LESSONS IN NATION-BUILDING: REFRAMING
A FRACTURED NATION
A Study of Nation-building in Fiji
CHRISTOPHER BEN MUDALIAR
Thesis presented for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy
School of Arts, Social Sciences and Humanities Swinburne University of Technology September 2020
i
Declaration
I declare that this thesis does not incorporate without acknowledgment any material previously submitted for a degree in any university or another educational institution and that to the best of my knowledge and belief it does not contain any material previously published or written by another person except where due reference is made in the text.
ii ABSTRACT
This thesis examines how government-led nation-building is taking place in the Bainimarama era in Fiji. It first examines the role that colonial state-building played in the development of a national consciousness in Fiji. It is argued that competing colonial discourses contributed to the formation of two alternative ‘nations-of-intent’ (Shamsul 1996). Conflict between an ethnic communal nation-of-intent – which views the nation as made up of different communal groups – and a civic egalitarian nation-of-intent that believes the nation should be founded on principles of equality, have posed significant challenges to nation-building since independence. This is because the state has historically supported an ethnic-communal nation-of-intent both prior to independence and in all post-independence constitutions until 2013.
Ongoing conflict between these two nations-of-intent was evident throughout the ‘coup period’ starting with Rabuka in 1987, which drew on ethno-nationalist ideas to promote a climate of political instability, based on fears of an Indo-Fijian ‘take over’. Rabuka pushed an extreme version of the communalised nation-of-intent by appealing to beliefs that indigenous Fijian ‘paramountcy’ – a principle that indigenous Fijians should remain privileged over other ethnic groups – was the only legitimate political option for Fiji. This nation-of-intent was again drawn upon during George Speight’s coup in 2000 after the election of an Indo- Fijian prime minister. In 2006, however, another coup carried out by indigenous Fijian Commodore Frank Bainimarama broke with these historical trends by conducting a coup devoid of ethno-nationalist intent which instead emphasised a form of civic nationalism.
From 2006 Bainimarama conducted an authoritarian nation-building program, which included the removal of the Great Council of Chiefs, state media censorship, the introduction of ‘iTaukei’ as a marker for indigenous Fijians, the installation of a new constitution in 2013 and new electoral laws, and the naming of all citizens as ‘Fijian’. An election in 2014 returned Bainimarama’s new FijiFirst party with a large majority, allowing him to continue his nation-building program through various education and language initiatives, attempting to redesign the national flag, forcing land lease income to be equally distributed, and increasing state infrastructure projects. Bainimarama’s current nation-building program raises issues that have historically spawned political instability, as it continues to challenge ideas of indigenous paramountcy. However, Bainimarama’s re-election in 2018 suggests his nation-building program is widely supported.
This thesis critically examines Bainimarama’s nation-building program during both his authoritarian rule and democratic return. This examination draws upon both qualitative and quantitative methods, commencing with an interpretative analysis of nation-building discourses evident in official documents, press releases, policies, and select interviews of key figures. This is augmented by a substantial survey of Fijian tertiary students (n=323) attitudes towards national identity carried out by the author in 2016, which provides a snapshot of educated young Fijians who experienced democracy for the first time in 2014.
iii
It is argued that colonial state-building accelerated the development of national consciousness in Fiji through practices of indirect rule of indigenous Fijians and direct rule of Indo-Fijians. These two forms of rule created different expectations of the state, and contributed to the formation of two separate Fijian nations-of-intent. It is contended that the Fijian state has traditionally supported a communalised nation-of-intent, while Bainimarama’s nation- building program represents the first real push for a hegemonic civic egalitarian nation-of- intent within Fiji. Some evidence of the rapid advance of this model is found tertiary student attitudinal data, with respondents preferring ‘civic’ traits over ethnic ones when asked about national identity criteria. The success of FijiFirst in the 2018 election suggests that Bainimarama’s nation-building program has been successful in displacing a communalised nation-of-intent in favour of a civic nation-of-intent.
iv Acknowledgements
Firstly, I would like to express my sincere gratitude to my supervisor Professor Michael Leach who not only guided me throughout my PhD, but from the outset of my journey into tertiary study. His patience and continuous support of my academic passage has contributed to both the person I am today, and provided motivation for the person I hope to become. I would also like to express my sincere gratitude to Dr Christine Agius for her supervision and insightful comments which encouraged me to both widen my PhD study and contribute to related research.
Besides my supervisors, I would like to thank my thesis committee, Professor Robbie Robertson, Doctor Damon Alexander, and Associate Professor Lorenzo Veracini whose mentorship gave me the confidence to pursue my ideas.
My sincere thanks also goes to staff at the University of the South Pacific and Fiji National University who gracefully accommodated my visits to their campuses.
Last but not least my family, who gave me the confidence to aspire to greater things and supported me along the way through their sacrifices. To my fiancé for her unwavering support throughout this process, without which this would not have been possible.
I dedicate this thesis to my family in Labasa and Suva, as well as my Aunty who sadly passed away during the course of my candidature. Your support and hospitality was invaluable to the publication of this thesis.
