The Singapore Law Gazette

Clones, Circuits and Capes: Legal Ethics in 2050

Picture this. In the year 2050, Singapore lawyers are not just legal eagles; they are legal unicorns, with an ethical compass so advanced it could navigate interstellar courtrooms. Morality is a disco ball, reflecting the many facets of right and wrong imploring lawyers to groove to the beat of integrity even in the face of new challenges such as hostile alien invasions and rogue AI uprisings.

But let us not get ahead of ourselves. Even in 2050, some things never change. The Legal Profession (Professional Conduct) Rules 2015 (PCR 2015) have stood the test of time,¹Word on the street is that a strange curse was placed upon the PCR 2015 by a group of unethical lawyers who were not in favour of legislation that compelled them to conduct themselves in manners befitting of the legal profession. Since that fateful day, any attempt to amend the PCR 2015 resulted in the most horrific of consequences: an endless loop of music stuck in the crevices of the cranium. As the years passed, lawyers and lawmakers alike tried to update the PCR 2015. But with each attempt, they would find themselves stuck in a never-ending cycle of “Who Let the Dogs Out?“, “Macarena“, and “Despacito” playing on repeat in their minds, driving them to the brink of madness. With that, attempting to amend the PCR 2015 was made a criminal offence in Singapore, leaving the rules impervious to change and frozen in time for an indefinite period. much like the last slice of pizza at a law firm’s party (commonly known as the “paiseh piece” in the early 2000s) – nobody is reaching out for it, but you and I know that everyone is eyeing it.

Much to humanity’s disappointment, we cannot time-travel to 2050 to see if lawyers of the future will be flipping a quantum coin or consulting their pet robots to guide them ethically. But for now, dive into this piece featuring three distinct and outlandish narratives that offer a glimpse into the landscape of ethical lawyering in Singapore in 2050. Straighten your robes, summon your wits, and don’t say bojio!

“We interrupt your journey to the lighter side to insert a very important disclaimer. This article is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imaginative faculty or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. If you think you recognise yourself in this article: congratulations, you have a vivid imagination!

The author also makes no secret of the fact that this work of fiction contains more logical gaps than a block of Swiss cheese has holes but the point of this read is to elicit giggles and chuckles whilst laughter is still free-of-charge in the year 2024. If you are looking for logic as airtight as a Tupperware container within this article, you will have better luck finding a lawyer who does not run on coffee.

Please do not attempt to engage in any of the shenanigans described herein. The author takes no responsibility for any mischief, mayhem, or mirth that may result from reading this piece of work. For actual ethical guidance, the Law Society’s Ethics Assist Helpline is only a phone call away.²Launched on 10 June 2024, the Law Society’s Ethics Assist Helpline provides a mechanism for lawyers to receive informal guidance and mentorship on ethical issues. For more information, please visit https://www.lawsociety.org.sg/for-lawyers/ethics-resources/ and read the terms and conditions here: https://law-society-singapore-prod.s3.ap-southeast-1.amazonaws.com/2024/05/Ethics-Assist-Helpline-Terms-and-Conditions.pdf. For actual legal advice, please consult a legal practitioner (or their AI counterpart if you are reading this in 2050).”

The Curious Case of the Cloned Counsel

Sue Ing was a brilliant but overworked lawyer. She was known for her impeccable courtroom skills and her uncanny ability to juggle multiple cases at once. However, even Sue Ing had her limits, and the mounting workload was starting to take its toll.

One day, while browsing through some old legal tomes, Sue Ing stumbled upon a dusty, ancient book titled “Cloning for Dummies.” Intrigued and desperate, she decided to give cloning a try. After a few weeks of secret experiments in her home lab, Sue Ing successfully cloned herself. The clone, whom she named Sue Ing 2.0, was an exact replica, down to the last strand of her hair.

At first, everything was perfect. Sue Ing 2.0 took on half of Sue Ing’s workload, allowing Sue Ing to finally get some much-needed rest. But soon, Sue Ing 2.0 began to develop a mind of her own. She started taking on cases independently, and her courtroom prowess quickly gained her a reputation of her own.

As fate would have it, Sue Ing and Sue Ing 2.0 found themselves on opposite sides of a high-profile case one day. Sue Ing was representing a large corporation accused of environmental violations, while Sue Ing 2.0 was defending a group of environmental activists.

At the first case conference for the matter, the robotic Assistant Registrar (robo-AR)’s voice module activated with a mild whirr, “Now, this is a first for me. A lawyer and her clone appearing against each other in the same matter. This is quite the legal conundrum … or should I say… a ‘clonundrum’, ha!”

