The recent suggestion by the Kelantan police chief that girls in statutory rape cases should also face prosecution is troubling. It reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of the very offences the police are tasked to prevent, and risks undermining decades of progress in child protection law and policy.
Reform is needed, but it is not to punish the consenting victim. Rather, it is time to reconsider how the law treats young offenders in statutory rape cases, especially when both parties are minors. This essay argues that the current legal framework, although designed to protect children, fails to distinguish between exploitation and consensual adolescent behaviour. In doing so, it imposes harsh penalties on young people who are themselves developmentally immature.
Drawing on legal precedent, biological development, and the social realities of teenage sexuality, this essay calls for a more compassionate approach that recognises immaturity not only as a basis for presuming lack of consent, but also as a reason to rethink punitive responses. Adolescents require education, guidance, and rehabilitation, not incarceration and whipping. The law must evolve to reflect this understanding. Some jurisdictions, like France and some U.S. states, use "Romeo and Juliet laws" to reduce or eliminate legal liability when the age gap is small.
Statutory rape provisions are not arbitrary. They recognise that children and young people below a certain age lack the maturity to appreciate the nature and consequences of sexual activity. What may appear to investigators as “consensual” could often be the product of grooming, coercion, or manipulation by older and more experienced adults. Recent cases reported in the local media show that schools and educational institutions are particularly vulnerable spaces for such encounters.
International research has shown that adolescents, particularly girls, are highly susceptible to grooming strategies that build trust before progressing to exploitation. The United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) and UNICEF stress that consent is legally immaterial when the child is underage, because their vulnerability must be the guiding principle.
In Malaysia, this principle is embedded in the Child Act 2001 and the Sexual Offences Against Children Act 2017, which explicitly frame minors as victims in sexual cases. Section 14 of the 2017 Act criminalises sexual activity with children regardless of purported consent, recognising that the law’s purpose is to protect—not to punish—the young. Likewise, the Penal Code’s statutory rape provisions under Section 376(2) make it clear that sexual relations with a person under 16 is rape, full stop.
The Malaysian courts have consistently upheld this protective approach. In PP v Rosli bin Ismail [2010] 1 MLJ 132, the High Court emphasised that the offence of statutory rape exists to “protect girls under the age of 16 years who may not have the capacity to resist or to make an informed decision.” Similarly, in PP v Mohd Radzi Abu Bakar [2005] 7 CLJ 173, the court rejected arguments that consent could reduce culpability, reiterating that “consent is irrelevant where the complainant is under the statutory age.” More recently, the Federal Court in Pendakwa Raya v Mohd Al-Ikhsan bin Sulaiman [2018] 6 CLJ 329 reaffirmed that the law views minors as victims whose vulnerability must be shielded, not criminalised.
Other jurisdictions share the same principle. In the United Kingdom, the Court of Appeal in R v G [2008] UKHL 37 held that a child under 13 cannot, in law, give valid consent to sexual activity, underlining that the offence is designed for absolute protection. In Australia, the High Court in CTM v The Queen (2008) 236 CLR 440 reaffirmed that statutory rape laws are not about punishing immorality but about safeguarding children from exploitation, noting that “the absence of true consent is presumed because of immaturity.” If immaturity is the legal foundation for presuming lack of consent, then punishment should logically conform to that conclusion. A child who is deemed incapable of consenting should also be recognised as developmentally incapable of fully understanding the consequences of their actions. This calls for rehabilitative, not retributive, justice.
Puberty is not a legal construct—it is a biological milestone. Adolescents undergo profound hormonal changes that trigger sexual curiosity and behaviour. From an evolutionary standpoint, this phase is designed to prepare young humans for reproductive maturity. While society rightly imposes boundaries to protect minors, it must also recognise that teenage sexual behaviour is not inherently criminal. It is developmental.
Studies in developmental psychology show that adolescents often lack impulse control and long-term reasoning, but they are also exploring identity, intimacy, and autonomy. Criminalising these explorations, especially when they occur between peers, risks pathologising normal child development and ignoring the need for guidance, not punishment.
