At least for nude ear squats, an attempt was made to justify it on the basis that some contraband drug might drop out of the bodily orifices that pretends, no matter how feebly, to bear practical relevance to a possible offence.

But in the case of shaving the heads of eleven elderly men apprehended for playing mahjong on the second day of Chinese New Year, Kajang CID deputy superintendent Abdul Fatah Ahmad said that "we just want them to look neat and remember so that they will not return the lock up" ( New Straits Times , Feb 3 ).

The explanation is unacceptable, bordering on the frivolous. Tell that to the holocaust survivors of Nazi persecution. Prisoners had their heads shaved upon arrival at the concentration camps. The main reason for people in authority to cut the hair of a man under their control against his will is to require the clipped man to openly demonstrate his obedience and subservience to them through humiliation.

The 1953 Lock-Up Rule Section 9A still requires every prisoner except a Sikh to have his hair cut close on admission. It is probably for the same reason that prisoners are required to demonstrate to wardens and guards their complete obedience and subservience.

Leaving aside the question whether forced hair-cutting of prisoners is acceptable from a human rights perspectives and whether this particular Lock-Up Rule is archaic, the first question is whether the 11 elderly men detained were prisoners in the first place to be treated as such. They were not convicted of any offence by a court of law.

If they were accused of an offence, it was but for a harmless mahjong session amongst friends during the festive season. It was not as if they were suspected of a more serious offence of drug taking or possession. Even for those suspected of such serious offences, one scarcely hears of any detainee being handcuffed and subject to such indignity and humiliation of a forced hair cut in a lock-up.

I also find it difficult to accept how having a game of mahjong or cards with friends during Chinese New Year - a proclivity of Chinese Malaysians especially during festive season - could be a criminal offence.

Gambling, by itself, is unlikely to be an offence which perhaps the lawyers amongst your readers could comment. Gambling is an offence only if it is committed in a "common gaming house" within meaning defined in section 2(1) of our Common Gaming Houses Act 1953, which defines a common gaming house as any place kept for gaming to which the public has access or irregardless of public accessibility, a place for habitual gaming.

The coffee shop should not be deemed a 'common gaming house unless it keeps regular infrastructure and paraphernalia for public gambling, or based on police observation over time is habitually used for gaming'.

Had the 11 been a younger set, they might well have played cards in, for example, Starbucks.

Whereas in the past, any arbitrary exercise of police discretion or wrongful arrest might not whip up a storm of public protest, Malaysia today is a different scenario with greater rights consciousness amongst the ordinary citizenry rallied by a vociferous group of civil societies and NGOs.

There is probably a disconnect between the police top brass and down line in terms of former failing to communicate effectively to rank-and-file that there is a paradigm shift towards better practices in the police force arising from public demands for human rights and accountability

Certain sensitivities have been trammeled upon given that many in the Chinese community view that gambling during Chinese New Year is their tradition. Others speculate whether the incident was police retaliation against the commissions' reports and their recommendations for police accountability and good governance.

Against such a backdrop, it is imperative that the authorities swiftly and forcefully address the 'Botak' incident to give the right signal.