The Road Knows Where You Live

Your phone knows where you go. Your car may know too. But who keeps those records, and where do they end up? Malaysia’s Waze ban raises uncomfortable questions for Brunei. In an age of connected vehicles and invisible data trails, are we surrendering our privacy in exchange for convenience?

Malaysia has barred its civil servants from using Waze. For Brunei, which depends heavily on imported vehicles and foreign-developed navigation systems, the question runs deeper.

By Malai Hassan Othman

KopiTalk with MHO | 22 October 2026 | Part One of Two

Imagine a government officer leaving his home in Kiulap at seven in the morning. He drops his children at school, drives to his ministry, and in the afternoon visits an installation he does not discuss with friends.

His phone may record the route. So may his car.

Nobody needs to hack anything or steal a document. Such records can be created simply because a journey happened, and because the technology was designed to remember it.

On Tuesday, 20 October, Malaysia’s National Cyber Security Committee, chaired by Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim, decided to bar civil servants from using Waze. The Chief Secretary to the Government, Shamsul Azri Abu Bakar, conveyed the directive the same day.

A follow-up guidance document clarified that the ban covers official duties only. Officers were still encouraged to uninstall the application, and the Prime Minister’s Department advised all Malaysians to switch to local alternatives.

Its preferred alternative is TuJu, a navigation application developed by the Malaysian Highway Authority.

The stated reason was data. Waze was developed in Israel before Google bought it in 2013, and its privacy policy identifies Waze Mobile Ltd as operating under Israeli law.

What has not been publicly established is that Israeli intelligence has received Malaysian users’ location data. Malaysia acted on risk, not proof, as governments are entitled to do.

Malaysian MPs have since sought clarification on the risks posed by other applications. That question deserves an answer in Brunei too, because it reaches well beyond one application and one country.

Location data is rarely secret one point at a time. Its value lies in repetition. A car leaving the same house each morning and parking at the same building reveals a home, a workplace and a routine.

For an ordinary motorist, that is a privacy matter. For an officer with access to sensitive installations, or the driver of a senior official, it becomes a security matter.

This is not theory. In 2016, computer scientists at the University of California, Santa Barbara, showed that fake Waze accounts could track real users and plant false traffic jams.

In 2020, another researcher found that data exposed on Waze’s Live Map could allow individual drivers to be followed. Both weaknesses were reportedly fixed.

In 2018, the fitness application Strava published a global heatmap of its users’ runs. Analysts soon spotted the outlines of military bases, traced by soldiers jogging the same routes every morning.

None of these cases established the involvement of any intelligence agency. Each showed how ordinary movement data becomes sensitive once enough of it is gathered in one place.

Malaysia’s ban concerns an application a driver chooses to open. But a growing number of cars on Brunei’s roads no longer wait to be asked.

Some newer models come with built-in navigation, mobile connectivity and a companion application. Depending on the model and its settings, a vehicle may send location data to the manufacturer or its service providers.

In 2023, the Mozilla Foundation reviewed the privacy practices of 25 car brands, including Toyota, Ford and Volkswagen. Every one failed. Mozilla called cars the worst product category it had ever reviewed for privacy.

Governments have taken note. In 2021, China’s military barred Tesla vehicles from its complexes over concerns about their cameras. Some Chinese government offices later told staff not to park Teslas inside.

In January 2025, the United States finalised restrictions on specified connected-vehicle software and hardware linked to China or Russia, with software restrictions beginning in model year 2027 and hardware restrictions generally following in model year 2030.

The pattern is worth noticing. China worries about American cars. America worries about Chinese cars. Malaysia worries about an Israeli-linked application. Each fears data flowing into another country’s jurisdiction.

Brunei’s position is different from all three. We import the cars we drive and depend heavily on foreign-developed systems that guide them. Our vehicles come from Japan, Korea, Europe, China and elsewhere.

Larger countries may have greater room to exclude suppliers by nationality. For a small country buying from many markets, replacing one supplier may simply mean depending on another.

That leaves Brunei with a harder choice. It cannot always choose where the technology originates. It can seek to determine the terms on which those products operate here.

