Wednesday, 22 October 2025

| The dream of the bench

 By David Dass



For many lawyers, becoming a judge is the pinnacle of a professional life - the culmination of years of study, advocacy, and sacrifice. It is the ultimate realisation of a dream.

Malaysia is a country governed by the rule of law. We have a written Federal Constitution, which stands as the supreme law of the land. As a parliamentary democracy, laws are made by Parliament and the state assemblies.

Our legal system draws from multiple sources - the Common Law of England, the personal laws of Muslims, native laws and customs of the Orang Asli and the indigenous peoples of Sabah and Sarawak, as well as the customs and usage of our diverse communities.

At the heart of this framework stand independent judges, whose task is to interpret and uphold the law.

They are the custodians of justice - the chosen ones on which the entire system of law and governance rests. Here we speak of the judges of the civil and criminal courts, and not of those serving in the syariah judiciary, which administers Muslim personal law.

The call to serve

The day a lawyer receives the call to the bench is unforgettable. It is a moment of heart-stopping excitement - one that marks a turning point in a life’s journey.

The news is shared first with family, then with close friends and colleagues. That joy is often mingled with deep anxiety.

Leaving private practice is never easy. A senior partner often anchors the firm they helped build; their departure may unsettle its stability.

Yet, the call to serve - long-awaited and deeply desired - cannot be refused. It is a call to duty, to something higher than self.

Of course, there are many judges who come from the judicial and legal services of the government. Their experiences may be a little different, but all else will be similar.

The burden of responsibility

With exhilaration comes apprehension. Can I sit through long hearings with patience? Can I send a man to prison - or pronounce the death sentence? Can I endure the long hours, the isolation, the endless reading, and the burden of deciding between competing truths and conflicting arguments?

Judges administer both the criminal law and the vast panoply of civil and commercial law. A daunting prospect for even the most able of lawyers.

The stories of great judges inspire awe and unease in equal measure. One Malaysian judge was said to have written over 800 judgments in his career - an almost superhuman feat.

The judge-to-be recalls the old cautions: a judge who speaks too much is like an “ill-tuned cymbal”, and a judge who “descends into the arena of conflict risks having their vision blurred by the ascending dust.”

Above all, in the words of Lord Alfred Denning, “Justice must not only be done but must be seen to be done.”

The perception of fairness is vital to sustaining judicial credibility and authority. There can be no conflict. Judges are independent. They stand between the powerful - the power of the state - and the individual citizen.

Lord Denning once said: “To every subject of this land, however powerful, I quote the words of Thomas Fuller, three hundred years ago: Be ye ever so high, the law is above you.”

And as Tun Salleh Abas, Malaysia’s Lord President until the 1988 judicial crisis, reminded us: “The judges are the protectors of the Constitution and the guardians of the people’s rights. Without their courage and integrity, the rule of law would be but an empty slogan.”

The trappings of office

The ceremony of elevation is solemn. The new judge dons the robe, shirt, and bib - the apparel of their office. Their family and friends gather proudly in the courtroom as the Chief Justice presides.

On that day, though several may be elevated, each feels a unique surge of pride and awe. He takes the oath of office and swears to uphold the Constitution. The transformation is complete.

Their day begins. He is assigned a driver and a car. On arrival at the courthouse, their assigned orderly opens their car door, the registrar greets them, court officers bow, and lawyers address them as “Yang Arif” or “My Lord.”

The symbolism is powerful - they are no longer the ordinary man, but the office he holds, the office that commands deference. And as others treat them differently, they, too, begin to see themselves differently.

From glamour to grind

The excitement soon fades. In its place comes the relentless rhythm of judicial life - chamber applications, interlocutory hearings, full trials.

Each day demands intense concentration, constant note-taking, swift rulings, and the projection of calm authority.

The writing of judgments is the sternest test of judicial competence. A poorly reasoned decision can cast doubt on a judge’s fitness for judicial office; a well-written one consolidates their position.

They labour long nights and weekends reflecting and writing. It is a challenging task that never gets easier with time.

Justice Benjamin Cardozo of the US Supreme Court observed: “The great tides and currents which engulf the rest of men do not turn aside in their course and pass the judges by. We, too, are subject to passions and prejudices, but we must strive to rise above them in the name of justice.”

