The calm of Malaysia’s political landscape has been disrupted once again, as opposition leaders question Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim’s right to hold office, citing the nation’s Federal Constitution. At the heart of the storm are Articles 48(1)(e) and 48(3), which govern the eligibility of Members of Parliament (MPs) following criminal convictions. The debate, which has simmered since Anwar’s dramatic return to politics, reignited with fresh fervor in August 2025, prompting leading constitutional scholars to weigh in with legal clarity and historical precedent.
According to Bernama and Free Malaysia Today, opposition figures argue that Anwar’s 2018 royal pardon—granted by the Yang di-Pertuan Agong under Article 42—was insufficient to fully restore his eligibility. Their contention is rooted in the wording of Article 48(1)(e), which disqualifies anyone convicted and sentenced to at least a year in prison or fined RM2,000 or more from serving as an MP, unless they have received a "free pardon." Article 48(3) adds that such individuals remain disqualified for five years unless the Agong explicitly removes the disqualification. The opposition’s submission is stark: they believe the 2018 pardon did not include this explicit removal, and thus, Anwar’s November 2022 appointment as Prime Minister occurred during a period of constitutional ineligibility.
This legal maneuvering is more than academic. If the opposition’s interpretation holds, it could call into question the legitimacy of Anwar’s tenure and potentially set a precedent for future cases involving pardoned politicians. But is their reading of the law correct? That’s where constitutional law expert Professor Emeritus Datuk Dr Shad Saleem Faruqi enters the fray, offering a comprehensive analysis that draws on Malaysian law, British precedent, and Commonwealth jurisprudence.
Shad Saleem Faruqi, writing for both Free Malaysia Today and Bernama, emphasizes that a full royal pardon under Article 42(1) is not a mere act of clemency—it is a legal reset button. "Once there is a full pardon under Article 42(1), all disqualifications under Article 48(1) are annulled. There is no requirement for His Majesty the Yang di-Pertuan Agong to issue a separate order under Article 48(3) to lift the disqualification," he explained. In other words, the act of granting a free or full pardon by the Agong is, in itself, sufficient to erase all legal disabilities stemming from the conviction, including the five-year bar on serving as an MP.
To support this interpretation, Professor Faruqi references the British case of Regina v Foster (1985), which established that a pardon frees the recipient from "all pains, penalties, and punishments" arising from a conviction. The precedent is clear: a pardon is not a partial remedy but a complete erasure of legal consequences. He further notes that this principle has been echoed in Commonwealth courts, including the Singaporean case of Jeyaratnam v Attorney General (1990), where the court affirmed that a free pardon "wipes the slate clean." According to Faruqi, "It includes the disqualifications that would otherwise prevent someone from contesting or holding parliamentary office. Once there is a full pardon, all such restrictions under Article 48(1) are automatically lifted."
Malaysia itself has witnessed similar legal puzzles before. In 1969, Democratic Action Party (DAP) veteran Lim Kit Siang’s parliamentary victory was annulled after his election agent failed to submit expense returns—a technical violation that led to his disqualification. However, a royal pardon from the Agong restored Lim’s seat, confirming that such pardons have the power to reinstate parliamentary eligibility. This historical precedent, cited by Faruqi, further bolsters the argument that a full pardon is sufficient to remove all legal barriers, without the need for a separate order under Article 48(3).
But what if a pardon is conditional or partial? Here, the distinction is crucial. Faruqi points to the case of former minister Mokhtar Hashim, who was convicted of murder in 1982. His death sentence was later commuted to life imprisonment—a reprieve, not a pardon. In this instance, the conviction remained on record, and only the penalty was reduced. The lesson is clear: only a free or full pardon can erase both conviction and disqualification. Anything less leaves the legal stain—and its consequences—intact.
The opposition’s argument, while creative, appears to overlook this critical legal distinction. As Faruqi notes, "If the correct interpretation is that a full pardon expunges the conviction from the legal record, then any further order under Article 48(3) is entirely unnecessary." The Court of Appeal in Malaysia echoed this sentiment in 2018, ruling that the power of clemency under Article 42 can encompass both conviction and sentence, equating a free pardon with a full pardon.
Of course, the debate is not without nuance. Legal scholars in some Commonwealth jurisdictions have expressed minority opinions suggesting that a royal pardon may require explicit mention of disqualification removal. However, as Faruqi points out, the prevailing judicial view—supported by both local and international precedent—is that a full pardon is comprehensive. "A royal pardon under Article 42, if free or full, removes all adverse legal consequences of a criminal conviction," he writes. "There was no further need for the Agong to issue another order for the removal of the Article 48(1)(e) disqualification."
The implications of this legal clarity are significant. Anwar Ibrahim’s 2018 royal pardon did not merely release him from prison or erase his criminal record—it restored his full political rights, including the right to contest elections and serve as Prime Minister. The constitutional lake, though momentarily disturbed by legal storms, appears to have settled—at least for now—on the side of Anwar’s eligibility. As Faruqi’s analysis underscores, the Malaysian constitution, when viewed in light of its own precedents and those of its Commonwealth peers, provides a clear answer: a full royal pardon is a clean slate, not a half measure.
For the Malaysian public, clarity on such constitutional questions is essential. These aren’t just arcane legal debates; they strike at the heart of democratic legitimacy and the rule of law. As the nation continues to grapple with questions of governance, transparency, and justice, the lessons of Anwar’s pardon—and the legal principles that underpin it—will likely echo far beyond the current controversy.
In the end, the law’s purpose is to provide certainty, and in this case, the message is unambiguous: a full royal pardon restores all rights, leaving no room for lingering doubt or procedural technicalities.
