Bullying Isn T Child S Play It S A National Habit

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When I was in school, bullies singled out the unlucky few - the ones who didn’t fight back.
Often, they were called mean names, but sometimes, it escalated to full-on physical violence that led to more than just a wound or two.
The bullies often got away, as they do. But sometimes a teacher stepped in, caned them publicly at assembly to set an example, leaving not just a bruise on their bum, but also scars in their minds.
What’s the difference? It’s smaller than you might think. At the time, we thought justice had been served.
ADSBut looking back, the power dynamics weren’t so different. In both instances, someone with more power (whether physical strength, age, or authority) harmed someone with less.
If we define bullying as the use of power to control, humiliate, or hurt someone perceived as weaker, both the student and the teacher were bullies.
We often think of bullying as a problem among children. But what if our society, our families, our workplaces, even our leaders, have all taught us how to bully? This is the culture that normalised abuse.
Why is bullying getting more frequent?
The tragic bullying and death of Zara Qairina Mahathir and other related cases have put the issue in the spotlight, but what does justice look like?
Instead of focusing only on individual perpetrators, let’s take a step back.
Many Malaysians think that it’s OK to harm someone, physically or emotionally, if it’s “for a good reason”. We see this in how we treat our children: “If our children didn’t fear us, if we don’t beat them… how would they obey us?”
Violence may keep a child obedient, but unconsciously, it teaches children a lesson that abuse is acceptable, as long as the person in power believes so.
When powerful people can always justify their violence, our children learn to do this too. Hence, we see stronger children bullying, hitting, or humiliating those they see as weaker.
Four in five Malaysians grew up either being bullied or being bullies. Even 73 percent of Malaysian parents believe physical punishment is sometimes necessary, and 75 percent of children in Malaysia experience maltreatment, with 40 percent physically abused by parents.
Some say that the beatings and shoutings they faced as children built their character and taught them right from wrong. But if so many of us were “disciplined”, why are we still growing up to become bullies?
Discipline isn’t the problem - domination is. Teaching a child right from wrong doesn’t require pain, and respect doesn’t have to be built on fear.
ADSIn fact, research shows that corporal punishment increases the risk of anxiety, aggression, and antisocial behaviour in children, even when it’s intended as discipline.
Children treat others as they were treated. Because if our parents were our first bullies and we were taught not to fight back, how are children supposed to speak up when they’re getting bullied in school? And how are we supposed to tell kids not to grow up to mimic their parents and become bullies themselves?
We can’t, because it’s deeper than you think. The problem isn’t limited to schools and families; it’s a broader systemic issue in Malaysian society, encompassing workplaces and the government - a symptom of a deeper problem: the normalisation of abuse.
Everyday abuse in Malaysia
Nearly four in 10 Malaysian workers report being bullied at work, which is twice the global average. Odds are that you or someone you know has experienced public humiliation, being shouted at, or personal attacks by your boss or someone in a position of authority.
Many accept that bosses can do or say whatever they want, no matter how toxic, because, well… they’re your boss! Someone in authority, someone with more power and protection.
Now, substitute “boss” with “senior”, “teacher”, “partner” or “parent”, and the logic becomes clear: We were taught to obey those with power - even when they hurt us. Employees, bosses, and even parents were once children, too, told to accept abuse.
We need to go further. Government and state institutions often bully and abuse with the same logic of domination imported from colonial rule.
Many of the ways we justify punishment today weren’t invented - they were inherited. From judicial and school caning, censorship laws, to authoritarian policing, these systems were designed by British colonial powers to suppress, divide, and control.
We didn’t dismantle them, we adapted them. And we’ve taught each new generation to accept them.
We see it every day. Being stopped at a police roadblock - something as routine as showing your MyKad - can fill the best of us with dread. Not because we’ve done something wrong, but because we’ve seen too many stories of what happens when someone with a badge decides to assert their power.
Even in Parliament, bullying plays out in full view: racist and sexist remarks go unpunished, and debates are shut down with procedural power plays. If this is our model of leadership, is it any wonder we think “might makes right”?
Worse still, this culture of bullying and abuse often victimises minorities and the most vulnerable among us. People who don’t fit the mould, particularly lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer people, are forced to bear the biggest targets on their backs.
T Nhaveen, an 18-year-old boy, was cruelly beaten and tortured to death by former classmates in 2017 because he had “soft” qualities.
T NhaveenIt shook the nation. But I don’t think we should have been so surprised - especially when gay and trans people are raided by authorities to humiliate and “teach them a lesson”, or when the government runs “conversion therapy” programmes, or canes us for consensual intimacy - and people celebrate this on social media.
Discrimination perpetuates bullying and abuse, and that affects all of us.
The brutal (and hopeful) truth we missed
It’s easy… too easy, to point the finger at the bully and demand justice. It’s more uncomfortable to realise that at one point, we may have been bullied too: by our family, teachers, bosses, and authorities.
The statistics don’t lie: we need to acknowledge that we may have been bullies or abused our power at some point ourselves, too.
Sit with that discomfort, but don’t beat yourself up over it.
I’ve been on both sides of this old dynamic myself - both hurt and, at times, hurtful. I carry this when I write this. It was only after school ended that I began to notice those same patterns of power and harm in everyday life, and in the news. You’ve probably felt it too.
I invite us to unlearn what we’ve been taught about power and punishment, and imagine new paths forward.
We need cultural transformation, a reimagining of Malaysia, one that is kinder and more empathetic. Because bullying isn’t the root problem, it’s a symptom of a deeper, systemic harm - not just in schools but at every level of society.
Here’s what change could look like:
1) Parenting and families: Imagine if children learned what was right and wrong, not because they feared punishment, but because they were treated with respect and empathy.
Explore alternatives to fear-based punishment, including positive discipline strategies that guide children without violence or shame. Teach children (and yourself first) that love and fear aren’t the same thing.
2) Schools: Go beyond anti-bullying campaigns. Develop clear policies, train staff, and educate students on non-violent and empathy-based ways of relating. Discipline should guide, not humiliate.
3) Workplaces: End toxic leadership. Dignity isn’t a luxury; it’s a right. Establish anti-bullying policies, train trauma-informed managers, and ensure safe reporting.
4) Government and law: Demand accountability. Support anti-bullying, anti-discrimination, and hate speech laws. End corporal punishment in all settings.
If we truly want to end bullying, we need to end the abuse of power, especially against the most vulnerable: children, the working class, migrants, stateless people, racial minorities, women, and LGBTQ+ people.
If you’re a young person facing bullying and need advice, Justice for Sisters and Monsters Among Us have created a practical guide with tips to help you stay safe and helpful contacts.
It also includes advice for parents and teachers on how to build a more supportive, nurturing environment. - Mkini
RY ONG is a Malaysian writer exploring how ideas, power, and culture shape who we are - and who we can become.
The views expressed here are those of the author/contributor and do not necessarily represent the views of MMKtT.

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