Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad’s claim that modern agreements such as the Agreement on Reciprocal Trade (ART) risk repeating the Malayan Union is not a warning, it is deliberate political fearmongering. By equating a negotiated trade framework with a colonial imposition, Mahathir collapses serious policy debate into emotional manipulation, weaponising history not to protect sovereignty, but to preserve relevance.
The Malayan Union was imposed without consent, dismantled sovereignty, and provoked mass resistance. ART, whatever its merits or flaws, is debated within a sovereign parliamentary democracy, subject to Cabinet approval, parliamentary scrutiny, and public discourse. The comparison is intellectually indefensible but politically convenient. Mahathir has long understood that invoking existential threats is easier than engaging with complex policy trade-offs: a tactic that has defined much of his political career.
What makes this rhetoric especially disingenuous is Mahathir’s own historical record. It was under his leadership that Malaysia embraced aggressive global economic integration. He championed export-led industrialisation, positioned Malaysia firmly within the World Trade Organization framework, liberalised key sectors to attract foreign direct investment, and negotiated trade arrangements that bound Malaysia to global rules-based systems. The manufacturing supply chains, foreign capital dependence, and trade exposure he now decries were not imposed on Malaysia, they were deliberately constructed.
Mahathir actively courted multinational corporations, promoted Malaysia as an investment-friendly hub, and accepted the constraints that came with international trade regimes in exchange for growth and industrial upgrading. These were strategic choices, not accidents. To now portray trade agreements as creeping threats to sovereignty is revisionism of the highest order — an attempt to disown the consequences of policies he once celebrated as nation-building triumphs.
More corrosive still is how Mahathir’s framing undermines democratic governance. By casting ART as an existential betrayal, he implicitly delegitimises elected institutions, civil servants, and policymakers, portraying them as either incompetent or complicit in selling out the nation. The underlying message is unmistakable: only Mahathir can be trusted to detect danger, while everyone else is either naĂŻve or corrupt. This is not patriotism; it is political absolutism.
This is also not leadership, it is dependency-building. Mahathir’s politics has always thrived on crisis, whether real or manufactured. Stability, institutional confidence, and technocratic deliberation leave him sidelined. Alarmism restores centrality. The result is a political culture conditioned to fear rather than assess, to personalise rather than institutionalise, and to reject nuance in favour of moral panic.
The tragedy is that Mahathir’s constant invocation of historical trauma cheapens genuine historical memory. The Malayan Union was resisted through collective mobilisation, institution-building, and political maturation. Mahathir invokes it instead as a rhetorical bludgeon — not to strengthen institutions, but to silence debate and freeze the country in perpetual suspicion.
Malaysia does not need perpetual guardianship by a leader who no longer trusts the nation to govern itself. The true threat to sovereignty today is not trade agreements but rather the hidden agenda of those who negotiate them.
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