Vinaka Vaka Levu
v TABLE OF CONTENTS
DECLARATION ...... ii ABSTRACT ...... iii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ...... v TABLE OF CONTENTS ...... vi LIST OF TABLES /GRAPHS ...... viii ABREVIATIONS ...... ix
PRELUDE: WHEN IS A NATION? ...... 1
CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION ...... 4 1. Background ...... 7 2. Methods ...... 15 3. Significance ...... 16
CHAPTER TWO: LITERATURE REVIEW / THEORETICAL APPROACH ...... 17 1. Understanding Nationalism ...... 17 1a. Bi-cultural……………………………………………………………………………..23 1b. Nation-of-intent…………………………………………………………..24 2. Melanesian Literature ...... 26 3. Fijian Literature ...... 28 3a. Fijian National Identity……………………………………………………31 4. Theoretical Approach ...... 34
CHAPTER THREE: STATE FORMATION ...... 36 1. Pre-colonial Societies ...... 36 1a. Chiefdoms ...... 39 3. Cession ...... 41 4. Indirect rule & State-building: Indigenous Fijians ...... 42 5. Direct Rule & State-building: Indian Plight ...... 63 6. Indirect Meets Direct ...... 68
CHAPTER FOUR: NATION FORMATION ...... 75 1. Post-colonial Literature ...... 75 2. Discourse Theory ...... 78 3. Internal Stratification of Ethnicity ...... 79 4. National Discourses ...... 81 5. Fiji: A Nation-of-Intent? ...... 91 6. Two Nations-of-Intent ...... 95 7. Why not ‘Politics?’ ...... 99 8. Constitutions in Fiji ...... 101
...... CHAPTER FIVE: A PERIOD OF DISTRUST (1970 – 2000) 109 1. The Role of Constitutions ...... 110 2. The Aftermath of ‘De-colonising’ ...... 114 3. A Cycle of Constitutions and Coups: Ethno-nationalist Rhetoric ...... 126 4. Instrumentalism and Ethnicity ...... 137
vi CHAPTER SIX: THE BAINIMARAMA ERA ...... 140 1. The Rise of Bainimarama ...... 140 2. ‘Prelude’ Decrees ...... 145 3. ‘Procession’ Decrees ...... 153 4. The 2013 Constitution ...... 154 5. Post-constitution Nation-building ...... 168 5a. Symbolic Production……………………………………………………………….169 5b. Enhancement of Citizenship…………………………………………….173 5c. Building a ‘closer’ Fiji……………………………………………………………..178 5d. International Appearance………………………………………………………….180 5e. Court Cases…………………………………………………………………………..184 6. A 20-year Nation-building Program? ...... 189
CHAPTER SEVEN: CHALLENGING THE PAST ...... 191 1. Bainimarama’s Nation-of-Intent: New or Old? ...... 191 2. The Reproduction of the New Nation ...... 196 3. Education ...... 197 3a. On Conversational Language…………………………………………………….206 3b. On Civic Education………………………………………………………………...209 3c. On State Oversight………………………………………………………………….211 4. Labour ...... 216 5. War ...... 219 6. Religion ...... 223 7. Land ...... 226 8. Politics ...... 230
CHAPTER EIGHT: REACTIONS TO THE ‘NEW’ NATION...... 234 1. The Yash Ghai Draft Constitution ...... 234 2. The 2014 Election ...... 239 3. Tertiary Student Attitudes Towards Fijian National Identity ...... 243 3a. Responses to Political Community………………………………………250 3b. Responses to National Identity Criteria………………………………………..251 3c. Reponses to iTaukei Identity Criteria…………………………………………..256 3d. Reponses to Bainimarama’s Reforms…………………………………………..259 3e. Responses to National Pride Criteria…………………………………………...264 3c. Responses to Cultural Indicators………………………………………………...268 4. Interview Responses Towards Fijian National Identity ...... 270 5. Fijian National Identity ...... 278 6. Ideology vs. Implementation: The 2018 Election...... 279
CHAPTER NINE: CONCLUSION...... 282
REFERENCES ...... 286 APPENDICES...... 308
vii
LIST OF TABLES AND GRAPHS
LIST OF TABLES
TABLE 1. Self-Reported Tertiary Student Language Proficiency ...... 248 TABLE 2. Attachment to Different Political Communities ...... 250 TABLE 2A. Attachment to Fiji by Ethnicity ...... 251 TABLE 3. Importance of Factors Defining Fijian National Identity ...... 252 TABLE 4. Importance of Factors Defining iTaukei Identity ...... 256 TABLE 5. Support for Changed National Symbols ...... 259 TABLE 5A. Forms of Political and Social Action Taken ...... 262 TABLE 5B. Indictors of Being a Good Citizen ...... 263 TABLE 6. Indictors of Fijian Pride ...... 264 TABLE 6A. Indicators of Pride in Fijian Democracy by Ethnicity ...... 265 TABLE 6B. Indicators of Pride in Fair and Equal Treatment within Fiji by Ethnicity ...... 266 TABLE 6C. Indicators of Pride in Military and Peace-keeping Forces ...... 267 TABLE 7. Indicator for Maintaining Distinct Customs and Traditions by Ethnicity ...... 268
GRAPHS
GRAPH 1. Self-reported Student Language Proficiency by Ethnicity ...... 248 GRAPH 2A. Importance of Language by Ethnicity ...... 253 GRAPH 2B. Importance of Factors Defining Fijian National Identity by Ethnicity ...... 255 GRAPH 3. Importance of Factors Defining iTaukei Identity ...... 257 GRAPH 4. Support for Changed National Symbols by Ethnicity ...... 261
viii ABREVIATIONS
BRI – Belt Road Initiative CPA – Care and Protection Allowance CSR – Colonial Sugar Refinery DPP – Director Public Prosecutions ERD – Equal Rent Distribution FAB – Fijian Affairs Board FAP – Fijian Association Party FBC – Fiji Broadcasting Corporation FDB – Fiji Development Bank FFTG – Fee Free Tuition Grant FICAC – Fiji Independent Commission Against Corruption FLP – Fijian Labour Party FNP – Fijian Nationalist Party FNPF – Fiji National Provident Fund FNU – Fiji National University FTA – Fijian Teachers Association FTU – Fijian Teachers Union GCC – Great Council of Chiefs HIES – Household Income Expenditure Survey NCBBF – National Council for Building a Better Fiji NDP – National Development Plan NFP – National
Federation Party NLC – Native Lands Commission NLTB – Native Land Trust Board NMW – National Minimum Wage PBS – Poverty Benefit Scheme QVS – Queen Victoria School RFMF – Republic of Fiji Military Forces SDL - Soqosoqo Duavata ni Lewenivanua SODELPA – Social Democracy Liberal Party SPS – Social Pension Scheme TLTB – iTaukei Land Trust Broad USP – University of the South Pacific VKB – Vola ni Kawa Bula
ix
Prelude: When is a nation?
Prelude: When is a nation?
Fiji, an archipelago consisting of over 330 islands in the South Pacific Ocean is home to a culturally diverse population, consisting of a dominant indigenous population, named iTaukei1. An immigrant Indian population introduced during colonialism referred to as Indo-
Fijians, as well as an assortment of Chinese, Europeans, and other ethnic groups from
Rotuman and Banaba. Having only acquired independence from the British Empire relatively recently in 1970, Fiji has since suffered through three successive coups – each containing strong nationalist sentiment. Remarkably, none of these coups resulted in serious bloodshed, but arguably signalled that a cohesive nation was not yet fully realised. Each coup also brought about constitutional change, with four constitutions being drafted, and implemented since independence – the latest in 2013. Accompanying these changes included rapid shifts in political regimes, alternating between democracy and authoritarianism. How a country can define its own nationhood under both complex political conditions, major ethno-cultural and linguistic differences, against a post-colonial backdrop is a thought-provoking proposition.
‘When is a nation?’ published by Walker Connor in 1990 first raised a question about when we consider a nation coming into being. This question arguably remains unanswered because the universalisation of a theory from one context, often finds an exception in another. Walker categorises this problem into four areas. The first considers national consciousness as a mass not elite phenomenon, where until recently the masses have been unable to formulate a sense of group identity. The second relates to nation formation as a process, and not a singular event, which is not sequentially given, but capable of ending at any time. The third again
1 ‘Indigenous Fijian’ is the term used to describe the iTaukei prior to the introduction of the Fijian Affairs (Amendment) Decree 2010, which officially replaced ‘Fijian’ with ‘iTaukei’ in reference to indigenous Fijians in 2010. The thesis will follow this convention by referring to indigenous Fijians as iTaukei after 2010.
