The Pleasures of Retirement

 One of the delights of being retired is that you are free of daily schedule. You now have the time to return to those interests that you did not have the time to explore. Internet with AI helps you return to those missed things.

One of my most pleasurable adventures of this period without schedules is watching old Tamil movies and songs from those movies. There is a profound difference between watching a film to escape a busy work week versus watching it with the unhurried, spacious mind of retirement. Free from the ticking clock, you can actually pause, rewatch a scene, look up the lyrics, and notice the subtle camera angles or the literary depth that flew past during your younger years. So much that was missed in the first encounters in the past now comes to light.

What prompted these thoughts today was a YouTube video of M. S. Rajeswari songs. The different tones and emotions of songs I have heard a thousand times suddenly took on a new clarity. From the seductive playfulness of “Oh Rasikkum Seemane” to the deep longing of “Pudhu Pennin Manadhai”, these songs hold your attention as no book ever could. I have added below the URL to the video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IRflNAzMt5g&list=RDIRflNAzMt5g&start_radio=1 

Act 605 May Not Withstand a Constitutional Challenge

 Act 605’s restrictions on criticism have had a chilling effect on academic discourse for more than a decade. This article contends that these provisions may be unconstitutional and calls for a principled re‑examination of the Act within higher‑education reform.

 The Statutory Bodies (Discipline and Surcharge) Act 2000 (better known as Act 605) represents the high‑water mark of the bureaucratisation of public universities. When Parliament enacted Act 605, its purpose was straightforward: to close a legal gap that had exempted employees of statutory bodies from the Public Service Department’s disciplinary code. In effect, Act 605 was designed to extend civil‑service‑style disciplinary control to officers of statutory bodies incorporated by federal law.

Act 605 came into force on 1 November 2000. Section 2(1) provides that the Act applies to all statutory bodies except those listed in the First Schedule. Universities established under the Universities and University Colleges Act 1971 (UUCA) are not listed as exceptions. The Act defines a statutory body broadly as any entity incorporated by federal law for the purposes of the Federal Government, excluding only local authorities. On its face, this definition appears wide enough to include public universities.

The first judicial consideration of Act 605’s application to universities arose in Universiti Utara Malaysia (UUM) v. Mutiara Mohamad & Others & Another [2011 8 MLRH 650. The case concerned the dismissal of a lecturer who had refused to sign the Aku Janji undertaking and failed to report for duty. A preliminary issue before the court was whether the disciplinary proceedings should have been governed by Act 605 or by the UUCA. At the time the case was initiated in 2007, the UUCA still contained its own disciplinary provisions under section 16A, which vested disciplinary authority in the university’s Board of Directors. These provisions were only deleted in 2009 through the University Colleges (Amendment) Act.

It was undisputed that UUM had conducted the disciplinary proceedings under Act 605. The university argued that it was a statutory body within the meaning of the Act and therefore subject to its disciplinary regime. The lecturer contended that UUM was merely a body corporate governed by the UUCA, and that Act 605 did not apply. The court held that a body corporate could also be a statutory body, and that Act 605 applied to UUM from the moment it came into force. Section 28 of Act 605, the court noted, expressly provides that disciplinary provisions in an incorporating statute cease to apply once Act 605 is in force.

Act 605 and the Nature of the University

While the court’s reasoning resolved the statutory interpretation question, it did not address a deeper issue: whether applying Act 605 to universities is compatible with the nature, purpose, and constitutional position of higher‑education institutions. The court did not consider whether the Code of Conduct imposed by Act 605, designed for general statutory bodies, was appropriate for universities, whose functions and freedoms differ fundamentally from those of ordinary government‑linked entities.

This omission is significant. The Code of Conduct under Act 605 prohibits officers from criticising the statutory body or the government, and penalises statements deemed “detrimental,” “embarrassing,” or “prejudicial” to the institution. These prohibitions strike at the heart of academic freedom. Universities depend on open discourse, debate, and the ability of scholars to question institutional and governmental decisions. A disciplinary code that prohibits criticism is antithetical to the intellectual mission of a university.

Act 605 and University Autonomy

Moreover, the application of Act 605 undermines the autonomy of universities, which Malaysian courts have recognised for decades. University autonomy necessarily includes the ability to determine disciplinary norms appropriate to academic work. While other statutory bodies may also have had internal disciplinary rules, university disciplinary frameworks serve a unique function: they define and protect academic freedoms, collegial governance, and the rights of scholars to engage in inquiry without fear of administrative retaliation. These features are not present in other statutory bodies, which do not share the governance architecture established under the UUCA in the schedule constitution.

Freedom of Speech and Act 605

Beyond governance concerns, Act 605 raises a serious constitutional issue that was not argued in Mutiara Mohamad. Article 10(1)(a) of the Federal Constitution guarantees that “every citizen has the right to freedom of speech and expression.” This right applies fully within universities. It protects academics, researchers, administrators, and students. It is foundational to academic freedom, institutional integrity, and evidence‑based policy development.

Parliament may restrict speech only for the specific purposes listed in Article 10(2): national security, friendly relations with other countries, public order, morality, parliamentary privileges, court proceedings, contempt of court, defamation, and incitement to an offence. These exceptions are narrow and intended to safeguard public interests—not institutional reputation or administrative convenience.