Brunei is not without foundations. In his titah on the 35th National Day in 2019, His Majesty Sultan Haji Hassanal Bolkiah Mu’izzaddin Waddaulah ibni Al-Marhum Sultan Haji Omar ’Ali Saifuddien Sa’adul Khairi Waddien, Sultan and Yang Di-Pertuan of Brunei Darussalam, stressed that cyber security must be given special attention.

His Majesty cautioned that the negative effects of the cyber world could seep into the nation, society and the family. Cyber Security Brunei was established the following year.

Since then, Brunei has enacted the Cybersecurity Act and published a National Cyber Security Strategy. On 1 January this year, the main provisions of the Personal Data Protection Order 2025 came into force.

These are significant achievements. Yet the published frameworks do not set out a distinct approach to the security implications of location data routinely gathered by navigation applications and connected vehicles.

The national strategy’s threat chapter gives considerable attention to scams, ransomware, phishing and hijacked social media accounts, among the incidents reported here. It does not set out specific guidance on connected vehicles and commercial location data.

The personal data law primarily regulates private-sector organisations rather than government agencies. Its obligations may apply to personal location records within its scope, but cross-border processing and enforcement raise practical questions.

Brunei has the frameworks. What remains unclear publicly is how they address the questions Malaysia has just raised.

Closing that gap need not mean banning anything. It means setting out what officers, agencies and companies are expected to do, before an incident makes the decision for us.

First, officers who handle sensitive work, or visit sensitive sites, should have clear guidance on navigation applications and location settings during official duties. Most of the risk lies in habits, not hardware.

Second, government vehicle purchases could require suppliers to disclose any connected services and to allow location tracking to be switched off. Procurement is where a small buyer has real leverage.

Third, the relevant authorities, including the Authority for Info-communications Technology Industry (AITI), could seek clearer disclosures from car distributors and application providers about their handling of Bruneians’ location data.

Fourth, the next revision of the national strategy, which describes itself as a live document, could address connected vehicles and the wider Internet of Things directly.

Fifth, public awareness campaigns, already strong on scams and passwords, could carry one more simple message: your phone and your car may remember where you have been.

Not every measure requires substantial expenditure. Much begins with asking the right questions early, rather than answering them under pressure.

Consistency matters too. If Waze deserves scrutiny, so do Google Maps, Apple Maps, ride-hailing services, fitness trackers and connected cars. They differ in ownership, law and safeguards, and should be judged on those differences.

Local ownership is no shortcut either. A home-grown application gives a government more oversight, but it still needs independent testing, clear retention limits and honest privacy terms.

For ordinary motorists, the first steps are modest. Check which applications can see your location at all times. Open your car’s companion application and read its data settings. Ask the dealer what the car sends home.

The officer we imagined in Kiulap drives home tonight the way he always does. Depending on his settings, his phone may log the route. His car may do so too.

Somewhere, on a server he will never see, in a country he may never visit, the journey may be kept long after he has parked.

A nation that depends on others to guide its journeys must at least have a say in who keeps the record of where its people have been.

 

The Cost of Waiting

Thirty years after TPOR promised clearer service standards, how do we measure delivery? A pending application is not necessarily overdue. But when deadlines slip, wages, rent and household bills keep arriving. Who counts that cost, who explains the delay, and can the public see whether those promises are being kept?

Thirty years after TPOR, how do we measure the promise?

KopiTalk with MHO

By Malai Hassan Othman

Forty-five calendar days. That is the Ministry of Religious Affairs’ published commitment for a halal certificate or permit, set after complaints of waits once estimated at between two months and two years.

For the owner of a new restaurant, those days are not an abstraction. The lease has started, the cook has been hired, and the menus are printed. The certificate is not yet on the wall.

Rent falls due at the start of the month and wages at the end of it. Customers who look for the certificate before sitting down quietly take their business elsewhere.

Government counts processing time on a calendar. The person waiting counts it in wages due, savings drawn down, repeated journeys and opportunities that will not stay open indefinitely.

Waiting has a cost. The question is whether our systems recognise who carries it.