1 Prelude: When is a nation? relates to the process of nation formation, where Connor suggests it is impossible to ascertain when a certain threshold of people has been reached who have internalised a national identity enough to be mobilised by nationalism. The last problem Walker raises is that the link drawn between the ethnographic history of a people and that of nationhood, is often constructed so that it has little resemblance towards fact. To this, Smith (2002, 8) replies that Walker is too ethnocentric, in that he ascribes the nation as coterminous with Western modernity, where a nation only arises because of the conditions provided by Western modernity – namely the state. This usually leads to nations being described as having certain traits which develop from the link between birth in a territory and continued residence in that territory. This is maintained by tying the nation as a legal-political community through citizenship and through supporting the development of a public culture or civil religion to bind the community towards political solidarity.
Smith (2002) however questions whether all these criteria must be met for a nation to be fully realised and answer ‘when’ a nation is born. Or, whether only some criteria needs to be met for a nation to be considered realised. Similarly, since these beliefs are conditioned by a conception of western modernism, can alternative routes of modernity produce different nation ideals? The questions and implications posed by Walker (1990) and Smith (2002) do not just belong to past academic writing about nation formation. But also to current developing countries, who are not only questioning their place within modernity, but also their own growing sense of nationhood. Fiji is one such island nation within the Pacific
Ocean which contains all the contradictions and nuances of the debate presented by Walker
(1990) and Smith (2002).
2 Prelude: When is a nation?
‘When is a nation’ is particularly pertinent to not only Fiji, but other bi-cultural or post- colonial nations who have struggled to define their nationhood into modernity. It is my hope that this thesis may shed some light on how to tackle a topic as cumbersome as nationalism within a context that defies traditional political understandings.
3 Chapter One: Introduction
Chapter One: Introduction
This thesis is an attempt to trace the idea of a ‘Fijian’ nation from its conception in order to discuss contemporary nation-building developments in Fiji. While a great deal of literature deals with the nature of ethnic conflict in Fiji, little exists which describes the underlying discursive formations that served to reproduce and reinforce these ethnic divides within Fijian society. This limitation in the literature makes analysis of contemporary Fijian nation- building projects and national identity construction difficult since any analysis would lack a requisite history to locate its importance and significance. As such, answering the thesis’s main question of “how is government-led nation-building taking place in the Bainimarama era?” requires a history of Fijian nationalism.
Accordingly, this thesis is split into two halves. The first identifies the progression and conflict surrounding historic conceptions of a ‘Fijian’ nation by outlining a theory of
Fijian nationalism. The second half then compares these conceptions against the current official nation-building agenda set by Prime Minister Josaia Voreqe ‘Frank’ Bainimarama. In doing so, the thesis attempts to synthesise discourses – usually associated with ethnic conflict in Fiji – with wider discourses surrounding what and who the ‘Fijian’ nation represents. In order to do this, the thesis utilises a mixed-method approach that draws upon both quantitative and qualitative methods, with findings interpreted through a discourse analysis.
The thesis opens with a dual review of literature. It first focuses on theoretical nationalism literature, and then on the unique contexts of both the Melanesian region and Fiji. The first section on nationalism literature outlines three major theoretical schools of nationalism –
Primordialism, Ethnosymbolism and Modernism – particularly emphasising the context from
4 Chapter One: Introduction which these schools originate. It argues that out of the ‘traditional schools’, a post-modern approach is necessary to analyse Fiji because of both its post-colonial and bi-cultural nature.
The second part of the review focuses on the contextual development of the wider
Melanesian region, and specific developments relevant to Fijian national identity. This section widely discusses contextual differences between European or Western patterns of political development as compared to Melanesia, where colonialism and ethno-linguistic divisions provided an alternative pattern of political development. The literature review concludes by proposing an appropriate theoretical framework and method in order to analyse recent and underexplored nation-building developments within Fiji.
The third chapter opens with a discussion of Fiji’s attainment of statehood. It does this by briefly describing Fiji’s pre-colonial settler history, before examining Fiji’s colonial period between 1874 – 1970. The chapter moves chronologically, identifying dual forms in colonial administration as a major factor of colonial state-building. These split forms of colonial administration between the indirect rule of indigenous Fijians, and the direct rule of Indo-
Fijians are then identified as underlying factors which lead to each ethnic community developing a different relationship and expectation of the state.
The fourth chapter then thematically analyses the consequences of colonial state-building to explore how a national consciousness arose in Fiji, before discussing initial conceptions of nationhood. It argues that because each ethnic group held a different relationship with the state, local interactions between indigenous and Indo Fijians contributed to the formation of competing national discourses. These national discourses are linked to themes of ‘Religion’,
‘Labour’, ‘Education’, ‘War’, and ‘Land’. Importantly, it is argued that these national discourses were relational in nature, owing to the two different experiences of colonial state-
5 Chapter One: Introduction building within indigenous and Indo-Fijian communities. Because of this, national discourses came to be understood through two different prisms relating to the nature of the nation. These are described as separate ‘nations-of-intent’ which is described as a future vision about the nation which has a territorial entity, a set of institutions, an ideal type citizen and an identity profile that a group of social engineers have in mind to try and implement (Tonnesson 1996,
37). In terms of Fiji, the chapter argues that two distinct nations-of-intent became clear in the lead up to independence.
Picking up after independence, the fifth chapter continues by describing the aftermath of decolonisation. It investigates the cycle of elections, coups, and constitutional redrafting that plagued Fijian politics between 1987 and 2006. As substantive literature already examines
Fiji’s political development during this time, this chapter examines how competing and conflicting nations-of-intent worked in the background to contribute towards Fiji’s political instability during the ‘coup period’. In doing so, the chapter argues that the ‘nation-of-intent’ concept can be used to fill some gaps that are presented by ethnic and class explanations of conflict within Fiji.
The sixth chapter begins by examining Bainimarama’s rise to power in 2006. It focuses on
Bainimarama’s governance after his initial coup in 2006, that originated from a self- proclaimed desire to remove ‘ethnicity’ from Fiji’s national politics because of the cycle of instability it promotes. To do so, the chapter examines the particular types of decrees – categorised as either ‘prelude’ or ‘procession’ decrees – Bainimarama utilised in order to both consolidate his rule and sustain a nation-building program. This includes a substantive qualitative analysis of key nation-building documents and policies in combination with select interviews of relevant figures.
6 Chapter One: Introduction
The seventh chapter frames Bainimarama’s nation-building program as the implementation of his own nation-of-intent. It argues that Bainimarama’s nation-of-intent roughly follows in the footsteps of a ‘civic’ nation-of-intent explored in past chapters. It contends that Bainimarama is attempting to shift underpinning national discourses away from their relational roots by imposing categorical definitions. It does this by thematically analysing national discourses, while also drawing upon select interviews conducted during fieldwork in 2016.
