"Reflecting on his life’s journey, His Lordship conveyed that his proudest moment was when he was granted a coat of arms, a crest, a bridge, and a standard, by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second in 1989, for services to constitutions and constitutional law in a developing commonwealth country."
Janet Mason, 26 November, 2024
Janet Mason, 26 November, 2024
*Prime Minister Sitiveni Rabuka Sent Justice Ashton-Lewis to Drain the Pond of "Crocodiles" and Fiji Police are still after them.
This tongue-in-cheek 'Hero of the Day' piece shouldn't be mistaken for absolution. Satire aside, nothing here prevents the Police from continuing their investigations into the COI findings or from keeping an eye on the crocodiles still gliding quietly beneath the surface.
 Several Fijileaks readers have written in scratching their heads and asking the obvious: how can Justice David Edward Ashton-Lewis be both the 6th Baron of Benington and the 21st Lord of Huntingdon? So, in the spirit of public service, and mild amusement, we’re writing this piece to explain how one man manages to juggle not one but two coats of arms, straddling centuries of British aristocracy while presiding over matters of law and governance on the Supreme Court of Fiji. This isn’t idle curiosity. Titles like these aren’t plucked from a cereal box. They trace deep into the English peerage system, passed down, revived, and sometimes merged, and they say a lot about who His Lordship Justice Ashton-Lewis is and how he sees himself. |   His Lordship David Edward Ashton-Lewis is the 6th Baron of Benington and the 21st Lord of Huntingdon. |
But here’s the twist: despite the grand impression of ancient lineage, both titles entered his possession not by ancestral succession or royal grant but by legal conveyance in the summer of 2019.
According to official notices published in The London Gazette, Justice Ashton-Lewis purchased the Manorial Lordship of Huntingdon Fee on 9 July 2019 and, less than two weeks later, acquired the Feudal Barony of Benington on 22 July 2019. Both were created “by legal process”, not by the Crown, nor by inheritance, a polite English way of saying they were bought.
And when someone who just secured two centuries-old titles by cheque suddenly pops up at the centre of a Pacific island’s constitutional and anti-corruption saga, it’s worth asking: are we dealing with a judge, a baron, a lord, or all three, wrapped in royal fur and underwritten by an auction manorial house invoice?
And when someone who just secured two centuries-old titles by cheque suddenly pops up at the centre of a Pacific island’s constitutional and anti-corruption saga, it’s worth asking: are we dealing with a judge, a baron, a lord, or all three, wrapped in royal fur and underwritten by an auction manorial house invoice?
| “When the Baron Comes Home: Would Anyone in Benington Even Notice?” If Justice Ashton-Lewis, the self-styled 6th Baron of Benington and 21st Lord of Huntingdon in the United Kingdom, were to stride proudly into Benington, Hertfordshire, one suspects the reception might be…underwhelming. Picture it:
Suddenly, an Australian man arrives, declaring: “Greetings, my subjects! Your Baron has returned!” Chances are, someone would quietly point him toward the Benington Lordship Association Facebook page, where he’d learn that the “barony” is a historic legal curiosity, now essentially a property right, nothing more regal than a car park lease. |    |
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And over in Huntingdon Fee (Wootton), Northamptonshire, the “domain” of his 21st Lordship, the likely response would be even frostier:
“Lord of what, mate? This is a housing estate.”
Reality Check on the Two Titles
“Lord of what, mate? This is a housing estate.”
Reality Check on the Two Titles
- The Baron of Benington title? Purchased via legal conveyance in 2019, not bestowed by the Crown.
- The Lord of Huntingdon? Also a manorial title, detached from any political power centuries ago.
- In the UK today, these titles carry about as much real authority as a free Wi-Fi voucher.
In Fiji, Justice Ashton-Lewis’s titles project an aura of prestige, evoking visions of castles, vassals, and noble duty.
But in England?
The only thing his “subjects” in Benington or Huntingdon might hand him is the Wi-Fi password and a tourist map.
“All hail the Baron… provided he finds someone who cares.”
Ratu Who? When Fiji’s Villagers Meet the Baron of Benington
Picture this: deep in the hills of Naitasiri, a kava circle is in full swing.
