It is 104 years since the stately Sultan Abdul Samad building was opened in Kuala Lumpur in a ceremony attended by the Governor of the Straits Settlement, Sir Charles Mitchell, the British Resident, W H Treacher, and the sultan. But the proceedings in its precincts of the High Court trial of the former Malaysian deputy prime minister are little changed from the way hearings were conducted in colonial times. The wigs are gone but black gowns and white bibs are still worn by counsel while the judge, addressed as 'M'Lord', sits on a raised bench under a (Malaysian) coat of arms. The Royal Selangor Club is still opposite the Sultan Abdul Samad building but the field where batsmen once whacked balls is now Freedom Square and a Malaysian flag the size of a tennis court flies above it. For someone familiar with the courts of other countries with a British link, such as New Zealand, Australia, Hong Kong and Singapore, the trial of Anwar Ibrahim follows a predictable course. Some former British territories may have subtly different views on exactly what constitutes justice but Britain's legal legacy is widely evident in the way they adhere to the ritual, if not always the spirit, of English courts. In the Anwar trial there is the usual tedium of long-winded legal debate and slow examination of witnesses. Heads begin to nod in the press benches until, suddenly, a startling disclosure brings everyone to life and the journalists start scribbling madly. Some of the best stories a reporter writes come from the courts. Covering the daily log of cases in a lower court is like pulling back the curtains of your neighbours' homes to see them abusing their children, taking drugs, having sex with strangers and beating or even murdering one another. It opens the eyes of young journalists to the dark underside of their cities in a fast educational process which prepares them for future shocks on a grander scale. Just as the lower courts expose the anger, lust, cruelty and savagery of ordinary people, the upper courts and statutory commissions of inquiry often spotlight human iniquity on a national scale. Hearings before a high court judge or a commissioner can reveal the weaknesses of a government or a nation in the same way that cases before a magistrate can reflect the shortcomings of members of the public. As a young reporter, I covered a Royal Commission of Inquiry into the New South Wales liquor industry. It exposed a corruption-ridden trade in which kickbacks to breweries by nightclubs illegally selling beer, payoffs to policemen and other breaches of the law were common. But the inquiry also shook the government with suggestions of links between crime bosses and people in very high places. The Anwar trial in the Kuala Lumpur High Court and associated events have similarly sent shockwaves through the Malaysian establishment with their revelations of unsavoury aspects of police operations and defence allegations of a high-level political conspiracy. More damaging for the government's public image has been the either/or nature of the drama. Take your pick. The Deputy Prime Minister of the Government of Malaysia and deputy president of a party standing for the highest moral values of Islam engaged in sexual orgies involving men and women. Or, alternatively, some persons at a very senior level have concocted an elaborate plot, which includes the planting of semen extracted from an innocent victim and bodily fluids from alleged partners on a mattress said to have been seized from a supposed love nest. Surely, neither the sultan, Sir Charles nor Mr Treacher could have imagined anything so bizarre.