A sea of perils

It cannot be stressed too much that financial control by the Sultan and its delegation to a brother were both legal under Brunei law and ethical by the lights of neo-traditional Malay monarchism. Did not the Sultans of yore farm out tax collection to their kinsmen and have absolute discretion over the disposal of such revenue as reached the royal coffers? Brunei’s independence was a ‘royal independence’ above all, fought for doggedly (this means delayed doggedly) by the present Sultan’s father until there was a viable structure to bestow on his dynasty. Indeed, the British government had obliged the dynasty in 1959, not only by giving legal recognition, in advance, to the succession of its descendants, but by laying the most vital foundation of its survival, royal control of the finances. And pragmatically, just in case any citizens of independent Brunei should take the government’s propaganda about modern ‘nationhood’ and the concept of ‘public property’ rather literally, the ideology of MIB offered an instant antidote in the shape of a Sovereign conceived as the fount of sover- eignty, but who, because of his similarly-minded ancient lineage, would never abuse his trust as guardian of the people’s best interest.

As for any somewhat ‘un-Malay’ forms of self-indulgence, let alone behaviour condemned by Islam, much of it could be kept remote from public awareness by control of the Brunei media, or simply by being practised abroad. In fact Prince Jefri tried more than one astute and antidotal formula of patronage on his own account, by distributing a little of his wealth to the needy from time to time, and also by inviting the masses to come and ‘share in the fun’ at a high-tech amusement-park at Jerudong, close to his palace. Prince Jefri and his son, Prince Hakim, were also responsible for introducing ‘Sky’ TV channels to Bruneians, via a rediffusion facility at Jerudong, initially free of charge. Prince Jefri blamed his eventual fall from grace on ‘Afghan Arabs infiltrating the Sultanate and trying to seize control’.45 This explanation leaves one in little doubt that he had conceptualized the less religiously-oriented, more ‘MIB-resistant’, Bruneians as a diffuse ‘constituency of sympathy’ in case of trouble with the Islamic establish- ment, his rivals for the Sultan’s ear. The great irony of the Jefri drama which unfolded during 1997–98 is that Jefri himself, whether aware of it or not, had been protected even more than the rest of the Bolkiah family by the legitimizing sanction of Islam. A point may have come at which ‘the Mullahs’ could no

longer hold the line against a wave of cynicism threatening the credibility and power of their hierarchy itself.

This suggestion is merely intuitive, but we cannot ignore the penetrative power of international electronic media, including the Internet, in breaching Brunei Government censorship. Although the content of the satellite TV channels rediffused through Jerudong has been controllable, more or less – and Rupert Murdoch’s offerings are already tailored to the puritanical standards of the more authoritarian Asian regimes – viewers with their own powerful parabolic dishes were already receiving and taping programmes from as far away as Japan a couple of years earlier. One piece of ‘dynamite’ was a discussion programme from a station in Manila, picked up in September 1993 via the Palapa B2P satellite (courtesy of CNN, it is believed), on the subject of the Philippines Senate hearings on alleged ‘contracts’ for Filipina actresses and beauty queens at the Sultan’s Palace. ‘Miss Philippines’, Charmaine ‘Ruffa’ Gutierrez, who had given testimony at the Senate Committee, appeared on the programme and spoke at length and with sophistication. She denied any impropriety on her part, or on the part of anyone that she knew, but during a phone-in the Chairman of the Muslim Bar Association of the Philippines was heard condemning Prince Jefri for using ‘the wealth of Brunei, illegally and immorally, to exploit women’. He claimed that the scandal was ‘a public knowledge not only here but even in Brunei’. He called it ‘a mockery of Islam, for Islam is the official religion in Brunei’.46

