How do you take over a company that doesn’t want to sell in Malaysia?
Well, according to a damning report by Bloomberg News, the answer — at least as alleged — is this: you go to the Malaysian Anti-Corruption Commission.
Why MACC, you ask?
Well, if the allegations are to be believed, it is because within MACC, you will allegedly find officials willing to strong-arm executives — to open investigations, conduct raids, seize documents, pressure management — and ultimately “assist” in forcing them to give in to your desire to take over the company.
Let me be clear from the outset: these are allegations. MACC's head Azam Baki has rejected them outright. He says the claims are based on inaccurate and unreliable information. He has challenged critics to lodge police reports. He has also filed suit to clear his name.
But regardless of that, the fact that the allegation has been made by a publication like Bloomberg is, without a doubt, damning.
Because what is being alleged is not some technical breach of a circular. It is not a paperwork oversight. It is not a valuation dispute.
It is the allegation that enforcement power — the coercive arm of the state — can be weaponised in corporate warfare.
It is literally saying that the authorities we put in place to keep criminals in check are themselves acting like criminals.
According to the Bloomberg report, the alleged model of coercion is simple.
First, a loose network of businessmen quietly accumulates shares in a locally owned public-listed company.
Then phase two begins.
Suddenly, the executives of that company find themselves under investigation. Offices are raided. Files are seized. Senior management is called in for questioning. The atmosphere shifts. Pressure builds.
At the centre of this alleged operation is MACC’s Section D — the unit responsible for investigating listed companies, market-related corruption, and insider trading.
The report claims that the alleged mafia-like strong-arm tactics by Section D were so systematic and organised that there was even a so-called “menu” of intimidation services on offer to prospective “clients”.
On the “menu”, such services allegedly included:
A raid on your premises.
An investigation opened against your CEO.
A recommendation to public prosecutors.
Each step, allegedly, came with a price tag — in some cases running into millions of ringgit.
If the allegation is true — and let me again remind all of you that this remains to be proven — the model is chillingly straightforward:
Buy shares.
Trigger enforcement.
Create fear.
Force an exit.
Take control.
And the most explosive element is not merely the suggestion of rogue officers.
It is the claim that involvement allegedly extended from lower-level personnel all the way to the highest ranks of the commission.
When you add that to the fact that Azam Baki is currently embroiled in a controversy involving Velocity Capital — where he was alleged to have been involved in transactions concerning 17.7 million shares, representing about a 1.7% stake in a financial services firm — suddenly the allegation against Azam no longer appears so pedantic.
Originally, I thought the allegation against Azam was mostly pedantic and exaggerated.
I thought so because it just involved roughly RM800,000, and it reportedly resulted in Azam incurring losses of around RM400,000.
In a country accustomed to scandals involving hundreds of millions — even billions — RM800,000 barely registers in the public imagination.
It does not shock.
It does not stir.
But when you place it alongside the corporate mafia angle, the meaning of everything dramatically changes.
Because now it no longer revolves around a small, regulation-based issue over a relatively modest amount. Instead, now it seems that that episode, might be part of a bigger and darker picture, that revolves around alleged mafia-like intimidation, coercion, and strong-arm tactics — something that resonates deeply in the consciousness of the working class.
If there is one thing the working class understands, it is what it feels like to be strong-armed into submission.
To be pressured.
To be cornered.
To be told, implicitly or explicitly, that resistance will cost you more than surrender.
The leisure class may debate compliance thresholds and disposal dates. They may argue about declarations and legal technicalities.
But politics does not move because the leisure class is agitated.
Politics moves when the working class feels outraged.
And the idea that state enforcement can allegedly be rented — that raids and investigations can be activated as leverage in private corporate struggles — strikes at the heart of the working class, who are more than aware of how wrong and unjust it is to be ganged up against in order to lose your hard-earned gains.
That such mafia-like tactics are allegedly being applied by the authorities themselves — the very institutions the working class depends on to protect them from injustice — is bound to raise outrage so strong that, if properly aroused, it could see the working class back the leisure class in their efforts to hold MACC accountable.
So rather than focusing solely on the Velocity Capital angle, perhaps what Rafizi Ramli, G25, and whichever other members of the leisure class who wish to bring MACC to book over this fiasco need to do, in order to build more convincing momentum, is to focus on the corporate mafia angle — and explain to the masses how the pagar yang kita harapkan is eating the padi it was meant to protect.
It is this idea, much more than the pedantic Velocity Capital issue with its relatively small RM800,000 dimension, that will arouse the working class to stand behind the leisure class in their effort to bring MACC to justice.
On another note, I must say that at this point, it does seem that there are no institutions left in the country that can confidently be said to still belong to the public — they all appear to have been captured by vested interests.
Our institutions are the spine of the nation.
If that spine bends, the body cannot stand straight.
For a long time, many Malaysians believed that even if politicians faltered, at least certain institutions remained intact. But controversy now seems to shadow nearly every pillar of the state.
The last institution I had hopes that we can count on was the army, but I lost that hope a few months ago, when the ex-Army chief and former Armed Forces were charged for corruption and money laundering. Now, I must admit that I can't think of any institution in the country that I truly believe still belongs to the people.
A federation does not collapse in a dramatic explosion.
It erodes.
Slowly.
Through doubt.
Through cynicism.
Through the steady normalisation of scandal.
This is no longer just about Azam Baki. It is about whether the people can trust the very institutions sworn to uphold the law. When enforcement can be bought, when raids and investigations can be wielded as weapons in private battles, the rule of law stops protecting and starts threatening. And in that reality, no one — not executives, not citizens, not even the state itself — is safe.
TheRealNehruism (nehru.sathiamoorthy@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!
The User Content (as defined on Newswav Terms of Use) above including the views expressed and media (pictures, videos, citations etc) were submitted & posted by the author. Newswav is solely an aggregation platform that hosts the User Content. If you have any questions about the content, copyright or other issues of the work, please contact creator@newswav.com.