JUST before the end of August, I attended a lecture given by Tun Tengku Maimun Tuan Mat, our illustrious former chief judge who had been appointed professor of practice by Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia (UKM) last year.
It was a public lecture but I had been officially invited in my capacity as a member of UKM’s board of governors.
But even without an invitation, I would have made it a point to attend as an ordinary Malaysian citizen because I wanted to hear what a woman who had been a singularly courageous judge had to say.
And I would have done so even though she was speaking about the responsibility of the judiciary, a topic that I had previously not cared about much.
You might wonder why I hadn’t cared about this issue considering I am passionate about nation- building. But you see, apart from not being a student in law, I had not liked our judiciary much for a while now.
Firstly, there was the issue of Tun Salleh Abbas being unceremoniously dismissed as head of the judiciary in 1988. That left a bitter taste in my mouth for the profession.
Then came Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim’s trials in the late 1990s. Let’s just say that I felt the proceedings were not honourable and every argument by the prosecution filled me with dismay.
I decided then that the judiciary is something lesser men like me should not deal with in this life; best to leave it to the Hereafter.
But listening to Tengku Maimun’s speech gave me a slightly different perspective. She mentioned three cases in which the judiciary had upheld the constitutional rights of Malaysians and served as a conscience to the nation.
First there was the case involving author Mohd Faizal Musa, who writes under the pen name Faisal Tehrani; the Home Ministry banned several of his books beginning in 2012, saying that they were disruptive to the culture and faith of a certain race and religion.
The novels, I understand, are about issues of alternate lifestyles that are not discussed in polite conversations at kenduri and family get-togethers, much less examined in university courses.
The judiciary took a courageous stand and lifted the ban, citing the author’s right to freedom of expression, and that the content was not tantamount to causing harm to the nation. I knew about the case, but I thought the 2018 result a fluke.
The next case she cited was the one in which lawyer Nik Elin Zurina Nik Abdul Rashid and her daughter challenged some of Kelantan’s shariah laws. The 2024 judgment partially allowed the challenge and is considered a landmark decision.
Tengku Maimun, who led the bench that came to that judgment, recounted the contempt heaped on the judiciary after that case and the toxic narratives spun to paint it as an agent out to destroy Islam.
She said it is the judiciary’s role to interpret the Constitution in letter, spirit and rule accordingly without any agendas or prejudice, and to ensure that a state’s legislature does not violate the limits set by the Constitution, which is the supreme law of the land.
She mentioned how it was personally challenging for her to be accused of trying to undermine the sanctity of Islam. To me, sitting attentively in the audience, it was a jolt in my unimpressed-by-the-judiciary perspective.
I knew of the case, of course, and had followed it diligently, knowing that Nik Ellin and her daughter must be going through hell with people cursing them at every turn. I can certainly understand the feeling, having shared similar experiences.
Finally, Tengku Maimun touched on the SRC International case involving former prime minister Datuk Seri Najib Razak.
SRC is a former subsidiary of 1Malaysia Development Bhd, and Najib was found guilty of seven charges in 2020 and sentenced to prison.
Tengku Maimun said a person’s status in society must not be seen as something that would ever sway the judiciary in pronouncing justice. That statement was a stinger in my ears.
To pronounce judgment on a personality as huge as the former prime minister, a man who led a party that holds the hearts of a large majority of people in this country – I would never be as brave or as courageous as that, looking from the perspective of my family and children. But she said it.
I left the big hall after the lecture and drove off to meet my wife for lunch. I did not stop to say thank you to the woman who looked small physically but was a giant in courage I would never cross.
But her words did make me rethink my view of the judiciary as a nation’s conscience.
During the recent National Month, I heard many politicians claiming many things about our Constitution that would divide us as a people forever.
But I am slightly soothed that there are people like Tengku Maimun to remind those in power that the judiciary, for now, remains a defender of the Constitution for all the people of Malaysia, not just for the popular or the powerful.
Her lecture turned out to contain just the spirit I was looking for as we marked our independence and looked to the future as a nation and as a people.
Prof Dr Mohd Tajuddin Mohd Rasdi is Professor of Architecture at the Tan Sri Omar Centre for Science, Technology and Innovation Policy Studies at UCSI University. The views expressed here are entirely the writer’s own.
