The recent resignation of Keir Starmer as British Prime Minister illustrates a striking pattern in Westminster politics: when leaders lose power, they typically exit with dignity. Starmer becomes the fifth UK prime minister to depart since David Cameron stepped down over Brexit in June 2016, followed by Theresa May, Boris Johnson, Liz Truss, and Rishi Sunak. Yet within weeks of leaving office, these figures retreat into established roles—some to the House of Lords as backbenchers, others into journalism or business—maintaining their party affiliations while accepting their diminished influence. They may comment on policy, but they do not wage vengeance campaigns or destabilise their successors.
Malaysia's political landscape operates under profoundly different rules. Here, leaving office appears to trigger not graceful withdrawal but frantic repositioning. Former politicians rarely accept electoral defeat or career setbacks as final. Instead, they treat such moments as opportunities to rebrand, relocate, and frequently to attack their former allies with renewed vigour. This pattern has become so entrenched that it now poses a genuine threat to coalition stability and electoral coherence across the country.
The Johor state elections taking place today offered a vivid demonstration of this behaviour. Puad Zakarshi, who maintained membership in Umno for over four decades beginning in 1980, abruptly quit the party before voting commenced. He subsequently appeared at Pakatan Harapan campaign events in the state, presenting himself as aggrieved by the party's direction and leadership. Yet observers familiar with internal party dynamics suggest the real catalyst was personal disappointment: his son's exclusion from the candidate list. The episode exemplifies how individual grievances, dressed in principled language about party direction, drive defections that splinter electoral efforts and confuse voters about actual policy differences.
Within the Pakatan camp, Marina Ibrahim's departure from the DAP followed a similar script. As a dedicated state assemblyman, she enjoyed popularity and respect. Her public departure cited unhappiness over alleged secret backing of disgraced former Prime Minister Datuk Seri Najib Razak by certain party leaders. However, internal sources point to a more prosaic source of frustration: reassignment to a constituency with dimmer election prospects. Admirably, Marina has refrained from joining a rival party or standing as an independent, limiting the damage she might inflict. Yet even her restrained approach demonstrates how personal career disappointments metastasise into public defections that weaken governing coalitions.
Rafizi Ramli's trajectory offers an even more cautionary example. After losing internal party elections within PKR, he did not merely depart—he established an entirely new political vehicle, ostensibly to champion causes he believes in. In reality, his new party now competes directly against his former colleagues for the same voter demographics, potentially allowing their mutual opponents to claim victories they would lose in head-to-head contests. This self-defeating arithmetic reveals how personal vendetta often outweighs strategic calculation in Malaysian political departures. The irony is acute: in pursuit of revenge, defectors undermine the very movements they claim to represent.
The disease extends beyond PKR and Umno into the DAP itself. P. Ramasamy, sidelined as Penang's deputy chief minister and not fielded as a candidate in 2023, subsequently launched Urimai as his personal political vehicle. His public rhetoric has focused heavily on former DAP secretary-general Lim Guan Eng, whom he allegedly described as an "Emperor". Yet this internal wound has proven self-inflicted and ongoing. Lim himself, no longer in the chief minister's seat, has grown increasingly at odds with his successor, Chow Kon Yeow, criticising numerous state policies so vigorously that the current Chief Minister once told him bluntly to "just sit down" during a legislative session. This public rift between two senior DAP figures threatens to erode the party's electoral standing heading into national elections, as internal resentment becomes visible to voters.
The challenge intensifies when considering former chief ministers and prime ministers, whose ego investment in high office often proves deepest. Tan Sri Muhyiddin Yassin remains actively engaged in politics through Bersatu, orchestrating alliances and fighting rivals in hopes of reclaiming the premiership he once held. His political journey itself exemplifies the defection pattern: he began in Umno, joined Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad to form Bersatu, moved to Perikatan Nasional, and now engages in open conflict with Perikatan's coalition partner PAS. Meanwhile, Ismail Sabri, who briefly succeeded Muhyiddin as Prime Minister, maintains active involvement in Johor politics while nominally remaining with Umno, though holding no federal position. Both men demonstrate how former prime ministers refuse to accept that their era has ended.
Yet the most striking example remains Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad, who at 101 years of age continues to command political attention and controversy. The architect of Malaysia's longest-serving government, Mahathir has systematically undermined nearly every coalition he touched, working sometimes openly and sometimes secretly against parties he previously led or allied with. His recent inflammatory rhetoric—declaring that Malays should vote exclusively for Malay candidates to preserve their homeland—exemplifies how unrestrained former leaders weaponise ethnic and religious sentiment to remain relevant. Unlike British ex-premiers who accept elder statesmanship roles, Mahathir refuses retirement and continues stirring divisive political waters.
The structural damage caused by Malaysia's culture of non-departure differs fundamentally from British practice. When British prime ministers leave office, their departure allows their successors clear authority and public focus. Governing coalitions remain intact because former leaders do not form rival factions competing for identical voter blocs. Electoral contests proceed without confusion generated by defections and counter-defections. Malaysian politics, by contrast, suffers from perpetual fragmentation driven by former leaders unable to accept diminished roles. Each defection weakens coherent party messaging, splits support among ideologically similar groups, and gifts victories to opponents who benefit from divided opposition.
The Malaysian phenomenon reflects deeper structural issues within the political system. Unlike Westminster's emphasis on party discipline and the collective good following electoral defeat, Malaysian political culture valorises individual advancement and personal power recovery. Former ministers treat loss of office not as a signal to step back but as motivation to recalculate strategy and seek re-entry through alternative routes. Ethnic and religious anxieties, readily mobilised by figures like Mahathir, provide convenient justification for defections framed as principled stands rather than career rehabilitation efforts.
The consequences ripple across entire election cycles. Coalition partners grow suspicious of one another, knowing that setbacks trigger defections and factional warfare. Voter confusion deepens when familiar faces appear in unexpected partisan contexts, often attacking former colleagues. Most critically, governments weakened by internal turnover struggle to deliver policy coherence or long-term vision. The coming general elections will likely witness further defections from current ruling parties, as ambitious politicians calculate their odds and reposition accordingly. Until Malaysian political culture develops mechanisms to encourage graceful departure and elder statesmanship, rather than rewarding vendetta and perpetual power-seeking, this cycle will persist.