Chiefs are seated cross-legged, the tanoa is flowing, and the villagers are whispering about the day’s big news:
“A baron is coming.”
Into the clearing strides Justice Ashton-Lewis, his coat of arms polished, his crest printed on glossy letterhead, and his visiting card declaring him:
“His Lordship, the 6th Baron of Benington and 21st Lord of Huntingdon.”
The villagers pause. Silence falls. Finally, one elder leans toward another and whispers:
“Ratu Beni? Hunting-don? Is he from Cakaudrove or Lau?”
Paramount Chiefs vs Purchased Titles
In Fiji, titles like Tui Cakau or Tui Nayau carry centuries of authority, tied to land, lineage, and vanua.
But here’s the twist: Justice Ashton-Lewis’s “domains” - Benington and Huntingdon Fee (Wootton) - are in England, where the “subjects” are blissfully unaware they have a “lord” or a “baron” at all.
There are no ceremonies, no chiefly protocols, no yaqona vakaturaga. Just suburban lanes, postcodes, pubs, and maybe a Tesco Express supermarket.
The Unspoken Irony
In Fiji, the Judicial Services Commission and even Prime Minister Sitiveni Rabuka, steeped in chiefly culture, may have instinctively deferred to Justice Ashton-Lewis’s grand presentation.
In England, his “subjects” in Benington or Huntingdon Fee would have instructed their traffic warden to just hand him a parking fine for ‘illegal parking’ on their estate.
It’s a cultural mismatch of epic proportions: what sounds like ancestral power in Naitasiri reads like a purchasable vanity title in Hertfordshire.
The Kava Verdict
The villagers listen politely as Justice Ashton-Lewis explains his coat of arms and his “bridge” granted by the Queen.
When he finishes, the village herald clears his throat and declares:
“We thank the Baron and the Lord for coming. But here in Fiji, titles are earned, not bought. Please sit, David. Your bilo awaits.Taki Mada.”
And just like that, Baron of Benington and Lord of Huntingdon becomes simply David from Australia’s Gold Coast, Queensland, drinking kava like everyone else in Fiji. Taki.
But in England?
The only thing his “subjects” in Benington or Huntingdon might hand him is the Wi-Fi password and a tourist map.
“All hail the Baron… provided he finds someone who cares.”
Ratu Who? When Fiji’s Villagers Meet the Baron of Benington
Picture this: deep in the hills of Naitasiri, a kava circle is in full swing.
Chiefs are seated cross-legged, the tanoa is flowing, and the villagers are whispering about the day’s big news:
“A baron is coming.”
Into the clearing strides Justice Ashton-Lewis, his coat of arms polished, his crest printed on glossy letterhead, and his visiting card declaring him:
“His Lordship, the 6th Baron of Benington and 21st Lord of Huntingdon.”
The villagers pause. Silence falls. Finally, one elder leans toward another and whispers:
“Ratu Beni? Hunting-don? Is he from Cakaudrove or Lau?”
Paramount Chiefs vs Purchased Titles
In Fiji, titles like Tui Cakau or Tui Nayau carry centuries of authority, tied to land, lineage, and vanua.
But here’s the twist: Justice Ashton-Lewis’s “domains” - Benington and Huntingdon Fee (Wootton) - are in England, where the “subjects” are blissfully unaware they have a “lord” or a “baron” at all.
There are no ceremonies, no chiefly protocols, no yaqona vakaturaga. Just suburban lanes, postcodes, pubs, and maybe a Tesco Express supermarket.
The Unspoken Irony
In Fiji, the Judicial Services Commission and even Prime Minister Sitiveni Rabuka, steeped in chiefly culture, may have instinctively deferred to Justice Ashton-Lewis’s grand presentation.
In England, his “subjects” in Benington or Huntingdon Fee would have instructed their traffic warden to just hand him a parking fine for ‘illegal parking’ on their estate.
It’s a cultural mismatch of epic proportions: what sounds like ancestral power in Naitasiri reads like a purchasable vanity title in Hertfordshire.
The Kava Verdict
The villagers listen politely as Justice Ashton-Lewis explains his coat of arms and his “bridge” granted by the Queen.
