IF LEADERSHIP HAS a script, he does not follow it—he writes his own. And, in doing so, he pushes the rest of us to think beyond the obvious, not as an intellectual exercise, but as a necessary responsibility.

Working with him feels like stepping into a living, ever-expanding library—one where ideas are not just stored, but tested, debated and, more often than not, thrown back at you with a challenge to think harder. He does not dictate; he nudges, questions and pushes us to see that the answers are often already within us—we have just been asking the wrong questions. He challenges assumptions, urges us to rethink what we take for granted, and always circles back to his favourite question: “What is the meaning of Merdeka?”

At his core, Kee Beng is an anarchist—not in the reckless, chaotic sense, but philosophically. He distrusts power structures that stifle independent thought, and he resists hierarchies that demand obedience over understanding. He believes that knowledge should be liberating, not limiting, and that true progress comes from questioning authority, dismantling dogma and always pushing against the tide of complacency.

Many seek out conversations with him—evident in the endless invitations he receives to speak. I am fortunate to learn from him not just in formal settings, but also during spontaneous discussions over lunch, where history, philosophy and politics flow as naturally as everyday conversations.

For him, knowledge is not something to be hoarded; it is meant to be shared, to spark debate, to shift narratives. He builds spaces where ideas can breathe, and refuses to settle for mediocrity—nor allow it for those around him. He does not merely study the world as places on a map—he sees it as a collection of histories, evolving and interconnected, needing to be told with clarity, honesty and sometimes, provocation.

And if knowledge is power, Kee Beng wields it relentlessly. He is probably one of the most published individuals in the region, his works spanning history, politics, philosophy and identity with an intensity few can match. His writings do not merely document events; they dissect and reframe them, challenging both policymakers and ordinary citizens to think deeper about the structures shaping their world.

Those who work with him never work under him. We work beside him—sometimes struggling to keep up, but always knowing that the pursuit of knowledge is the only hierarchy that matters. He does not just mentor; he empowers. He does not only critique; he refines. And in moments of doubt, he reminds us—through action more than words—that the work we do matters. That ideas, wielded well, can shape minds, policies and futures.

His commitment to his work is remarkable—though not necessarily enviable. He works through weekends, public holidays and, I suspect, long into the night—his mind always engaged in the next project, the next thought. He often says the mind never ages, but even those half his age struggle to match his energy and drive.

Summing up Kee Beng’s impact in words is no easy task. Those who have the privilege of working with him agree—his intellect, leadership and generosity shape not just individuals, but entire institutions and narratives.

As a scholar, Kee Beng has an unmatched ability to weave history, politics and identity into analyses that challenge conventional wisdom. His work on Malaysia and Southeast Asia deepens our understanding of the region, urging us to engage critically with its past, present and future. He does not impose his views; he invites discussion, always insisting on nuance and depth over easy conclusions.

As a leader, particularly in his tenure as Executive Director of Penang Institute, he builds an intellectual powerhouse—a space where research, policy discourse and public engagement thrive. Under his guidance, the Institute became a hub for rigorous debate and bold ideas. He fosters a culture of openness, encouraging young researchers to challenge assumptions, explore unconventional perspectives and sharpen their thinking. Working with him is both inspiring and demanding—his mind moves swiftly, making connections others might miss, and he expects those around him to keep up.

What sets Kee Beng apart most is his generosity. He is more than a scholar and a leader; he is a mentor, a teacher and a friend. He takes a genuine interest in the growth of those around him, offering guidance without pretension and encouragement without expectation. His door is always open—whether for a discussion on policy, a debate over ideas, or simply a coffee and a conversation.

At 70, his legacy is not just in the books he has written or the institutions he has shaped. It lives on in the critical thinkers he has nurtured, the minds he has sharpened and the conversations he has sparked. Those of us who work with him are all the better for it.

Here are some lunchtime wisdoms that I have received from him:

• There is no failure if you are doing what you are passionate about.

• Writing takes your mind on a journey, leading you to discoveries and ideas you never imagined when you first put pen to paper.

• When you talk to a mentor, it is not the facts that are being spoken that is important, but learning from the way his mind works.

• In order to be an eagle, you mustn’t behave like a mynah.

• Self image is the key to professionalism.

Kee Beng, on this milestone birthday, we celebrate not just your years, but your impact. May the years ahead bring you continued joy, good health and new intellectual adventures. Thank you for your wisdom, your kindness and your unwavering dedication to the pursuit of knowledge. A mind that never stops questioning, a leader who leads by opening doors and a mentor who never asks for tribute—but whose influence demands one.