what in other hands could have been something of a bureaucratic exercise into a point of fundamental principle about equality. I got the feeling it was not the first time he had done that. He was also very, very supportive of my doing a PhD - despite having written at least one whole book with the very purpose of mocking the kind of nebulous aspirational unwritten English constitutional flannel which formed the entire basis of my thesis. When I presented at the Society of Legal Scholars conference in Bristol last year I was actually very nervous, and there he was, in the room, asking encouraging questions. Ever the teacher, even to a 46 year old postgrad whose ideas he, probably rightly, totally disagreed with.

The particular thing I have been unable to articulate for a couple of weeks about Conor, however, I think, is this.

For various reasons, I struggled with my confidence for a couple of years after joining Matrix. But the thing about Conor was, in a professional and academic legal world designed to make you constantly think you need to be more like other people, he had an - in my experience unique - ability to make you feel it’s enough that you’re yourself. How he did this, whilst being, on any objective assessment, one of the very few lawyers everyone should actually be more like,* seemed at the time, and still seems, to me, to be a form of magic. Some kind of imperceptible magic of the will and of generosity of spirit.

I never got a chance to thank him for that, but I don’t suppose I needed to. It was, self-evidently, what he did. Like everyone else, I will miss him. And my thoughts and condolences go to his friends and family. I was and am very proud to have worked alongside him.

Jim


*I still consider his LRB piece on Gaza from last January to be, in its contemporary context, one of the greatest and most devastating things I have ever read. You’re just there in your kitchen being like oh I work with this man.

Dear Aoife, I am so sorry for your loss. I didn't have the privilege of knowing Conor personally but his writings, his reputation and his public speaking unmistakeably illustrate his impact, his kindness and his manifold contributions to make this world a better place. The human rights community will not forget his legacy. He provided inspiration for so many and these tributes illustrate this in so many ways. My thoughts are with you and the children and everyone who knew him closely. Deepest sympathy; thinking of you. His passing is so sad.

The best teacher I ever had - by a country mile. I first had the privilege of being taught by Conor when he lectured on constitutional law at KCL in 1993. He was hilarious. On one occasion, the Sun newspaper had a huge story (front page no less!) about KCL medical students "dancing on tables" that their hacks breathlessly reported.

The next day, in mid lecture, there was a crash outside the lecture theatre as some workman dropped a ladder, or something. Instantly, Conor pivoted and pointed "SUN REPORTERS" ... "DONT TALK TO THEM"... and he was off on a riff. The entire lecture theatre (300+) collapsed in laughter.

This was not some hackneyed annual tired joke - this was live, it was reactive and it was hysterical. It was just so *impressive* that he could do that, and then pivot to the important content and then say something hilarious again when he felt our concentration drop slightly. Conor then taught me on the Human Rights module the following year – which I obviously picked as my sole option because of his outstanding teaching skill. He wrote my first reference.

Most importantly, though, he sat me down after I had been teaching for years at KCL, LSE, City and NCH and said “That’s enough teaching, start writing”. So I did. He read that very first draft article I wrote and was very kind - and suggested two major structural changes that I adopted. It wasn’t published then – it needed more work. But that very draft then formed the spine of a book review article (Aileen Kavanagh, since you ask) that has just been accepted in NILQ, with his structural suggestion very prominent.

I was cycling down Kingsway past LSE on the Thursday evening a week before he died. It was around 8pm. Who should I see but Conor heading towards Holborn from LSE. Naturally I stopped to chat. I took the chance to remind him about his feedback all those years ago and told him that very first article was now basically in print, thanks to him. I told him I had already added him to the acknowledgements.

He had had a couple of pints and seemed as gently relaxed and happy as I had seen him in a while. He had been a bit spooked about a recent bike accident but seemed much better that night, which was very heartening. Anyway, I walked him to Holborn tube and as we parted, and totally out of the blue, he hugged me, which he had never done before. I don’t think we had even shaken hands ever before – not really his style. I cycled off, absolutely delighted to have bumped into him, and sent him a copy of the article when I got home.