The constitutional argument is strengthened by the recent Federal Court decision in Amir Hariri Abd Hadi v PP (2025). The Federal Court reaffirmed that any statutory restriction on rights under Article 10 must satisfy the doctrine of proportionality, which is constitutionally grounded in Article 8(1). The Court emphasised that restrictions under Article 10(2) “are not without limit” and must be proportionate to legitimate aims such as security or public order. The Court’s analysis makes clear that disproportionate restrictions on constitutional freedoms are void under Article 4(1). Act 605’s broad prohibitions on criticism, aimed at protecting institutional reputation rather than any constitutionally recognised ground, cannot meet this proportionality threshold.

In light of Article 10 and the Federal Court’s reaffirmation of proportionality, the speech‑restricting provisions of Act 605 are unlikely to withstand a serious constitutional challenge. They do not serve any of the permitted constitutional purposes and are therefore void to the extent of their inconsistency with the Federal Constitution. As Malaysia undertakes a review of higher‑education legislation, it is essential to confront the implications of Act 605. Restoring university autonomy, protecting academic freedom, and ensuring that disciplinary frameworks align with constitutional rights are critical steps toward strengthening Malaysia’s higher‑education system and enhancing its global competitiveness.

2026 FIFA World Cup - the Violation of the Playing Field

 

The violation of the playing field is not just a sporting scandal. It is a warning about the fragility of justice itself. When leaders impose their kingly whims, both sport and law begin to regress.

The sports arena, whether for tennis, sepak takraw, or football, is humanity’s most refined vision for resolving conflict without bloodshed.

In early medieval England, from where we draw our common law, disputes were settled through trial by combat. Victory in the combat fought with swords and lances was believed to reveal divine decision.

And long before that, in the Roman amphitheatre, the emperor’s thumb determined life or death. A single gesture could spare a gladiator or condemn him. The law was whatever the emperor felt in that moment. And emperors, then as now, could be mad.

The irony is that modern common law evolved precisely by rejecting this world of sovereign whim. As societies evolved, kings themselves began surrendering their personal fiat as arbiters of disputes. They allowed rules, evidence, juries, and procedure to take their place. When monarchs stepped back, law stepped forward.

The courtroom became the civilised successor to the arena, a space where justice was no longer determined by strength, luck, or the temper of a mad emperor, but by principles and rules that applied equally to all.

Sport mirrors this same civilizational evolution. Rather than killing or maiming opponents, societies developed mutually agreed-upon rules built on fairness. This transformation created a level playing field where conflict could remain fierce yet civil, forcing rivals to accept equality under the law and submit to the judgment of an impartial arbiter, the referee or umpire.

The playing field became a space where victory is dictated not by sovereign caprice, but by rules that bind everyone equally.

This is why the 2026 FIFA World Cup, hosted largely in the United States, has become such a troubling spectacle. The tournament has been overshadowed by imperial interference and discriminatory enforcement. These are not minor regulatory issues. They strike at the heart of what makes sport meaningful: the promise that within the painted lines, fairness will prevail.

One of the most widely reported controversies involved American striker Folarin Balogun, who received a straight red card in the Round of 32. Under FIFA’s rules, this carries an automatic one‑match ban. Yet after the incident, U.S. President Donald Trump personally phoned FIFA President Gianni Infantino to complain. FIFA then suspended the ban under Article 27, a move so unusual that European football bodies warned it set a dangerous precedent.

Regardless of one’s view of the incident, the principle is clear: the head of state, even if he imagines himself emperor, should not be allowed to influence the rules of play on the field. When political power intrudes into the referee’s domain, the playing field ceases to be a sanctuary and becomes an extension of imperial authority, as in the Roman amphitheatre. This is precisely what sport had transcended.

The erosion of fairness has not been confined to the pitch. Immigration enforcement has repeatedly disrupted the basic premise of a neutral ground for a global tournament. Accredited individuals have been detained, denied entry, or deported despite FIFA approval. Somali referee Omar Abdulkadir Artan was detained and deported. Iraqi striker Aymen Hussein was held for hours at O’Hare Airport. The Palestinian Football Association’s president, Jibril Rajoub, was refused a visa altogether. These incidents reveal how easily the neutrality of sport can be compromised when discriminatory politics intrude. When immigration officers, rather than referees, determine who participates, the playing field is no longer governed by the rules of the sport but by the prejudices of the host nation.

Actions surrounding the tournament have also affected fans and communities. Human Rights Watch and other observers have documented heightened risks for immigrant groups in cities hosting the tournament, including visa restrictions and targeted policing. The World Cup is meant to be a celebration of humanity’s diversity. Instead, many communities feel surveilled or excluded. Fairness is not only about the players; it is about the people who fill the stadiums and add that vital spirit to the game that only spectators can provide.

Press freedom, another pillar of fairness, has also come under strain in the host country. Journalists have faced arrests and deportations while covering events around the tournament. When press freedom is restricted, transparency suffers, and the moral authority of the playing field weakens.

Sport is more than entertainment. It is humanity’s most successful experiment in dealing with conflict. And here lies the deeper warning: if fairness can be violated in the rule-bound football field, then fairness can be violated in the courtroom, the far more complex arena upon which our entire justice system rests.

Kings once surrendered their personal power so that rules could govern disputes. We should worry when demented leaders begin to impose their kingly whims in settling disputes.

The playing field is sacred only for as long as we defend it.

 

Petaling Jaya

10 July 2026