The eighth chapter examines whether Bainimarama’s civic nation-of-intent can provide Fiji with long-term political stability, given historic conflict between competing nations-of-intent.
To do so, the chapter draws upon both qualitative and quantitative methods in order to gauge popular attitudes towards Bainimarama’s nation-building program. Qualitative analysis includes an examination of the drafting period for the 2013 constitution, the 2014 election results, and interviews with key figures. These are discussed alongside a major survey examining attitudes towards national identity held by tertiary students (n=323) sampled from
Fiji’s main universities and colleges. Amongst other results, the survey found that tertiary students tended to prefer ‘civic’ traits over ethnic ones when asked about national identity criteria. This result, in tandem with the success of FijiFirst in the 2018 election, suggests that
Bainimarama’s nation-building program has so far been successful at displacing an ethnic- communal nation-of-intent in favour of a civic nation-of-intent.
Background
Politics in Melanesia is often viewed as a complex arena because of a dichotomy between traditional and Western forms of political organisation (Foster 1995; Dinnen 2008). This largely owes to colonial influence in the area which often sought to hybridise Melanesian
7 Chapter One: Introduction political systems through ‘indirect’ rule. Mamdani (2012) elaborates in the Sudanese context, stating that indirect rule was usually an enforcement of indigenous tradition by a colonial elite who sought to institutionalise difference within a polity. This was viewed as a better option than a ‘direct’ colonial mode of rule which often resulted in uprisings against the colonial ruler. However indirect rule is also argued to have transformed perceived or constructed racial differences into very real institutional inequalities (Loomba 2005, 191).
There are suggestions that Fiji may have been one of the first cases of British indirect rule, with lesson learnt from Fiji transported into African environments later (Veracini 2008). One of the ways indirect rule manifested in Fiji was through the establishment of a ‘chiefly’ political system over a ‘big man’ system (Norton 2000, 108). Pre-colonial Fiji housed two competing systems of traditional rule, a ‘chiefly’ system operating in the east, and a ‘big man’ system in the west (Jolly 1992; Rutz 1995). The ‘chiefly’ political system is defined by its chiefs, who are the main political actors for a community with power bestowed upon by hereditary lineage (Lawson 1992, 67). The chiefly system was a feature of a Polynesian model, which came about through Tongan contact on the east coast of Fiji (Lawson 1990,
798). By contrast, a traditional Melanesian ‘big man’ system operated in the west, which was orientated around a political actor who gained power through both persuasion and skill, not hereditary lineage.
The British supported the chiefly system as it offered an easier route to centralising command, since they could establish the British Monarch as a high chief legitimately under
Fijian tradition. The official transfer of power to colonial rule was carried out under the Deed of Cession in 1874 which among other things, stated that ‘the rights and interests of the said
8 Chapter One: Introduction
Tui Viti and other high chiefs ceding parties hereto shall be recognised so far as is and shall be consistent with British Sovereignty and Colonial form of government’.
Despite not appearing in the Deed of Cession itself, the phrase ‘paramountcy of Fijian interests’ later became a call back sign to the deed to imply that colonialists would maintain indigenous Fijian interests during colonial state-building (Lal 2008, 9). The term was later misappropriated by ethno-nationalists to imply that indigenous Fijians should always retain privileges over other ethnic groups in Fiji (Lal 2012, 496). The chiefly system was protected and extended during colonisation as it was believed that doing so maintained the paramountcy of indigenous Fijian interests (Newbury 2011, 48). The establishment of the
Great Council of Chiefs (GCC) in 1876 purported to embody this role by mediating between indigenous Fijians and the British during the administration of colonial tasks (Thomas 1990,
152). The GCC was central to indirect rule, as its establishment effectively institutionalised colonial rule through indigenous Fijian tradition – effectively allowing colonial authority to be enforced through the chiefly system.
The introduction of an Indian labour population in 1879 to farm sugarcane – who would total
61,000 by 1920 – tested both indirect rule, and notions of indigenous Fijian paramountcy
(Trnka 2005, 356). As Indian presence within Fiji grew so did their calls for greater involvement in colonial decision making, only to be met by colonialists who were already invested in protecting existing relations with indigenous Fijians. As the indentured Indian labour population had no ‘chief’ of their own, they could not represent themselves within the confines of Fiji’s early colonial politics (Newbury 2011, 48). Problematically, the arrival of
Indians prompted the British to shift between two modes of administration – indirect rule for indigenous Fijians and direct rule for Indians. Doing so relegated the Indian population into a
9 Chapter One: Introduction limited political position as colonialists had to balance both administrative systems against notions of indigenous Fijian paramountcy. A lack of integration between the two forms of administration came to a head when large parts of the indentured Indian community chose not to return to India after their tenure ended in 19162, and instead chose to settle in Fiji (Lal
2008, 12). Repercussions of the dual administrative systems arguably reinforced ideas within the elite indigenous Fijian community that the settling Indo-Fijian population were not truly a part of Fiji, since they were largely excluded from colonial decision making (Thomas 1990,
151). Compounding this exclusion further was continued support for organisations like the
GCC and indigenous Fijian land holding registries from other colonists. These organisations allowed indigenous Fijians to maintain and extend certain privileges as they provided an unequal political (through the GCC) and socio-economic (land) playing field against the settling indentured Indian population.
Independence was attained relatively late in Fiji (1970) as there were no hard drivers for independence by the ruling group of indigenous Fijian chiefs, since the colonial arrangement suited their own political agendas (Lawson 2010, 6). As such, independence was underlined by a paternalistic relationship held between the British and indigenous chiefs with the Indo-
Fijian community concerned about the future effects of a racially based electoral system (Lal
2008, 74). This paternalistic relationship resulted in certain artefacts of colonial rule flowing into the independence era and would later play a hand in stoking ethnic tensions. These artefacts included: The restriction of landownership to indigenous Fijians, limited political inclusion for Indo-Fijians, and an entirely indigenous Fijian military. This limited economic choices for Indo-Fijian’s to either rent sugar plantations for cultivation or seek urban enclaves for running businesses. Consequently, Indo-Fijians adapted to a cash-based
2 Given this choice, the indentured Indian community will be termed ‘Indo-Fijian’ from this year onwards.
10 Chapter One: Introduction economy and in doing so heavily contributed to the growth of Fiji’s economy (Rutz 1987,
542). These intergroup roles were roughly formalised by the 1970 constitution, which was viewed as a way to legitimately maintain the status quo of inequities between ethnic groups.
The immediate post-independence period in Fiji is usually characterised by this tension held between indigenous Fijian dominance at the political level – so their cultural interests were perceived as being maintained – being reconciled against a need for continued Indo-Fijian economic activity.