I was poleaxed when I heard. I was at an Away Day at Bristol and announced it then – to the shock and sadness of everyone who knew him at the Law School there too. I sat for years at a desk outside his office. Neither of us liked working at home and over the summers it was frequently just him and me a lot of the time round our corner of the office. We talked most days. Politics mostly. Him shaking his head at my multiple heresies. His annual Chorley after dinner speech was always side splitting and we shared a similar humour – I could sometimes see (after so many years) where he was going with the next joke, which was great.

He was the soul of LSE. The life and soul. He was at every event, rain or shine, itself speaking to a culture of involvement by LSE senior professors that was hard won and to be cherished. You would always hear his laugh above the hubbub as people tried to match some witty, dry, piercing bit of biting humour that he had delightedly cracked. First Mike, then Helen, now Conor. It is too much.

But that is as nothing compared to his family’s loss. He once told me laughingly that having a second go at it made it a lot easier. He could go into the bedroom and say “GO TO SLEEP” in a mock grumpy tone, and they WOULD! He was very pleased with that. I still can’t believe he is gone. Its ridiculous when I only spoke to him the other day and he was 100%. What’s THAT about.

The funniest person I know. Knew. The best teacher. A beloved member of the LSE law school community, as the outpourings have shown. And for me, one of the people I’ve known forever. I can’t even think of anyone I’ve known longer professionally – and certainly not in regular contact. A devastating loss.

The world has lost a great scholar and a lovely man.
I always enjoyed our interactions both professional and personal.
We didn t agree on everything but he was the exemplar of civilised debate.
I send my sincere condolences to his family and friends

MJBKC

Conor was a great man. His scholarship was thought-provoking, challenging and often inspiring. He was an inspiring teacher. As a colleague he was committed, considerate, enthusiastic and effective. As a companion he was kind, amusing, energetic and life-enhancing. Like many others, my world is a poorer place for his no longer being in it. But he will live on, not least because I shall always be thinking about what he would have said about new initiatives and challenges. Even when one disagreed with him, one could always appreciate his point of view and enjoy the energy and sometimes ironic humour of his comments. My sympathy and condolences to Aoife, the children and his close colleagues.

In a profession that is prone to hyperbole, the word great is overused. But, it is absolutely warranted in Conor's case. He was a titan and a pioneer in the Human Rights field. it was an honour to work with him on many cases, which now need to be pursued to a successful conclusion in Conor's memory. Conor's unrivalled skills were matched with a style and personality that always left me feeling far happier with the World than when the conversation started. It is a rare ability. I will miss Conor terribly but know that my loss is nothing to that of his family, including his wife and young children. My heart goes out to them. I leave with an anecdote from Court. I was working on a case alongside Conor, with Conor covering the submissions on the human rights aspects of the claim. Around 10 minutes after Conor started his submissions, the senior Judge interrupted to say that he was a little starstruck, having been taught many years before by Conor. It was a true tribute to this legend of man, You will be missed Conor.

Conor had many virtues. I focus on one: his commitment to support colleague academics. He published in the Journal of Law and Society and reviewed for us. Finding capable, willing, senior reviewers is increasingly difficult. Conor was an exception. In August he provided a review that is the perfect template. It was several pages long, full of insight, critical analysis, identified major and minor points, and offered a radical reconstructive pathway to the author who has already acknowledged the review and is in the process of rewriting. The review was pure Conor.

Class photo UCD Conor Gearty with his cousin Claire Callanan and a friend of Conor’s who predeceased him, Declan Madden.

Conor Gearty the debater continued.
UCD 1975-79 was simply a great place to be. Most of the boys/men went around in groups; those who played soccer; those who were interested in politics; those who debated; those who wanted to lobby on issues or finally those who went to school together. Conor Gearty was initially joined at the hip to a fellow Castleknock College student, Peter Flood, who was later to work in Channel 4 in London. I got to know each of them very well early on in our first year doing the BCL (Batchelor of Civil Law) degree at UCD. Both were extremely ambitious; Conor in his focus on his career and aspirations and Peter on his ideals of what made the world a better place. Conor played football and was interested in university society politics; he became a keen debater. He fought a vicious and dedicated campaign to become auditor of the Law Society which had been one of the lesser debating societies in UCD where the L&H, an arts faculty society, dominated. That dominance was soon to be challenged where under Conor’s watchful steward ship membership of the Law Society flourished; then society membership was measured like social media followers are today. The debating medals and trophies accumulated in the Law Society locker. Law society members had reason to believe that the debating crown of crowns belonged to them and not to the L&H.