Brunei recognised the importance of timely service long ago. Introduced in 1995, Tekad Pemedulian Orang Ramai, or TPOR, set out written commitments on the services government agencies would deliver.

The principle was simple. People should know what service to expect, and departments should be held to what they publish.

The framework grew beyond written promises. TPOR auditing began in 2003. In 2015, the Public Sector Performance Grading Programme Through Star Rating, known as 3PSA, broadened the assessment.

The Management Services Department’s assessment covers TPOR achievement, complaint resolution and customer satisfaction. Assessed agencies must agree on findings, recommendations and dates for putting matters right.

So the machinery for checking delivery exists. What matters is what it finds, and whether the public ever sees the results.

The most detailed recent results I could find were not in a regular public report. They surfaced in the Legislative Council in March 2025, when Yang Berhormat Dayang Hajah Safiah binti Sheikh Haji Abd. Salam questioned a decline in 3PSA results.

The reply was candid. Of 48 agencies assessed up to the 2023/2024 financial year, two received four stars, six received three and fourteen received two.

The remaining 26, more than half, received one star, the rating that signals improvement is needed. Weak strategic planning, poor use of staff and thin use of data were among the reasons given.

These are ratings of whole organisations, not counts of missed deadlines. But they show where the system knows it is weak, and the public heard them only because a member asked.

The halal counter offers a closer view. Between January and July 2026, the ministry received 1,004 applications for halal certificates and permits. By August, 614 had been approved, and 122 were still being processed.

Another 150 had moved beyond the department and were awaiting a decision by the Brunei Islamic Religious Council. That is about one application in seven, waiting somewhere other than the counter where it began.

For the restaurant owner, the department’s deadline and the final decision are two different things. Only the second allows the business to open its doors with confidence.

Pending is not the same as overdue. Without the age of each case, no one outside the system can tell which of the 150 are routine and which have waited too long.

Measurement is possible when a service chooses it. In 2025, 85 per cent of approved business name and company registrations met their one-day TPOR, a figure reported to the Council in August 2026.

What is missing is not the ability to measure. It is a regular public account across services, published whether or not anyone thinks to ask.

The cost of waiting is sharpest where public money is owed. In August 2026, Yang Berhormat Dato Seri Setia Awang Haji Muhammad Juanda bin Haji Abdul Rashid, Minister of Development, addressed delays in development projects and payments.

The Minister said contractor and consultant claims were monitored according to TPOR and financial procedures. He named incomplete or incorrect claims, and the time needed to verify work, as causes of delay.

He also pointed to coordination, officers’ competence in processing claims and the use of TAFIS 2.0, the government’s financial management system.

That explanation deserves to be taken seriously. Public money must be protected, work checked and payment properly authorised. A claim that needs correcting cannot be paid as if it were complete.

But it also points to questions that can be measured. How quickly is an incomplete claim identified? How promptly is the claimant told exactly what needs correcting?

Once the documents and verification are complete, how much longer does payment take? When several offices are involved, who follows the claim through to the end?

The answers would separate time needed for scrutiny from time lost between desks, and show where improvement is needed without assuming every delay has the same cause.

For a small contractor, the distinction is practical. While a claim moves through the system, wages, rent and supplier bills keep arriving on schedule.

An organisation’s processing time becomes someone else’s financing burden. A contractor may draw on reserves, borrow or delay paying suppliers, and the wait travels down the chain.

A supplier paid late may pay his own workers late. One claim resting on one desk can be felt in households that have never heard of TPOR.

A published deadline should help people plan. For that, its meaning must be clear: when the clock starts, what it covers and what can legitimately pause it.

An acknowledgement, the completion of one internal stage and a final decision are different achievements. A department can meet its own deadline while the applicant keeps waiting elsewhere.

For services that pass through several agencies, the whole journey should be measured alongside each stage. The applicant needs to know when the matter is actually resolved.

Reporting should also count unfinished work. A percentage completed on time means more when published beside the number of cases still open and how long they have waited.

Otherwise, completed cases can hide the position of those still waiting. Reporting both would show whether a strong completion rate sits alongside a stubborn backlog.

