“To be honest, I don’t even know why I was sacked. But I’m now Muhyiddin Yassin’s greatest enemy.”
— Hamzah Zainudin, Malaysia’s Opposition Leader
LET me be upfront.
Datuk Seri Hamzah Zainudin has never struck me as an impressive political figure.
Despite having held several senior ministerial positions, his résumé does little to inspire confidence or command admiration.
To me, at least.
I would not be surprised if Hamzah has to step down as Opposition Leader soon following his Jan 13 sacking from Bersatu where he had once served as deputy president.
We can all agree that there is a difference between a political operator and a national leader. Many of us have seen both.
The former survives through manoeuvre, timing and loyalty to power centres. The latter commands respect beyond party lines, articulates a coherent national vision, and carries moral authority even among opponents.
Hamzah, for all his years in politics, belongs firmly in the first category. And that’s not a good sign.
Hamzah’s political career has been long, but it has hardly been distinguished.
He has occupied several ministerial portfolios and eventually rose to the post of deputy president of Bersatu – a position he secured with the backing of the party president himself – only to be unceremoniously removed by that very same leader later on.
Yet holding office is not the same as building stature. In the public imagination, he has never quite crossed the line from functionary to statesman.
His defining moment in modern Malaysian politics was his role in the so-called Sheraton Move of 2020 – the political realignment that brought down the Pakatan Harapan government.
Whether one views that episode as strategic brilliance or democratic betrayal depends on political allegiance.
But what it undeniably cemented was Hamzah’s image as a backroom strategist rather than a front-facing leader.
He was seen as someone who could engineer outcomes, not someone who could inspire a nation.
I have said this many times; I have great difficulty in forgiving nor forgetting the traitors and backstabbers of the 2020 Sheraton Move for bringing down a democratically elected government.
Hamzah was also a key Sheraton player from Bersatu.
As a reward for his role in the Sheraton Move, Hamzah was given the powerful Home Minister portfolio after Muhyiddin Yassin became Malaysia’s first backdoor prime minister.
The ministry oversees the police, immigration, internal security – institutions central to the rule of law.
Yet his tenure was marred by controversy. A leaked audio recording that appeared to capture a conversation between him and the Inspector-General of Police raised troubling questions about political interference in police appointments.
Even if explanations were offered, the damage was done.
In a country sensitive to institutional integrity, the optics were poor.
A national leader must appear above manipulation of enforcement bodies. Hamzah did not.
Then there is the issue of temperament and political method. Over the years, he has not shied away from launching pointed accusations against rivals.
Aggressive rhetoric may energise a base, but it rarely broadens appeal.
Malaysians have grown weary of politics defined by insinuation and factional warfare. They are looking for reassurance, stability and ideas.
Hamzah’s style – combative and tactical – reinforces the perception that he is most comfortable in political trench warfare.
His recent expulsion from Bersatu dealt perhaps the most decisive blow to his standing.
To be removed from the very party in which one rose to deputy president is no minor setback.
It signals internal fractures, miscalculations and the loss of a power base.
For a politician whose influence depended heavily on party machinery, this was not just a demotion; it was a structural weakening.
Politicians who aspire for high office must understand that national leadership requires more than critique.
It requires a narrative of hope, a roadmap for reform and the ability to transcend partisan divides.
On these fronts, Hamzah has not distinguished himself.
He has yet to demonstrate the capacity to unite diverse constituencies or to project the intellectual authority expected of someone aspiring to the highest offices.
Contrast this with leaders who, despite flaws, possess a clear political identity – reformist, technocratic, populist, or nationalist.
Hamzah’s identity remains tethered to manoeuvre.
He is perceived as someone who executes “assignments” effectively for political bosses, particularly during turbulent transitions of power.
That may earn trust within inner circles. It does not necessarily earn trust from the broader public.
None of this is to deny Hamzah’s political skills.
He is experienced, disciplined, and clearly adept at navigating complex party structures.
But skill without broad legitimacy has limits.
He may remain relevant within certain blocs or coalitions, perhaps even serve as a strategist behind the scenes.
Yet the leap from operative to national statesman appears increasingly unlikely.
Hamzah is also seen as efficient but uninspiring, loyal but not visionary, powerful in committee rooms but unconvincing on the national stage.
Once such an image hardens, reversing it is extraordinarily difficult.
Malaysian politics is replete with figures who thrived as insiders but faded when asked to stand alone.
In the end, history tends to remember those who built rather than those who manoeuvred.
On that measure, Hamzah has yet to prove that he belongs among the former.
Truth be told, I do not see Hamzah as prime minister material, and I very much doubt he will ever ascend to the pinnacle of power.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at sirsiah@gmail.com.
