We often say this generation doesn’t read. Truth is, it’s hard to blame them. Bookstores are vanishing, libraries feel like morgues, and meaningful political history has been replaced by two-hour podcasts and 30-second TikTok edits.
So when KJ and Shahril hosted Toh Puan Na’imah, the late Tun Daim’s wife, in their latest episode — it became, in effect, the official version of crony capitalism for a generation raised on algorithm-driven storytelling.
Nothing wrong with a widow honouring her husband. That is expected. What’s risky is when that becomes the only story.
The Era Oil Money Built
To understand why “all roads lead to Daim,” we go back to the 1970s.
Malaysia discovers major offshore oil and gas. Instead of letting foreign giants dictate terms, the government creates Petronas in 1974, claiming complete ownership of national petroleum assets. Tengku Razaleigh is appointed founding chairman — effectively a cabinet-level architect of economic direction post-NEP.
This was pivotal. Oil became the financial oxygen for nation-building and the formation of a new Malay capitalist class. By the time Mahathir took office in 1981, the machinery was primed: Petronas cash, development agencies, government-linked corporations, UMNO investment arms.
Mahathir simply added one ingredient — speed. Where Razak’s era laid foundations, Mahathir’s era accelerated. Highway projects, heavy industries, “national champions”. The line between government policy, party interests, and private enterprise started to blur rapidly.
The Quiet Man Who Controlled the Switchboard
Enter Tun Daim.
Unlike many leaders of the era, Daim wasn’t a fiery orator or grassroots mobiliser. He was the opposite: quiet, calculating, legally trained, commercially seasoned.
At a time when Malay capitalism needed “handlers” more than heroes, he stepped in as UMNO treasurer and, in 1984, replaced Razaleigh as Finance Minister.
He became the man who controlled the state budget and, via UMNO’s portfolio, the party’s corporate assets. He chaired Fleet Holdings — UMNO’s main investment vehicle — which quietly acquired stakes in strategic companies: major newspapers, banks, construction firms, even hotel groups.
Let’s be blunt.
This wasn’t free-market entrepreneurship. It was state-engineered capitalism, using selected individuals as corporate agents of policy.
Daim wasn’t just a wealthy businessman. He was the gatekeeper between Petronas money, NEP ambitions, UMNO’s political machine, and corporate expansion.
Crony Capitalism: The Malaysian Blueprint
Our crony capitalism didn’t resemble the typical Western model of wealthy donors influencing policy. Here, the party itself became a shareholder.
Key players? Halim Saad and Tajudin Ramli. They were groomed as corporate custodians of UMNO’s economic ambitions.
Renong–UEM was the flagship. UEM secured the North–South Expressway concession in 1988. Renong expanded aggressively with toll roads, infrastructure, and financial holdings. At the peak of the 90s boom, it looked like Malay capitalism had finally achieved lift-off.
Then came the 1997 Asian Financial Crisis.
UEM suddenly bought back 32% of Renong for over RM2 billion — at the height of the crisis. Markets panicked. Years later, prevailing views remained that these shares were held in proxy for UMNO. The treasurer at the time? Daim.
Renong–UEM eventually collapsed under massive debt and was bailed out with public funds.
That’s what “all roads lead to Daim” really means — not because he was everywhere, but because systemic power was centralised around him.
The MAS Case — National Service or Neat Cover Story?
Then there’s the infamous MAS episode.
In the 1990s, Tajudin Ramli bought a significant stake in MAS at RM8 per share — above market price — financed by heavy bank loans. Years later, he claimed in a sworn affidavit that he was instructed to do so as “national service,” allegedly acting under Mahathir through Daim. He asserted that losses would eventually be covered by the state.
Regardless of whether every claim was accurate, the pattern was consistent:
1. Politically trusted businessman assigned a strategic role.
2. Funded via large loans.
3. When things fell apart, taxpayers ended up absorbing the damage
These weren’t rogue deals. They were part of a system — high-risk, high-speed, politically driven capitalism.
Podcast Romanticism vs Structural Reality
In the Ks episode, Toh Puan Na’imah paints Daim as the calm, wise strategist — the person Mahathir trusted when problems needed solving; the man who pushed for Anwar Ibrahim to become Finance Minister; the loyal friend who didn’t chase the spotlight.
There is truth in that. The economy did recover strongly under his tenure in the late ’80s. He was effective, precise, and discreet.
But podcast storytelling often does something dangerous — it converts structural power into personal virtue. It reframes a high-concentration economic model as visionary leadership. It glosses over bailouts, systemic risks, and decisions that shaped the country’s corporate landscape for generations.
History becomes a love story.
Reality was an architecture.
Why This Matters Now
Yes, this generation does not read. Not because they lack intelligence, but because access to depth has been replaced with access to content. Without context, they hear “Mahathir trusted Daim” and “Daim helped Anwar” — but not “Malaysia built its capitalist class through state centralisation and political patronage.”
They remember the affection. They rarely see the mechanics.
From the 1980s onward, you could joke:
“In Malaysia, all roads didn’t lead to Rome. They led to Daim.”
Not because he held everything, but because the road map — legal, financial, and political — was designed that way.
If today’s Malaysians accept narratives without studying history, we risk repeating the same model under new names, new towers, new podcasts.
The most radical response to that KS episode is not to share it.
It is to read — truly read — about Petronas, Renong, MAS, Fleet, NEP, crisis-era bailouts, and the politics behind them.
Because once we understand the machinery, we stop seeing it as nostalgia.
And start understanding it as governance design.
History doesn’t just repeat itself.
If the audience is untrained — it reloads.
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