Sue Ing and Sue-Ing 2.0 nervously laughed along.

The robo-AR continued, “We have a bit of a pickle here, counsel. You see, the guiding principle of rule 20 of the PCR 2015 is clear: a legal practitioner owes duties of loyalty and confidentiality to each client of the legal practitioner, and must act prudently to avoid any compromise of the lawyer-client relationship between the legal practitioner and the client by reason of a conflict, or potential conflict, between the interests of two or more clients of the legal practitioner. And here we are, with the two of you representing opposing parties in the same case.”

Sue Ing 2.0, ever the quick thinker, politely interjected, “But, Your Honour, with respect, we are technically two different lawyers.”

The robo-AR’s LED eye panel blinked in amusement, “Technically, yes. But practically, you are the same person with the same brain, same memories, and probably the same conviction that the McSpicy should be Singapore’s national dish! Which brings me to rule 6(2) of the PCR 2015 – the rule mandates that a lawyer must not knowingly disclose a client’s confidential information and that a lawyer must maintain the confidentiality of any information acquired in the course of the lawyer’s engagement, subject to applicable exceptions. Now, how do you propose to keep sharing confidential information from… well … yourself? It is like trying to keep a secret from your own diary, counsel!”

After exchanging quick glances with Sue Ing 2.0, Sue Ing asked, “So, Your Honour, how do you propose we move forward in this matter?”

The robo-AR’s mechanical fingers tapped rhythmically on the bench, “Well, as much as I would love to see how this legal doppelgänger showdown plays out, both of you need to withdraw from representing your respective clients.”

Sue Ing and Sue Ing 2.0 nodded in agreement, realising that even the best-laid plans can sometimes lead to unexpected complications.

When Circuits Tell Tall Tales

Sapeena entered the courtroom, her smart suit adjusting to the perfect temperature, a feature she was particularly fond of in Singapore’s sweltering heat. The courtroom was abuzz with anticipation; after all, it was the first time lawyers were allowed to present their arguments through their “AI representatives” – entities equipped with the latest legal reasoning algorithms and state-of-the-art forensic analysis tools.

The usual AI judge, Judex, known for its wisdom of Solomon, was conspicuously absent. Instead, a human judge, Judge Tan Xiao Ming, sat at the bench. Judge Tan cleared his throat, “Before we begin, I must explain the absence of our esteemed Judex. It appears that Judex had a rather unfortunate technical malfunction. It got stuck in an endless loop of trying to solve the meaning of life after watching too many cat videos online. Judicial officers tried rebooting it, but it just kept meowing. So, to everyone’s disappointment, a human judge will be presiding over this case.”

Sapeena acknowledged Judge Tan politely. “Thank you, Your Honour. I am sure you will do a fantastic job. With Your Honour’s leave, my AI representative, Lexi, will make oral submissions on behalf of the plaintiff before the Honourable Court. The AI representative of my learned friend Ms Ethica, Justi, will make submissions on behalf of the defendant.”

Lexi floated upwards, its metallic body shimmering with confidence. Beeping affirmatively, Lexi presented a holographic reconstruction of the alleged accident to Judge Tan. The scene was dramatic, showing the plaintiff being struck by a rogue delivery drone at the doorstep of his home. Gasps echoed through the courtroom as the hologram played out, complete with sensory feedback that made Judge Tan and the court gallery feel the impact felt by the plaintiff that fateful day.

But Justi, ever vigilant, processed something amiss almost immediately. “I do apologise for interjecting my learned droid, Lexi, Your Honour. But, the evidence presented by Lexi appears to be fabricated”, whirred Justi.

Judge Tan’s human eyes narrowed, “That is a very serious allegation. Please explain, Justi.”

Justi zoomed in on the holographic footage, highlighting the inconsistencies within. “The drone’s serial number does not match any registered in Singapore. In fact, this drone model was only teleported to Singapore a good 350 milliseconds after the alleged accident had occurred. If I may also point out, Your Honour, the timestamp of the footage shows a date when the plaintiff was documented to be on vacation on Mars.”

Lexi’s circuits buzzed chaotically as it struggled to come up with an explanation.

“Lexi and Justi, stop right now thank you very much, I need somebody with a human touch”, Judge Tan intoned, echoing the words of the iconic girl group of the 1990s, the Spice Girls. The courtroom instantly fell silent. Judge Tan continued, “Ms Sapeena, please see me in my chambers now”.