This status quo went unchallenged for a relatively short period as Indo-Fijians soon sought greater political representation and an end to discriminatory race-based practices. Indigenous
Fijians generally viewed these Indo-Fijian advancements as a threat to the status quo – and by extension their privileged position within Fiji. Indo-Fijians however could not effectively mobilise politically under the complex electoral parameters within the 1970 constitution.
Communal rolls split the polity into ethnic blocs which reduced the voting power of Indo-
Fijians and increased the electoral power of indigenous Fijians. The Great Council of Chiefs
(GCC) as a leftover colonial institution also held a privileged electoral position that determined senate seats. This meant Indo-Fijians attempting an electoral win had to rely upon cross-ethnic labour parties like the Fijian Labour Party (FLP) in order to gain a voice in government (Ramesh 2010, 491). The prospect of an Indo-Fijian backed government led to discussions around land and political arrangements changing, which heightened ethno- nationalist fears that indigenous Fijian privilege could soon be challenged.
Two political parties subsequently mirrored ethnic divisions, an indigenous based Alliance
Party and an Indo-Fijian backed National Federation Party (NFP). While the former generally campaigned on a platform of maintaining the status quo from independence, the latter pursued a class campaign, which labelled the Alliance Party as corrupt (Lal 2006a, 26). Both
11 Chapter One: Introduction these parties clearly projected particular views about the Fijian nation, with the Alliance Party generally supporting an indigenous Fijian nation run on ethnic-communal principles, while the NFP and FLP foresaw the nation as multi-racial and centred on egalitarian principles.
Amidst these campaigns the 1987 election was called, which resulted in the appointment of
Dr. Timoci Bavadra as Prime Minister supported by a coalition of the NFP and the FLP.
Despite Bavadra being an indigenous Fijian, his Indo-Fijian backing provided enough impetus for ethno-nationalist Lieutenant Colonel Sitiveni Rabuka to oust Bavadra in a coup.
Rabuka believed that because Bavadra – backed by Indo-Fijians – was able to gain power, the
1970 constitution was then inadequate for protecting indigenous Fijian rights. Since Indo-
Fijians were potentially able to alter the independence status quo, revealing Rabuka’s support for a national vision akin to that of the Alliance Party (Lal 2006a, 74).
Rabuka’s coup is broadly telling of the logic involved in ethno-nationalist movements within
Fiji. Rabuka appealed to views that ‘paramountcy’ – a belief that indigenous Fijians should remain privileged over other ethnic groups – is the only legitimate political option for Fiji
(Lal 2012, 496). The often mentioned ‘coup culture’ is tightly linked to ideas surrounding paramountcy, as challenges to a perceived status quo from Indo-Fijian’s generally provoked a reflexive coup (Ratuva 2011, 115). At the time of the 1987 coup the Indo-Fijian community called into question the status quo of land arrangements, as they argued that restrictions on land tenure and ownership severely impinged their livelihoods. Perceptions of Indo-Fijian political influence growing in a way that might again challenge the political status quo triggered a revaluation of constitutional arrangements. This saw a new constitution in 1990 that came with the supposed aim of restoring indigenous Fijian paramountcy by removing the possibility – through changing electoral arrangements – of another Indo-Fijian backed government being democratically elected (Trnka 2005, 355). During this time Rabuka
12 Chapter One: Introduction founded the Soqosoqo ni Vakavulewa ni Taukei party (SVT) that appealed exclusively towards indigenous Fijians, as the new electoral arrangements meant it only had to appeal to them in order to remain in power (Lal 2006a).
The directives within the 1990 constitution did not only limit political power to just indigenous Fijians, it also aided towards institutionalising racial discrimination to provoke
Indo-Fijian emigration (Trnka 2005, 355). Ironically, these initiatives harmed state productivity because of the influence that Indo-Fijians had on the economy. Coupled with mounting international pressure Rabuka was forced to redraft the constitution in 1997, a move that would alter the colonial era status quo and change the nation’s outlook. As such, the 1997 constitution was relatively progressive because of its egalitarian formulation through a commission that included Indo-Fijian representatives.
The 1997 constitution again changed electoral laws which eventually saw the appointment of the FLP into government, and the election of Fiji’s first Indo-Fijian Prime Minister Mahendra
Chaudhry in 1999. This result was generally due to the Indo-Fijian community voting entirely for the FLP, while indigenous Fijians split their vote across several parties including SVT and religious based parties. Predictably, the Indo-Fijian led government was short lived as self- described ethno-nationalist George Speight launched a coup in 2000. Speight sought legitimacy for his coup by retreating to rhetoric based on indigenous Fijian paramountcy, as there was a perception that Chaudhry was going to change land arrangements. Yet, some commentators have argued such rhetoric by Speight was merely a front for treasury to be sacked by Speight and his co-conspirators (Ratuva 2011, 112). Shortly after the coup, the
Republic of Fiji Military Forces (RFMF) abrogated the 1997 constitution by installing
Qarase as Prime Minister who would select a cabinet after winning elections in 2001 and
13 Chapter One: Introduction remain in power until 2006, when indigenous Fijian Commodore Frank Bainimarama launched another coup. The motives behind Bainimarama’s coup interrupted the historical narrative of coups, as later he would ironically claim the coup was a legitimate and necessary measure to reform the destabilising ethnic politics that Speight had earlier exploited (Ratuva
2011, 116).
The Bainimarama coup proves significant as it was not carried out under the rhetoric of paramountcy, nor motivated by the same reasons as previous ethno-nationalist movements.
From 2006 Bainimarama maintained an authoritarian position implementing decrees that attempted to address ethnic politics, which included: The removal of the GCC, state media censorship, the introduction of ‘iTaukei’ as a marker for indigenous Fijians, the installation of a new constitution and new electoral laws. These methods have been criticised as heavy handed, because they often suppressed critical voices and circumvented civil liberties.
Nonetheless, democratic elections in 2014 saw new electoral reforms in action, with
Bainimarama’s newly formed FijiFirst party claim victory over the Social Democratic Liberal
Party (SODELPA). Post-authoritarian rule has continued to see the implementation of
Bainimarama’s national vision through the introduction of: Education and language initiatives, an attempted flag redesign, shifting land arrangements and state infrastructure projects. Bainimarama’s current national agenda then covers territory that has historically spawned political instability. Examining what Bainimarama’s agenda is, where the traditional players sit in relation to this, and how the agenda is received by the general population will be key for understanding future developments in the area.
14 Chapter One: Introduction
Methods
The second half of the thesis contains both quantitative and qualitative data drawn from fieldwork between March and June in 2016. Qualitative data includes select interviews with key figures and professionals (n= 26) who were at the frontlines of Bainimarama’s nation- building program, as well as an interpretive analysis of government policies and discourses.