In the late 1970s there were two big debating pits; the Irish Times Debates ably curated by the late Christina Murphy who went beyond the call of duty to look after her talented brood and the Observer Mace. There were several debating rounds and the top two teams would be dispatched to wear the Irish colours in England under the watchful eye of lawyer and academic Blathna Ruane.

I was what might be nowadays called an activist with a small a and had got elected to the students union council by the law students of the day where debating was regarded as fickle and principally a lawyers art and was not really appreciated. At the student council gatherings speaking was assessed on the worthiness of its content, its lack of humour, its unbridled length and a dogged certainty that the speaker was always right. An exception was Betty Purcell, later of RTE, the Irish TV Station, who smiled and spoke to the point.

I was also on the fringe of the debating societies where I decided to throw my hat into the debating competition rounds where I acquitted myself. My friend at the time Maev Ann Wren had convinced me that to advance the case of women we should engage at what was at that time a mostly male sport, college debating.

Conor, with his partner Donal O’Donnell of the current Irish Supreme Court were the debating heavy weights of 1978. They had won every round of the Irish Times including the final. They had won every round of the Observer Mace and the final in England. They were not only the best debaters in Ireland, they were the best debaters in Ireland England Scotland and Wales. They represented the Law Society in UCD and they were unbeatable.

It was the norm having reached the top of the debating tree to move on to other things though an academic three year law degree became four if you were also taking a professional qualification and that left an opportunity for another year of debating.

In 1979, there was a very competent and witty speaker at the Law Society called Eugene McCaigue. From Monaghan, he had similar intense focus on his career as did Conor.He decided he was going to pitch for a place as a member of a Law Society team, his goal being to participate in the Observer Mace. Conor and Donal had examined the rules and concluded that they were quite entitled to compete for a second year so there was only a vacancy for one other team. For some reason that I have never fathomed Eugene approached me a debating novice to be his team partner. I have to divert here and say that not only was I a novice I was a naive novice and compared to the other three who approached each round with military zeal, I simply wrote a speech and tried to contain my nerves. I was though a little prescient when I said to Eugene at best we will only ever be second in each round because the heavyweights will win. Eugene consoled me with …though second to the best, Suzanne!

And yes after the drama of all the rounds the four of us from the Law Society ended up in Bristol at the Observer Mace final of 1979 representing Ireland. The heavyweights embraced us as their collegiate team mates where each team was out for itself though the Irish jersey fitted four. William Waldergrave, a courteous young Tory Bristol politician was a judge as was Roy Hattersley of the Labour party and Spitting Image fame where he was the chairman. Both Conor and Donal rose to the occasion and gave eloquent speeches delivered with pizzaz and humour each one worthy of a debating Oscar. There were occasions when the essentially British audience let out communal gasps of appreciation. I knew even if Eugene was at his best we were to be yet again runners up.

The chairman of the judges was a bon viveur and well used to after dinner speeches with a weary eye of one who had chaired too many council meetings. He jumped to his feet. He said there could be only one result he said and the Irish have it. He quelled the rapturous applause. He said we do not normally do second place though if we were to so then the Irish would have that too. Had they all tripped down to Blarney and kissed the relevant stone he mused? He then said that he wished to make a decree that from here on out Conor Gearty and Donal O’Donnell are to be barred from competing in any future Observer Mace debating competition; they were simply too good!

Friendships were forged during those times which gave each of us a common link and an understanding of each other. Even at that stage we all knew that Conor with his charisma and self deprecatory charm,  his political acumen absorbed growing up in the Irish midlands in what was known as the county of freemasons, Longford,  his tremendous work ethic, his undisputed gift of the gab and his ability to think robustly would leave his mark no matter where he ended up. He found Ireland of the eighties stifling where UCD gave him a taste of intellectual freedom; he lived in England for the rest of his days like many Irish graduates of that time  though ironically he remained as Irish as the day he left.

