News Desk
MALE’, Maldives — Hussain Mohammed Haneef is packing up his desk at the High Court, his resignation letter already filed a month ago, set to take effect by May 15, 2025. The Assistant Registrar, a boy scout enthusiast with a community-friendly smile, is trading the muted chaos of judicial corridors for a cushy senior post in the legal department of Fenaka Corporation, a state-owned enterprise.
Haneef’s new role at Fenaka Corporation came through a recommendation, a chance to step into a senior position after years of diligent work at the High Court. In the Maldives, where opportunities often intertwine with connections, his move reflects both his merit and the complex currents of a small nation. Haneef’s story, marked by resilience, carries the weight of a young man caught in the judiciary’s turbulent tides, navigating a system far bigger than himself.
Haneef’s name has been bouncing around Malé’s gossip circuit, not for his scouting badges or easy smile, but for a tense meeting at the Supreme Court that left him on the receiving end of some sharp words. Three justices—Husnu Al Suood, Dr. Azmiralda Zahir, and Mahaz Ali Zahir—landed in the Judicial Service Commission’s (JSC) sights after the October 2022 incident involving Haneef.
Suood, a veteran lawyer and former Attorney General, resigned in March, alleging constitutional overreach by President Dr. Mohamed Muizzu’s administration—a claim the President firmly denied. Zahir and Mahaz, currently suspended and facing a parliamentary committee review, were also present.
The exchange, tied to a procedural issue in a drug-related appeal, saw Suood reportedly raise his voice, with Zahir and Mahaz staying silent. Haneef, ever composed, calls it a heated moment but brushes it off. “I’ve seen worse,” he says, recalling times under a prior Chief Justice when tempers flared over smaller matters.
Firing Supreme Court justices in the Maldives isn’t new; it’s practically a political rite of passage. Since President Abdulla Yameen’s tenure, every administration has wielded the JSC like a machete, slashing at benches that dared to dissent. The irony, as sharp as coral, is that each new government campaigns on promises of judicial independence, only to meddle once in power. No clean hands here.
The brief technocratic government after President Mohamed Nasheed’s resignation in 2012, led by Dr. Mohammed Waheed, promised stability but inherited a judiciary already tangled in the archipelago’s political currents. The current playbook is simple: if the bench makes the administration uneasy, the JSC can be nudged to launch a disciplinary probe. Loyalty determines who survives or walks away with a golden handshake—retirement packages as hefty as MVR 50,000 monthly aren’t uncommon for those who play ball.
Haneef’s move to a senior role at Fenaka Corporation marks a new chapter for the young legal professional, whose steady rise from a legal officer in the Department of Judicial Administration to High Court Assistant Registrar speaks to his quiet determination. Caught in the fallout of a heated Supreme Court exchange, he’s faced whispers in Malé’s tight-knit circles, with some questioning the timing of his new job. Yet Haneef, ever the boy scout at heart, stays focused on his community work—leading scout troops, organizing local events—his calm demeanor a testament to resilience in a storm not of his making.
The incident at the heart of the case unfolded in the Supreme Court, housed in the former family palace of ex-President Maumoon Abdul Gayoom, where the High Court operates in an annex. Haneef was summoned in connection with an appeal filed within seven days of a family member’s case. The High Court had emailed the appellant’s kin, asking them to share a letter—a procedural hiccup that escalated into a confrontation.
Suood, known for his commanding presence on the bench, was reportedly at the heart of a heated 2022 exchange, as Haneef recounts. Zahir and Mahaz, who joined the court years later, were present but stayed silent, a detail the JSC is now examining.
Haneef, unshaken, notes such tensions weren’t new, recalling a former Chief Justice whose sharp ill temper often set the court’s tone. The JSC, with Anti-Corruption Commission involvement, keeps probing, the issue simmering in Malé’s gossip-fueled glow.
The broader context is hard to ignore. The suspensions came on February 26, 2025, just minutes before the Supreme Court was set to hear a constitutional challenge to anti-defection rules—laws that let parties unseat lawmakers who switch sides.
The timing, as Human Rights Watch and UN experts noted, suggests a calculated move to derail the case, which required five justices to rule. With three suspended and Suood’s resignation, the bench was crippled.
The JSC’s actions, coupled with a parliamentary bill slashing the Supreme Court from seven to five justices, have sparked accusations of “state capture.” Azmiralda Zahir, a trailblazing female judge with a PhD from Exeter, has been vocal, denouncing the probes as “manufactured” to intimidate.
In Malé’s humid alleys, where gossip travels faster than the public ferries, the public’s mood is a mix of resignation and outrage. The Maldives, a nation of 550,000, feels like a village where everyone knows the score.
The judiciary, meant to be a beacon of impartiality, is seen as a chessboard for political games. “The Maldives cannot be a rights-respecting country so long as the courts are not able to independently rule,” warned Elaine Pearson of Human Rights Watch. Yet, for many locals, the system’s flaws are as familiar as the tides. Haneef, with his new job and scoutmaster optimism, embodies the paradox: a young man navigating a system where merit and loyalty are uneasy bedfellows.
As Haneef prepares to leave the High Court, his term ending in a week, he’s not looking back. His new office at Fenaka awaits, a step up in pay and prestige. But his story, like the justices’ fate, is a reminder of the Maldives’ delicate dance with power.
The Supreme Court, once a symbol of democratic hope, has increasingly felt like a political battleground where loyalty is the currency and justice a fleeting guest. In this sun-soaked paradise, the shadows of influence stretch long, and even a boy scout like Haneef, earnest and well-meaning, can’t fully escape their reach.