And Justice Gopal Sri Ram of Malaysia captured judicial duty in these words: “Judges must also act impartially without fear or favour. A good judge… must not betray the oath of this high judicial office… He must also be passionately committed to defending the fundamental principle of the rule of law and the Constitution.”

The judge’s social circle narrows. The laughter of raucous dinners with lawyer friends gives way to quiet lunches with fellow judges.

Judicial independence demands social distancing; friendship gives way to more discreet interaction. Slowly, the judge discovers the loneliness of their calling.

A noble but lonely calling

A judge’s vocation is a noble but solitary one. The judge must be learned in law, wise in human affairs, and steadfast in conscience.

The dishonest judge, it is said, has a special place reserved in hell. Some rumours swirl through the chambers of errant judges.

There was that anonymous letter by a judge and that affidavit by a sitting judge. But these were unproven allegations, and generally, judges are respected and held in very high esteem.

A judge does not decide cases arbitrarily. He is bound by the principle of stare decisis, which requires him to follow precedent where the facts, issues, and law are similar.

Yet within those constraints lies room for creativity and moral courage - to interpret, to distinguish, and to find justice within the law. Each day, they must balance law, truth, and fairness.

As Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr said: “The life of the law has not been logic; it has been experience.”

And former chief justice Tengku Maimun Tuan Mat said this in a speech in Indonesia in 2021: “The task of a judge is onerous and is reflected in the oath that we judges take, namely to bear true faith and allegiance to Malaysia and to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution. Undeniably, judging requires knowledge, integrity and courage.”

Comparative perspectives

Across the common law world, judges share a kinship of purpose and burden in their pursuit of truth and justice.

In England, centuries of tradition surround the judiciary. Their judgments are scrutinised immediately by lawyers, academics, and the press.

The pressure for clarity and correctness is intense, tempered only by the knowledge that appellate judges may later critically dissect their reasoning.

In the US, the Supreme Court justices are the best known in the world. Though their rulings apply only to Americans, their influence extends globally.

Their power to interpret the Constitution gives them vast authority - but also exposes them to intense political storms between conservative and liberal ideologies. It is the force of their reasoning that influences.

The US Supreme Court

In Malaysia, the pressures are different but equally formidable. Judges face heavy caseloads, limited resources, and the complexity of deciding cases in a multi-ethnic and multi-religious society.

As former Lord President Suffian Hashim once said in a public lecture: “In a multi-racial and multi-religious society… while we judges cannot help being Malay or Chinese or Indian… we strive not to be too identified with any particular race or religion… so that nobody reading our judgment with our name deleted could with confidence identify our race or religion.”

Judges must constantly work to sustain public confidence - the judiciary has been shaken at times by crises of the past.

Their judgments, often written in solitude, ripple far beyond their chambers, shaping commerce, politics, and the delicate balance between state power and individual freedom.

Their authority devolves through the Constitution. They are the ultimate arbiters and interpreters of the Constitution. They safeguard our democracy and our freedoms.

The weight of office

After years on the bench, some judges ascend to the appellate courts, bearing new titles and expectations.

Their manner changes - they walk with quiet authority, conscious of the dignity their office commands. It is not arrogance but awareness - of the heavy mantle they wear, and the eyes of a nation that watch them.

A judge is, at their best, a servant of justice and a guardian of the law. Their life may be lonely, but it is a life that matters.

Within their courtroom, the fate of individuals, the liberty of citizens, and sometimes life itself, hang on their words.

The judge’s charge

Across centuries and continents, the message remains unchanged: For Lord Denning, the duty of a judge is to find the truth and do justice according to law.

Justice Cardozo urged judges to rise above their passions. Former Lord President Salleh Abas warned judges that without integrity, the rule of law becomes an empty phrase.

Gopal Sri Ram reminded judges that justice must be done without fear or favour. Suffian emphasised that judges must be blind to the race or religion of those who appear before them.

Raja Azlan Shah emphasised the importance of judicial independence. Judge Zainun Ali stressed the importance of judicial power, judicial independence, and the doctrine of separation of powers within our constitutional framework.

Tengku Maimun forcefully maintained that core elements of our Constitution could never be removed.