Deepest sympathy to Conor’s wife and children, his large family back in Dublin and Granard and his various professional and academic families on his sudden and unexpected death. I have known Conor for half a century where we first met in UCD in Dublin. For his younger children I have prepared a fairly personal recollection to convey the impression his debating skills left on people who witnessed his performances (for performances they were) in the late seventies. I hope it gives some comfort to those who now miss him both in England and Ireland.

Suzanne Kelly
Dublin.
September 2025.


Conor Gearty the Debater; a personal recollection part 1
Thinking back 50 years ago to student life in UCD is like going to a foreign place. A class picture showing UCD law degree classmates Declan Madden the tall man on the left and Conor, now both dead, transported me back to a time where UCD was full of colour in a black and white Dublin and maybe even a sepia coloured Irish countryside.

It was an immense privilege and pleasure to meet Conor in 2019. I had heard and read so much about and by him and all the qualities referred to in this memory wall were instantly recognisable. His keen intelligence, sense of humour, store of knowledge and broad hinterland were engagingly brought to the conversation. He readily agreed to contribute to the Law Society of Scotland's 2019 Annual Conference. The topic suited him: "Time for a written constitution?". As a public lawyer, the mix of law, philosophy, history and thoughfulness enchanted the audience. It was a wonderful contribution.
On behalf of the Society and with my personal condolences, we express our deepest sympathies to Aoife and the family.

Conor: effervescent; contagious; rousing; gentle; direct and demanding; with a lion's heart for fairness and an enduring belief in our better angels. As a mid-20s something in 2012 striking out on the famous LSE LLM, jaded and exhausted by the myopia of big-firm commercial law, you rejuvenated my faith in the transformative capacity of law, personally and societally. The candle burns bright in the hearts of all of us who were granted the gift to bask in your brilliant instruction. Slán abhaile. Cal

Conor was the greatest teacher I have ever known.

His ability to draw your focus to ‘what’ and – more importantly – ‘who’ it’s all about when studying the law was a gift that our profession needs more of. He was a mentor to all who wanted to fight the good fight but did not quite know if or how they could.

Such was the impact of his single year of teaching that I decided to change my career to pursue human rights and to do so in the UK rather than return to my home, Australia.

The world of human rights law is lesser for having lost Conor’s towering, incisive and humorous intellect. The world moreover is lesser for having lost a smiling champion for the principles that represent the very best of us.

With Conor’s untimely passing, a bright light has gone out. He was one of those people you could never forget – hilariously funny, profoundly intelligent, insatiably curious, kind, generous, entertaining and warm.

Conor was an intellectual giant but never made others feel small. He seemed to know absolutely everyone but didn’t care what fancy title or role they had – he saw everyone as an individual with fascinating stories to tell and insights to offer.

I feel privileged to have known Conor as a dear friend and colleague over many years. I am so sad for Aoife, Eliza, Owen, Èile and Fiadh, who have lost this wonderful man far too soon.

I owe to Conor my first foothold in academia, when he gave me a visiting fellowship at the LSE's human rights centre while on sabbatical from HRW. The gift of immediately and consistently making you feel welcomed and listened to. And of course the most hilarious and inspiring speaker. I'm still connected to the LSE now, thanks to that introduction. Thank you Conor.

I was due to have lunch with Conor yesterday. That we will never make that date still leaves me so shocked and saddened.

My friendship with Conor started after I emailed him out of the blue a couple of years ago. We were both from Longford, and both wrote for the London Review of Books. Maybe we should we meet, I suggested. My email was prompted by reading yet another of his wonderfully argued pieces in the paper. To my surprise, he replied suggesting a time and a date at LSE.

From then on we became friends, meeting for lunch, swapping notes on the world and - often - sending ourselves up. I found him incredibly good company: generous, intelligent, witty. We were two lads from the Irish bog on the make in London, separated by 25 years and a few postcodes.