Digital systems can make progress visible. Where practicable, applicants should see receipt, outstanding requirements, the responsible unit and the next expected step.

A reference number identifies a case. Its value comes when it also leads to a meaningful update, sparing people repeated calls and visits.

The need reaches beyond processing deadlines. As of 9 July 2026, 1,092 civil servants were on the government housing waiting list, with average waits of one to four years.

Limited supply, applicants’ preferences and repairs explain much of that wait. A proposal for online queue tracking, welcomed in the Council, would at least let each applicant see where they stand.

There must still be a person to ask. A service cannot rely entirely on an applicant’s ability to navigate a website or decode an unexplained status message.

When a deadline slips, communication matters most. An explanation, a revised date and a route for review give the person waiting something concrete to act on.

Clear requirements and escalation procedures help officers too. They reveal whether a delay comes from missing information, thin staffing, unclear authority or an unnecessary step.

The remedy should follow the evidence. A staffing bottleneck needs a different answer from an avoidable referral, or from repeated failure to act on a complete submission.

Making applications, seeking information and resolving problems are where most people meet their government. It is at those counters, more than in annual plans, that public confidence is won or lost.

A short, regular account could state each standard, performance against it, outstanding workload and action taken where results fall short, with allowance for differences in case complexity.

It would credit departments that perform well, explain persistent difficulties and show whether corrective measures work. It would give the public firmer ground than blanket reassurance or sweeping criticism.

A refusal at least lets the restaurant owner decide what to do next. An unexplained wait leaves the owner unable to open, unsure whether to persist or start again.

Bruneians can reasonably be asked for patience where proper scrutiny requires time. Government agencies can equally be asked to show how that time is used.

Patience may be a virtue. It should never be mistaken for an unlimited line of credit.

BND4.17 a Day

One wage, four lives. On BND500 a month, an illustrative family of four has BND4.17 each daily for every expense. Brunei’s subsidies help, but what opportunities remain for its children? Wawasan 2035 counts on their potential. Are our wages and safety nets giving that potential a fair chance to flourish?

 

 KopiTalk with MHO

An anonymous father describes life on BND660 and asks for prayers. His account raises a question about the generation Wawasan 2035 is counting on.

By Malai Hassan Othman

A father has written publicly, without his name, about life on BND660 a month. He says he supports a wife and children, has lost his rented home and had his car repossessed.

He says he has sold household possessions and taken whatever extra work he could find. Little remains but clothes, by his account. He asks for prayers rather than money.

His account has not been independently verified, including whether he sought or received assistance. It does not prove that an agency failed him. The response nevertheless deserves attention.

Much of the response online turned to blame. He should not have married on that income, some said. He should not have had children he could not afford to feed.

Whatever one thinks of the parents’ choices, the children made none. They did not choose the wage, the rent or the repossession. They simply live inside the result.

Children in such families belong to the generation expected to realise Wawasan 2035. Its first goal is to produce educated, highly skilled, and accomplished people. That ambition begins in their homes.

In my earlier series, Between Survival and Dignity, I examined the distance between minimum pay and a decent livelihood. This essay is about the children growing up within that distance.

The available wage and price figures do not directly measure child deprivation. Understanding how many children lack essentials requires evidence about households, their resources and their unmet needs.

Brunei introduced its minimum wage in July 2023, first for banking, finance, and information and communications technology. It set BND500 a month for full-time workers and BND2.62 an hour for part-timers.

From April 2025, coverage widened to seven specified industries. It includes designated medical, educational, tourism, professional and security activities; the policy does not yet cover every private-sector worker.

The policy aimed to protect workers from excessively low pay and meet their subsistence needs. It was a real step forward. Household adequacy also depends on dependants, essential expenses and available support.

The father’s claimed BND660 exceeds that floor, although his employment and the policy’s application to him are unknown. Earning above the minimum does not itself establish household security.

Now take the floor itself. Picture two adults and two children living on BND500. Over a 30-day month, that is BND16.67 a day, before retirement contributions are deducted.

Divided equally, that is BND4.17 per person daily: an illustrative share of gross household income, not a food allowance or poverty threshold. All cash expenses draw on the same purse.

