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Rached Ghannouchi, the founder of Tunisia’s Ennahda movement and a former speaker of parliament, is not a name whose relevance began only with the so-called Arab Spring. Long before 2011, he had been one of the most prominent thinkers of moderate political Islam in Tunisia and beyond. He experienced imprisonment, persecution and exile, spent many years in London, and wrote extensively in defence of reconciling Islamic reference points with democracy and pluralism. For that reason, raising his case in Malaysia is not merely about a jailed politician; it is about a figure who, for decades, has been associated with a difficult question: how can Islamic movements operate within the modern state without either colliding with it or dissolving into it?
In Malaysia, a forum titled “Justice for Sheikh Rached Ghannouchi” was held under the auspices of the International Institute of Advanced Islamic Studies Malaysia (IAIS), with the participation of Nurul Izzah Anwar, deputy president of Malaysia’s People’s Justice Party and executive chairperson of Polity, alongside Dr Rafik Abdessalem, Tunisia’s former foreign minister. The forum discussed the continued imprisonment and trial of Ghannouchi, who has been sentenced to 14 years in prison on charges of plotting against state security, amid international rights criticism of measures taken against him and other opposition figures in Tunisia since the suspension of parliament in 2021.
It is natural that Ghannouchi’s case would find sympathy within Malaysian intellectual and political circles close to the language of Islamic reform. Malaysia is not entirely distant from this type of debate; its political society constantly negotiates the balance between Islam, democracy, ethnic pluralism and the demands of the modern state. Yet hosting highly sensitive foreign issues does not always pass without domestic resonance. Not because it is necessarily wrong, but because it may open internal questions about the limits of sympathy, the place of religion in politics, and the relationship between civil society and foreign policy.
At the same time, such issues do not necessarily command broad public attention in Malaysia. The ordinary citizen, preoccupied with prices, education, job opportunities and the stability of the ruling coalition, may not see a distant Tunisian file as an immediate priority. The forum’s impact, therefore, is likely to remain largely confined to intellectual circles, party networks and Islamic organisations rather than the wider street. This is not a weakness in the forum itself, but a reminder that the distance between symbolic causes and people’s daily concerns always needs a clear bridge.
Here, the forum should not be treated as a diplomatic overstep or a hostile position toward Tunisia. It is better read as a space for intellectual and rights-based discussion, while noting that Malaysia’s traditional foreign policy tends toward neutrality, non-interference in the internal affairs of other states, and balanced language on contentious files. Any discussion of Tunisia, or of other distant countries, becomes more acceptable when it remains within a general intellectual and humanitarian framework, rather than being understood as a political alignment against a specific government.
Nurul Izzah Anwar’s remarks fell within this delicate margin. She did not call for a rupture with Tunisia, nor did she announce an official position on behalf of the Malaysian government. Instead, she said she continues to remind Malaysia’s Foreign Ministry that Ghannouchi’s case deserves attention. This is the language of soft pressure, not confrontation. Yet her position gives the statement additional weight: she is the daughter of Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim and a senior figure in the ruling party, which means her words may be read abroad as being close to the political mood of the government, even if they are not an official statement.
Anwar Ibrahim’s relationship with this type of issue is also understandable. From a different angle, Anwar belongs to an intellectual school that believes in the possibility of combining Islam, democracy and political reform. He himself endured long years of imprisonment and political struggle before reaching the premiership. But the difference is that Anwar today governs a state; he no longer speaks merely as an opposition figure or an independent intellectual platform. That imposes a sharper sensitivity in separating humanitarian sympathy from official calculation.
For Malaysia, the wiser course in such matters is to preserve the space for discussion without inflating it. Defending justice and the rights of opposition figures is an important value, but turning every foreign cause into a domestic headline may confuse the public or invite comparisons that Kuala Lumpur does not need. Political wisdom is not to remain silent on everything, nor to speak on everything, but to know when a voice is useful and when it may become a burden.
In the end, the forum can be seen as a small intellectual candle rather than a large political banner. It reminds us that Ghannouchi’s case still raises questions about democracy, Islam and the state. But it also reminds us that Malaysia, with its domestic sensitivities and balanced foreign policy, must constantly measure the distance between sympathy and position, between legitimate debate and the importation of conflicts that do not directly belong to it.
Abdullah Bugis (kualalumpur.abdullah@gmail.com) is a content creator under the Newswav Creator programme, where you get to express yourself, be a citizen journalist, and at the same time monetize your content & reach millions of users on Newswav. Log in to creator.newswav.com and become a Newswav Creator now!
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