Political participation is not rebellion — it is responsibility.
Yet in Brunei, even good intentions can be overshadowed by caution. Part 6 unpacks the cultural, institutional, and emotional layers behind our political hesitation.
Penafian: Pandangan dalam rencana ini hanya bertujuan memberikan pemahaman umum mengenai budaya politik dan penyertaan rakyat dalam konteks MIB. Ia bukan promosi politik kepartian, tidak mewakili pendirian rasmi mana-mana pihak, dan tidak menggesa pembaca untuk menyertai mana-mana parti. Contoh yang melibatkan NDP hanyalah ilustrasi pengalaman di lapangan, bukan kempen.
Understanding Brunei’s Political System and Culture through MIB Part 6
Political Phobia in Brunei: The Fear We Inherited, The Courage We Need
By Malai Hassan Othman | KopiTalk with MHO
This column continues our look into Understanding Brunei’s Political System and Culture through MIB. After delving into ideals, history, and the NDP’s role in the national setup, we now face a reality that many shy away from: political phobia—a cloud hanging over Bruneian society.
We cannot discuss MIB, governance, and civic responsibility without acknowledging how fear subtly influences our political behaviour — our assumptions, instincts, and even our silence.
Political awareness in Brunei is pretty low, especially among younger folks — Gen X, Y, Z, and even those raised in the age of social media. Political chats are often hushed, avoided, or brushed aside. For many families, talking politics is a no-go, with thoughts like “jangan tah macam macam kan ikut bepolitik, rosak saja karang masa depan mu.”
This fear isn’t just in our heads — it’s cultural, historical, and deeply rooted.
A supporter once came to me, eager to help NDP set up a Cyber Crime awareness talk for his community. He went to a village head and said the event would be hosted by the NDP. The village head, respectful but cautious, turned him down, explaining that members of the Majlis Perundingan Mukim dan Kampung (MPMK) were “not encouraged” to team up with political parties. The village head even offered to organise the program himself instead.
That was a subtle line, but strong enough to stop a project meant purely for the public good. In the end, NDP had to inform the Registrar of Societies that the event was cancelled after it was taken over by the MPMK.
Another young person who recently joined NDP shared that his parents weren’t happy with his choice. They worried he might hurt his future, career, and opportunities by “getting involved in politics.” He just wanted to help — but his family’s concern shows a bigger trend: politics equals danger.
To figure out why this fear sticks around, we need to look at the setup around it.
Under MPMK rules, Penghulu Mukim and Ketua Kampung must stay strictly apolitical — not just neutral, but clearly separate from political parties. They are community leaders and administrators, and their legitimacy depends on being impartial. The guidelines stress:
- No involvement in party politics, in any way
- Stick to integrity, amanah, and neutrality
- Serve everyone without fear or favour
- Follow all directives from the Ministry of Home Affairs
This makes sense — community representation should be fair. But the downside is that political literacy, engagement, and exposure shrink at the grassroots level. When the very people closest to the rakyat can’t even attend a political event, the gap widens.
Emergency Laws, still in place, add another layer of caution. The lasting impact of decades under Emergency powers continues to shape society’s instinctive attitude: cautious, compliant, and hesitant to cross perceived lines.
As Maurice Duverger noted, political systems create political cultures — and political cultures shape political behaviours. Brunei is no exception.
This fear isn’t enforced — it’s inherited. Not imposed — but slowly absorbed over time.
This absorption leads to what some Malaysian scholars call “Melayu miskin politik” — politically impoverished Malays. Not lacking in intelligence, but lacking in exposure, participation, and confidence.
When applied to Brunei, this term describes:
- A society is hesitant to speak
- A youth population unsure of its role
- A political imagination limited by history
- A citizenry that sees politics as a threat, not a tool
- A culture where silence feels safer than participation
Political poverty leads to civic malnutrition: people grow up without understanding what politics is for — not as a contest for power, but as a way to share ideas, serve, take responsibility, and mature.
Duverger’s framework is relevant here. He argued that political participation is shaped not just by laws but by fear, memory, norms, and institutional signals. When institutions unintentionally discourage engagement, people take that cue as a behavioural truth.
This is why Brunei’s political culture looks the way it does — cautious, reserved, and often uncomfortable with anything labelled “politik.”
Yet politics, as the NDP has consistently pointed out, is simply participation — penglibatan, tanggungjawab, khidmat. Politics isn’t the enemy; it’s a tool for nation-building.
Brunei isn’t short on talent, intelligence, or goodwill; these qualities are plentiful.
What it lacks is political confidence. Many youths want to pitch in, but fear the stigma. Many community leaders want to work together, but worry about crossing lines. Many families want their kids to succeed, but warn them not to “get involved.”
This is how political phobia sticks around — not through punishment, but through perception.
NDP sees this firsthand. From community talks to youth outreach, the response is often the same: “Kami berminat tapi my family inda mengalakkan” or “Takut nanti menjejaskan kerja.” Or, “Aku sokong, tapi jangan gambar aku.”
But participation is still the quiet heartbeat of a nation. A society that stops participating slowly stops caring. And a society that stops caring starts to lose the moral energy that keeps national unity alive.
Political participation under MIB doesn’t need confrontation, loudness, or adversarial politics. It just needs engagement — respectful, disciplined, guided by adab and amanah.
We’re not talking about election rallies, opposition blocs, or imported political models. We’re talking about moral participation — the courage to think, speak, contribute, and serve.
Brunei’s political system under MIB is one of a kind. It encourages consultation (musyawarah), discussion, and discourse — but always within the bounds of loyalty and unity. The challenge today isn’t rebellion; it’s relevance. Not resistance, but renewed responsibility.
KopiTalk Reflection
Political culture in Brunei is changing, softly but steadily. The younger generation, despite their fears, is asking new questions. The older generation, despite their caution, still has wisdom to share. And society, despite its hesitation, still wants to care.
If fear once shaped our political imagination, maybe understanding can reshape it now.
This episode is a reminder:
- Politics isn’t the enemy of MIB — political maturity is its buddy.
- Participation, even quiet participation, isn’t a threat to stability — it’s an investment in it.
A culture strengthens when its confidence strengthens.
And political phobia fades when courage becomes contagious.
A nation grows when its people grow. (MHO/11/2025)
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