I was fortunate to get the opportunity to interview Conor at the Granard Booktown Festival earlier this year. It felt like every Gearty in Longford was squeezed into a room on the first floor of the town library. What followed was an hour of Conor at his best, talking about the law, and human rights, and why democracy matters. But also having a great laugh, at the world and himself. This photo, from the event, sums up Conor for me.

He won't be forgotten, by me or by so many of the many other lives he touched.

Go mbeidh suaimhneas síoraí air.

The first book I read of Conor Gearty's was Freedom under Thatcher: Civil Liberties in Modern Britain. It was a joy subsequently to hear him and debate with him. He enlivened and focused any discussion to which he contributed, and brought out the best in his interlocutors. Always a breath of fresh air. He made an incalculable contribution to so many people's understanding of human rights, managing to reach beyond the academy and the profession. My thoughts are with his colleagues and family.

I had the pleasure of Conor's friendship and collegiality with him at Cambridge and the LSE as well as at the Bar. He was a great lawyer and an even greater friend whose warmth, humour and generosity will always be remembered by those of us who had the pleasure of knowing him. Chris Greenwood

As a first year law student at KCL in 1991, Conor both inspired and terrified us! His presence and enthusiasm for his subject are still remembered all these years later.
I recommended his book with Keith Ewing, Freedom under Thatcher to my son during his 3rd politics’ degree. It was the inspiration for his thesis in turn. Definitely the legacy of a great teacher.
Such a sad loss.

Conor Gearty was unfailingly generous in his support for unpopular causes. As other tributes have indicated, he wore his learning lightly, but beneath his very real kindness was steely resolve to challenge injustices. He provided invaluable advice and critical comments on our People’s Review of Prevent where we outlined the harms of the government’s counter-extremism strategy and its discriminatory treatment of children and young people, especially those from Muslim communities. Mobilised in the name of ‘British values’ – something no-one schooled in Ireland’s history with Britain could view with equanimity – he described it in a foreword to our report, as involving a “drift towards authoritarian homogeneity, a culture where only the inclinations of the powerful are allowed to enter into the political fray. Prevent expands the frontiers of state power well past crime into that pre-criminal arena we used to call freedom.”

Conor, you are very sadly missed by the team at Prevent Watch; we extend our deepest sympathy to your family.

I am very sorry to see that Conor has passed away. He was a great champion of human rights in a context where many gains were being eroded. His energy and enthusiasm was always evident.

I’m so surprised and saddened. Conor was a one-off and a giant in human rights and public law and working with him was always a total pleasure. A brilliant explainer of things, he always found a way to be humorous even when passionately railing against hypocrisy. At Public Law Project so many of our team were inspired by his courses as students, and we are so thankful he gave us some of his time, we now know too short, to light up our events intellectually and morally. Personally, I’ll cherish my signed copy of On Fantasy Island (one of many examples of Conor making legal writing and analysis on human rights accessible) and having had the honour and enjoyment of working with someone so clever, so full of integrity and so fun. It’s a loss for everyone, but what a star and inspiration to, literally, generations.

I met Conor through the Society of Legal Scholars mentorship scheme in 2023, when I had the excellent luck to be assigned as his mentee. His advice then, and in the time since, was invaluable. Almost none of it had anything to do with legal scholarship, but instead was all about living life to the fullest. The last time I spoke to him, he was explaining to me his inability to do anything by half, whether it be a family occasion, a speaking engagement, or a chat over a cup of tea. I suspect that was obvious to everyone who had the good fortune to cross his path; it was certainly obvious to me. I will sorely miss his kindness, humour and extraordinary charisma. My deepest sympathies to Conor’s family.