Interviews were conducted in both Labasa and Suva at the participant’s place of work and were semi-structured with differences related to the participant’s experience or position. All interviews were recorded for transcription purposes. Government policies consist of key nation-building documents, decrees, and legislation.
Quantitative data in the thesis draws from survey results presented in chapter eight that includes a dataset of 323 tertiary and technical college Fijian students. Surveys were anonymously conducted by the author in two locations, Suva (urban) and Labasa (peri- urban), at two tertiary institutions, the University of the South Pacific (USP) and Fiji National
University (FNU), in April 2016. The survey tool was based on the International Social
Survey Programme (ISSP) national identity module, with supplementary questions that reflected local conditions. Surveys was conducted in English, in-line with the teaching language of USP and FNU, with respondents either comprising of tertiary or technical college students aged 18 years or older. Respondents roughly reflected the tertiary student demographic (USP 2015), with 183 Indo-Fijian students and 118 iTaukei students with the difference (22) split across minority ethnic groups. In terms of gender, the study recorded 153 males and 169 females.
15 Chapter One: Introduction
Significance
The significance of this thesis lies in the ramifications of Bainimarama’s rapid desire to change the nature of the Fijian nation and its national identity. As noted, indigenous Fijian ethno-nationalism has historically promoted a climate of political instability based on perceptions of an Indo-Fijian ‘take over’. Shifting these perceptions requires both a reconceptualization of Fijian national identity, and a clear idea of what and who the Fijian nation represents. Problematically, not only is Bainimarama’s current agenda underexplored, but previous concepts of a Fijian nation or national identity also remain underexplored or too limited for analysing recent developments. This is partly due to a theoretical gap in the literature, where a viable theoretical framework to explore a context as complex as Fiji has yet to be applied. Addressing the thesis’s question, “how is government-led nation-building taking place in the Bainimarama era”, therefore requires the establishment of a theoretical framework. As such, this thesis addresses the present theoretical gap in order to explore contemporary developments. Significantly, doing so may yield insight into a range of topics, including the applicability of discursive approaches to explore nationalism, the nature of post-colonial nation formation, and the effectiveness of authoritarian ‘civic’ nation-building against an ethno-nationalist history.
16 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach
Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach
Understanding Nationalism
Theoretical literature on nationalism spans numerous fields, with contributions from sociology, political theory, and philosophy. The result of this has left definitions of
‘nationalism’ and its corresponding terms – like ‘nation’, and ‘national identity’ – not yet gaining wide agreement in the literature (Alter 1989; Motyl 1992; Connor 1994; Hall 1995;
Calhoun 1997; Smith, 1973, 1983, 2010). Calhoun (1997) explains that nationalism within the literature is often employed in three contexts. The first employs nationalism to explain the process of cultural production that a population undergoes to frame its aspirations through the idea of a nation and with a corresponding national identity. The second employs nationalism as a term to explain particular social movements which aim to either; advance participation with the state, seek national autonomy using rhetoric based upon independence and self- determination, or for the amalgamation of territories. This usually involves state policies that pursue the interests of collectives who are understood as representative of the nation. The third employs nationalism as a political and cultural ideological agenda which claims superiority for a particular version of the nation. This could mean that ethnicity becomes the bounds from which a nation is understood, where a national territory ought to coincide with a state boundary with its national members considered part of a homogenous identity with all that it entails (e.g. a common morality, or ethnicity). Smith (1998, 8) expands, stating that the work of nationalism theory is also bound to discussing whether a ‘nation’ is an immemorial community rooted in an enduring history, or whether they are social constructs explainable through modernisation which adhere to context specific conditions. Smith’s discussion also raises the question of a ‘national consciousness’, which is used as a concept to explain how a
17 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach population comes to see itself as a nation, as opposed to a number of separate and disparate communities.
Three main theoretical schools of nationalism, largely based on European development but make claim to universality, attempt to explain how a population develops into a nation. These schools are generally stated as Primordialism, Modernism and Ethno-symbolism, although each may contain various sub-schools of thought. Underlying each of these schools are varying contentions surrounding how a national consciousness forms through different observable and seemingly universal processes. The implication of this means that definitions of correlative terms like ‘nation’ and ‘national identity’ vary between schools. For instance,
Primordialism contends that a ‘nation’ forms naturally and persists throughout time as an unchangeable, static phenomenon that arises before a state (Smith 2009). As such, the nation is seen as the main motivational factor for seeking sovereignty through state formation (Shils
1957; Geertz 1986; Hastings 1997). Under this view, nations are seen as stemming from antiquity, where contemporary national cultures can be traced to a defined historical background (Ozkirimli 2010, 49). This is because it is argued that the nation is intimately linked to an essential ethnic core with an accompanying culture (Harris 2009, 46). Generally, under primordialism only those that have a traceable and biological link to a particular territory can lay claim to the nation.
Modernists generally contend that nations are a recent phenomenon in which the authority of a state is needed to enable a nationalist project (Gellner 1983; Smith 2003). For Gellner
(1983) in particular, this means that nations are not ‘natural’ or a consequence of the human condition, but rather come into existence through practices specific to modernisation, like industrialisation. Gellner (1983) draws upon the structural influence that industrialisation
18 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach provided to explain national consciousness, since newly created urban populations could not draw upon traditional rules and relationships in order to orient themselves within a new industrial paradigm. As such, the state provided a new set of rules and relationships by establishing a ‘nation’ to which people could orient themselves. Other modernists generally accept that the state precedes a nation, but elect a less universalistic approach when describing the exact formation of a nation, choosing instead to focus upon specific contexts and sequences of events. For instance, Anderson (1991) and Hobsbawm & Ranger (1993) look at the role of modern media upon the formation of the nation, whereas others look at the influence of modern state and mass politics (Tilly 1978; Breuilly 1985; Giddens 1990; Brass
1991). One of the critiques of the modernist school relates to the materials used in the formation of a nation. Although modernists agree that the nation is a recent phenomenon, they also accept that pre-existing cultural materials had to be drawn upon in order form a nation (Gellner in Smith 2009). This does not mean they believe nations contain an ethnic core, but rather that some elements had to be used in order to differentiate one nation from another (Smith 2009, 7).
Ethnosymbolists primarily represented by Smith (1987), attempt to reconcile both primordialist and modernist positions by stating that modernity provided the structural conditions that allowed nationalism as an ideology to build a nation around an ethnic core.
Smith (1998) argues that while nations and nationalism may be products of modernity, nations still share an inexorable link to antiquity. Smith contends this link exists because a move from simple traditional ethnic communities to pervasive modern political and social orders is predetermined by the existence of ethnies (Harris 2009, 51). Ethnies are described by Smith (1998, 191) as being a ‘named human population with shared ancestry myths, histories and cultures, having an association with a specific territory, and sense of solidarity’.
