For more than two weeks, Malaysians witnessed an intense political duel—the contest for the post of PKR deputy president between the party’s two most prominent figures.

The incumbent was Rafizi Ramli, and the challenger was none other than Nurul Izzah, daughter of the party’s president and Prime Minister, Anwar Ibrahim.

It became a political drama that drew widespread public attention. Turning an internal party election into a national spectacle could only happen in PKR, and only with Rafizi involved.

A maverick of Reformasi

Dato’ Seri Rafizi Ramli is a political maverick. He abandoned a promising corporate career to join PKR at a young age, fired up by the Reformasi movement sparked by Anwar’s sacking from Umno by Mahathir.

Rafizi became renowned for exposing high-level corruption, often at great personal cost—including time in prison.

While Malay sentiment towards him remains mixed, he’s a hero to many non-Malays, some of whom once saw him as future prime minister.

It was therefore shocking to many when Rafizi was soundly defeated by Nurul Izzah.

Some of his supporters reacted with outrage, accusing Anwar of betrayal—of sending his daughter to “eliminate” Rafizi to consolidate power.

Claims of nepotism emerged, with allegations that PKR was turning into a family-run party.

While these accusations lack evidence, many outside the party believed them, largely because of their admiration for Rafizi and limited insight into PKR’s internal dynamics.

A complex reality

The popular narrative is that Anwar intended to crown Nurul Izzah his successor by sidelining Rafizi. But the truth is far more complex.

Before nominations closed, Anwar had reportedly urged Rafizi to stay on uncontested. For reasons known only to him, Rafizi refused.

Nurul, meanwhile, had originally declared her candidacy for a vice president post, not deputy president.

The turning point came during the party’s branch and divisional elections in April.

Many of Rafizi’s allies lost, prompting accusations of foul play.

Rafizi confronted Anwar, demanding rectification. An audit was ordered, but it didn’t satisfy him.

Rumors swirled of a heated exchange, with Rafizi allegedly storming out and threatening to resign.

This fallout is believed to have influenced Anwar’s decision to field a challenger against him.

Nurul wasn’t the first choice, but she eventually stepped up after the original candidate withdrew due to personal constraints.

Predictably, the public blamed Anwar, ignoring Rafizi’s role in provoking the split.

The strategist and his blind spots

No one disputes Rafizi’s talent. Twice he helped Pakatan Harapan win general elections through innovative strategies and bold messaging.

Thinking outside the box is his strength. Yet without humility and political tact, these strengths risk becoming liabilities.

Rafizi is often perceived as arrogant and aloof, not a team player.

In the last party election three years ago, Rafizi fielded a handpicked team under the “Ayuh Malaysia” banner, conducting nationwide roadshows.

His team swept the leadership, winning three out of four vice president slots and 16 out of 20 Central Committee posts. He controlled two-thirds of the party’s leadership.

However, insiders say his team carried an air of superiority, treating opponents as irrelevant. His “with me or against me” approach alienated many.

Rafizi reportedly refused to join party WhatsApp groups or even shake hands with colleagues.

Some sarcastically wondered if he suffered from “political autism”—a harsh judgment, but reflective of the frustration within the party.

During his campaign, Rafizi portrayed himself as a martyr, a lone reformist opposing a corrupt dynasty.

He publicly aired the party’s weaknesses, blaming the leadership while conveniently forgetting that he was the deputy president.

His rhetoric weakened PH’s support base, especially among non-Malay voters unfamiliar with the party’s internal workings.

Ultimately, PKR members rejected him—he got only 28 percent of the vote. In contrast, two of his allies won vice president positions, and his key lieutenant, Nik Nazmi, came in fifth.

Yet Nik resigned his ministerial post citing “lack of party support,” following Rafizi’s footsteps

Thinking outside the box is Rafizi’s strength. Yet without humility and political tact, these strengths risk becoming liabilities.

Danger: A party within a party

Make no mistake—these resignations are part of a larger plan.

Rafizi considers himself a master strategist. Some believe he deliberately rejected Anwar’s olive branch in order to position himself for a future showdown.

To him, his contest with Nurul Izzah was a proxy war with Anwar.

His long-term strategy, so he claims, involves Reformasi within the party, creating a “party within a party” using public support to pressure the leadership.

No leader in a ruling party can allow this as the result would only spell division and instability, all in the name of “Reformasi.”

Rafizi might believe that without his team, PKR and the Unity Government would falter in the next state elections.

This is a classic “pourrissement” strategy—letting things rot until the crisis paves the way for a comeback.

But if this is his plan, it could backfire spectacularly.

As the Chinese proverb warns: 聪明反被聪明误—“A clever man may be ruined by his own cleverness.”

Rafizi risks undermining the very platform he claims to be fighting for.

Idealist or saboteur?

His recent public criticisms of the party seem more aimed at building his personal brand in the eyes of the public than strengthening PKR.

If he still sees PKR as a vehicle for change, he should have accepted the non-contest deal and lived to fight another day: 留得青山在不怕没柴烧—”As long as the green hills remain, there will be firewood to burn.”

Instead, he chose to burn bridges. Perhaps he is, as Anwar once said, “too idealistic.”

His critiques of the party’s drift since coming to power are not without basis but declaring PKR no longer reformist is a stretch.

Like it or not, Malaysia’s patronage politics cannot be overturned overnight. Reformasi takes time, and real change requires ideological work within the party, something Rafizi could have led, had he chosen a different path.

Given his principled stance and unwillingness to compromise, perhaps regrettably the only avenue left for Rafizi is to form his own party.

It’s hard to see him playing a subordinate role in a structure he now openly challenges.

A tragedy in the making?

What has happened is clearly a setback for Reformasi.

Rafizi hasn’t given up—he has hinted at a long-term plan.

He remains an “enfant terrible” in Malaysian politics: brilliant, disruptive, but often self-defeating.

He is adept at fighting external enemies but struggles to unify allies.

Even ideological differences turn into personal feuds under his leadership.

Can Rafizi go far? It’s hard to say. If he succeeds, it will be nothing short of a political marvel. If he fails, it will be a tragedy—not just for him, but for those who placed their hopes in him.

If Pakatan Harapan loses power again, will Rafizi say, “I told you so… you should have chosen me”?

Will he sit back and watch in solace, as Uncle Sham from Terengganu carries out his version of “Reformasi”?

(Charles Chia Yong Tai is Member of Monsoons Malaysia.)