How desperately sad. We needed Conor for his brilliance and his courage – and now more than ever. What a loss!
When I took over at KCL, we needed to recruit bright young teachers. No one, I was advised, more closely met our needs than a certain Conor Gearty. I invited him down from Cambridge for a chat. I suggested we meet at my local, the Dartmouth Arms in Gospel Oak. We bonded over pints. I realised I was in the presence of greatness – wit, erudition, charm, a way with words (what a way with words), and above all, that elusive quality of being just nice. He was duly hired.
Only a couple of months ago I went to his Seminar on terrorism at the British Academy. It was, unsurprisingly, a tour de force. It reflected how lucky we were to have such a brave, fearless, brilliantly articulate advocate for the best in us when some encourage the worst.
I had lunch with him only a month ago along with the Times’ football correspondent, Alysson Rudd. We had played 5-a-side football together in Conor’s team, Conor running around with his customary tireless energy under the Westway and in Regent’s Park. It was a reunion. How awful to think there will be no more.
My son Jack loved Conor. When Diane died, he came over for dinner one evening. When everyone else had gone, he was still locked in conversation. As Jack said later, “It was so wonderful. I didn’t want him to leave”.
Well, tragically he has left us. We mourn his death. We’ll raise a glass to you tonight, dear Conor.
Ian Kennedy.
September 16

Unlike many others, I had never had the privilege of being taught by Conor, nor did I work closely with him. But I did pick up his first solo-authored book Terror (1992) in the Boole Bookshop in University College Cork as an undergraduate and I was riveted. This was a book by a legal scholar, but unlike anything I had been assigned to read before as a law student – contextual, historical, and political, and basically making an argument that law might be part of the problem. Fast forward to recent weeks, and I had happened to listen to the edition of the Let’s Talk Palestine podcast of July this year, where he discussed Palestine and his 2024 book Homeland Insecurity on the colonial roots of global anti-terrorism. He was of course vocal and clear that the future of human rights depends on justice for Palestine and Palestinians, in one of his 2024 public lectures concluding:
‘The future of human rights depends on Israel being driven to recognise the need for a State of Palestine, and then to make the necessary changes to bring this about. For if large sections of a people can be destroyed with utter impunity by Global North military power, their culture destroyed, their lives eviscerated by deliberate destruction, if all this is possible, why should irregular asylum seekers not be next, and then asylum seekers proper, and then refugees and then – who knows? Martin Niemöller’s famous warning about for whom authoritarianism comes and in what order should be echoing in our ears, plausible more than ever since the 1930s, especially now at this time when a new, nasty brutalism is in the air.’
In many of the public acknowledgements of his legacy, Seamus Heaney’s phrase ‘the republic of conscience’ has come up.
Only reflecting back in the past days, have I realised that I took it for granted that Irish legal scholars in the UK wrote these sorts of books, gave these sorts of public lectures, were professors at the LSE, and co-founded new barristers’ chambers. Based on his singular experience, I took so much for granted, including that the route of being a serious academic in the UK. I had joked only a week ago that I thought I could still hear echoes of the youthful UCD debater that was in the Palestine podcast. But while his UCD classmates scaled the heights of legal practice in Ireland (for example, one of his debating partners becoming the current Chief Justice, Donal O’Donnell), he clearly chose and followed his own path. (Incidentally, he discusses these decisions on another recent podcast).
Teaching Public Law in Oxford for a decade, I also took for granted that along with the arcane scholarship about the Human Rights Act, and various Diceyan notions about parliamentary sovereignty, applied repeal, and self-binding powers, I could ask students to read more Gearty, and get some historically well-informed works that debunked many myths, including about UK common law civil liberties being well-protected. He was a supporter of human rights who questioned all orthodoxies (on social rights for example, in his book debating with Virginia Mantouvalou), made good arguments, and on judicial power to protect human rights, changed his mind in light of the evidence, in particular becoming a great supporter of how the HRA had worked in practice. His work also demonstrated that understanding the UK requires the study of empire and race – which might seem obvious, but was not always fashionable. He debunked myths, questioned orthodoxies, and offered clear arguments with both style and evidence. Again, only in the past weeks I found myself going back to his book he wrote immediately after the Brexit referendum, On Fantasy Island: Britain, Europe, and Human Rights (2016) and finding new things on the second reading.
I was so shocked and saddened to hear he had died. The conversations since have been remarkable – the beautiful public acknowledgments, and the quieter conversations about what a beacon he was for Irish scholars in the UK. I was inordinately excited by his support for a new initiative at Matrix Chambers to engage fixed-term academic members, which meant that I experienced his kind and energising welcome personally of late, and was really looking forward to meeting him in the coming weeks in London. As someone who was neither his former student nor his close friend, I am taken aback to be feeling so bereft at the thought of someone so relatively young, vital and energetic gone so suddenly. As an Irish legal academic who also felt at home for so long in the UK, I feel a particular debt (that I had never previously acknowledged) at a true trailblazer and inspiration, who seemed to live his values with such passion, commitment, and joy.
Deepest sympathies to Aoife and the children, and to his many close friends and colleagues.
Ní bheidh a leithéid ann arís.