19 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach
An ethnie can then be seen as an enduring community that persists throughout time, and has a sense of uniqueness and continuity. In attempting to reconcile both primordialism and modernism, ethnosymbolism runs into the problem of being limited by attempting to distinguish between an ethnic community (or ethnie) from a nation. Similarly, as raised by
Guibernau (2004, 134), ethnosymbolism conflates nation and state definitions, where criteria for the nation is mixed with state functions (like citizenship). This is somewhat contradictory, because if a nation performs state functions then by definition it cannot be born out of antiquity.
A growing body of commentators argue that these classical schools have lost explanatory and analytic value because of their universalistic and causal foundations (Bhabha 1990;
Chatterjee 1993; Billig 1995; Brubaker 2000). Harris (2009, 64) argues that while the classical schools of nationalism explain 19th and 20th century phenomena, they do not quite stretch to the 21st century. This is in particular a response to issues surrounding post- industrialised or post-colonial contexts, as well as grey areas where multiple cultural and political nations overlap within a state. As such, most criticisms stem from the classical school’s inability to explain the ‘cultural fragment’, or what happens when traditional narratives of a homogenous culture are not possible because of an influx of outsiders like ex- colonials, immigrants, or asylum-seekers. Most critiques of classical schools are post-colonial in nature and generally favour deconstructionist attempts to explain and analyse nationalist phenomena that occurs in bi-cultural and post-colonial societies like Fiji.
This has led to the use of constructivism alongside modernism in order to utilise post-modern foundations and is often held up as an alternative to classical analysis. Within the literature constructivists view the nation as primarily socially constructed, emphasising the role that
20 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach social engineering and technical innovation has on establishing a narrative about the nation
(Smith 2010, 86). Under this view, the nation is a particularly distinguishable form of social engineering because of the styling and mode of representation through which it is defined.
For instance, Anderson (1991) describes the nation as an ‘imagined community’, with the nation being fashioned through print-communities that portray a political community in easily identifiable ways. This suggests that Anderson’s main contribution lies in the idea that the nation can exist purely through a discursive basis, and not something contingent upon a series of events, historical or otherwise. Hobsbawm & Ranger (1983) share this view by arguing that even national histories, symbols, traditions, and mythologies have often been invented in order to invoke the idea of a nation and nationalist sentiment. Calhoun (1997,
123) similarly argues that nationalism is best understood as the rhetoric or discourse in which attempts are made at understanding who the relevant people are within the state. A constructivist or discursive approach then values competing claims from actors within the state about the nation as a process which continually affirms nationhood . Nation-building is then thought of as a nationalist project of the state aiming to hold onto conceptual hegemony over the nation (Connor 1994, 40).
Nation-building is different to state-building because it focuses on community development, identity formation and national integration, whereas state-building is more concerned with institutional capacity and governance (Chandler 2006, 192). This means that nation-building is a deliberate process that aims to construct a national format which can support a collective identity within a state (Borgerhoff 2006, 103). In this view, a national identity is the construction of real or perceived commonalities between a population of the state. Anderson
(1991, 7) posits that a national identity is about how people ‘imagine’ their national community as a whole. The nation as an ‘imagined’ community then becomes unified under a
21 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach set of commonalities. Guibernau (2007) argues that national identity is constructed in particular ways. First, a certain image of the nation is disseminated amongst the population.
This image usually draws from a common historical experience, which is aided by the creation and spread of a set of symbols and rituals which reinforce this image. Clear citizenship rights which differentiate between those who legally belong to the state and those who do not also serves to reinforce a sense of national community. Similarly, the creation of a set of enemies – in order to establish a clear differentiation of those who belong to the nation and those who do not – consolidates the community against an external threat.
The final step is through the state either directly or indirectly controlling media and education systems to disseminate particular images of the nation. The generalities of national identity construction provided by Guibernau (2007) are sometimes further broken down into,
‘ethnic’ or ‘civic’ conceptions. This usually refers to the normative elements of national identity, and whether they should only contain exclusive ‘ethnic’ traits based on static historical traits, or ‘civic’ traits based upon acceptance of shared national values.
Primordialists usually argue that ‘ethnic’ traits form the strongest bonds to support a national identity, whereas Dinnen (2007, 3) describes a ‘civic’ orientation as contingent upon an acceptance of shared national values, a common territory, and respect for laws. For Dinnen, this does not mean that sharing a sense of identity and community leads to a homogenous group identity, but rather it should facilitate a sustainable consensus of shared civic goals and tolerance of diversity between the population. The main difference between these two categories is that while ‘civic’ goals are inclusive, ‘ethnic’ goals tend to be exclusive towards dominant ethnic groups within a state. This often means that within ethnically diverse states the promotion of one ethnic group as representative of the nation can lead to contestation by other groups, causing state instability.
22 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach
Guibernau (2007) criticises constructivist approaches towards national identity analysis as placing too much emphasis upon the elite dissemination of discourse in a top-down manner, instead of recognising discourses that can form horizontally across a population. Similarly,
Smith (2003) has described post-modern approaches as too anti-foundationalist since they lack a historical basis. He argues this leads to problems about what is considered a ‘national’ over a ‘group’ identity, because post-modernists offer no general theory for how nations came to be.
Bi-cultural
Successful constructivist and post-modern approaches used within contexts similar to Fiji often provide their own contextual history and attempt to account for both discursive anomalies and Guibernau’s criticisms. Similar cases include the post-colonial and bi-cultural
African and Asian contexts. Particularly of note is the use of post-modern approaches when examining the impact of colonial legacies in bi-cultural societies undergoing contemporary nation-building attempts. These case studies represent the closest comparable explorations to the Fijian context that this thesis focuses upon. Chabal (2008, 41) for instance explores why post-colonial Africa was not constructed in the way it was imagined at independence. Chabal argues this is because of a misapplication of Anderson’s idea of an imagined community, as it has been often employed to explain the African context with the assumption that Africa would modernise like the ‘West’. As such, Chabal reasons that a misunderstood African process of modernisation was behind the failure of Africa nations moving away from the community imagined at independence. This joins other critics, like Partha Chatterjee (1993), who pose the question of whose imagined community is being implemented in a post-colonial context. Chatterjee (1993, 5) focuses on the tribulations of post-colonial India, suggesting
23 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach that Anderson’s idea of an imagined community privileges European and American forms, leaving other societies with no space for alternative imaginings. Particularly of note is the assertion that anti-colonialism aided the formation of alternative imaginings about the nation.
