KUALA LUMPUR – In the corridors of Malaysian power, the language of justice often changes depending on who is speaking — and who is being spoken about.
Several years after alleging Anwar Ibrahim sexually assaulted him in a private residence in Segambut, Yusoff Rawther’s civil suit has reached a legal crescendo — just as Anwar, now prime minister, seeks to halt the case by invoking what he calls a “qualified immunity.”
But this is no ordinary courtroom drama. It is a test of institutional resolve, of whether Malaysia’s judiciary can still call to account the most powerful office in the land.
The story began on October 2, 2018. Yusoff, then a young research assistant, claimed he was assaulted by Anwar, the man then touted as Malaysia’s next prime minister. In December 2019, he went public, took a polygraph test and filed a police report, but no criminal charges followed.
By July 2021, Yusoff took matters into his own hands by launching a civil suit against Anwar. The High Court refused to strike it out, sending the case toward trial. Then came a twist: Yusoff was arrested in September 2024 with imitation firearms and over 300 grams of cannabis.
His defense insists he never entered the car where the contraband was found, never had control over it and was immediately handcuffed outside. Three prosecution witnesses appeared to support that view. If he was being framed, as his lawyers claim, the motive was as political as it was personal.
On May 27, 2025, Anwar made a move no Malaysian prime minister has made before. He applied to the Federal Court to be granted immunity — not for his actions as a sitting prime minister, but for something alleged before he took office.
The timing is curious. The civil suit is scheduled for trial on June 16. The Chief Justice, Tun Tengku Maimun Tuan Mat — known for her judicial independence — retires in June.
And Anwar’s new legal team, appointed just days before, rushed to file their applications to postpone the trial and elevate the question of immunity to the highest court.
Critics note that even Malay royalty do not enjoy such blanket protection — they are answerable in a Special Court. Anwar’s attempt to shield himself, they argue, goes beyond what any prime minister before him, not even Najib Razak at the height of the 1MDB scandal, ever dared to seek.
And therein lies the rub. Anwar, the man once imprisoned and persecuted by the very system he now leads, is asking that same system to silence a voice calling for justice.
The bigger issue is, if we accept this logic, then any citizen can be denied their right to be heard in court, depending on who the defendant is. Indeed, Article 8 of Malaysia’s Federal Constitution guarantees equality before the law. Immunity — real or rhetorical — flies in the face of this principle.
Anwar frames his application as protection for the Office of the Prime Minister from “abuse of legal process.” Yet the suit is personal, the alleged incident predates his premiership and the plaintiff is an individual, not a rival party or political movement.
This is no frivolous Twitter/X spat. This is about whether the nation’s highest office can become a fortress of impunity.
Legal shields, political daggers
On May 29, Perikatan Nasional’s whip, Takiyuddin Hassan, urged the Attorney General to intervene — not to side with any party but to protect the Constitution from what he called a “dangerous judicial precedent.” He noted that Articles 181–183, which govern immunity, were crafted for Malaysia’s monarchs, not its ministers.
There is speculation, too, about timing and motive. Why is Anwar seeking constitutional cover only now? Is it a strategic bet on the post-Tengku Maimun judiciary? Or a preemptive strike to prevent cross-examination in open court?
The deeper paranoia relates to Rafique Rashid, a relatively young legal figure who is central to both Anwar’s feud with former Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad and this case with Yusoff. What does Rafique know that so rattles the nation’s now most powerful man?
This saga is not just about legal technicalities or political strategy. It is about the moral soul of a “reformasi” movement that promised accountability, transparency and the rule of law.
Anwar once stood in prison and declared the system broken. Today, seated in Putrajaya, he asks that same system to shield him. In doing so, he risks becoming the very caricature his younger self once fought against.
In the coming weeks, Malaysia’s judiciary will be called to choose between precedent and power, between access and exclusion, between immunity and accountability.
As Malaysia positions itself as a stabilizing force in ASEAN — mediating conflicts in Myanmar, projecting soft power in Palestine and countering great-power rivalry in the South China Sea — its domestic credibility matters more than ever.
A nation that cannot resolve its own crises transparently cannot lecture others on justice. A prime minister who claims global moral leadership must not seek local legal exemption.
This case, in its quiet courtroom battles and explosive political undertones, will be remembered not just for what was said under oath, but for what it revealed about the state of Malaysia’s democracy.
Amir Al Fateh is an independent journalist based in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, specializing in political analysis, governance and civil liberties. He is a verified contributor to Newswav and his work has been featured in MalaysiaNow and Utusan Malaysia. His professional portfolio is accessible via on his Muck Rack profile.