Former Chief Justice Tengku Maimun Tuan Mat

Judge Nalini Pathmanathan is quoted as saying that independence meant to her “the independence and freedom to adjudicate on the cases before her not only in terms of freedom from influence, but also the ability to study, absorb and analyse the law, be it statute or case-law from Malaysia and numerous other jurisdictions.”

Heavy is the burden on the shoulders of a judge.

Finally, when the trappings fade - the cars, the robes, the ceremonial bows cease or pass - what remains is the written judgment itself: reasoned in law, tempered by humanity, and anchored in conscience.

That is what endures. It is written testimony to a country’s adherence to the Rule of Law. That is the legacy of a judge.

In the words of Lord Bingham: “The rule of law is not a slogan or a mere lawyer’s construct. It is the foundation of a civilised society”.

DAVID DASS is a distinguished Malaysian lawyer

Monday, 6 October 2025

Is Discipline in Schools to Be Handed Over to the Police?


 In our schools, bullying has escalated into physical violence, humiliation, and psychological trauma. A Form Two student in Kota Kinabalu was recently assaulted by seniors for arriving late to the dormitory. The Ministry of Education is now considering deploying auxiliary police and setting up police booths in schools, a stark indication of how serious the problem has become.

(Fadhlina: MoE considering auxiliary police and school police booths as part of anti-bullying efforts | Malay Mail  viewed 14/9/25 at 11.30pm.)

Schools at a Crossroads

In March 2024, the Federal Court of Malaysia issued a landmark ruling that affirmed that schools, the Ministry and the Government have a legal duty to prevent bullying in schools. The apex court emphasised the importance of safety in schools.

 “It goes without saying that schools, residential or otherwise, must be safe and conducive for the purpose(s) intended. Otherwise, the providers and consumers of such institutions would face considerable difficulties in enrolment, whether of student or teaching faculty.” (Mary Lim Thiam Suan FCJ)

 The judgment is a declaration that the safety and dignity of students lie in the hands of teachers, school officials, the Ministry of Education and the Government.

 Government schools, established by the Ministry of Education, despite having a physical presence and a name, are not legal entities, and as such, legal duties cannot be imposed on them. Therefore, a duty of care for the safety of students and other persons who may be on the premises of the school falls on the teachers, the officials of the school, such as the principal, as well as the Ministry of Education, and the Government.

 The Minister’s duty under the Education Act 1996, to provide education in national schools, must now be understood to include a duty to maintain safety in those schools.

 As if that were not sufficient, the Penal Code was amended early this year specifically to address bullying, not only in schools but generally (The Penal Code (Amendment) Act 2025).

 Yet, even as the law speaks about duty and penal sanctions, the system appears not to be able to ensure safety in schools.

 Two recent cases have shown that despite the clear ruling of the apex court, there is no evident attempt to address bullying in schools.

 In Kota Kinabalu, a Form Two student was violently assaulted by seniors for arriving late to the dormitory. In Papar, a young girl died under deeply troubling circumstances in a religious boarding school. 

 The inquest in the latter case has revealed delayed responses, institutional negligence, and even threats against medical experts who gave evidence at the inquest.

 These are not isolated failures; they indicate a disconnect between the authorities, the schools they oversee, and what is actually happening in schools.

The Minister’s Response

In response to the recent case in Kota Kinabalu, Education Minister Fadhlina Sidek announced that the Ministry is considering deploying auxiliary police personnel and establishing police booths in schools. 

 She stated that these proposals are being reviewed through the school safety reform committee, an ongoing safety audit, and town hall sessions with the Ministry of Law and the Ministry of Communications. These efforts are part of a broader study into a proposed anti-bullying bill.

 But the proposals raise a fundamental question: Does the Minister and the Ministry understand their duty to ensure safety in schools as laid down by the Federal Court and implied under the Education Act 1996?

 It is doubtful if a police presence will deter bullying, which is a complex phenomenon, an aberration of adolescent development. It is marked by subtle patterns of isolation and intimidation of victims that frequently go unnoticed. When bullying becomes physical, it is the culmination, not the beginning, of a long and invisible ordeal. The police are not trained to deal with such conduct.

