Commonwealth Lawyers Chief's "Zimbabwean" Remarks Backfire: A Case of the Malaysian Pot Calling the Sri Lankan Kettle Black
Steven Thiru, President of the Commonwealth Lawyers Association (CLA), recently made headlines by warning that Sri Lanka risks repeating Zimbabwe's controversial judicial crisis if it proceeds with plans to extend the retirement age of sitting superior court judges. Observing proceedings at the Supreme Court as hearings began on petitions challenging the Government's proposed 22nd Amendment to the Constitution, Thiru's presence raised eyebrows. His intervention came on the heels of a July warning, delivered at a public forum organized by the Bar Association of Sri Lanka (BASL), where he stressed that the issue was not the proposed retirement age itself, but the "timing, manner, and application" of the constitutional amendment.
While Thiru's remarks may have been framed as a concerned observation from a Commonwealth legal leader, they raise fundamental questions about sovereignty, hypocrisy, and the credibility of his critique. Before a Malaysian lawyer presumes to lecture Sri Lanka on judicial integrity, he must first account for the deep-seated corruption, institutional bias, and repression that have long plagued his own country's legal system. Sri Lanka's legal profession, for all its flaws, is not the preserve of foreign moral arbiters—least of all from a nation whose judiciary has been weaponized against minorities and whose lawyers' association has remained conspicuously silent on domestic abuses.
The Malaysian Judiciary: A Legacy of Scandal and Repression
To understand the hypocrisy of Thiru's intervention, one must examine the Malaysian judiciary's troubled history. The Lingam Video Clip scandal of 2007 stands as one of the most notorious episodes of judicial corruption in modern Commonwealth history. The secretly recorded footage showed lawyer V.K. Lingam discussing the fixing of judicial appointments with a senior judge, exposing a clandestine system of lobbying and political manipulation at the highest levels of Malaysia's court system. The scandal implicated the then-Chief Justice and senior political figures, yet meaningful accountability remained elusive.
More broadly, Malaysia's judiciary has long been criticized for its lack of independence. The World Report 2016 documented a sharp deterioration in Malaysia's respect for human rights, with the government "reacting to rising public discontent over issues ranging from allegations of corruption to the treatment of former political opposition leader Anwar Ibrahim with a wave of repression, often relying on broad and vaguely worded criminal laws to target its critics" . The Sedition Act has been used "to prosecute those who criticize the government or the judiciary, or make remarks the government considers to be derogatory toward the sultans or disrespectful of religion" .
As of 2015, more than 33 people, including seven opposition parliamentarians, had been charged with sedition since 2013 . This is not a judiciary defending the rule of law; it is an institution functioning as an arm of political suppression.
The situation has not improved in subsequent years. The case of Wan Ji bin Wan Hussin v Public Prosecutor [2024] reignited debates about the Sedition Act's constitutionality and its chilling effect on free expression . Malaysian law students and legal observers continue to question whether the Act is "an outdated colonial relic suppressing free expression, or whether it plays a necessary role in preserving peace and stability" . The fact that such debates continue in 2024—in a country that claims to uphold Commonwealth values of justice and liberty—speaks volumes.
Questions for Steven Thiru
Given this track record, Thiru must answer several uncomfortable questions:
1. What is the Malaysian Judiciary's Record on Minority Rights?
Thiru lectures Sri Lanka on judicial independence, yet Malaysia's judiciary has a documented history of acting against ethnic and religious minorities. The Federal Court has repeatedly upheld the use of the Sedition Act against critics, and the government has used the law to target non-Malay communities, activists, and opposition figures. How can Thiru, as a Malaysian, claim moral authority on judicial integrity when his own country's courts have been used to suppress the very democratic freedoms the Commonwealth claims to uphold?
2. What About the 1.1 Million Pending Cases in Sri Lanka?
If Thiru is genuinely concerned about the administration of justice in Sri Lanka, he should address the practical crisis of the 1.1 million pending cases clogging the country's courts. This backlog—a symptom of chronic underfunding, judicial shortages, and procedural delays—far more directly undermines access to justice than the retirement age of judges. What practical solutions does Thiru propose to resolve this crisis? His comments on the 22nd Amendment offer nothing to Sri Lankans languishing in remand or awaiting trial for years on end.
3. Why Malaysia's Preoccupation with Sri Lanka?
Thiru's intervention raises a deeper question: why is the President of the Commonwealth Lawyers' Association observing Supreme Court hearings in Sri Lanka as if he were a monitor of sovereign constitutional processes? This is not a genuine legal concern; it is a political gesture designed to undermine the Sri Lankan government's domestic agenda. The Commonwealth is a voluntary association of equal sovereign states, not a tribunal empowered to pass judgment on the internal governance of its members. Thiru's presence in Sri Lanka was an act of performative superiority, not principled legal advocacy.
