The health care system in Malaysia, particularly within the Ministry of Health (MOH), is often regarded as a well-oiled machine, where professionals dedicate themselves tirelessly to their work, despite occasional shortcomings in support from the higher echelons of management.
However, beneath the surface, a disturbing and pervasive issue lurks — bullying within the medical fraternity. This problem is rarely discussed openly, yet it affects countless health care professionals across the country.
As someone who has worked within the system as both a house officer and a medical officer in various hospitals throughout Malaysia, I have personally experienced and witnessed the extent of this issue.
Bullying in the health care setting goes far beyond verbal abuse or unfair treatment; it is a systemic problem, ingrained at every level of the profession. Unfortunately, no specialty is exempt from its reach.
During my time as a house officer, I encountered bullying both subtle and overt. A frequent tactic was the unfair treatment I received from senior colleagues, often communicated through group chats on WhatsApp.
What seemed like benign messages conveyed veiled criticism, derision, and disrespect. Verbal abuse, too, was commonplace, with harsh words and tones used to belittle junior staff in front of patients and peers.
I still vividly remember moments when I was humiliated publicly, which shattered my confidence and made me question my very purpose in the profession. Naturally, this took a significant toll on my emotional and mental wellbeing.
Yet, there was nowhere to turn for support. The unspoken expectation was clear: “Just suck it up and keep moving forward.” And so, I did — as did so many of my colleagues. Those who couldn’t endure such mistreatment either quit their jobs or, tragically, their lives.
When I transitioned to my role as a medical officer, I entered the field of psychiatry — my passion since medical school — with the hope that this specialty would offer a different environment.
After all, psychiatrists are trained to address emotional and psychological challenges, so one would reasonably assume that this field would be free from the toxic dynamics I had encountered elsewhere. Sadly, I was mistaken.
In two different hospitals in southern Malaysia, I experienced bullying once again — this time from my own superiors. One psychiatrist, who appeared to harbour personal biases against me, subjected me to rude, dismissive behaviour, constantly undermining my confidence.
She made me feel I was neither fit to be a psychiatrist nor a doctor. This relentless mistreatment brought me to the brink of despair.
During this time, I lived on the 21st floor of a high-rise building, and it was only the thought of my rescue cat that kept me from making a devastating decision.
Was my suffering due to my race, gender, or skin colour? Perhaps.
Does that give anyone the right to push another person to the edge of their mental and emotional capacity? Absolutely not.
At another hospital, I worked under a psychiatrist notorious for mistreating newcomers. She derived clear satisfaction from bullying new team members, creating an atmosphere of fear and anxiety. I worked with her for a brief period, and when I expressed my intention to file a formal complaint, a colleague gently discouraged me, warning that it would cause more harm than help. Last I heard, she has been continuing her toxic behaviour unabated.
How did individuals like them rise to positions of power within the field of psychiatry? And more importantly, why does such behaviour persist within the Malaysian health care system?
The answer lies in a deeply ingrained culture of silence and complacency. It seems to be accepted, even normalised, that doctors — especially junior doctors — must endure inhumane treatment from their senior colleagues. Often, this mistreatment is justified by the now-infamous phrase, “During my time…”
The issue of bullying in the medical profession is no longer merely a matter of poor interpersonal relationships; it has serious consequences for the mental health and wellbeing of health care professionals.
Doctors, too, are human beings, and like everyone else, deserve respect and dignity in the workplace.
Unfortunately, this basic principle is often disregarded in favour of upholding a toxic hierarchical culture that prioritises seniority over mutual respect.
As a former president of the Malaysian Medical Association (MMA) once remarked, “harsh words” are necessary to ensure that trainee doctors perform their jobs competently.
This is akin to suggesting that a bull needs a ring to be yoked. Are junior doctors really nothing more than the bulls of the system?
This environment leads to a range of harmful outcomes: increased stress, anxiety, depression, and even burnout. In extreme cases, workplace bullying can have deadly consequences.
One tragic example is the recent case of a Malaysian pathologist who took her own life. Although her death was initially ruled unrelated to workplace bullying, there were strong indications that the toxic work environment contributed to her mental health decline.
I empathised with her deeply, for I had come close to that breaking point myself. She did not deserve to suffer, and neither do any of us. It also goes to show bullying does not just stop at the junior most ranks.
This heartbreaking incident should serve as a wake-up call to the system — one that insists the emotional and mental health of health care workers cannot be ignored. Yet, in typical fashion, it seems this issue has been swept under the rug yet again.
It’s time to acknowledge that health care professionals are not invincible. We may wear a white coat, but beneath it, we are human beings, just like anyone else. Yes, we take the Hippocratic Oath, and we strive to honour it, but we must also ensure that we do not harm ourselves while we work to heal others.
We must start recognising that emotional and mental wellbeing are just as important as physical health. Health care workers deserve to be healthy in all aspects — physically, emotionally, and mentally.
Bullying in the medical field is a complex issue, but it is one that can no longer be ignored. As we move forward, let us remember that the goal of health care is not only to heal the sick but also to protect and nurture the wellbeing of those who dedicate their lives to caring for others.
Until this issue is addressed directly, the cycle of bullying and mistreatment will continue, and both doctors and patients will ultimately bear the consequences.
Let us stop the silence. Let us break the cycle.
The author is a Malaysian psychiatrist who is currently working in the United Kingdom’s National Health Service (NHS). CodeBlue is giving the author anonymity because she wanted her thoughts out there, but at the same time, if her loved ones were to read this article and see her name appended to it, it would hurt them deeply as the extent of her sufferings is not common knowledge to them.
- This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of CodeBlue.
