Hanging On to the Lion's Tail

Pushing toward independence, a tiny sultanate stalls for time

The issue was clear-cut: whether and when, after a century of colonial status, the tiny sultanate of Brunei should gain full independence. The British were understandably defensive. The Bruneians were altogether adamant. The strange thing about the situation, however, as the two sides met for discussions in London, was that this time it was the British who proposed to cast off their remaining colonial ties. On the other hand, Brunei's Sandhurst-educated sultan, Sir Muda Hassanal Bolkiah Mu'izzaddin Waddaulah, 32, who led a retinue of 18 to the negotiating table in Whitehall, sought to hang on to the lion's tail.

In the end, the two sides worked out a compromise. By 1983 Britain will withdraw what has become an anachronistic and embarrassing colonial presence in the steamy 2,226-sq.-mi. sultanate of 190,000 people on the north coast of Borneo (see map). Meanwhile, British civil servants will continue to handle much of the sultanate's affairs, as they have since 1888, when the tiny backwater country, which a passing naval captain had chanced on 40 years earlier, formally became a British protectorate. In addition, London agreed to keep a battalion of tough Gurkha soldiers in Brunei (pronounced Brew-nigh) until the sultanate's own Lilliputian army becomes more seasoned. Even the five-year transition period was a grudging concession by Sir Hassanal, who may be the world's most Anglophile ruler.

Brunei's maneuvering to retain British protection is based on oil. Tucked between the Malaysian states of Sabah and Sarawak, the sultanate sits on an estimated 1.6 billion bbl. of petroleum. The government owns a 50% share in a subsidiary of Royal Dutch Shell, whose wells pump 230,000 bbl. per day; it is also one-third owner of the world's largest natural gas liquefaction plant. Brunei's revenues should surpass $1 billion this year, and the national surplus, already $2.5 billion, will grow by another $700 million.

Brunei fears that Malaysia might be tempted to make a play for such wealth. Thus the present sultan and his father, Omar Ali Saifuddin, who abdicated in 1967 in favor of his son but remains a power behind the throne, have steadfastly insisted that the British stay.

As a result, Brunei remains a quaint throwback to the days of the British raj.

Queen Elizabeth's birthday is celebrated with a full-dress military parade and a flyby of the Brunei air force, which consists of twelve helicopters. The English commander of the 1,000-man Royal Brunei Malay Regiment is in effect the sultanate's Defense Minister. The British High Commissioner handles foreign affairs and is chauffeured about the capital of Bandar Seri Begawan in a huge silver Daimler, given to him by the sultan. One of the few points of interest in the sleepy capital is a museum honoring Winston Churchill. Another landmark is the Royal Brunei Yacht Club, perched beside the Brunei River; with its whirring ceiling fans and overcooked brussels sprouts, the club could easily serve as the setting for a Somerset Maugham short story. Unlike Churchill, Maugham once visited Bandar Seri Begawan and stayed at the club, spending much of his time playing bridge.

With per capita oil revenues of $7,400, Brunei is a kind of carefree Shell-fare state. The sultan concentrates on his favorite pastime, polo. He owns a stable of 180 ponies imported from Argentina and has built a gleaming polo complex that includes a playing field, grandstand and guest houses on a choice sward overlooking the South China Sea. The Whitehall talks on independence coincided with Sir Hassanal's annual visit to England for the polo season; in a departure from custom, the sultan this time did not play with Prince Philip's team.

The sultan's subjects appear to be as content as he is with British rule. The country has 40,000 automobiles for 358 miles of road, or one car for every 50 ft. of highway if everyone goes driving at once. Color television features canned American sitcoms along with evening prayers from the magnificent, gold-domed Omar Ali Saifuddin mosque, named after the sultan's father. Since education and health are free, with electricity, gasoline, rice, sugar and rents heavily subsidized and interest-free loans available for houses, cars and television sets, there is little enthusiasm for any kind of Brunei people's liberation movement. Just to make sure, the sultan has banned political parties and keeps a handful of potential adversaries in jail.

Brunei, of course, has a few shortcomings. The humid weather is all but intolerable for much of the year. There is no fresh milk because there is no dairy, and no daily newspapers, presumably because there is not enough news. The few shops, operated mainly by Chinese merchants, are poorly stocked to serve so well-heeled a clientele. As a result, both of Royal Brunei Airlines' Boeing 737 jets are jammed on weekends as shoppers fly out for excursions in Singapore.

"Most people are really quite content," says one resident.

"If they're not, all they have to do is look at Sabah or Sarawak to realize how well off they are."

Unfortunately, the idyl must eventually end. Not only will the British leave as a result of the London agreement but a decade or so after they go, Brunei's oil reserves will begin to peter out.

Against that unavoidable double disaster, the sultan has undertaken a $350 million five-year program to develop economic alternatives.

Whether he will also be able to rouse his somnolent country in time to face the situation is another question.

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