This letter is published in collaboration with the SMU Yong Pung How School of Law’s Freshman Mentorship Programme.

Josh Lee Kok Thong graduated from the SMU Yong Pung How School of Law in 2015 and earned his LL.M. with a Specialisation in Law and Technology from the University of California, Berkeley in 2022. He is currently the Managing Director (Asia-Pacific) of the Future of Privacy Forum (a US-based global think tank), Advisor (Technology, Media and Telecommunications) at Rajah & Tann, and an Adjunct Professor teaching AI law, policy and ethics at the SMU School of Law. Having been a legal practitioner, policymaker and entrepreneur, Josh was recognised in 2019 and 2023 by Asia Law Portal as one of Asia’s “Top 30 to Watch” in legal innovation and the business of law.

Josh is, at heart, a street dancer. He teaches Popping at New Heights Studio and is a member of street dance crews in Singapore and the Bay Area.

This letter is addressed to his 21-year-old self in the middle of the first semester of his freshman year in SMU Law.

Dear Josh,

I’m not supposed to share this, but in 2024, humans invent the technology to send messages back in time. Obviously, this technology is still very new – so there are very specific limitations. For example, only legally trained persons can use this technology. They can only write to their Year 1 selves (and no other year), and with no more than 800 words. And they cannot talk about anything unrelated to law school. Sorry for not being able to share whether Manchester United still wins the Premier League over the next decade (just… don’t expect too much).

From what the technologists tell me, this letter will reach you around the middle of Semester 1 of Year 1 in SMU Law. It’s a time when you’re confused and wondering what in the world you got yourself into. After all, wasn’t it Dad who told us to do law because “your English good, do law, can make money”? And now you’re struggling to class-part while being bombarded by terms like actus reus and contra proferentum, and classes where the professor belabours, “but a kangaroo is not a dog, right”? I know, it’s a lot.

Don’t fret. Here are three points to guide you along so you do not give up (and irretrievably change the course of history).

(1) Things will be fine (if you do your readings). While questions such as “who is the plaintiff and who is the defendant?” currently fill your mind, residing in deeper recesses are bigger questions: Is law the path for me? What will I be when I grow up? Will I survive the trials and tribulations of “adulting”? 

These questions are entirely understandable. While this letter is too short to give specifics, let me assure you: things will be fine. Your upbringing and the training law school provides will prepare you sufficiently for the working world. You may not be the best thing since sliced bread, but you have what it takes to hold your own. That, and make sure you do your readings. That “House of Lords” you’ve been reading about? You’ll speak before them one day. 

(2) Find yourself. And don’t give in to peer pressure. Don’t take this as a cue to forego friendships — you will make lifelong friends in law school, many of whom will define your law school experience. But at an intrinsic level, use your next four years to find out who you are, what abilities and interests you have, and how you can use those abilities in service of others.

How, you ask? I’ll teach you a hack. Start reading newspapers (or anything vaguely academic. Facebook doesn’t count). Start noticing the articles, topics and themes you are repeatedly drawn to. Those hold clues for what you might be interested in.

Many go into law school thinking they must practice, as not doing so would be a waste of time and effort. After all, why put yourself through four gruelling years of law school (of which you’re just at the start), only to not do “law stuff”? The answer is that law and justice — and the industries that surround it — are much bigger than just legal practice. Roles such as in-house counsel, public policy practitioners, prosecutors, ministry officials, and judges, too, are critical for the functioning of the legal industry and society. Just because everyone around you wants to be a lawyer doesn’t mean you must be defined by their choices. This brings me to my final point.

(3) Probe what the law means to you. In law school, there will come a point in time when you start to ask yourself what law is, and what it means to you. The answer will be the most profound realisation you have for the next decade and will shape your path for years to come. I’ll let you in on what it is.

Ultimately, the law governs societal relationships. As a practitioner of the law, you are an architect — one who uses the law as a tool to reshape societal relationships that have been disrupted, such as by technology.

The question is then what you will reshape these societal relationships to encompass. You already know the answer: your values. Over the course of law school and as a street dancer, your values will start to crystallise: respect, humility and discipline.

Use this tool. Help others. Build a better world for you, your loved ones and the next generation to live in.

There is much more that I would love to say, but technological limits forbid me to go further. Just remember this: You are enough. I am proud of you, and what you will become. Just don’t forget to thank the many who help you along the way.

I’ll see you soon.

Keep dancing,

Josh