A powerful case for modernising Ghana’s judiciary was made on Sunday, August 31, during an interview on JoyNews’ The Law, where Shem Khoo, the Managing Director of Focus Law Asia, offered insights from Singapore’s successful judicial reforms.
Mr Khoo highlighted Singapore’s decision to abandon the traditional judicial wig and archaic titles, arguing that the move was a crucial step in transforming the country’s legal system into a modern, efficient, and respected institution.
Conversely, for many years, the image of justice in Ghana has been inextricably linked to the remnant of 17th-century Britain of judges adorned with powdered horsehair wigs, complemented by high-collar inner clothes and robes.
According to Khoo, Singapore’s abolishment of judicial wigs and titles like “my lord” and “your lordship” at the beginning of the 1990s was a key initiative driven by then-Chief Justice Yong Pung How.
The motivation behind this bold reform was to shed the symbolic vestiges of colonial rule.
Mr Khoo stated that the wigs and ornate collars were seen as “out of place” in an independent and pragmatic Singapore.
He further noted the impracticality of wearing such attire in the country’s hot, tropical climate, a sentiment that resonates deeply within Ghana’s legal fraternity.
“The thinking was that it was out of place in an independent, pragmatic Singapore,” Khoo explained. “And also, you must understand, in our tropical climate, it was really uncomfortable to be all dressed up and wearing wigs and high collars.”
He added that the change was “certainly welcomed by many lawyers” and was a move “consistent with a young nation becoming confident in its own ways and comfortable in its own skin.”
For countries like Ghana, which have inherited a similar colonial legal framework, the central question is whether doing away with these traditions would diminish the dignity and formality of the court.
Mr Khoo was unequivocal in his response: “Oh no… not at all.”
He asserted that the change was “only in an outward form” and had not compromised the integrity of the judiciary.
Instead, the Singaporean courts are now perceived as “more approachable and culturally relevant”, while still maintaining the seriousness and decorum of a “world-class judiciary”.
Mr Khoo concluded that the dignity of the court now comes from “the conduct of the judges and the conduct of the lawyers and the integrity of the legal system, not from wigs or archaic phrases.”
This perspective offers a compelling lesson for Ghana, where the judicial wig carries significant weight.
Supporters argue that it embodies the dignity, solemnity, and respect that the court commands. They believe that the anonymity it provides helps shield judges from personal attacks, representing the law rather than individual personalities. For many, tradition is not a burden but a bedrock of institutional integrity and stability.
However, a growing number of voices—especially from the youth and legal reform advocates—are calling for a shift. The arguments for moving away from wigs are both practical and symbolic, with cost, comfort, decolonisation and public perception as some reasons.
The debate over the judicial wig is not merely an aesthetic one; it is a fundamental discussion about national identity and the perception of justice.
The Singaporean experience demonstrates that a judiciary can maintain its solemnity and integrity by focusing on professional conduct, ethical standards, and a commitment to justice, rather than relying on outdated colonial symbols.