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#Malaysiakita Merdeka's Most Uncomfortable Picture: When A Former Prime Minister Sits By the Roadside
By Mihar Dias August 31st 2026
There were thousands of Jalur Gemilang fluttering proudly in Putrajaya on Merdeka Day.
There were dignitaries in their grandstands. There were ministers, VIPs, uniforms, marching contingents, performances, cameras and all the usual choreography of a nation celebrating 69 years of independence.
And then there was one image that, for me, said more about Malaysia than all the speeches put together.
Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad, 101 years old, sitting in an electric wheelchair by the roadside, waving the Jalur Gemilang.
Not in the dignitaries' enclosure.
Not in a place befitting a former Prime Minister.
Not apparently under any special official arrangement.
Just by the roadside, among the ordinary crowd.
It was a profoundly Malaysian picture — and also a profoundly sad one.
Let us be clear: this is not about whether one likes Mahathir or dislikes him.
It is not about whether one agrees with his politics, his criticisms of the present government, his record or his legacy.
It is not even about whether he should be treated as a VIP.
It is about something much more basic: how a nation treats an elderly former leader on the day it celebrates the nation he once led.
At 101, surely courtesy should not require a political party card.
And respect for age should not depend on whether the person currently agrees with the government of the day.
The government's explanation is that former prime ministers have not been automatically invited to National Day celebrations since 2018. Attendance is apparently not prohibited and can be arranged through an application. The government also said it had expected Mahathir to be overseas during the Merdeka period.
But therein lies the problem.
Sometimes protocol can be technically correct and still be morally tone-deaf.
A former prime minister should not have to apply for permission to feel that he belongs at his own country's national celebration.
And surely nobody seriously believes that inviting a 101-year-old former prime minister to sit somewhere appropriate among the dignitaries would have brought down the government.
What exactly would have been lost?
A chair?
A place in the grandstand?
A little political pride?
Or perhaps the fear that someone might interpret the invitation as political reconciliation?
If that is the calculation, then we have reduced Merdeka to something terribly small.
We have turned a national celebration into another extension of partisan politics.
That is precisely what makes the photograph so disturbing.
Here was the man who, for better or worse, dominated Malaysian politics for more than two decades. The man who championed Vision 2020. The man whose administration transformed the physical landscape of the country. The man associated with the development of Putrajaya itself — the very federal administrative capital where he was sitting by the roadside watching the nation celebrate.
And there he was.
In a wheelchair.
Waving the national flag.
At 101.
What a strange reversal of history.
The man who once sat at the centre of Malaysian power was now sitting at the edge of the road watching the machinery of state pass before him.
There is an almost Shakespearean irony to it.
And the irony becomes sharper because this was not an ordinary public event.
It was Merdeka.
The day when Malaysia supposedly puts aside its divisions and celebrates what binds us together.
If Merdeka means anything, surely it must mean that our history belongs to all of us — including the uncomfortable chapters, the controversial leaders and the people with whom we profoundly disagree.
We cannot selectively remember history.
We cannot celebrate the Malaysia that Mahathir helped build while pretending that Mahathir himself was never part of the story.
We can criticise his policies.
We can challenge his political legacy.
We can disagree with his views.
We can even argue that some of his decisions did lasting damage.
But surely we can still acknowledge his contribution.
That is what the Malay word jasa is about.
Jasa does not mean permanent political approval.
Jasa means recognising service rendered.
And a mature nation should be capable of saying: We remember what you did for the country, even where we disagree with you.
Instead, Malaysia sometimes behaves as if political history begins with whoever happens to occupy the Prime Minister's Office today.
Every government seems tempted to rewrite the national narrative according to its own political convenience.
The previous administration becomes the villain.
The current administration becomes the saviour.
Then the next administration arrives and reverses the roles.
And the country goes on watching the same sandiwara.
Perhaps that is why this photograph has touched such a nerve on social media.
People are asking a simple question: Was this really necessary?
Not whether Mahathir deserved to be worshipped.
Not whether he deserved a state ceremony.
Just whether a 101-year-old former prime minister could have been given a decent seat.
A little shade.
A little dignity.
A little acknowledgement.
That is hardly an extravagant demand.
And perhaps the most embarrassing part is that Mahathir himself did not appear to make a great fuss about it.
He came anyway.
He sat among Malaysians.
He waved the Jalur Gemilang.
He greeted people.
He allowed himself to be photographed with members of the public.
In a sense, he behaved more like an ordinary Malaysian than many of those sitting in the VIP enclosure.
There is something both noble and heartbreaking about that.
The government may say there was no deliberate slight.
Perhaps there wasn't.
Perhaps this was merely protocol.
Perhaps there was an assumption that he would be overseas.
Perhaps nobody intended to humiliate him.
But politics is not judged only by intention.
It is also judged by optics.
And the optics were terrible.
On a day when Malaysia was celebrating 69 years of Merdeka, one of the most recognisable figures in the nation's modern history was seen sitting by the roadside in a wheelchair, waving the flag.
That picture will travel further than any official explanation.
It will be remembered.
And it raises a larger question:
What kind of country do we want to become?
A country that remembers only those who are politically useful?
Or a country confident enough to honour its elderly former leaders even when they are inconvenient?
There is another irony here.
We are constantly being told about Malaysia Madani, about courtesy, compassion, inclusiveness, respect and a more humane society.
What better opportunity to demonstrate those values than by showing courtesy to a 101-year-old former prime minister?
No political concession was necessary.
No policy agreement was necessary.
No photograph of handshakes was necessary.
Just a chair.
And perhaps a place among those who had served the country.
That would not have diminished the current Prime Minister.
On the contrary, it would have demonstrated confidence.
Great leaders do not become smaller by acknowledging the contributions of their predecessors.
Great nations do not erase their past.
They embrace it — warts, controversies, triumphs and failures included.
Mahathir's legacy will continue to be debated long after all of us are gone.
Some will remember him as the architect of modernisation.
Others will remember authoritarian tendencies, political battles and controversies.
History will judge all of it.
But history should not have to judge whether Malaysia was capable of showing basic respect to a 101-year-old former Prime Minister sitting in a wheelchair on Merdeka Day.
That should be beneath us.
And so, on the 69th Merdeka, perhaps the number itself offers one final bit of irony.
Sixty-nine is already a number that makes people smile, whisper and make jokes in certain circles.
But there was nothing funny about that photograph.
It was 69 years of independence confronting 101 years of one man's life.
A man who once commanded the country was sitting quietly at the roadside, waving the flag of the country he had once led.
Perhaps he was exactly where he wanted to be.
Perhaps he did not care about the VIP enclosure.
Perhaps he simply wanted to be there with Malaysians.
But that does not absolve the rest of us from asking whether he should have been given the choice.
Because sometimes the dignity of a nation is revealed not by how it treats the powerful sitting at the top of the grandstand, but by how it treats an old man sitting at the edge of the road.
Especially when that old man once sat at the very top.
Merdeka is supposed to be about remembering that Malaysia belongs to all of us.
That includes those we disagree with.
That includes former leaders.
And, yes, that includes Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad.
We can argue about his politics until the cows come home.
But on Merdeka Day, perhaps we should at least have remembered his jasa.
If we cannot do that for a 101-year-old former Prime Minister, what exactly are we celebrating?
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Mihar Dias (mihardias@gmail.com) is a content creator under the Newswav Creator programme, where you get to express yourself, be a citizen journalist, and at the same time monetize your content & reach millions of users on Newswav. Log in to creator.newswav.com and become a Newswav Creator now!
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