The tragic death of 13-year-old Zara Qairina Mahathir in Papar, Sabah, has forced Malaysians to confront a truth we have too long ignored: our schools might not be safe. Zara’s story is not just another headline; it is a searing indictment of an education system that has failed to protect its most vulnerable.
The outrage is widespread. Parents, NGOs, politicians, and activists have all demanded action. Yet amid the noise, the proposed solutions are strikingly familiar: ministers must resign, teachers must do more, schools must tighten discipline. NGOs have suggested a “Bullying Code” modelled after the Penal Code, to standardise definitions of bullying—physical, verbal, and cyber—and to impose fair, enforceable punishments across all types of schools.
The Child Rights Innovation and Betterment Foundation has made a compelling case for such a code. They argue that just as fire safety standards apply nationwide, so too should bullying protections. “Bullying robs children of safety, dignity and the chance to learn. It silences voices, fractures trust and can follow a child for years,” the group said. Their proposal would ensure consistent policies, consequences, and restorative practices for every school in Malaysia.
These demands are not unreasonable. In fact, Malaysia has already begun prosecuting bullying cases under new Penal Code amendments introduced this year. Sections 507B–507G now criminalise harassment, threats, and online abuse, with penalties of up to 10 years’ imprisonment. The Zara Qairina case itself marks the first prosecution under section 507C(1). The government is even considering an Anti-Bullying Tribunal.
But here is the uncomfortable truth: even the strongest code, tribunal, or ministerial reshuffle will not eliminate bullying. Laws punish behaviour after it occurs. They do not prevent it. Standardised policies may reduce cover-ups, but they cannot alter the fact that children, by design, are trapped together in schools—ripe hunting grounds for bullies.
And so the question we dare not ask is this: why must children go to school in the first place?
For centuries, the answer was obvious. Schools were the only place to access teachers who could explain mathematics, science, or literature. A bullied child still had no choice but to attend class—because the price of knowledge was physical presence.
That necessity is now vanishing before our eyes. Artificial intelligence has upended the equation. Already, AI tutors can explain the Pythagorean theorem, guide students through Bernoulli’s principle, mark essays, and track learning progress. Platforms like Khan Academy’s “Khanmigo” showcase the power of AI to provide patient, personalised, one-on-one teaching. Unlike overstretched teachers, an AI never loses patience, never plays favourites, and never runs out of time.
If a bullied child can learn from a laptop or phone, why force them into a classroom where the bullying happens? Why must education remain chained to buildings when technology can deliver knowledge directly, without the cruelty of corridors and dormitories?
This is not science fiction. In many parts of the world, AI-driven education is already being tested. The potential is immense—not just to supplement teachers, but to free students from the tyranny of geography, bureaucracy, and yes, bullying.
Of course, AI is no silver bullet. It carries risks: privacy concerns, misinformation, over-reliance, and bias. It also raises equity questions: will poorer children be left behind if devices and connectivity are prerequisites for learning?
But here is the point: while we debate ministers’ resignations and issue new codes, the very structure of education is changing. The boldest step Malaysia could take in honour of Zara Qairina is not just to punish bullies better, but to rethink whether schools as we know them are even necessary.
Imagine an education system where AI delivers the lessons, and schools transform into safe community centres—places for collaboration, sports, creativity, and social development, where children can choose how, when, and where to learn, without being forced into environments that leave them traumatised.
Bullying will never disappear entirely. Human cruelty, like human kindness, is part of who we are. But for the first time in history, we have the tools to separate learning from fear. The question is whether we dare to use them.
Malaysia stands at a crossroads. We can continue tinkering with laws, SOPs, and resignations, hoping they will solve a problem they never truly can. Or we can acknowledge that the real revolution will not come from Putrajaya or from a new code. It will come from technology—and from our courage to imagine an education system where no child has to risk being traumatised, or perhaps even lose their life, simply to learn.
TheRealNehruism (nehru.sathiamoorthy@gmail.com) is a content creator under the Newswav Creator programme, where you get to express yourself, be a citizen journalist, and at the same time monetize your content & reach millions of users on Newswav. Log in to creator.newswav.com and become a Newswav Creator now!
The User Content (as defined on Newswav Terms of Use) above including the views expressed and media (pictures, videos, citations etc) were submitted & posted by the author. Newswav is solely an aggregation platform that hosts the User Content. If you have any questions about the content, copyright or other issues of the work, please contact creator@newswav.com.