When he finishes, the village herald clears his throat and declares:
“We thank the Baron and the Lord for coming. But here in Fiji, titles are earned, not bought. Please sit, David. Your bilo awaits.Taki Mada.”
And just like that, Baron of Benington and Lord of Huntingdon becomes simply David from Australia’s Gold Coast, Queensland, drinking kava like everyone else in Fiji. Taki.
| “From Highlands to High Titles: How Fiji’s New ‘Baron’ and 21st ‘Lord of Huntingdon’ Found His Crest” So, Fiji now has a Visiting Supreme Court judge who also happens to be the 6th Baron of Benington and the 21st Lord of Huntingdon. And if that weren’t enough, Justice David Edward Ashton-Lewis proudly reminds us that, back in 1989, Her Late Majesty Queen Elizabeth II granted him a coat of arms, a crest, a bridge, and a standard for “services to constitutions and constitutional law.” Yes, you read that correctly: a bridge. One assumes metaphorical bridges, but with the British aristocracy, who can be sure? Let’s take a moment to unpack this because the optics are fascinating, and the titles themselves raise questions about authenticity, privilege, and perception. |   |
The Baron of Benington. Is There a Castle?
The title “Baron of Benington” has a rich medieval ring to it. Traditionally, a barony was tied to land granted by the Crown, complete with vassals, peasants, and the occasional feudal tax revolt.
But here’s the modern reality:
In other words, you can be sipping tea on the Gold Coast one day and, after a wire transfer, be “His Lordship the 6th Baron of Benington” by the weekend. It doesn’t make you a peer of the realm, but it does add a regal flourish to your LinkedIn profile., and CV.
The 21st Lord of Huntingdon: A Historical Shadow
The Lordship of Huntingdon carries a more recognisable history. Traditionally, it referred to powerful noble families in England who held sway over Huntingdonshire, dating back to the 11th century.
However, titles like this often become detached from land and political authority, passing through sales, inheritances, and legal loopholes. By the time we reach the “21st Lord,” we’re not necessarily talking about someone with a castle, just someone with a signed deed of title.
In other words, while it sounds grand, in 2025 it’s far more likely to be a vanity title than a seat of power.
Why It Matters in Fiji
Titles like these carry perception power. For a Visiting Supreme Court judge and until recently the sole Commissioner of Inquiry into the Fiji Independent Commission of Inquiry, projecting British aristocratic status sends a particular message:
In a nation like Fiji, where colonial history, constitutional upheavals, and questions of judicial independence are live political issues, the optics are complicated.
The Irony
Here we have a judge who investigated matters of integrity and accountability in Fiji, while simultaneously wearing titles that, at least in part, may be bought on the open market.
It’s perfectly legal. It’s perfectly respectable. But for ordinary Fijians, who do not live in a world of coats of arms and hereditary crests, it can look out of touch, or even self-aggrandising.
Justice Ashton-Lewis's career is, by any measure, remarkable:
But in an era when judicial impartiality and public trust are fragile commodities, wrapping oneself in aristocratic heraldry, complete with coats of arms, crests, bridges, and banners, risks distracting from the substance of the role.
Because when you style yourself as a Baron and a Lord, people will inevitably ask:
"Did you inherit the power or just buy the name?"
In the South Pacific, constitutional crises are complex enough without imported baronies muddying the waters.
What the paper trail shows:
Baron of Benington” (Hertfordshire)
“Lord of Huntingdon”
What these titles are (and aren’t)
The title “Baron of Benington” has a rich medieval ring to it. Traditionally, a barony was tied to land granted by the Crown, complete with vassals, peasants, and the occasional feudal tax revolt.
But here’s the modern reality:
- Most baronies today are not hereditary peerages in the House of Lords.
- Instead, many are “manorial titles”, essentially historical curiosities, once attached to land but now often sold privately.
In other words, you can be sipping tea on the Gold Coast one day and, after a wire transfer, be “His Lordship the 6th Baron of Benington” by the weekend. It doesn’t make you a peer of the realm, but it does add a regal flourish to your LinkedIn profile., and CV.
The 21st Lord of Huntingdon: A Historical Shadow
The Lordship of Huntingdon carries a more recognisable history. Traditionally, it referred to powerful noble families in England who held sway over Huntingdonshire, dating back to the 11th century.