The next major exposure, but this time on a more world-wide scale, con- cerned the attempt by a former ‘Miss USA’, Shannon Marketic, to sue both the Sultan and Prince Jefri in a Los Angeles court, for alleged demeaning treatment and demands during thirty-two days’ virtual imprisonment at the Palace under a contract for ‘promotional appearances’. The case was first reported in the British press on 3 March 1997, but originally had ‘sealed’ status and may thus have been several days old by the time it leaked out. The inference is irresistible that Prince Jefri’s resignation as Finance Minister ten days earlier had been required so that he, and not the Sultan, would appear to be the guilty party as soon as the news broke. Certainly damage limitation was the order of the day during the next two months in Brunei, with an unusually busy schedule of kampong visits by the Sultan, a more informal style of interaction with the families visited, and an unprecedented, exculpatory TV address for the Feast of Sacrifice, or Pilgrims – Aidiladha or Hari Raya Haji – at the end of April, in which the ruler rejected allegations that the ‘sanctified’ Palace could ever have been used for an immoral purpose.47

But Brunei never ceases to surprise. Within a year, that is by February 1998, so far from showing remorse, or at least caution for the sake of the Sultan, Prince Jefri had turned down the opportunity to settle debts of £80m allegedly owed to two Armenian brothers, his emissaries for highly-priced acquisitions, and had picked up the gauntlet of a civil suit in the High Court of London. In fact he announced a counter-suit for £100m. Titillating details of his lifestyle filled the submission by counsel for the plaintiffs early in the hearing, and text as well as

Brunei 131 pictures of objets d’art érotiques duly filled the British press.48 Only after substantial damage had been done to both parties by the unwonted publicity was a compromise reached out of court.49 One would suspect that the Sultan’s original support for Jefri ‘as a matter of family honour’ was an angle put about by aides of Jefri himself, but even if there was any truth in that claim, one would suspect even more strongly that it was an intervention by the Sultan that had forced Jefri to withdraw. Four months later, the assets of Jefri’s conglomerate, Amedeo, were seized,50 and by the end of July Jefri had been removed as Chairman of the Brunei Investment Agency.51 The prince took ‘evasive action’ by going abroad, even as his lawyers were concluding a financial settlement with an anonymous British model who had apparently sued him even earlier than Ms Marketic had done.52 By this time a procession of foreign accountants had begun to peer into the ‘black hole’ in Brunei’s reserves, on behalf of a Sultan who wished it to be understood that he had known nothing of what had been going on until very late in the day.53

It would be odd if the Sultan were so protected by protocol and official myth that he was not fully aware of developments which any expatriate professional could observe on the ground in the early to mid-1990s. A huge area of dignified, colonial-era bungalows for government staff close to the centre of the capital was being redeveloped by ‘the Ministry of Finance’, working under the umbrella or ‘turn-key’ company known as Ulfert. This outfit was run by a Malaysian Chinese whizz-kid who had found favour with Prince Jefri. The redevelopment comprised new palaces and a royal park, as well as an estate of luxury villas. These villas were ready in time for the Jubilee in 1992, and housed visiting royalty and Heads of State, but later they were often used for lesser celebrities, such as entertainers, visiting to perform in Brunei or in transit to perform elsewhere. Further wholesale demolition after 1994 made way for huge condominiums, owned by members of the royal family. These were used initially by athletes at the South-East Asian Games hosted by Brunei in August 1999, but were destined to be let in due course to government employees through their Departments at high fixed rents. All these developments illustrate royal control of the State in another way: the Land Department gives priority to processing transfer of title from private individuals to royalty after purchase (at market prices), makes compulsory purchase orders ‘in the state interest’ for peasant land needed for royal projects (with compensation at less than market prices), and issues title for State land alienated to royal ownership (for a statutory, purely nominal fee); while all Government Departments become agents for block lettings of royally-owned flats.

