10.04.2025

The problem with 'Anak Dato': Privilege without purpose?

Explore the phenomenon of anak Dato’—privileged sons of Malaysia’s elite who inherit wealth and power but lack purpose, ambition, and leadership. This article examines how privilege shields them from character development and challenges them to transform their legacy into something meaningful.

Words: Tunku Sophia, Editor-at-large

Photo: GC Illustration.

There is a quiet, but persistent epidemic in Malaysia’s upper echelons—one that rarely makes headlines but frequently occupies whispers in private dinner conversations and closed circles.

It is the phenomenon of the anak Dato’—the sons of power, privilege, and pedigree—who have inherited everything, except perhaps, purpose.

Over the past two decades, I’ve been fortunate—or perhaps fated—to encounter many of these young men. From garden soirées in Damansara Heights to stylish brunches in Taman Tun Dr Ismail, and even Hari Raya Open House in Shah Alam, the pattern is strikingly familiar. These young chap, dressed immaculately in bespoke tailoring, wrist adorned with a Patek Philippe or an Audemars Piguet (gifts from their fathers, not bought with personal triumph), float through life with a posture of polished detachment.

They are pleasant, undeniably well-groomed, and socially fluent. They know the right restaurants, the limited drops, the fashion seasons. They have studied in London, or Melbourne—though often speak little of what they’ve learned. When conversation turns to ideas, purpose, nation-building or personal legacy, their eyes glaze ever so slightly. It is not arrogance. It is emptiness.

Credit: Pavilion Damansara Heights Residences

One evening in Damansara Heights, I found myself seated beside the son of a respected corporate titan during a private viewing of a contemporary art collection. He was warm, charming even. Yet the conversation quickly descended into his collection of supercars, his recent holiday experience in Monaco, and how “KL is getting too crowded.” He did not ask a single question about the artwork, the artist, or the cause we were supporting. The evening passed, a flurry of elegance and self-indulgence, with very little meaning.

The core concern is not that these young men enjoy comfort. Comfort is no crime. But when privilege becomes a cocoon that shields one from struggle, consequence, and character development, something sacred is lost. Gentlemanliness, contrary to popular belief, is not inherited through titles or wealth. It is not a trust fund. It is a code—earned through choices, forged in hardship, polished by humility.

Gotham.

Credit: FOX

You see, a true gentleman—be he a son of a rickshaw puller or a royal household—leads with conviction. He steps forward when others hesitate. He does not wait for a board seat; he builds something worthy of it. He does not inherit charm; he cultivates character. He does not rely on his father's Rolodex to find relevance.

Of course, not all anak Dato’ fall into this caricature. I have met remarkable exceptions—young men who defy the stereotype, who honour their names with ambition and integrity, who build, give, and lead. They are proof that legacy can be both a blessing and a call to action.

But for every one of these, there are many more who drift—cocooned in curated lifestyles and empty accolades. They are in rooms of influence, yet fail to influence. They are invited, but rarely impactful. They wear power like a jacket, but never seem to carry its weight.

The question we must ask is not whether they are to blame—but rather, have we romanticised the title at the expense of the work it should demand? Have we allowed politeness and social standing to excuse the absence of contribution?

At GC, we believe that the mark of a gentleman is not how well he inherits, but how well he transforms what he inherits into something meaningful for others. It is not about arriving at privilege, but rising above it.

So, to the anak Dato’ reading this—not as a jab, but as a gentle challenge—I ask you:

If your father had to earn his name, what are you doing to earn yours?

Because in the end, titles perished. But character—true, cultivated character—stands timeless.

About the Author

Y.M. Tunku Sophia

Tunku Sophia brings a rarefied sensibility to GC, where her role as Editor-at-Large extends far beyond editorial finesse. She is both a custodian of heritage and a tastemaker of modern refinement—navigating the intersections of nobility, intellect, and global sophistication.

Educated in Europe and raised amidst the protocols of international diplomacy, Tunku Sophia has cultivated a lifelong devotion to the codes of high society—those unwritten rules that govern elegance, discretion, and true class.

Her editorial lens champions a revival of chivalry in a world increasingly enamoured with the superficial. Whether spotlighting princely heirs who exude understated gravitas or offering unflinching critiques of nouveau extravagance, Tunku Sophia remains committed to the pursuit of timeless values in an age of fleeting trends.

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The problem with 'Anak Dato': Privilege without purpose?

Explore the phenomenon of anak Dato’—privileged sons of Malaysia’s elite who inherit wealth and power but lack purpose, ambition, and leadership. This article examines how privilege shields them from character development and challenges them to transform their legacy into something meaningful.

Words: Tunku Sophia, Editor-at-large

There is a quiet, but persistent epidemic in Malaysia’s upper echelons—one that rarely makes headlines but frequently occupies whispers in private dinner conversations and closed circles.

It is the phenomenon of the anak Dato’—the sons of power, privilege, and pedigree—who have inherited everything, except perhaps, purpose.

Credit: Pavilion Damansara Heights Residences

Gotham.

Credit: FOX

Of course, not all anak Dato’ fall into this caricature. I have met remarkable exceptions—young men who defy the stereotype, who honour their names with ambition and integrity, who build, give, and lead. They are proof that legacy can be both a blessing and a call to action.

But for every one of these, there are many more who drift—cocooned in curated lifestyles and empty accolades. They are in rooms of influence, yet fail to influence. They are invited, but rarely impactful. They wear power like a jacket, but never seem to carry its weight.

The question we must ask is not whether they are to blame—but rather, have we romanticised the title at the expense of the work it should demand? Have we allowed politeness and social standing to excuse the absence of contribution?

At GC, we believe that the mark of a gentleman is not how well he inherits, but how well he transforms what he inherits into something meaningful for others. It is not about arriving at privilege, but rising above it.

So, to the anak Dato’ reading this—not as a jab, but as a gentle challenge—I ask you:

If your father had to earn his name, what are you doing to earn yours?

Because in the end, titles perished. But character—true, cultivated character—stands timeless.

About the Author

Y.M. Tunku Sophia

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The problem with 'Anak Dato': Privilege without purpose?

Words: Tunku Sophia, Editor-at-large

There is a quiet, but persistent epidemic in Malaysia’s upper echelons—one that rarely makes headlines but frequently occupies whispers in private dinner conversations and closed circles.

It is the phenomenon of the anak Dato’—the sons of power, privilege, and pedigree—who have inherited everything, except perhaps, purpose.

Credit: Pavilion Damansara Heights Residences

Gotham.

Credit: FOX

Of course, not all anak Dato’ fall into this caricature. I have met remarkable exceptions—young men who defy the stereotype, who honour their names with ambition and integrity, who build, give, and lead. They are proof that legacy can be both a blessing and a call to action.

But for every one of these, there are many more who drift—cocooned in curated lifestyles and empty accolades. They are in rooms of influence, yet fail to influence. They are invited, but rarely impactful. They wear power like a jacket, but never seem to carry its weight.

The question we must ask is not whether they are to blame—but rather, have we romanticised the title at the expense of the work it should demand? Have we allowed politeness and social standing to excuse the absence of contribution?

At GC, we believe that the mark of a gentleman is not how well he inherits, but how well he transforms what he inherits into something meaningful for others. It is not about arriving at privilege, but rising above it.

So, to the anak Dato’ reading this—not as a jab, but as a gentle challenge—I ask you:

If your father had to earn his name, what are you doing to earn yours?

Because in the end, titles perished. But character—true, cultivated character—stands timeless.

About the Author

Y.M. Tunku Sophia

Related posts

Related posts