British Prime Minister Keir Starmer's recent departure marks the fifth change in 10 Downing Street leadership within a decade, following David Cameron's 2016 resignation over Brexit, Theresa May's 2019 fall, Boris Johnson's enforced exit after pandemic lockdown controversies, and Liz Truss's extraordinary 45-day tenure. This extraordinary turnover might suggest political chaos, yet what distinguishes Westminster from Asian democracies is what happens afterwards. These former premiers have largely disappeared from public life—Cameron and May sit quietly in the House of Lords offering occasional parliamentary commentary, Johnson pursues a memoir and journalism career, while Sunak maintains his parliamentary seat but works in finance. None attempts a dramatic comeback or wages war against their successors. Their departure, though unwilling, becomes genuine.
Malaysia's political culture operates under fundamentally different rules. For local politicians, electoral defeat or loss of position represents not an invitation to retirement but merely a waystation between reinventions. The pattern repeats relentlessly: failed figures do not fade away but instead cross the aisle entirely, embrace new party colours, abandon erstwhile principles without blinking, and launch assaults against former allies—all while publicly claiming to champion unchanged convictions. This perpetual recycling of political figures through different vehicles corrupts the integrity of party systems and transforms governance into personal vendetta management.
The ongoing Johor elections exemplify this corrosive pattern. Puad Zakarshi spent over four decades within UMNO's ranks, ascending through its structures since 1980, only to abandon the party immediately before the current contest. His subsequent appearance at Pakatan Harapan functions and hostile positioning against former colleagues suggests calculated opportunism masquerading as principle. While Zakarshi frames his departure around concerns that Johor's leadership answers to higher powers, observers closer to ground realities suggest a simpler explanation: his son's exclusion from the candidate list triggered the defection. This distinction between stated rationale and actual motivation reveals the hollowness of most such exits.
DAP has encountered similar defections among its own ranks. Marina Ibrahim, previously a diligent and respected state assemblyman within the party, announced her departure citing displeasure about certain leaders covertly supporting disgraced former Prime Minister Najib Razak. Yet alternative accounts suggest her anger stemmed from reassignment to a more electorally challenging constituency. Distinguishing genuine principle from wounded pride becomes nearly impossible in such circumstances. To Marina's modest credit, she has declined to immediately pivot toward a rival party or contest as an independent, maintaining at least some distance from the opportunism afflicting others.
The cautionary tale of Rafizi Ramli demonstrates how personal ambition can hollow out political movements entirely. Following his defeat in internal PKR elections, Rafizi departed to establish his own political vehicle, claiming his new entity would prosecute causes he championed within his former home. What emerged instead resembles revenge theatre, with his nascent party targeting the same voter demographics and policy space as PKR itself. This cannibalistic approach virtually guarantees mutual failure—as both entities compete for identical constituencies, genuine opposition forces benefit from divided progressive support. Malaysian politics rewards such self-destruction through vengeance over principled cooperation, creating perverse incentives that weaken the entire political ecosystem.
DAP's internal hemorrhaging extends well beyond single defectors. P. Ramasamy, once Penang's deputy chief minister, has remained in relentless warfare against his former party since being excluded from 2023 candidate lists. His establishment of the Urimai party merely formalized an already-toxic relationship, with much of his rhetoric targeting former DAP secretary-general Lim Guan Eng—whom he previously characterized as an authoritarian "Emperor." Yet Lim himself now occupies an awkward opposition posture within Penang, his own party-controlled state, locked in escalating disputes with current Chief Minister Chow Kon Yeow over successive policy disagreements. These tensions reached such intensity that the exasperated Chow publicly demanded Lim "just sit down" during a state assembly session. Such rifts carry severe electoral consequences, potentially costing DAP substantially when national elections arrive.
The phenomenon intensifies dramatically when examining former prime ministers, who appear uniquely incapable of accepting the natural conclusion of their tenures. Muhyiddin Yassin, despite his relatively brief premiership, remains actively enmeshed in Bersatu politics, perpetually scheming toward power restoration. His career trajectory—originating within UMNO, migrating to the Mahathir-founded Bersatu, subsequently aligning with Perikatan Nasional, and now experiencing friction with coalition partner PAS—exemplifies the serial betrayals that characterize Malaysian political mobility. This constant realignment serves no coherent ideological purpose; instead, it reflects pure opportunism disguised as strategic repositioning. Ismail Sabri, who succeeded Muhyiddin as prime minister, continues active involvement in Johor despite occupying no federal position, maintaining at least formal loyalty to UMNO even as his political capital has clearly diminished.
Yet none of these figures approaches the political incorrigibility of Dr Mahathir Mohamad, who recently celebrated his 101st birthday while remaining vigorously embedded in Malaysia's political machinations. This quintessential "ex from hell" spent decades building the Barisan Nasional coalition he now actively sabotaged, subsequently collaborating with—and secretly undermining—both PAS and DAP to advance his evolving agenda. His recent inflammatory statements asserting that Malays should vote exclusively for Malay candidates, warning that supporting non-Malay politicians will erase Malays' land security, exemplify the divisive racial rhetoric he employs while insisting on continued political relevance. For Mahathir, principle bends entirely toward immediate tactical advantage.
The Malaysian political establishment's inability to facilitate graceful exits from power stands in sharp contrast to democratic maturity evident within Westminster. British constitutional norms establish clear expectations: losing prime ministers depart office, accept electoral verdicts, and retire from frontline politics. This expectation functions not as informal custom but as deeply ingrained democratic expectation. Malaysian politics lacks equivalent institutional norms, permitting—indeed, almost encouraging—the perpetual recycling of failed leaders through new party vehicles and vindictive campaigns against erstwhile allies. This structural deficit transforms politics into endless cycles of revenge rather than democratic competition centered on ideas and competence.
The cost of this malady extends far beyond individual damaged egos or bruised ambitions. When experienced political operators spend primary attention on settling personal scores against former allies rather than articulating coherent visions for governance, entire party systems become contaminated by factional warfare. This dynamic explains why Malaysia's political coalitions remain perpetually fragile—they rest on temporary convenience rather than stable principle. The constant migration of senior figures between parties, combined with their relentless attacks on former homes, creates an environment where no party can develop stable institutional identity or clear policy direction. Voters understandably struggle to understand what various coalitions fundamentally stand for when their membership and rhetorical positioning shift monthly.
The Johor elections unfolding against this backdrop reveal a political system struggling to function beneath the accumulated weight of personal vendettas. When former UMNO members attack UMNO to advance Pakatan ambitions, when DAP leaders undermine their own state government, when PKR splits into competing fragments, and when former prime ministers pursue increasingly inflammatory divisive rhetoric, the entire system suffers. These are not examples of principled political competition but rather the observable consequences of institutional failure to establish clear norms governing political exit. Malaysia requires mechanisms to facilitate dignified retirement from office, establish expectations around post-exit conduct, and discourage the perpetual revenge cycles that currently characterize its political culture. Without such structural reforms, Malaysian democracy will continue limping forward under the deadweight of restless, vindictive has-beens incapable of accepting yesterday's defeat.
