A man believed to be homeless was abused outside a bank in broad daylight in Taman Maluri. This was not just an act of cruelty but a collapse of conscience. The video lasted seconds. The questions it raised will not go away easily. What followed was a familiar ritual in corporate Malaysia: indignation, a statement, and a careful measure of distance.
AmBank said it was “deeply
concerned and saddened”, clarifying that the uniformed guard seen in the video
was employed by an external security company, and that the second man —
reportedly a nearby cobbler — had acted out of frustration. It is both a legal
and moral issue!
Outsourced or not, anyone
stationed at a bank’s entrance represents that institution. A uniform is a
symbol of authority. Responsibility does not evaporate when it is
subcontracted. But the most disturbing element of this incident is not merely
the assault itself. It is the vacuum that surrounds it.
Source: https://simple.wikipedia.org
If violence against a vulnerable person occurred in full view of the public, was a police report lodged as soon as the video surfaced? Have the assailants been identified by authorities? Have charges been considered, let alone filed? Or are we expected to quietly accept an apology as a substitute for justice?
Assault is a crime, regardless of the victim’s social status. Being poor, homeless, or inconvenient does not strip a person of legal protection. Being sprayed with water, kicked, humiliated, and driven away is not “crowd control”. It is violence. If such acts go unpunished, it is not just one man being abandoned, it is the rule of law being quietly eroded.
People stood by as a human being was degraded. One person chose to record instead of intervene. Others watched, waiting for it to end. The modern reflex is to document suffering, not disrupt it. But a camera lens is not a conscience. Virality is not virtue. Recording cruelty does not absolve us from the duty to stop it.
When Tony Lian, the founder of an NGO that helps the poor, came across the video of the homeless man being kicked and humiliated outside a bank, he felt sick to his stomach. Lian was horrified at the degrading and inhumane treatment of the homeless man.
Lian, who also runs two small shelters for the homeless, set out on foot to look for the man and walked along the shops at Taman Maluri in Cheras, Kuala Lumpur. He checked every corner until he reached another bank, some 600m from the first bank where the man had been kicked and hosed with water. It was there that he saw the man, who is in his late 30s, lying on the ground, emotionally drained. “I offered him a place to stay and he started to cry.”
This is not only a story about homelessness. It is about hierarchy — who is seen as human and who is treated as a nuisance. It is about which lives command protection, and which are hosed down and kicked aside in plain view, without consequence. An apology, however well-worded, is only the beginning. Now come the questions that demand answers, not silence.
Will AmBank move beyond damage control and accept real institutional responsibility? Will they fund homelessness? Will they cajole other banks to do the same? I don’t know why but many lie outside bank premises for the night!
And will Malaysians choose to act instead of simply pressing “record”? Will the police act? Will the Social Welfare Department act? And will the bankers fund a worthy cause?
Until those questions are answered with action, this incident is not closed. It is a blemish on our conscience.
References:
An apology is not justice, Frankie D’Cruz, FMT, 25 November 2025
“I offered him a
place to stay and he started to cry”,
Minderjeet Kaur, FMT, 25 November 2025

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