After 10 years, the country needs new ideas from a new prime minister. The term limit ensures the government remains receptive to fresh thinking.
– Dr Azmi Hassan (Nusantara Academy for Strategic Research senior fellow)
When Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim stood before congregants after Friday prayers in Banting recently and declared that the proposed two-term limit for the prime minister would “start with me”, it was a moment carefully planned for public consumption. The line was simple. “Yes, it starts with me. I cannot make a law for others alone. It must apply to me first.”
To many Malaysians, weary of politicians who legislate for others but exempt themselves, this sounded refreshing. It carried the ring of humility and fairness.
Yet politics, as history teaches us, is rarely as straightforward as it appears. The proposal to cap the premiership at two five-year terms is at once a democratic safeguard and a finely crafted political manoeuvre. It deserves careful examination, both for what it promises and for what it potentially conceals.
On the surface, the merits of a ten-year ceiling are compelling. Democracies flourish when power is dispersed and periodically renewed. Long, uninterrupted tenures often breed complacency, patronage networks and, in the worst cases, authoritarian tendencies. Malaysia’s own experience under Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad, whose first stint lasted 22 years, is frequently cited in such discussions. While his era delivered rapid industrialisation and infrastructural transformation, it also entrenched a culture of centralised authority that proved difficult to unwind.
Politicians and analysts whom I talked to agree that a constitutional term limit would institutionalise restraint. It would ensure that no single individual dominates the political landscape indefinitely. It would reassure investors, civil servants and citizens alike that leadership renewal is not dependent on internal party coups or electoral upheavals but embedded in the system itself.
In theory, such a reform strengthens democratic culture by making the transition of power routine rather than dramatic. Moreover, a two-term cap encourages generational renewal. Political parties would be compelled to groom successors rather than revolve around a single towering figure. Fresh ideas, new approaches and diverse leadership styles would have space to emerge. In a country as demographically young as Malaysia, this could signal that the corridors of power are not permanently occupied by the same personalities decade after decade.
There is also symbolic value. By voluntarily placing a boundary around his own tenure, Anwar projects the image of a reformer willing to subject himself to the same constraints he imposes on others. In a political climate where distrust runs deep, symbolism matters. The message is clear: leadership is a trust, not a throne.
However, democratic reforms are rarely immune from unintended consequences. A rigid 10-year limit may inadvertently encourage short-termism. Leaders aware of a ticking clock might prioritise quick, headline-grabbing wins over slow, structural reforms whose benefits materialise beyond their tenure. Deep institutional changes like judicial independence, education reform and economic restructuring, require continuity and patience. A finite horizon can sometimes distort priorities, as in the country’s education system whereby every time there is a change in leadership, the education sector suffers.
There is also the question of policy continuity. National development plans often stretch over decades. Frequent leadership changes can alter policy emphasis, disrupt long-term strategies and unsettle bureaucratic momentum. While 10 years appears substantial, it can pass quickly in the lifecycle of major infrastructure projects or economic transitions.
More troubling is the potential for internal party instability. If the premiership is capped at two terms, political actors may begin positioning themselves years in advance, creating factions eager to hasten a leader’s exit. Rather than ensuring orderly succession, the rule could trigger premature manoeuvring and destabilising intrigue. Malaysia’s history of party fragmentation suggests this is not a remote possibility.
The timing of Anwar’s announcement adds another layer to the analysis. The 16th general election is expected perhaps in 2027, though constitutionally it need only be held by February 2028. By proposing a limit that would encompass his own tenure, Anwar deftly changes the game ahead of the polls. Instead of defending his right to seek another mandate, he presents himself as the architect of limitation. The psychology is subtle but powerful: voters wary of entrenched leadership are reassured that his rule will not be indefinite.
Here lies the hallmark of political craftsmanship. By declaring that the law “starts with me”, Anwar neutralises accusations of self-interest. He appears magnanimous, voluntarily binding himself to future restraint. Yet the same law conveniently legitimises his pursuit of a second term. He champions limitation while securing immediate legitimacy.
To the casual observer, this is noble. To the discerning eye, it is strategic. Anwar understands the electorate’s fatigue with prolonged dominance by any single figure. He taps into that sentiment, offering a reform that appears to transcend personal ambition. At the same time, he ensures that he can serve a full 10 years, giving him ample time to consolidate his legacy without appearing power-hungry.
This duality does not invalidate the reform. It simply reveals the layered nature of political action. Great statesmen often blend principle with pragmatism. The question is whether the reform primarily advances democratic stability or primarily enhances political survival. The answer may lie somewhere in between.
Having explained my thoughts, we must also distinguish between federal and state dynamics. While a two-term cap for the prime minister may be appropriate in strengthening national democratic norms, such a limitation should not automatically extend to chief ministers and menteris besar. States like Sarawak and Sabah follow separate developmental paths. Long-term continuity is often essential to execute transformative agendas.
Sarawak, in particular, is navigating complex economic restructuring, infrastructure expansion and negotiations over rights and autonomy. Leadership continuity can be a stabilising force in such contexts. A rigid 10-year limit at the state level could disrupt carefully laid plans, delay mega projects and weaken negotiating leverage with Putrajaya. Development in Sabah and Sarawak requires sustained vision and institutional memory that cannot always be compressed into a decade.
Therefore, any constitutional amendment must be assessed with federalism in mind. What strengthens democratic rotation at the national level may undermine developmental continuity at the state level. Reform should be precise, not indiscriminate.
Anwar’s proposal reflects both democratic aspiration and political calculation. It signals awareness that modern Malaysia demands institutional safeguards against excessive concentration of power. At the same time, it demonstrates his acute understanding of electoral psychology. By embracing limitation, he reframes ambition as reform.
Whether Malaysians interpret this as humility or strategy will depend on their level of trust. Some will applaud the move as long overdue institutional reform. Others will see it as a masterstroke designed to soften resistance to his second-term bid. Both readings can coexist without contradiction.
Politics is rarely pure. It is the art of aligning self-interest with public interest, of aligning persuasive messaging with the pursuit of fundamental survival. In proposing a two-term limit that applies to himself, Anwar has displayed considerable skill. He has transformed what could have been a liability, the desire to extend his mandate, into a conversation about democratic restraint.
In the end, fine words are easy. What will matter is action. If this term limit is passed with genuine support from both sides of the political divide, firmly entrenched in the Constitution and protected from future manipulation, it could strengthen Malaysia’s democracy in a meaningful way. But if it serves merely as an election-season slogan to secure another mandate, Malaysians will see it for what it is! Not reform, but strategy.
I believe 10 years may indeed be sufficient for any leader. The bigger question is whether the spirit of limitation will endure beyond the tenure of the man who proposed it.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at rajlira@gmail.com