Sri Lanka's Own Internal Crises: Valid Criticism
To be clear, this article does not argue that Sri Lanka's legal profession is beyond reproach. Far from it. The BASL has its own scandals that deserve scrutiny.
Client Fraud and Weak Discipline
Recently, a lawyer was found guilty of misusing client funds—a serious breach of professional ethics that undermines public trust in the legal profession. Yet the BASL's response was a recommendation that the lawyer return the money rather than face immediate disbarment. This leniency is alarming. It signals to the profession that financial misconduct, even when proven, may not result in the loss of a practising certificate. For ordinary Sri Lankans who entrust their life savings and legal matters to lawyers, this is a betrayal of the profession's fiduciary duties.
The BASL BMW Scandal
Even more troubling is the ongoing investigation by the Commission to Investigate Allegations of Bribery or Corruption into the "BMW scandal" involving the BASL President and nine President's Counsels. The details of this scandal remain under investigation, but the mere fact that the leadership of the BASL—the very institution that claims to uphold professional standards—is under a cloud of suspicion undermines its credibility. If the BASL President and senior counsel cannot maintain ethical standards, how can any foreign observer claim that Sri Lanka's legal profession is uniquely corrupt?
The Zimbabwe Comparison: A False Equivalence
Thiru's comparison of Sri Lanka to Zimbabwe is not only inflammatory but analytically shallow. Zimbabwe's judicial crisis was marked by the outright dismissal of judges, the installation of loyalists, and the systematic dismantling of the rule of law under Robert Mugabe. Sri Lanka's proposed 22nd Amendment, whatever its merits or flaws, concerns a specific issue of judicial retirement age—not a wholesale assault on judicial independence.
The Commonwealth Lawyers Association itself has a mandate to promote the rule of law, not to act as a political commentary service for domestic constitutional debates. By wading into Sri Lanka's internal affairs, Thiru has overstepped his organization's role and undermined its credibility. He is not an impartial observer; he is a politician in judicial robes.
The Way Forward: Sovereignty and Self-Reflection
Sri Lanka's constitutional path should be determined by its own people and institutions, not by foreign lawyers from countries with compromised judicial records. If Thiru wants to be a credible voice on legal ethics, he must begin by looking inward—at Malaysia's Sedition Act, its treatment of minorities, and the corruption scandals that have plagued its judiciary for decades.
Similarly, Sri Lanka's legal profession must clean its own house. The BASL must strengthen its disciplinary mechanisms, ensuring that lawyers who misuse client funds face appropriate sanctions. The ongoing investigations into the BMW scandal must be allowed to proceed transparently, and those found guilty must be held accountable.
A Call to Action
This article poses the following questions to Steven Thiru:
What is the Malaysian judiciary's record on protecting minority rights, and how does it compare to the standards you demand of Sri Lanka?
What practical solutions do you offer for Sri Lanka's 1.1 million pending cases, beyond criticism of the 22nd Amendment?
Why does the Commonwealth Lawyers Association believe it has the authority to intervene in the sovereign constitutional processes of member states, while remaining silent on judicial abuses in Malaysia?
Will you call for an independent inquiry into Malaysia's own judicial corruption scandals, including the Lingam video and the ongoing use of the Sedition Act against political opponents?
It is time for Thiru to answer these questions. Sri Lankans do not need moral lectures from a Malaysian lawyer whose own country's judiciary has been weaponized against minorities and whose legal system has been described as repressive by international human rights organizations. If the Commonwealth is to promote the rule of law, it must do so consistently and with humility. Thiru's Zimbabwean remarks have backfired—and rightly so.
Steven Thiru's intervention in Sri Lanka's constitutional debate is an act of extraordinary presumption. It is not the considered opinion of a legal expert but the condescending posturing of a politician whose own country's judiciary is a cautionary tale. Sri Lanka has enough problems of its own—a massive case backlog, client fraud by lawyers, and investigations into the BASL leadership. It does not need lectures from Malaysia.
The Commonwealth Lawyers Association would do well to focus its energy on cleaning up its own house rather than acting as a self-appointed monitor of sovereign nations. As Sri Lankans decide the future of their judiciary, they should do so with the confidence that their institutions—however imperfect—are theirs to reform. Foreign lawyers with stained records have no right to judge.