Fairness requires the full picture. Government-funded healthcare and education for eligible residents, together with rice and fuel subsidies, reduce household costs. Any honest assessment must count these protections.

Family counts too. A room from parents, grandparents minding the children, groceries shared between households: such help can make a thin wage workable. Two families on the same pay may live very differently.

Yet families may still face costs for uniforms, shoes, stationery and transport, depending on existing provision. Subsidised rice supplies a staple; a varied diet requires other foods too.

Nor can family support be assumed. A household without relatives able to help has fewer resources to draw upon when earnings fall short or an unexpected expense arrives.

Wages offer little cushion. The Department of Economic Planning and Statistics (DEPS) put median monthly employment income in 2025 at BND950 overall and BND1,100 for local workers.

The overall median fell from BND1,000 in 2024. BND950 marks the midpoint of employment income, not household resources. The figures cannot establish how many children experience deprivation.

Prices are rising slowly overall, which offers little comfort. DEPS recorded overall inflation of 0.1 per cent for January to August 2026, compared with the same period in 2025.

Food tells a different story. Food and non-alcoholic beverages cost 1.7 per cent more in August 2026 than a year earlier. For a family already short, small rises reduce what remains for other needs.

None of this is new. In January 2021, before the policy took effect, a Universiti Brunei Darussalam research project by Syasya Nur Qistina binti Yahya surveyed 99 people online about a minimum wage.

Some respondents considered BND500 workable without rent or dependants; others questioned its adequacy. This small, self-selected survey cannot represent all workers, but highlights the importance of household circumstances.

The harder question is what happens when a family asks for help.

Brunei has the channels. The National Welfare System (SKN) takes applications for Department of Community Development (JAPEM) monthly assistance, and for the Brunei Islamic Religious Council’s zakat aid to asnaf fakir miskin.

Applicants can visit agency offices or call Welfare Line 141. The practical questions concern how needs are assessed, how decisions are communicated and what support is available in urgent cases.

Verification protects fairness and public money. Families still need food, accommodation and utilities while applications are assessed. Clear information about decisions and urgent support helps them plan.

This is where turun padang matters. Home visits can reveal conditions that an application may not fully convey. Their value depends on assessment being followed by decisions and communication.

Other countries have approached the same problem from the child’s side.

Singapore pairs its Progressive Wage Model with Workfare support for eligible lower-wage workers. School financial assistance also helps eligible pupils with meals and transport.

Japan provides child allowance and municipal school attendance assistance for eligible families, including help with school supplies and lunches. Support addresses expenses beyond tuition.

Finland gives every pupil a free school meal, from pre-primary to upper secondary. The need is met directly, at school, whatever the parent earns.

Brunei’s costs, revenues and existing subsidies differ, and any comparison must count them. The lesson is narrower: when a wage cannot cover a child’s needs, the state can reach the child directly.

This requires a whole-of-nation approach. Employment, housing, health, nutrition, transport and education meet in the same household. Policies that leave essential needs unresolved can undermine the ambitions they are meant to serve.

Four practical steps deserve consideration, with responsibilities coordinated across the relevant ministries and agencies.

First, publish the next stages of minimum-wage coverage and review the rate against essential living costs, worker needs and employment conditions, alongside assistance for differing household responsibilities.

Second, set and publish service standards for welfare: how long an assessment takes, when a family will hear back, and what interim help is available while it waits.

Third, strengthen routine outreach through schools, clinics, and village and mukim heads. Families struggling to apply should receive help, with referrals followed through and their privacy respected.

Fourth, review the reach and nutritional adequacy of existing school feeding and assistance schemes. Expand support where needs remain unmet, and monitor whether eligible children actually receive it.

Employers have their part. Fair pay and secure contracts lighten the load on the state. Mosques and neighbours already help quietly, and their help deserves support, not replacement.

Children from poor homes do succeed. Parents make extraordinary sacrifices, and many children rise anyway. But a national plan should not depend on sacrifice heroic enough to beat the odds.

The father asks for prayers. Beyond his account lies a national responsibility: helping families provide their children with nourishment, stable accommodation and opportunities to develop.