Meanwhile, and even more boldly, several miles of sandy beaches had been put off-limits to the public for the construction of a vast recreational zone for the super-rich, including a (rumoured) international casino and the (confirmed) Jerudong Park Hotel, which was constructed at such cost that it was estimated to need to charge $500 per night and achieve a 90 per cent occupancy rate for fifty years to make a profit.54 There was also a state-of-the-art private hospital staffed mainly by New Zealanders, and a pre-university High School or ‘Sixth Form

College’, teaching in the English medium, ostensibly for the children of staff of Amedeo, the operating or holding company for most of the work around Jerudong, successor to Ulfert.55 In advance of the major projects the Jedurong redevelopment zone had received its own, highly visible, gas-fired power-station. The works were also preceded by a multi-million dollar shore defence project, involving the shipment of giant boulders from abroad to arrest the drift and erosion which affects that part of the northern Borneo coastline. The amuse- ment park for the masses is one of the projects – the only one serving the people in any sense – but the luxury developments are guarded by Gurkhas and not even visible to the public.

Most of the developments would be visible, however, from the hill-top Istana Nur ul-Izzah, the palace of late 1980s’ vintage belonging to the Sultan’s second wife, where the Sultan has spent many an evening. This detail is inserted here because of the persistent puzzle about how much the Sultan knew, and, if he knew, why he took so long to act. The timing of the actions against Prince Jefri could be crucial to an interpretation. If it was the Asian financial crisis that made the Brunei national finances suddenly look shaky, action should not have been taken until late 1997 at the earliest. On the other hand, if Jefri was judged to be abusing his power at BIA, he should have been removed from his chairmanship at the same time as resigning as Minister of Finance. But the facts are that (a) Prince Jefri resigned from the Cabinet in February 1997, a week before the ‘ex-Miss USA’ scandal hit the press, and well in advance of the Asian financial crisis; but on the other hand, (b) he retained control of BIA (a position ten times more sensitive than the Ministry of Finance) until July 1998. Now it cannot be denied that when he was removed from BIA it was the result of an investigation begun in the midst of the Asian financial crisis and partly prompted by suspicion of wrong-doing at home. But the nagging question remains: why not in 1997? Again, the factor of ‘extra-curricular activities’ and their exposure springs to mind. Thus, 1998 was proving to be a year of even greater Western media interest because of the Manoukian brothers’ suit and the salacious tales and pictures which emerged. One read of prostitutes kept on the upper floors of the former Playboy Club in London’s Park Lane (bought by Prince Jefri for an inflated £50m), or ‘forty girls at a time’ housed temporarily at the Dorchester (the Sultan’s hotel).56 One saw a photo of an erotic pen made in Geneva, whose top appears to copulate with the bottom.57 Prince Jefri’s yacht, named ‘Tits’, and its two speedboats, ‘Nipple 1’ and ‘Nipple 2’, were becoming household names for some British newspaper readers – and for Bruneian students studying in Britain! Thus, a vessel which was not visible to the Bruneian public when moored at the navy quay in Muara port, was now on full display, photographed from seaward, in British ‘colour supplements’.58

The crystallizing interpretation is this. If it is in any way true that ‘the efficient secret’ of the Brunei royal regime has consisted of its own secrecy, it becomes possible to surmise that, whatever the Sultan may or may not have known about, action became imperative essentially because of the embarrassing exposure of royal behaviour in the Western media. It had been possible for

Brunei 133 officials to brush off the occasional speculation in earlier years about who owned the wealth. Most importantly, the Bruneian public as a whole already believed that the Sultan owned it, and indeed accepted this, on the basis that he would distribute an equitable share to the people. What distinguished the new wave of Western media interest was its intensity, due mainly to the sexual dimension. The interest of the British quality press was also, admittedly, fuelled by the spectacle of a famous dynasty in financial and political disarray, as the mega-losses came to light and hubris seemed to meet its nemesis. But this interest merely reflected the attempts by the Sultan to recover control. If we want to answer the question why the Sultan decided to assert himself in the first place, we should consider the impact of the foreign media in breaching Brunei Government secrecy. The Sultan’s subjects were now able to learn, as never before, of the breathtaking gulf between the regime’s high religious principle and its less than virtuous financial and sexual practices. In fact, for some time previously some of the more literate Bruneians had begun to murmur about religion as ‘a propaganda’ – meaning, in effect, what Karl Marx would have called a screen of ‘false consciousness’ to keep the masses ignorant and docile. Events of 1998 speeded up the potential for a much more widespread analytical perception along these lines. And it was surely this, not the ‘black hole in the reserves’, that posed the most serious threat to the regime. Financial statistics are intangible to a semi-literate people (and even, surprisingly, to some quite literate individuals), but gross sexual indulgence is not. For the Sultan himself, Jefri’s ‘irresponsibility with the national finances’ (as Western values might judge it) need not be a serious issue either, for all members of his family stood more or less above the law, and had all benefited from the Sultan’s and Jefri’s financial control, so that it would be a most unbrotherly act (leading to revelations embarrassing to the government) to query Jefri’s handling of the finances after he had been entrusted with them.59