The Danger of Criminalising Schools

The deployment of police, even if they are only the auxiliary police, into schools changes the fundamental character of schools from safe sanctuaries of learning into detention centres. It tells students that they are not individuals being educated, but potential offenders monitored by the police. It tells teachers that their authority is insufficient and may be overridden.  And it tells society it can no longer trust schools.

 What begins as a response to bullying can quickly become a system of criminalisation. Students who make mistakes, who struggle emotionally, who come from vulnerable backgrounds, may now face punishment instead of psychological support. The very institutions meant to nurture them will instead treat them as potential criminals.

 There is a stark irony here. In the United States, under President Trump, the deployment of federal troops to suppress civil unrest was widely condemned as authoritarian overreach. In Malaysia, we now risk a similar trajectory, militarising spaces meant for growth, and treating children as threats.

The Federal Court’s Warning

The Federal Court did not call for police booths. It called for accountability, supervision, and a culture of respect. It laid out a framework for reform through awareness campaigns, curricular change, and institutional responsibility. The Court’s decision was a call to moral leadership, not criminal enforcement.

 “Yet, the discipline of students of all ages remains a necessary part of any education curriculum. Basic values of mutual respect for another must be inculcated in all our young, and it should not be left to expensive and unfortunate incidents, such as revealed in these appeals, to remind us of these values.” (Mary Lim Thiam Suan FCJ)

 To respond with policing is to misread what is a carefully crafted judgment. It is a retreat from the hard work of reform and outsourcing discipline to those wielding truncheons, not trained as educators.

Bullying is a major social problem. The Ministry must make an effort to determine why there is an increase in bullying in our schools. It needs a broader consultation than with the Ministry of Law or the Ministry of Communications. Advice must be sought from psychologists, educationists, parents and yes, students, especially victims of bullying.

Schools must address the problem directly by instituting procedures that would enable the detection of bullying and provide avenues for students to seek help discreetly.

 Schools must not be seen as battlegrounds. They must remain sanctuaries as the federal Court declares. Discipline must be rooted in dignity, not fear. And education, which is now recognised as a constitutional right, must be led by those who understand its purpose, not just to instruct, but to inspire good conduct.

 Schools must neither mirror the larger community where bullying and intimidation have become a political art, nor feed that world with graduates adept in that pernicious practice.

 

 Petaling Jaya

15 September 2025

Rotary Club of Damansara Connects 6,000-year Orang Asli Community to the Internet


 Kuala Lumpur, 5 October 2025

In a major step toward digital inclusion, the Rotary Club of Damansara has successfully installed a Starlink satellite link in Kampung Chang Lama, bringing Internet access to the heart of this Orang Asli village for the very first time.

This initiative marks the beginning of a broader community partnership aimed at improving educational outcomes for the village’s youth. With connectivity now in place, the club will begin conducting digital literacy workshops tailored to different age groups, focusing on safe and meaningful use of the Internet.

“Those living in Kampung Chang can now access the Internet through their handphones and computers,” said Mr. P. Rajendran, the club’s Community Services Director and lead coordinator of the Kampung Chang Lama initiative. “Our next step is to run classes that empower the community to use this tool wisely—for learning, communication, and opportunity.”

A Community Rooted in History, Facing Modern Challenges

Kampung Chang Lama is home to 675 residents across 191 families, primarily from the Semai/Seng’oi tribes. Nestled near Bidor along the historic trunk road from Kuala Lumpur to Perlis, the community has deep ancestral ties to the land—anthropologists estimate continuous habitation for over 6,000 years.

Despite this rich heritage, the village faces persistent socio-economic challenges. Most households earn below RM960 per month, placing them in Malaysia’s B40 income bracket. While education is compulsory for children aged 6 to 16, Orang Asli students often struggle with access, retention, and achievement due to poverty, geographic isolation, and cultural barriers.

Demographic Snapshot

👶 Ages 0–4: 49

🎒 Pre-school (5–6): 26

📚 Primary school age (7–12): 53

🧑‍🎓 Secondary school age (13–19): 95

🧑‍💼 Young adults (20–40): 280

Nearly one-third of the population is of schooling age or early adulthood. The project will find a powerful demographic for targeted educational support and digital empowerment.