Adolescent sexual behaviour is shaped by class, culture, religion, and geography. In urban settings, where families often have access to safe housing, educated parents, and structured schooling, teenage sexuality may be tempered by supervision, awareness, and access to information. Even so, peer pressure, media exposure, and digital platforms introduce risks that are not always visible to parents or educators.
In contrast, rural areas, remote villages, and indigenous communities living at the edge of development face vastly different realities. Limited infrastructure, economic hardship, and reduced access to education and healthcare create environments where parental supervision may be inconsistent and sexuality education virtually absent. In such contexts, adolescents may engage in sexual relationships without understanding the risks or legal consequences, not out of deviance, but out of curiosity, vulnerability, or cultural norms.
Moreover, the meaning and perception of sexual relations vary widely across Malaysia’s diverse communities. In some indigenous or traditional cultures, early relationships must be viewed through particular traditions on courtship or customary practice, not criminality. Religious teachings also influence how sexuality is discussed, regulated, or silenced, sometimes reinforcing shame, sometimes offering moral guidance.
To apply a uniform legal standard, ignoring such diverse contexts, risks punishing adolescents for circumstances beyond their control. Comparative experience shows that plural societies have faced similar challenges and developed more contextual responses. In Canada, youth sentencing for Indigenous offenders often incorporates sentencing circles, where offenders, victims, elders, and community members participate in determining outcomes, blending accountability with community values. In New Zealand, family group conferences rooted in M?ori traditions form part of the youth justice system, enabling culturally informed solutions that stress restoration over punishment. In India, ongoing debates about the age of consent reveal the tension between modern statutory standards and customary practices in rural areas, where child marriage and adolescent relationships continue despite the law.
These examples demonstrate that cultural sensitivity need not compromise child protection. Rather, it can make the law more legitimate by ensuring that justice is in harmony with the moral frameworks of different communities. Malaysia, with its rich diversity, must similarly consider how to reconcile protective laws with the lived realities of its young people.
If the police are genuinely concerned about the rise in cases, their efforts should be directed at understanding grooming, monitoring online predation, and educating adolescents about healthy relationships and risks. The law already provides the framework. What is needed is not a reimagining of victims as offenders, but stronger enforcement, better training for officers, and an unwavering commitment to protect children from exploitation.
Malaysia must also consider reforms that reflect developmental science, cultural realities, and legal consistency. There is a troubling ambivalence in the policy underlying statutory rape: while the law presumes immaturity and incapacity to consent, it simultaneously imposes harsh punishments, including long incarceration and whipping, on young offenders who are themselves minors. This contradiction undermines the protective intent of the law and alienates those who are bound by those laws.
Drawing on comparative lessons, reform could take several forms. First, Malaysia could introduce close-in-age exemptions to distinguish peer relationships from predatory ones. Second, the law should provide judicial discretion in cases involving minors, avoiding the bluntness of mandatory minimum sentences. Third, alternative sentencing mechanisms such as compulsory education on sexual and family responsibility, community service, or supervised rehabilitation could replace or supplement incarceration, particularly where the relationship was consensual. Fourth, Malaysia could experiment with restorative justice mechanisms, allowing family, community leaders, and victims to participate in shaping outcomes, while remaining under court oversight to safeguard victims against coercion.
Critics may argue that recognising cultural differences risks undermining the universality of child protection, producing uneven justice between communities, or allowing harmful practices to persist under the guise of tradition. These concerns are valid and must be addressed. The answer lies in setting clear safeguards: judicial discretion should operate within statutory guidelines prioritising the protection of minors; restorative processes must remain supervised by courts; and alternative sentencing should apply only in cases where there is no evidence of coercion or exploitation.
Such reforms would protect children from predation while preventing young offenders from being irreparably damaged by adult-level criminal liability. They would ensure that Malaysian law remains legitimate across its diversity.