Wawasan 2035 is nine years away. The children expected to realise it are growing up now. For deprived families, its promise gains meaning when their children have a fair opportunity to flourish.

Rollover by Goodwill: When a Good Rule Has No Teeth

   

A contract changes hands. The work remains, but will the workers? Years of experience can count for little when the next bid promises savings. Brunei wants more people in private employment. What gives them confidence to stay if their family’s future depends on goodwill alone at every change of contractor?

 

Brunei’s oil and gas framework allows employment to continue when contracts change hands, but provides no universal guarantee. For local workers, the next tender can unsettle years of service.

By Malai Hassan Othman

 

11 October 2026

 

The letter began with an apology. “Admin, tolong postkan,” the writer asked, then apologised to anyone who might feel offended. The appeal was for local workers with families to feed.

 

Published on a community Facebook page on 7 October, it was soon shared more widely online, under the heading “Wawasan 2035? Even oil and gas don’t guarantee your future now.”

 

The writer describes themselves as a local contract worker. According to the letter, tenders are still running for contracts beginning in early 2027, leaving existing workers uncertain about their jobs.

 

The writer accepts that companies must control costs. Yet pay, the letter says, has already been adjusted several times. Household commitments do not adjust so easily.

 

The letter lists them: car payments that continue, a planned home now out of reach, and school fees.

 

It also cites a reported move of the Brunei Shell Petroleum (BSP) warehouse to Muara, which would mean longer journeys or a family move.

 

Then comes the line that stays with me. “It is easy for those on high salaries to say ‘Reduce cost’, ‘Meet KPI’, ‘Right sizing’,” the writer says, in words I have translated from Malay. Who looks after the survival of the local worker?

 

According to the letter, workers were told to raise concerns face to face or through grievance channels. The managers they met could not answer, because the uncertainty lay in contracts not yet awarded.

 

The writer’s identity and individual circumstances remain unverified. The wider question deserves scrutiny: when the work passes to another company, what happens to the people doing it?

 

The post that shared it set the letter beside other recent viral claims: lay-offs at contractors, salary cuts, and now no rollover. Then it asked a pointed question: “And what about LBD?” LBD is the Local Business Development framework, the rulebook for local jobs in oil and gas.

 

The comments that followed ranged from anger to resignation. One recalled a time when having a Shell worker as a son-in-law was a family’s pride. Another wrote that oil and gas is no longer the rice bowl career it once was.

 

A third spoke of the prospect of cutting back from rice with meat and vegetables to rice and eggs.

 

The question about LBD deserves more than reassurance. Workers need to know what the framework means for their next job.

 

The work continues but the employer changes

 

Rollover means existing workers move to the contractor taking over the work. It matters because a change of employer need not mean the work itself has gone.

 

The letter alleges that BSP’s new contracts will carry a “No Rollover” condition. That claim needs to be distinguished from the absence of a guaranteed transfer.

 

My understanding from the industry is that BSP encourages rollover, while the successful vendor assesses whether it is feasible. That does not establish the terms of these forthcoming contracts.

 

Contract value matters. Industry sources describe tight pricing on some contracts, with bids at or near cost. Where margins are thin, retaining workers on existing pay becomes harder.

 

Lower-paid recruits may appear cheaper. But experienced workers also bring knowledge of the job, equipment and safety requirements. A retention decision should account for that value.

 

Industry accounts also describe reductions in the work covered by some contracts. Where less work is required, fewer positions may remain, whoever holds the contract.

 

Encouragement from an operator and cost concerns from a contractor can leave workers uncertain about who will decide their future. They need clear terms and timely decisions.

 

BSP and the contractors should tell workers plainly which arrangement applies, what consideration they will receive, and when a decision will come. Families need time to prepare.

 

A contractor taking over a smaller scope may not be able to keep everyone. Where substantially the same work continues, experienced local workers deserve a fair chance to keep doing it.

 

The stakes reach beyond the oilfield. Bruneians are urged to build private-sector careers. That advice is harder to follow when every retender can unsettle both a job and a salary.