It's January 2023, and Public Law is arguably the most dreaded module among first year LLB students. I was one of these students, afraid to touch LL106 with a ten foot pole. And now, after the warmth of a cosy winter holiday, I am awaiting the cold shock which is my first Public Law class in five weeks.

I will never forget walking into this class. Suddenly there's this eccentric guy who ushers us in and starts a discussion which is too big for this classroom. The first thing he tells us? "By the end of this class I'm going to make you love Public Law".

There's this electric current in the air as Professor brings this case to life, and I'm sure my peers will know exactly what I mean. The key actors, tensions and analytical sticking points are being painted before my very eyes. This was the first time since the start of my LLB that the law felt bigger than the books. Professor Gearty taught in a way that brought these academic texts and feared WestLaw searches into the real world. He fully conveys to me why the parts textbooks describe as 'significant' are actually ground-breaking. Many times, he straightforwardly says what he thinks "doesn't really matter", before opening the class up into a full-on moot court. He was also never above saying "I don't know" or "you got me there - I'll have to look into that one", with refreshing academic honesty.

I would soon show up frequently at Professor's office hours. I was drawn to learning more from his wealth of experiences. But I didn't expect to be laughing and experiencing real guidance from these scheduled check-ins. We have a word in Bangla called আন্তরিক (Antorik). It means to treat someone like family - 'one of us'. Professor was truly and warmly আন্তরিক to all of us students.

Professor Gearty was right. Unsurprisingly at the end of the year, Public Law was my favourite module. Rest In Power Professor, you will be sorely missed.

Just the most extraordinary and inspiring law lecturer I have ever known. I first encountered him at a public lecture he gave at UCL in November 1993- "The Cost of Human Rights". I had just commenced law school. I still have the diary containing the notes I took during the course of it and I re-read them from time to time. One theme related to civil libertarian judges in Northern Ireland being constantly weakened by the the House of Lords allowing appeals against their decisions. Not many academics were looking at Northern Irish legal matters in those days! I next saw him giving talk at the now defunct Irish Club in Eaton Square, by which time he had he joined Matrix Chambers and was bounding around the room, fizzing with child-like enthusiasm. Then there was his prolific written output. His intellectual rigor and his boundless enthusiasm for the practical application of principles of fundamental rights to every aspect of public and private life were a constant inspiration and spur. It is shocking to hear of his premature passing. I offer my condolences to his family, close friends and colleagues.

Like many here, I first encountered Conor’s work through his fiercely intelligent LRB essays. Later, as a member of LSE’s staff, I asked if he might be interested in contributing to the university’s first Research Festival. He was, and became central to its success: full of ideas for getting young researchers involved, securing excellent speakers and, not least, launching his wonderful Gearty Grillings series. He brought the same enthusiasm to LSE’s first Education Strategy, graciously sharing ideas and illustrating unselfconsciously how he balanced brilliant research with extraordinarily gifted teaching. More personally, and before I met him, he had delighted my daughter at a school friend’s birthday party by being so kind and funny. A light has gone out in our troubling world, and we are all the poorer for his passing.

Although Conor has left us far too early, he will remain all around everyone who has ever met him forever. His warmth, humour, kindness, fun, generosity, and sparkling intelligence are so strong, unique and enduring. There are very few people who are better company or more enjoyable & interesting to spend time with. And almost none with his ability to communicate complex ideas directly, engagingly and passionately to every audience. Or to speak and write about important legal issues in such a relevant and engaging way. My firm impression was that his love of ideas and debate was surpassed only by his love for his family whose joy and intensity seemed limitless.

