Malaysian Bar Lifetime Achievement Award 2025
Le Méridien Kuala Lumpur, 24 October 2025
Yang Amat Arif Dato’ Seri Utama Wan Ahmad Farid bin Wan Salleh, Ketua Hakim Negara, Honourable Judges, Datuk Mohamad Ezri Abdul Wahab, President of the Malaysian Bar, Datuk Sri M. Ramachelvam, Chair of the MBLAA Selection Committee, past recipients of the MBLAA, Mr Christopher Leong, members of the Bar Council, fellow members of the Bar, honoured guests; ladies and gentlemen,
Dato’ President, Dato’ Seri Chair, members of the Selection Committee, colleagues and friends, I thank you for this honour. To be recognised by one’s peers at the Bar that has shaped my life and work is profoundly humbling. I am especially grateful to Christopher Leong for proposing me, and to the Malaysian Bar for keeping faith with the ideals that brought us into this profession.
The Malaysian Bar Lifetime Achievement Award is not, in truth, about a person. It is about a community: a fraternity and gathering of lawyers who believe that the rule of law must serve the public without fear or favour. If there is any meaning in my being named tonight, it is as a small reflection of that larger journey which began long before any of us, and will continue long after.
I had thought my days of recognition ended with that painted portrait presented to me as a souvenir at the end of my term as President of the Bar – a fine gift that made me look more distinguished than I felt, and with more hair than I thought I had. This evening’s recognition, however, I accept with deep gratitude, and with renewed responsibility to live up to what it represents. This recognition feels even more meaningful to me this year as it is my firm’s 40th anniversary and shortly after the launch of the MWKA Foundation.
Ladies and Gentlemen, when I was called to the Malaysian Bar in 1972 – fifty-three years ago – we were a much smaller Bar. Our voice was perhaps less amplified, but our convictions were already loud. The Bar has grown in size and stature; its responsibilities have grown as well. Yet the compass points remain constant: professionalism, integrity and service
I pay tribute to past recipients of this Award. They are men and women known for defending the vulnerable, standing up for human rights, and giving voice to the voiceless. Their lives teach us that the Bar is strongest when it is principled, united and apolitical – a secular, independent institution that belongs to all members regardless of race or religion. We must defend that independence at all times and at all costs. The pressures of the day will change, but the duty not to bend our standards to suit them, does not change.
As the Bar has grown, so has the public’s expectation of us. People expect not only good lawyering, but good citizenship: lawyers who understand that the rule of law protects real lives; lawyers who can disagree without being disagreeable; lawyers who know when to speak and when to listen. We are measured not only by the cases we win, but by the manner in which we serve.
If I have to reduce my principles to one sentence, it is this: do your duty fairly and reasonably to whoever stands before you. Whether acting for the plaintiff or the defendant, whether for the prosecution or the defence, fair play is paramount. Justice is not about winning; it is about doing right, and being seen to do the right thing.
Sustaining ethics and courage in difficult times is not easy. Pressures come, sometimes from power, sometimes from popularity; sometimes from those who believe they stand for the public good, and sometimes from those who simply want a particular outcome. In such moments, the Bar must be the catalyst or stimulus. We are the guardians of due process. We insist on facts and law, not noise and passion. We remember that the Court of public opinion is no substitute for the Court of law, yet we also remember that the public’s trust in law depends on our patience in explaining it.
One of the lessons I hold dear was taught to me by our elders – among them the late Lord President Tun Mohamed Suffian – who showed by example that clarity is a form of respect. Write plainly. Say only what is necessary. Keep reasons concise. Let every party feel heard, even when they do not prevail. The dignity of the court lies not in its robes, but in the fairness of its process and the simplicity of its language. The same is true of counsel. Clients experience justice not only in the outcome but in whether they can understand what we say and why we say it
I am grateful to the colleagues who embodied that spirit in the SUHAKAM public inquiry into the enforced disappearances of Pastor Raymond Koh and Amri Che Mat. The lawyers who turned up – many acting pro bono – demonstrated the Bar at its best: prepared, principled and persistent. The lesson is not that a Panel reached a conclusion; it is that our profession stood up, together, for truth, for accountability and for the dignity of families who sought it.
