By Murray Hunter
THE recent RM100 million (approximately US$24.45 million) defamation suit filed against veteran journalist P. Gunasegaram has thrown a harsh spotlight on the growing use of high-stakes defamation actions in Malaysia.
The claimant seeks substantial damages for reputational harm plus injunctions requiring removal of the material and a ban on similar future commentary.
Gunasegaram has refused a prior letter of demand for retraction and apology, defending the piece as fair comment on a matter of clear public interest based on public records.
What is striking is the relative silence that followed.
While the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) has publicly called for the withdrawal of the “excessive” claim, describing it as an attack on press freedom, and the Centre for Independent Journalism (CIJ) has expressed concern that the disproportionate damages raise clear SLAPP red flags, broader mobilisation by human rights, media or journalism groups has been limited.
Even the news portal with which Gunasegaram has long been associated has so far appeared largely indifferent.
This pattern is familiar. When a large corporation initiates a strategic lawsuit against public participation (SLAPP), a legal action primarily intended to silence, intimidate or financially exhaust critics rather than to vindicate a genuine legal right, the target, usually a person with meagre financial resources, is often left isolated.
In Malaysia, SLAPPs have become a recurring feature of public-interest scrutiny, particularly around development projects, environmental concerns, alleged corporate wrongdoing and questions of public procurement or policy.
A 2022 CIJ study of 15 cases found environment-related issues dominant, followed by corruption or abuse of power, corporate misconduct and labour matters. Targets were most often activists and journalists; perpetrators were frequently companies or high-ranking officials.
The chilling effect is real.
Journalists and activists increasingly self-censor when examining public policy or large publicly funded schemes because the financial and emotional costs of defending even a meritorious case can be ruinous. Enormous claims, prolonged proceedings, legal bills and the threat of bankruptcy function as lawfare.
Malaysia lacks dedicated anti-SLAPP legislation that would allow early dismissal of abusive suits, cost-shifting against plaintiffs who abuse the process, or clear judicial guidelines to identify and deter such actions.
There is also no robust institutional safety net.
Only a few specialised NGOs provide systematic legal defence for SLAPP victims, leaving many to face the process alone, sometimes with severe personal consequences including depression.
In the development sector, where many projects depend on public funds or government contracts, some corporate actors appear particularly sensitive to criticism and treat scrutiny of their affairs as an intrusion into purely their own private business.
The result is that courts risk being used as a venue for vendettas or reputation management rather than genuine dispute resolution.
Victims sometimes report discomfort with perceived closeness between opposing counsel, heightening feelings of isolation within a system that offers little filtering for vindictiveness.
SLAPP actions thus function as a sport for those with deep pockets: a ready means to deter inquiry, cover uncomfortable questions and erode the media’s role as a check on power as the traditional “Fourth Estate.”
Press freedom suffers, and public discourse on governance narrows.
Internationally, responses have evolved. Dozens of US states have anti-SLAPP statutes (many modelled on strong early-dismissal and fee-shifting mechanisms).
The European Union adopted a dedicated Anti-SLAPP Directive in 2024 (the “Daphne Law”) requiring member states to provide safeguards against manifestly unfounded or abusive proceedings.
In Southeast Asia, the Philippines has procedural rules for environmental cases allowing early identification and dismissal of SLAPPs, Thailand introduced limited protections in its Criminal Procedure Code, and Indonesia has environmental provisions.
Malaysia has none of comparable scope.
Activist lawyer Charles Hector has long campaigned for anti-SLAPP legislation and has himself faced multimillion-ringgit suits and legal harassment for human-rights work.
Other civil-society voices, including CIJ, have documented the problem and called for reform, yet sustained collective pressure has often been muted.
Malaysia urgently needs anti-SLAPP legislation: clear definitions, early-dismissal procedures, cost protections for defendants, and judicial training so that courts can distinguish genuine reputation claims from attempts to weaponise the legal system.
Without it, the message remains that scrutiny of the powerful carries a price only the rich can comfortably exact, where only the resilient or the lucky can afford to pay. Public-interest journalism and civic participation deserve better. – August 28, 2026