 

This uncertainty helps explain the attraction of permanent public-sector employment. Families need a dependable income on which to plan housing, schooling and the years ahead.

 

Online posts also spoke of oil and gas workers seeking agricultural work in Australia. Those accounts do not establish the scale of migration, but they express anxiety about opportunities at home.

 

What the framework provides

 

Directive 2, issued on 1 February 2012 under the Minister of Energy at the Prime Minister’s Office, sets out the LBD framework for the oil and gas industry. Its guidelines followed in April.

 

Under the framework, Core contracts carry local-employment targets of 50 to 90 per cent. Basic contracts carry targets above 90 per cent, with wholly local management.

 

Section 4.7 of the guidelines says specific categories or contracts “may include the rollover of existing Contractor’s personnel”. It links that provision to operational continuity and employment security.

 

The wording permits rollover to be written into contracts; it does not impose a universal requirement. The terms of the particular contract therefore matter.

 

The 2012 guidelines require annual business plans and performance reports three times a year. They specify local-employment numbers, but do not expressly require a separate measure of worker retention.

 

The framework counts heads, not people. Its local-employment percentage may remain intact even as experienced workers lose their jobs. That percentage alone cannot tell the whole story.

 

Wages have a safeguard of their own. The then Energy Department at the Prime Minister’s Office issued Reasonable Wage guidelines for the oil and gas industry, published on BSP’s website. They cover local workers up to National Diploma level in drilling rigs, well services, marine industries and offshore works.

 

Operators must make compliance a contractual term. The directive also says existing basic wages above its threshold, and allowances under those contracts, must not be reduced as a consequence of that directive.

 

But a wage safeguard and a transfer arrangement answer different questions. A worker still needs to know whether the next contractor will offer a job at all, and on what terms.

 

An ambition for growth

 

The framework belongs to a period of ambitious expansion plans. The 2014 Energy White Paper set a target of 50,000 energy-sector jobs by 2035, with 80 per cent held by Bruneians.

 

Expansion creates opportunities to recruit and retain trained people. When work becomes scarcer, a provision that allows rollover leaves workers dependent on the arrangements made for each contract.

 

The pressure described by industry sources makes that distinction more urgent. Retendering can become an occasion to reduce costs, with consequences for both employment and pay.

 

One commenter put the wider point bluntly: “A vision is not a funding strategy.” Wawasan 2035 was meant to leave the country less exposed to exactly this moment.

 

The government knows where the jobs are lost. On 7 August 2025, Legislative Council member Awang Haji Salleh Bostaman bin Haji Zainal Abidin asked how experienced locals are protected during right-sizing.

 

The minister’s answer said upstream job losses mostly involved contracts not renewed or ending after projects, alongside operational adjustments. It cited Bruneianisation, LBD measures and screening of foreign-worker applications.

 

It also described succession planning and help with finding work across sectors. Those measures matter. None guarantees a transfer when the contractor changes, which is exactly the moment the letter describes.

 

Three practical changes

 

The existing framework offers a starting point. The Department of Energy, operators and contractors should review how employment continuity is handled in tendering and identify what further provisions are needed.

 

First, give credible workforce-retention plans explicit weight in tender evaluation, alongside competence, safety and cost. A cheaper bid should have to explain what it will do with the people already doing the work.

 

Second, require successor contractors to give qualified existing local workers first consideration for continuing roles, with any changes to pay, duties or location made clear before acceptance.

 

First consideration alone will not stop falling pay. It needs transparent terms and enough notice for workers to judge what an offer means for their families.

 

Third, report retention outcomes alongside local headcounts: how many existing workers received offers, how many accepted, and how many were displaced. Aggregate figures would show the transition without naming anyone.

 

These measures would not save every job. They would make those managing a transition account for what happens to the people when the work itself continues.

 

The letter alone establishes neither a breach nor compliance. The policy question remains: how should the framework protect experienced local workers when their work passes to another contractor?

 

The writer’s concern is plain enough: years of work should count for something when the contract changes hands.

 

Goodwill can help a worker through a change of contractor. It is a fragile basis on which to plan a family’s future. The rules should carry more of that weight.