However, titles like this often become detached from land and political authority, passing through sales, inheritances, and legal loopholes. By the time we reach the “21st Lord,” we’re not necessarily talking about someone with a castle, just someone with a signed deed of title.
In other words, while it sounds grand, in 2025 it’s far more likely to be a vanity title than a seat of power.
Why It Matters in Fiji
Titles like these carry perception power. For a Visiting Supreme Court judge and until recently the sole Commissioner of Inquiry into the Fiji Independent Commission of Inquiry, projecting British aristocratic status sends a particular message:
- It suggests authority, tradition, and prestige.
- But it can also raise eyebrows about elitism, self-styling, and whether purchased grandeur is being leveraged to command respect, and even judicial appointments.
In a nation like Fiji, where colonial history, constitutional upheavals, and questions of judicial independence are live political issues, the optics are complicated.
The Irony
Here we have a judge who investigated matters of integrity and accountability in Fiji, while simultaneously wearing titles that, at least in part, may be bought on the open market.
It’s perfectly legal. It’s perfectly respectable. But for ordinary Fijians, who do not live in a world of coats of arms and hereditary crests, it can look out of touch, or even self-aggrandising.
Justice Ashton-Lewis's career is, by any measure, remarkable:
- Eight years as Deputy DPP in Papua New Guinea, mediating tribal disputes.
- Contributions to constitutional law in developing nations.
- Now serving as Supreme Court judge and former Commissioner of Inquiry in Fiji.
But in an era when judicial impartiality and public trust are fragile commodities, wrapping oneself in aristocratic heraldry, complete with coats of arms, crests, bridges, and banners, risks distracting from the substance of the role.
Because when you style yourself as a Baron and a Lord, people will inevitably ask:
"Did you inherit the power or just buy the name?"
In the South Pacific, constitutional crises are complex enough without imported baronies muddying the waters.
What the paper trail shows:
Baron of Benington” (Hertfordshire)
- An official notice in the UK public record (The London Gazette) states that the “Feudal Barony Title of Benington” was conveyed to David Edward Ashton-Lewis on 22 July 2019, and adds that the title was “created by legal process, not through a re-grant or re-establishment by the Crown.”
- Separately, the same title has been marketed for sale by a commercial broker (Manorial Counsel Ltd).
- There is dispute around this title’s validity: critics run sites alleging the Benington “barony” being sold is not genuine and that the Gazette notices are misleading. These are allegations by private parties, not court rulings, but they exist and name the Benington case specifically.
“Lord of Huntingdon”
- The Gazette shows that the “Manorial Lordship Title of Huntingdon Fee (Wootton, Northamptonshire)” was conveyed to David Edward Ashton-Lewis on 9 July 2019, again noting creation “by legal process,” not by the Crown. This is not the Earldom of Huntingdon; it is a manorial lordship tied to a place called Huntingdon Fee.
- Historically, manorial lordships connected to “Huntingdon” have been bought and sold (e.g., the Lordship of the Manor of Huntingdon listed for auction in 1992). So the broad “Lord of Huntingdon” wording can refer to different manorial units, not the peerage.
What these titles are (and aren’t)
- In England & Wales, “Lord of the Manor” and feudal/baronial styles are property rights (incorporeal hereditaments) that can be bought and sold; they are not peerages and do not confer a seat in the House of Lords. This is standard land-law doctrine reflected in HM Land Registry guidance and mainstream references.
- “English feudal barony” is a historical tenure; modern English “baronies” sold today are not peerage dignities, and the old tenure effects were abolished in 1660 (with only vestiges surviving).
- The Gazette is the UK’s official public record, but a notice there does not itself “create” nobility; it records what is submitted. Hence the occasional marketed title plus Gazette notice plus counter-claims dynamic you see around Benington.
- Commercial brokers regularly offer manorial lordships and “baronies” with solicitors’ letters and marketing materials; you can browse current stock and past brochures (prices commonly in the £5k–£30k band; sometimes more).
- Examples of listings include Great Raveley (Huntingdonshire) and other Huntingdon-area manors, showing that “Huntingdon”-titled manorial units circulate on the market.
