September 8, 2025
KUALA LUMPUR – Merdeka 118 is slowly becoming one of my favourite landmarks in Kuala Lumpur. At 678.9m, it’s a towering column that dominates the skyline as the second-tallest building in the world. Its sharp, angular silhouette makes it instantly recognisable, a jagged exclamation mark in the middle of the city.
Not only that, it’s been seen around the world as the backdrop for the opening scene in Marvel’s Thunderbolts, in which Yelena Belova (played by Florence Pugh) leaps off the building’s glass face head-first into action and adventure, while advertising Malaysia on a global scale.
Not everyone is impressed. For some, Merdeka 118 is less “global icon” and more “that giant shard of reflective glass that blinds you during your morning commute”. Others mutter that it’s a RM5bil tower for the rich, a glittering reminder of the gap between the haves and those who can only squint at it from afar.
I call it the “finger building”. It’s a hand reaching out for the sky, with the index finger pointing further upwards and onwards. For others, it’s a longer, ruder finger mocking you as you head towards a job that overworks and underpays you.
In reality, it seems the building’s design is meant to represent Tunku Abdul Rahman, Malaysia’s first prime minister, in Stadium Merdeka on Aug 31, 1957, shouting “Merdeka!” seven times. That spire is his arm raised upwards, heralding a new nation onwards.
While Tunku is officially recognised as a national hero, I also have heard people dismiss him and downplay his achievements.
Some say he was too soft on the British, too gentle, too ready with a smile and a lots of charm. In 1963, Time magazine characterised him as a self-professed “lazy man” who played golf every morning, checked the racing calendar before scheduling political engagements, and liked to cook curry for guests while the children of his household staff ran riot in his residence.
Here’s something less remembered. In 1954, Tunku threatened the British with a full boycott of the government. The dispute was over how many seats in the Legislative Council (the forerunner to the Parliament) would be elected Malayans versus those appointed by the British. After months of wrangling – including a trip to London by Tunku, Tun Abdul Razak (second PM), and TH Tan (later Tan Sri Mohammed Tahir Tan Tong Hye, MCA secretary and first secretary-general of the Alliance Party) – they reached an impasse.
In a crucial meeting, Tunku asked his colleagues: “I am prepared to go to gaol if necessary. How many of you are prepared to do the same?” They all said yes, and that pressure worked.
Lazy? Maybe. Patsy? Hardly. That contradiction is what makes Tunku so fascinating, and arguably so Malaysian. He was many things at once: prince, diplomat, nationalist, curry cook, and the man who raised his hand to the British to demand independence. Perhaps it’s fitting that a man with many sides was the one needed to make sense of a diverse land like Malaya, and even more so, Malaysia.
I personally believe that without him, independence would have happened much later than 1957. And the formation of Malaysia in 1963? Who knows if it would even exist in its current form without his ability to juggle Umno nationalism, Chinese and Indian support, the British, and even Sukarno’s threats from Indonesia.
That’s the thing about Malaysia: It’s never just one story. It’s a prism. Tilt it one way, you see a brave leader defying the British. Tilt it another, you see a fun-loving aristocrat who liked his free time. Neither is a wrong view. But neither is the whole picture.
Merdeka 118 is not just an office tower. It’s also a luxury hotel, a mall that will have hundreds of shops, the new headquarters of a state-owned investment management company, and an observation deck with glass floors to look over (or down to) our legacy.
There are also plans for a textile museum, a park, and a mosque, said to be ready by 2026.
Of course, you could still argue it’s an unnecessary vanity project, and that RM5bil could have been better spent elsewhere. But I would also argue that what it has produced has substantial value. It will benefit KL residents in the near future, could be another focus point alongside KLCC and TRX, and make cameos in Hollywood movies.
In the end, the building is a lot like the country it towers over: complicated, sometimes dazzling, sometimes frustrating, but impossible to ignore. And maybe, like the man who inspired it, it’s not perfect