The Law and the People It Leaves Behind

I’ve always understood the law as something that’s meant to protect people, maintain order and promote fairness, something that gives everyone a voice, no matter their background.

During my internship at Thomas Philip, I saw that idea in action. I worked on cases involving shareholder disputes, land matters and clients asserting their rights in complex high stake situations. It was structured and intellectually demanding work that pushed me in the best way.

But as the weeks went on, I started thinking more deeply, not just about how the law works but who it really works for.

Each morning on my way to the office, I walked past Ferraris, luxury condos and five-star hotels, what many would call signs of wealth and success. But to me, they began to feel like something else. Not symbols of achievement, but symbols of distance, signs of a world where excess can exist so casually alongside poverty. Sometimes, they felt less like power and more like a lack of empathy.

Just a few streets away, I’d see people sleeping under bridges, selling homemade food for spare change or living in makeshift shelters. That contrast was hard to ignore. It made me uncomfortable. I was learning about legal tools designed to protect people’s rights, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how many people would never be able to access them.

The law might technically be available to everyone, but in reality, it’s often limited to those who can afford to understand and use it. And that made me ask:

why isn’t the system built for them?

The truth is, the legal system wasn’t really designed with the most vulnerable in mind. Legal services are expensive. Processes are complex and filled with technical language. Legal aid is underfunded and overstretched. And those already in positions of power corporations, businesses and wealthy are the ones best equipped to use and influence the system.

So even when help is technically available, many people wouldn’t know where to begin or wouldn’t be able to afford to try. It’s not always deliberate exclusion but the result is the same, system that too often leaves people behind.

This was reinforced during a talk we attended with the CEO of one of Asia’s largest firms. When asked whether she ever felt guilt working in the oil and gas industry, she admitted she did, but said she chooses to ignore it. She also shared that her main motivation is money, that she sees her children once a year and that she chose to base herself in Asia because the regulations here are “less strict” than in Australia or the U.S. It was one of the most confronting moments of the internship. I hope she doesn’t read this but it made me realise that for some, power isn’t about service or responsibility,  it’s simply about gain.

That’s not the kind of lawyer I want to be.

I don’t want to enter this profession for status or wealth. I don’t want to become someone who has to numb themselves to do their job. I want to stay grounded in empathy and to use the law in a way that brings it closer to those who’ve been pushed out of it. That means explaining complex legal concepts in simple terms, helping people access funding or support and staying mindful of the real lives behind every matter.

To me, the point of the law isn’t about prestige or profit or winning cases. It’s about fairness, dignity and doing what we can, even in small ways to make the system more human.

That’s the kind of lawyer I hope to become.