WHEN THE SYSTEM IS THE PATIENT: THE NATION'S LONG-STANDING LATE-PAYMENT CRISIS

“If contractors are the backbone of development, why are they still waiting in the ‘clinic’ for payments that should have been cured years ago?”

 

EDITORIAL PREFACE
Brunei’s development story is built on the commitment of many — policymakers, planners, contractors, and the thousands of workers who raise the nation’s infrastructure from blueprint to reality. Yet behind this progress lies a recurring challenge that affects the very people entrusted to build our future. This report shines a respectful but firm light on the long-standing delays in contractor payments, not to assign blame, but to support the national conversation on governance, accountability, and timely service delivery. In strengthening these systems, we strengthen the nation.

By Malai Hassan Othman | KopiTalk with MHO

Every clinic exists because something's off. And in Brunei’s ongoing late-payment saga, the patient isn’t the contractor or the small business owner standing at the counter with a stack of documents. The patient is the payment system itself — a system that’s been limping along for years, needing a major overhaul instead of just quick fixes.

The so-called Vendors Clinic was set up to help vendors deal with payment delays. But its very existence shows just how big the problem is. If the internal processes were running smoothly, if approvals were timely, and if budgets were aligned, vendors wouldn’t need a clinic just to chase down payments for work they’ve already done.

This isn’t just casual coffee-shop chatter among contractors anymore. The issue of delayed government payments has come up repeatedly in the Legislative Council (LegCo) — the country’s top national forum — where members have warned that these delays are putting local businesses, especially micro, small, and medium enterprises (MSMEs), at serious financial risk.

Across the construction, maintenance, supply, and service sectors, vendors are getting louder. Letters to editors, public comments, and stories shared by contractors show a pattern that’s more than just annoying — it’s chronic, systemic, and financially painful.

DELAYS THAT OUTLIVE THE PROJECT

Contractors are seeing a familiar pattern: projects wrapped up, defects fixed, documents submitted — yet payments are stuck in a maze of approvals. Many mention delays that drag on even after the Defects Liability Period (DLP), the standard 12-month warranty period, where contractors must fix defects at their own cost. Once the DLP wraps up, the project should be financially closed.

But contractors say they’re waiting through the entire DLP, sometimes much longer, only to hear that their final variation order (VO) is still “in process” or “awaiting approval.” These delays tie up funds that companies need to repay loans, pay staff, and gear up for new projects.

One vendor publicly shared that even after all fixes were done and the DLP had expired, the final VO kept “returning for re-review or queueing for signatures,” preventing the closure of accounts that are already years old.

These aren’t minor hold-ups; they’re disruptions that affect business decisions, cash flow planning, and the survival of many SMEs.

LegCo members have pointed out that such payment delays threaten the stability of the construction sector, creating cash flow issues that can force small businesses to hold off on payments to their own suppliers or, in the worst case, face potential bankruptcy.

WHEN BUDGETS RUN OUT BUT WORK MUST CONTINUE

Another frustrating trend is budget exhaustion. Vendors often find out — only after months of waiting — that the relevant department’s annual funds have run out. Yet they were earlier told to go ahead with the work. The outcome? A full year’s claim gets pushed into another budget cycle.

As one contractor put it: “If the budget wasn’t secured, why issue the PO? We delivered the service because the government told us to proceed — but when we invoice, the budget is finished.”

This practice forces contractors to bear the financial weight of public projects. Subcontractors, labourers, and suppliers — all of whom rely on prompt payments — feel the same financial strain.

Over the years, LegCo has urged ministries and departments to stick to the Client’s Charter and process applications and payments without unnecessary delays, recognising that failing to do so shakes confidence in government contracting.

NEW SYSTEM, OLD HABITS

TAFIS 2.0 was rolled out to modernise financial processes, but has instead added new layers of rigidity. Vendors talk about a system where small mistakes can lead to full rejections, submissions can’t be changed, and each department has its own take on screening procedures.

Tech issues have played a part, too. LegCo discussions have pointed out that bugs and implementation problems in TAFIS 2.0 have caused payment processing delays across departments, leading to calls for more thorough testing of major IT upgrades before they launch.

The platform is digital, but the habits behind it are still manual: multiple signatures, paper trails, slow internal routing, and documents left waiting on desks. Technology alone can’t fix workflow cultures built around delays, verbal instructions, and fragmented responsibility.

As one vendor remarked, “The system might be new, but we’re still working like it’s the 1980s.”

THE SES BOTTLENECK

A major chokepoint is the Service Entry Sheet (SES) — the government’s official confirmation that a service has been delivered and accepted. It’s the internal “OK” that lets the system match the contractor’s invoice with the completed work. Without an approved SES, no payment can start.

Contractors report SES approvals taking weeks or even months. Some SES forms get stuck because a signatory is on leave; others need multiple internal clarifications; in some departments, even small errors mean starting all over again. 