Let it again be stressed that from the point of view of regime interest as well as its moral judgement, Jefri’s grievous error lay neither in the area of financial management, nor at the level of the inconsistency of his behaviour as such with the principles of the very religion which shielded him. After all, it is a major social function of any religion to shield its protectors reciprocally. Rather, the crisis arose from the fact that this inconsistency ‘came into the public domain’ and thus exposed the regime, if not Islam, as ‘hypocritical’.60 Jefri’s complacency about both the need for secrecy and the implications of his behaviour for the compact between ‘Church and State’ were on a scale that eventually shook the Sultan. Jefri behaved as if his oil company, Jasra, had struck a bonanza, when in fact commercial oil was still some years away and his joint-venture partner Elf- Aquitaine had not even reached a final production-sharing agreement.61 Might it be that Jefri’s dreams for the glorious middle years of his life had been predicated on the success of his oil concession, but that by the time it became clear that the oil profits were delayed, a series of international contracts signed by Amedeo had already reached a point of no return? Commitments under- written by BIA then had to be met by cash from the same source, though one presumes that the transfers were secured in turn on Amedeo assets (the assets

confiscated by the Sultan in mid-1998). Such financial insouciance, of addictive proportions, is not in itself what led to Jefri’s undoing: it simply illustrates a psychological pattern which, when expressed in his even more addictive orientation towards British objects of great price and prestige, became a focus of intense media interest. It was this exposure that very likely pushed the Sultan, belatedly but rationally, into tackling the image problem and the financial problem simultaneously. But a rational explanation of Jefri’s conduct looks like remaining elusive.

In the Brunei context many things are possible which would destroy their perpetrators in other cultures and political systems. Jefri returned to Brunei in about October 1998, having received guarantees, obviously, of dignified treatment – at least nothing worse than some form of house-arrest.62 The Sultan and his wives intensified their religious devotions, including a minor Haj (umrah) in January 1999, as if atoning for sin in the family; and the Islamic intellectual, Professor Saedon, took over as Vice Chancellor of the University in May, with a brief for the rapid indigenization of the academic body. During the Sultan’s absence in Saudi Arabia the Perdana Wazir, Acting Sultan, spoke enigmatically of ‘change’,63 but the official media seemed to be relying on an older formula, by showing the dismal scenes of political conflict and disorder in Indonesia and Malaysia and urging Bruneians to ‘count their blessings’ and stay loyal to their own ‘unique way of governance’. It is true that the Brunei press had responded to public disquiet in the second half of 1998 by advocating a new ‘openness’ and practising the same in its correspondence columns, and that the Perdana Wazir in his first interview with a European press agency (on the eve of a state visit by Queen Elizabeth and the Duke of Edinburgh in September) had spoken of imminent constitutional reform. But at the time of writing, a year later, no significant changes had eventuated.64 The immediate cash haemorrhage has been staunched and the culprit disgraced, although allowed to leave Brunei again and live in London.65 The cash disbursements to the population at the Sultan’s Birthday in July 1998 may have been economically injudicious but were politically prudent, for they stood to reassure the population that the finances