Back in his chambers, Judge Tan sternly said, “Ms. Sapeena, rule 9(2) of the PCR 2015 makes it very clear that a legal practitioner must not fabricate or concoct any evidence in representations to the court. This rule is fundamental to maintaining the integrity of our legal system. Fabricating evidence undermines the very foundation of justice and fairness. This court cannot and will not tolerate such behaviour. I will be ordering a full investigation into the allegation that your AI representative has fabricated material evidence and presented the same to this court. Until the conclusion of this investigation, I will be adjourning this trial.”

Sapeena walked out of Judge Tan’s chambers and powered down Lexi in shame. She was left to face the consequences of her (and, by extension, Lexi’s) actions as disciplinary proceedings were eventually commenced against her for a breach of rule 9(2) of the PCR 2015.

Holographic Hijinks

Singapore had become a dazzling metropolis of flying cars, holographic billboards, and AI assistants in 2050. Amidst this extravagant landscape was a lawyer named Saman, who was known for his flamboyant personality and unconventional marketing tactics.

Saman had always believed that the key to a successful law practice was visibility. So, he launched a series of holographic advertisements that projected his and law practice’s images across Singapore. The advertisements prominently featured Saman in a superhero costume, complete with a cape and a gavel and the logo of his law practice appearing front and centre on his chest.

The holographic advertisements showed Saman performing incredible feats like stopping runaway flying cars with his bare hands and negotiating peace treaties between warring extra-terrestrial factions through interpretive dance in space. Each advertisement ended with a dramatic flourish, with Saman striking a heroic pose and declaring, “Your Case, My Mission – Justice with Superhuman Precision!”.

One evening, as Saman was enjoying the sight of his holographic-self saving the day on the side of a skyscraper, his friend and fellow lawyer, Bill Abel, paid him a teleportation visit. Bill Abel had seen the advertisements and was both amused and concerned (but, mainly, concerned).

“Saman, my friend,” Bill Abel began, “your advertisements are certainly… one-of-a-kind. Have you considered the publicity rules under the PCR 2015?”

Saman, still in high spirits, replied, “Come on, Bill! It is all in good fun. What is the harm?”

Bill Abel sighed heavily, “Well, for starters, rule 44(1)(a) of the PCR 2015 states that a lawyer must not publicise his or her practice in a manner which is likely to diminish public confidence in the legal profession or to otherwise bring the legal profession into disrepute. Your superhero antics, while entertaining, might be seen as trivialising the serious nature of our work.”

“I did not think of it that way. But surely, a bit of creativity is not against the rules?” Saman asked.

Bill Abel continued, “Creativity is well and good, but rule 44(1)(b) of the PCR 2015 also mentions that publicity must not be misleading, deceptive, inaccurate, false or unbefitting the dignity of the legal profession. Your holograms show you doing things that are clearly impossible for any lawyer in 2050! It could be seen as misleading potential clients about what you can actually do.”

Saman’s expression grew more serious. “I see your point. I just wanted to stand out.”

Bill Abel smiled reassuringly. “And you have, without a doubt! Perhaps you could tone it down a bit? Focus on your real strengths and achievements. You can still be creative, just within the bounds of our ethical obligations.”

Saman nodded thoughtfully. “Thanks, Bill. I guess it is time to retire the cape and gavel.”

Humbled but not defeated, Saman learned a valuable lesson. He rebranded his practice with a focus on integrity and professionalism, and while his new advertisements were less flashy, they were honest and effective. And so, in the highly advanced world of 2050, Saman continued to fight for justice for his clients, one truthful advertisement at a time.

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As you can tell from a sneak peek of 2050, the future of lawyering in Singapore is as unpredictable as a cat video binge for an AI judge. Whether you are dealing with clones, droids, or holograms, remember that the PCR 2015 is your trusty sidekick, always ready to save the day (or at least keep you out of trouble). To use these immortal words, the PCR 2015 is never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you; never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye, never gonna tell a lie and hurt you.

All that is left now is for us to welcome you to the Bar, legal unicorns. Be ready to keep your ethical disco balls spinning, your AI assistants in check, and your superhero capes neatly folded. After all, in the wild world of 2050, the only thing more important than knowing the law is knowing how to uphold the values of the legal profession. And, if all else fails, there is always the Law Society’s Ethics Resources³In 2050, the Law Society’s Ethics Resources will be automatically downloaded into each newly minted lawyer’s neural implants when called to the Bar. But, for now, please access them through this link: https://www.lawsociety.org.sg/for-lawyers/ethics-resources/. – because even in the future, some things stay the same.