It is a moment thick with irony—Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad, whose criticisms hastened the political demise of his successor, Tun Abdullah Ahmad Badawi, now standing solemnly at the National Mosque to pay his final respects. With words of tribute, Mahathir described Abdullah as a leader who secured "one of the most remarkable victories in history" during the 2004 general election and praised his peaceful exit. 
But let us not rewrite history to suit sentiment. Dr Mahathir, now approaching 100, was once Abdullah's most unrelenting critic. Mahathir's loud and persistent attacks from outside the government sowed dissent within UMNO and the public alike, setting in motion the events that would lead to Abdullah's resignation in 2009. At every turn, Mahathir questioned Abdullah's leadership, direction, and integrity—relentlessly hammering away at the legitimacy of his successor's tenure. 
And yet today, he praises the very qualities he once disparaged. Abdullah, known for his gentler and more conciliatory style, attempted to lead with a different tone—starkly contrasting Mahathir's authoritarian approach. His more open and democratic handling of governance was painted as a weakness, not a strength. Rather than support a new era of leadership, Mahathir undermined it, all while claiming to do so in the nation's interest.
His criticism was not just political—it was deeply personal, until the last minute as Tun Abdullah wrestled with a failing body. In a recent podcast, Mahathir alleged that Abdullah's son had sought to exploit his father's position for personal gain. Whether baseless or not, these claims only reaffirm a pattern: Mahathir has rarely been able to see eye-to-eye with his successors. From Najib Razak to Anwar Ibrahim, from Musa Hitam to Tengku Razaleigh, the list of political leaders Mahathir has clashed with is as long as it is telling. Even international leaders—Singapore's Goh Chok Tong, Australia's Paul Keating, and U.S. Vice President Al Gore—have been at odds with him.
Dr Mahathir often casts himself as a misunderstood reformer, a lonely warrior against corruption and incompetence. But too often, his narrative casts everyone else as the villain. The truth is more complex. His aggressive post-premiership interventions have rarely been about national interest alone; they've often borne the marks of personal dissatisfaction, control, and, most importantly, legacy.
It is essential to acknowledge Mahathir's immense contributions to Malaysia's development. But it is equally crucial not to overlook the damage caused by his refusal to let go. His role in the resignation of Abdullah Ahmad Badawi was not that of a passive observer disappointed in the country's direction—it was that of an instigator, orchestrating unrest from the sidelines and pushing a fellow politician out the door.
And it ultimately opened the way to the dark history of Najib Razak.
Mahathir's tribute at the National Mosque may have been heartfelt but also hollow. The eulogy rings with revisionism when it comes from the person who helped write the final chapter of Abdullah's premiership. History should remember Abdullah as a man who, despite immense pressure, chose to step down with dignity. But it must also not forget who helped bring that pressure to bear.
His criticism was not just political—it was deeply personal, until the last minute as Tun Abdullah wrestled with a failing body. In a recent podcast, Mahathir alleged that Abdullah's son had sought to exploit his father's position for personal gain. Whether baseless or not, these claims only reaffirm a pattern: Mahathir has rarely been able to see eye-to-eye with his successors. From Najib Razak to Anwar Ibrahim, from Musa Hitam to Tengku Razaleigh, the list of political leaders Mahathir has clashed with is as long as it is telling. Even international leaders—Singapore's Goh Chok Tong, Australia's Paul Keating, and U.S. Vice President Al Gore—have been at odds with him.
Dr Mahathir often casts himself as a misunderstood reformer, a lonely warrior against corruption and incompetence. But too often, his narrative casts everyone else as the villain. The truth is more complex. His aggressive post-premiership interventions have rarely been about national interest alone; they've often borne the marks of personal dissatisfaction, control, and, most importantly, legacy.
It is essential to acknowledge Mahathir's immense contributions to Malaysia's development. But it is equally crucial not to overlook the damage caused by his refusal to let go. His role in the resignation of Abdullah Ahmad Badawi was not that of a passive observer disappointed in the country's direction—it was that of an instigator, orchestrating unrest from the sidelines and pushing a fellow politician out the door.
Mahathir's tribute at the National Mosque may have been heartfelt but also hollow. The eulogy rings with revisionism when it comes from the person who helped write the final chapter of Abdullah's premiership. History should remember Abdullah as a man who, despite immense pressure, chose to step down with dignity. But it must also not forget who helped bring that pressure to bear.
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