In TAFIS 2.0, a rejected SES often means going back to the start of the line.
The SES is supposed to be a confirmation step. Instead, it’s turned into one of the main barriers to timely payment.

THE HUMAN BOTTLENECK

Beyond tech, there's the human side: heavy workloads, limited staff, and unclear responsibilities. Files sit on desks. Approvals wait for the right person. Some vendors, after weeks of silence, are simply told to “wait.”

This isn’t a jab at individual officers — many are doing their best within a system that doesn’t give them clear timelines or consistent processes.

A big structural gap is the lack of Service Level Agreements (SLAs) — defined timelines that govern how long approvals or verifications should take. An SLA is basically an official deadline. Without it, delays go untracked, no one feels responsible for moving a document in a specific time, and vendors are left waiting indefinitely.

No SLA means no accountability.

And without accountability, delays keep happening as a matter of routine.

LegCo members have pointed out that these issues come up year after year, yet aren’t tackled decisively, urging the council to focus on “pressing issues” like payment delays and ensure greater accountability and financial discipline in managing public funds.

THE RIPPLE EFFECT ON TRUST AND CONFIDENCE

Late payments don’t just inconvenience vendors; they chip away at confidence across the whole economy. SMEs warn each other to steer clear of certain projects. 

Foreign suppliers start questioning the reliability of local partners. Subcontractors hesitate to take on work they might not get paid for on time.

Contractors are increasingly asking:
“How can the nation build confidence in its private sector when payments for completed work aren’t predictable?”

This tension doesn’t sit well with the goals of Wawasan 2035, which calls for a dynamic, modern private sector and efficient public service delivery. A development agenda can’t thrive if the companies executing it are financially stretched by delayed payments.

WHAT THE AUTHORITIES HAVE SAID – INSIDE AND OUTSIDE LEGCO

Inside the Legislative Council, government officials — including the Minister at the Prime Minister’s Office and Second Minister of Finance and Economy — have admitted that late payments to contractors are a real problem and that steps to fix it are “in progress and ongoing.” 

This acknowledgement goes back at least to 2017, and yet the same concerns keep popping up nearly a decade later.

Outside LegCo, the Ministry of Finance and Economy’s public response in December 2024 again recognised the concerns and pointed to available support channels:

• payment and user clinics,

• the Treasury’s Customer Care Centre,

• and the TAFIS 2.0 Helpdesk. 

As one vendor put it, “You can diagnose the pain, but we need a cure.” 

These services are helpful but remain reactive measures. They help vendors navigate delays; they don’t tackle the root causes that create those delays.
The Vendor Clinic, introduced in 2016, is still the main fix. But clinics, by nature, only address symptoms — not the underlying structural issue.

A YEARLY CYCLE THAT SHOULD NOT BE NORMAL

Many contractors have come to accept a yearly cycle: unpaid claims carried into the next fiscal year, new projects kicked off while old obligations linger, and another round of vendors heading back to the clinic.

This isn’t sustainable.

It represents what several vendors call “institutional fatigue” — a slow erosion of trust between the government and the very businesses working on national development projects.

At the same time, LegCo continues to hear calls for stronger accountability, closer monitoring of payment performance, and fair treatment of contractors who have held up their end of the deal.

A PATH TOWARD RESTORATION

Contractors and SMEs aren’t asking for handouts.

They’re asking for predictability and fairness.

Their expectations are simple:

• clear and enforceable payment timelines,

• accountability for delayed approvals,

• transparent budget allocation and use,

• timely VO and SES processing,

• an accessible end-to-end tracking system,

• and a shift from reactive clinics to proactive governance.

These aren’t radical asks; they’re the bare minimum for a healthy payment system, and they fit well within the broader governance and fiscal reforms the government often talks about in LegCo.

CONCLUSION – A HOPEFUL TURN FORWARD

Brunei is at a crucial crossroads. 

If the country wants to bolster its private sector, support MSMEs, and fulfil the promise of Wawasan 2035, it must tackle the root causes of delayed payments — not just treat the symptoms.

The fact that LegCo keeps bringing this up shows that the issue is recognised at the highest level. The next step is turning that recognition into actual reform: firm SLAs, better-tested systems, clearer workflows, and a culture where timely payment for completed work is the norm, not the exception.

With clear timelines, stronger accountability, and the political will to fix what's broken, Brunei can rebuild trust between the government and the business community.

A healthier payment system is within reach.

It starts with acknowledging that the system itself is the patient — and with the right reforms, it can recover, rebuild, and ultimately support the nation’s goals for a more resilient, confident, and prosperous future. (MHO/11/2025)
 

Political Phobia in Brunei: The Fear We Inherited, The Courage We Need

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.

Disclaimer: The views in this article are just meant to give a general idea of Brunei’s political culture and civic participation within the MIB framework. This isn’t a political promotion, doesn’t represent any organisation's official stance, and doesn’t encourage anyone to join a political party. References to NDP are just examples of real experiences, not campaign efforts.

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.

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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)