Allow me one personal memory from my Judicial and Legal Services days that affected me deeply. As a young rookie Magistrate in 1973, I was required to witness a double hanging at Pudu Jail. Two brothers, barely into adulthood, were hung for the murder of a policeman. I left the prison with a conviction I have never lost – that the death penalty has no place in a humane justice system. Years later, in work on sentencing reform and in seeing Malaysia abolish the mandatory death penalty, I felt only this: persistent, principled effort by lawyers and by the Bar can change lives, can change laws and can change destinies. The work is never finished, but it matters. Mercy and justice are not enemies. Properly understood, they are allies. In 1985, I made one of the defining decisions in my life: resigning from the Judicial and Legal Services, after 12 years of service to enter private practice. It meant losing a permanent job but it gave me the freedom to rediscover what practice at the Bar meant.
My journey has taken me across the pillars of the justice system – from the Bar to the Bench, to public institutions. This evening is not the place for a résumé; Christopher Leong has done that far better than I could. Instead, allow me to share what I learnt at each stop, because those lessons belong to all of us.
From the Bar, I learnt that independence is a daily habit, not a slogan. It is built one decision at a time: the decision to advise a client candidly when the news is unwelcome; the decision to treat an opponent courteously when the pressure is high; the decision to keep faith with the Court even when a short-cut beckons. Chairing an Extraordinary General Meeting of the Malaysian Bar with some two thousand members in attendance taught me something else: that the Bar’s authority flows from its members’ engagement. Today, our general meetings see far fewer present. Colleagues, the Bar Council has thirty-six elected members and as many Committees – legal aid, human rights, environment and more. There is a place for every interest and every passion. Join one. Serve on one. Help run your Bar. Institutions live only if we breathe life into them. Culture is built by those who turn up.
From the Bench, I learnt that clarity is kindness in practice. Keep judgments clear and reasons concise. Let every party know they were heard. Avoid unnecessary embellishments. The authority of a Court is not asserted; it is earned through care, patience and steadiness. Impartiality is a discipline of the mind, and courtesy is the language of that discipline. Judges do not discover truth by volume; we discover it by listening, by testing and by deciding with reasons we can defend. One does not demand respect, one earns and commands respect.
From public institutions, I learnt that the rule of law must reach beyond Courtrooms. At SUHAKAM, at the Judicial Appointments Commission, at MAVCOM, at SIDREC, in the Competition Appeal Tribunal and in the Committee undertaking the feasibility study of establishing a Human Rights Tribunal, the common thread is service. Regulation must be fair; markets must have recourse; appointments must be independent; rights must have remedies. These bodies are the building blocks of a healthy democracy. When the plumbing works, people rarely notice it; but if it fails, everyone suffers. They require lawyers who are willing to do patient, unglamorous work for the public good: drafting rules that are intelligible, hearing complaints without prejudice, writing reasons that withstand scrutiny, and building systems that last longer than any one of us.
From the region, through LAWASIA, I learnt that Malaysia’s legal community has a respected voice across Asia-Pacific. We should use it to champion judicial independence, human rights and professional excellence – not as slogans to be recited, but as standards to be shared. Our challenges are often common: safeguarding Courts, improving access to justice, addressing the legal consequences of climate change and technology.
From the community – at St John Ambulance of Malaysia and at Assunta Hospital – I learnt that service is practical. The law is noble, but people need help they can touch. Volunteering with St John Ambulance, I have seen first-hand how floods devastate communities, with the most vulnerable bearing the heaviest burdens. In those moments, the rule of law is not abstract. It is whether relief reaches those in need, whether decisions are made lawfully and transparently, whether rights and duties are understood and observed. Community work keeps us honest. It reminds us why the law exists at all.
I have a message for the next generation. To the younger members of the Bar: this Award is a reminder that the rule of law does not survive through speeches or ceremonies. It survives through your daily choices – to prepare thoroughly, to be honest with the court, to advise clients with courage, to respect opponents and to stand your ground when it matters. You will find that the virtues which make good counsel also make good colleagues and good citizens.
You will encounter ruts and potholes – in practice and in life. Do not measure your career by titles or destinations. Measure it by how you navigate: with integrity when it is costly; with civility when it is difficult; with compassion when it is inconvenient. Reputation is the sum of small, consistent acts. Protect it.
If you are wondering where to begin, and it is never too late to begin, start close at home. Attend the general meetings. Volunteer for a committee. Take a legal aid brief. Mentor a pupil. Teach a class. Read the record before you read the headlines. Build the culture you want to inherit. The strength of the Malaysian Bar lies not in its press statements, but in its members turning up, and participating in events such as the Walk for Justice.