Professor Gearty's lectures were unforgettable. When he spoke (often shaking his cane up toward the ceiling), the entire class would fall silent. He made a lasting impression on every student and spoke up about causes that others would not dare raise. I am eternally grateful to have been taught by him, and to have witnessed his courage.

Conor reminded me why I became a lawyer - in showing me that human rights are powerful and always worth fighting for, no matter how dark or hopeless the world may seem. He was one of the most brilliant, captivating and visionary academics I’ve ever known. From the moment I met him, I seized every opportunity to hear him speak and to learn from him — something he quickly noticed and teased me about, calling me his best “stalker”. Through his mentorship, I grew enormously — not just professionally, but in knowledge, confidence, and purpose.

I promise to keep fighting the good fight — for you, and because of you.

My deepest sympathies to his family.

I am deeply saddened by the news of Conor’s death. He was a brilliant man in so many ways and I echo the comments by others on the various aspects of his unique and irreplaceable legacy. He was also a very good friend to me over the past tough years and stood firmly by my side. We need more people like Conor in these troubled times. He will be sorely missed by many.

I knew of and admired Conor for a long time by repute. I eventually heard him speak at a judicial conference a few years back and more recently at last year's AGO conference in Dublin. He was careful not to preach but made insightful and thought provoking observations in what felt like a collaborative (and highly entertaining!) approach to understanding a human rights legal analysis. His contributions were memorable and important. His loss will be felt on both sides of the Irish sea.

I am heartbroken at the news of Conor Gearty’s death. He was a brilliant lawyer, a charismatic and deeply ethical human being and a lovely friend. His wisdom was so needed in these dark times.

Conor was simply the best of us. A beacon of humanity. My deepest personal condolences and from the human rights community in Scotland. He will live on in our hearts and actions. My thoughts are with Aoife and the family.
Professor Alan Miller

If there was a Mount Rushmore of Human Rights advocacy greats; Eleanor Roosevelt, Pieter Koojimans, Nigel S. Rodley, Wm Schabas amongst them: Conor would be front and centre.....winking! His integrity and generosity of spirit will be sorely missed in this fragmented time. Sincere condolences to his family and many friends and colleagues. May he rest in peace and at peace.

Conor was light and passion, one of the most ferocious and brave human rights lawyers I had the privilege to know.
He was my hero as a young Ph.D. student and academic, and to have him as a friend and mentor later was a gift beyond measure.
We are all, in the global human rights and scholarly community at a loss without his steady hand, critical voice, truth to power capacity and his consistent encouragement -- Of all his gifts -- the power of his intellect, his unstinting capacity to persuade, his work-ethic, the cadence of his writing, and his ability to teach everyone who interacted with him -- the one that stays with me is kindness. A profound humanity and ability to give of himself to others.
Tá sé imithe uainn ró-luath. Tá sé cinnte nach mbeidh a leithead arís, agus tá an t-adh orainn uilig go raibh sé linn an t-achar seo. Leaba is measc na naomh dhó agus ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam uasal. Co-bhrón ó chroí le Aoife agus na gasúr. Fionnuala Ní Aoláin

Sincere condolences to Conor’s family, friends and colleagues.
Conor played a pivotal role in my life when during the GDL, I attended a conference on human rights at the University of Nottingham. Conor’s contribution was so forceful that I decided I absolutely had to do an LLM in human rights, deferring my BVC for a year, and later pursuing a career in human rights. The last time I saw him speak was at the AGO and CSSO conference in Dublin in October 2024. His was the contribution that wagged the tongues. Brilliant, hilarious, irreverent. The world has lost a powerful and wonderful light. Ní bheidh a leithéíd an arís. Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.

I never had the pleasure of being taught by Conor but nevertheless learned much from him. There is some solace in the thought that in a very tangible way, he will continue to teach future generations through his enduring body of writing.

Airímid uainn thú.