Guard your independence. Independence does not mean isolation. It means knowing who you are serving when you stand up in Court: not a faction, not yourself, but the law and your client within the law. Learn to disagree well. The profession needs less heat and more light. Courtesy is not the enemy of courage. It is often the vehicle of it.
Remember also the duties that do not appear on time sheets: to speak plainly, to keep confidences, to keep learning. The best lawyers are students to the end. Read statutes, read cases, read history. Read outside the law. It will make you a better lawyer and a better human being (and if I may add, to have a hobby farm.)
And look ahead. The challenges of environmental law will only grow in urgency – from climate impacts to community rights and corporate accountability. Market fairness will be shaped by competition law and tribunal practice. If established, a Human Rights Tribunal will give enforcement effect to SUHAKAM’s work. None of these are distant institutions. They are opportunities for you to help design a fairer Malaysia: to draft better rules, to run fair hearings, to bring reason to contentious spaces, and to ensure that those without power have a place to be heard.
The Bar we must defend
Let me state this plainly. The Malaysian Bar must remain independent and apolitical. It must be a secular home for all members – of every race and religion – and a fearless voice for constitutionalism. We have always upheld the rule of law without fear or favour. We must continue to do so, especially when it is unpopular. That is how we earn the public’s trust.
The threats to independence change their clothes from time to time. Sometimes they come as open pressure; sometimes as quiet inducement; sometimes as attempts to divide us; sometimes as attempts to use us. Our answer should be the same: unity on essentials, charity in differences, and a stubborn insistence on proper process. We should not confuse partisanship with principle. The Bar is not a political party, and it must never become one. It exists so that the weakest can be heard, the strongest can be held to account, and the law can be practised with decency and skill.
Today, I am the fourteenth recipient of this award. I accept it not as a personal triumph but as a charge: to keep serving as an ordinary Malaysian citizen; to uphold the rule of law; and to work, with all of you, for a better Malaysia.
No one makes this journey alone. To my wife, who unfortunately cannot join us this evening as she is on a holy tour somewhere in Italy and my children – for your patience, love and steadying counsel through long days and longer nights – thank you. To my grandchildren – you bring joy and renewed strength, and you remind me why we must keep working for a fairer, kinder Malaysia.
To my colleagues and friends at MahWengKwai & Associates – past and present – you have carried the work with professionalism and heart. I am proud of you. To the staff of the courts, to registrars and interpreters, to the many who keep our system moving without applause, thank you for your quiet excellence. To my mentors and peers in the judiciary, the Bar Council and our many institutions, thank you for your companionship in service.
To those who taught me by example – seniors who drafted carefully, who argued courteously, who corrected me when I needed it – your lessons live on in my habits, and I hope in the habits of those I have had the privilege to mentor.
And to you, fellow members of the Malaysian Bar, thank you for holding me to our shared standards, and for the kindnesses you have shown me over the years. We have disagreed at times. That is healthy. What matters is that we kept faith with the same foundations: the Constitution, the courts, the courage to stand up, and the humility to stand down when we are wrong.
I conclude where I began – with gratitude. The honour is mine, but the journey belongs to all of us who believe in justice. May the Malaysian Bar continue to stand tall, to speak the truth, and to serve without fear or favour.
Before I step down, let me leave you with two simple thoughts. First: the law is not a business; it is a practice. Not merely a profession, it’s a journey; it is a calling to serve. Second: justice is not “just ice”. It is Justice spelt as one word. It must be warm with humanity, clear in language and fair in action.
The Law is not just about rules and statutes, but about people, their rights, their dignity and their trust in justice. Justice is not cold and mechanical, but a living pursuit of fairness and reason. The cases and causes that have stayed with me are those that have tested conscience as much as the Law. The Law is not craft in stone; it is written on the hearts of those who practice it. Let us continue to practice with integrity, compassion and yes, with a little humour.
While the Award recognises a lifetime of achievement, I hope I will have more time to enjoy the sunset at my farm.
Thank you, and good evening.
Note: This article does not constitute legal advice to any specific case. The facts and circumstances of each and every case will differ and therefore will require specific legal advice. Feel free to contact us for complimentary legal consultation.