Nation-of-intent
Rotberg (1966) argues that in the African context, nations in the European sense usually did not exist prior to colonial rule, adding that anti-colonial resistance provided a commonly held experience. He argues this acted to build a sense of a national community in lieu of a commonly held language and culture as was found within European contexts. Yet, Rotberg suggests that anti-colonialism in African states did not provide enough impetus to warrant the formation of an overriding national consciousness. Instead, offering that colonialism only half completed the nation-building process, and when independence was attained it left rulers with an unfinished national design, or what Rotberg coins a ‘nation-of-intent’. This observation is particularly applicable to non-African contexts, like the post-colonial states of
Guyana, Trinidad, and Mauritius. As these bi-cultural states suffer from a lack of national integration between ethnic groups stemming from colonialism. Anti-colonial resentment in these cases then only applied to indigenous populations, and not an introduced population like indentured Indian labour. As such, differing ‘nations-of-intent’ existed simultaneously within the same state which often lead to ethnic conflict and division post-independence.
Shamsul (1996) extends and applies the nation-of-intent concept to explain Malaysia, which similarly involves colonial legacies, ethno-linguistic division, and contemporary nation- building attempts. In Malaysia, a bifurcated population between indigenous Malays, and
Chinese and Indian Malays presents a vexing national identity problem. Shamsul describes an
‘official’ national identity that exists within the constitution, and which privileges ethnic
24 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach
Malays. However, he also points out that at the level of ‘everyday social reality’, this conception was and is challenged by three competing conceptions: An ethnic Chinese, an ethnic Malaya, and an Islamic Malay conception of national identity. Shamsul (1996, 328) analyses the conceptions of each of these groups through the nation-of-intent concept, which he defines as a potential future nation which has a territorial entity, a set of institutions, an ideal type citizen, and its own identity profile. Shamsul argues that a nation-of-intent shares a number of already pre-existing and usually uncontested characterisations of the nation, such as a common language, ethnicity, descent, or history. Through his Malaysian case study,
Shamsul highlights that a nation-of-intent can be seen as an articulation arising from conflicting ideas about what the relationship between state and people should be. Shamsul then uses the concept in the Malaysian case to relocate national identity in a wider sociological context of the modernisation processes that occurs within developing countries.
This is predicated on his belief that debates surrounding Malaysian nationalism and national identity has become increasingly politicised within and outside the academe in Malaysia. In doing so, Shamsul puts forward the argument that the nation-of-intent concept provides a way to frame scenarios, like Malaysia, at both a realpolitik and discursive level for analysis.
The overt politicisation of nationalism and national identity in Malaysia certainly has parallels to the Fijian experience, where neutral ground discussing a ‘Fijian’ nation within both the literature and public sphere has historically appeared as inflammatory, contradictory, or non-existent. Similarly, colonial legacies and ethno-linguistic divisions in Fiji previously provoked ethnic allegiances to particular political parties, each with their own respective ideal visions of a future Fijian nation. The next half of the literature deals directly with the nuances and complexity of studying nation-building and national identity in both Melanesia and Fiji.
25 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach
Melanesian literature
The attraction of studying the Melanesian context stems from its uniqueness at both resisting
European forms of political organisation, like the nation-state ideal, while also attempting to hybridise traditional political forms. Though there are reservations about applying this set literature to Fiji, given the politics of places like PNG and Solomon Islands are individually unique, with some circumspection there are some useful insights to be gained. This is because politics withstanding, geographic and developmental process broadly mirror each other across the region. This helps to delineate the reader away from Western or European forms of development and their associated political processes to the unique challenges present across
Melanesia. Most academics point out that the nation-state ideal is problematic in Melanesian countries because multiple ethnic groups, each with a respective language and culture, are forced to coexist alongside other ethnic groups within a resource limited state (Foster 1995,
50). This has led most commentators towards accepting that Melanesian communities often have weak ties towards the state because of a lack of national consciousness, which results in a prevalence of localism (Foster 1995; Otto & Thomas 1997; Dinnen 2008; Leach 2012).
Foster (1995) believes that because there were generally no real drivers for independence within Melanesian states – like resistance against colonial rule3 – the development of a national consciousness was hindered. This leads Foster to argue that when independence was implemented it was often accompanied by an ideal national image, which was produced and disseminated through a state-controlled discourse that attempted to construct a national consciousness. This leads to Foster’s (1995, 1) noteworthy characterisation, and widely accepted view of the Melanesian region, that instead of collections of ‘peoples’ creating their
3 With the exception of Vanuatu.
26 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach own state structures, in Melanesia it is often the state structure that attempts to create a collection of ‘peoples’.
The lack of a cohesive national consciousness is a focal point of literature, as it is often argued as being responsible for the political instability within the region (Foster 1995;
Douglas 2000; Dinnen & Firth 2008). Douglas (2000) believes that religion in the form of
Christianity is usually conflated with the concept of a nation which leads to conflict in multi- ethnic communities. Leach (2013, 450) argues political instability often arises when leaders that belong to particular ethnic groups attempt to nationalise their own cultural values and tradition. This means that particular ethnic groups who find themselves in government are granted a position of power that can define and enforce concepts, such as national identity, upon those who exist outside their ethno-linguistic and cultural group but within the boundary of the same state.
As such, literature dealing with nation-building in Melanesia is often accompanied by the caveat that nation-building in Melanesian terms should be thought of in an abstract and multidimensional way that encompasses a wide range of groups. This has led to a small number of studies (Rutz and Kaplan 1995; Dinnen 2008; Leach 2013) that explore the challenges involved in nation-building in Melanesia. For example, Rutz and Kaplan explore what happens when state infrastructure is seized for particular ethnic interests, with Leach discussing how nation-building tensions can then drive inter-ethnic conflict in places like
Timor-Leste. Dinnen cites the Solomon Islands as an example of the tensions involved in building state infrastructure within traditional societies.
The case studies provided by Rutz and Kaplan (1995), Dinnen (2008) and Leach (2013) lead to an argument that nation-building and state-building cannot be decoupled within Melanesia,
27 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach and should be studied as integrated processes. As Dinnen (2008, 7) discusses, integrated nation and state-building is needed in order to overcome the problems of localism and a reliance on traditional authority. This means that capacity building, like integrating local economies to a national economy through the construction of roads, is also vital for building and sustaining a national consciousness.
Literature on Melanesia then generally concerns itself with case studies that examine deficiencies in the application of European-centric political organisation within the region.
This is usually drawn to the diversity that the Melanesian context presents, through its high ethno-linguistic diversity, poor state infrastructure and relative lack of anti-colonial resistance that resulted in weak ties to a national consciousness. The literature also shows that a central question to the Melanesian region concerns itself firstly with the formation of a national consciousness, and then the development of a national identity. This highlights that there is an emergent theoretical field of literature dealing with Melanesia that in most cases is yet to be fully applied to specific countries within the region, like Fiji.
Fijian Literature
Fiji as a subject of study has attracted a number of different disciplines and approaches.
Correspondingly, conventional examinations of Fiji’s political culture and governance exist alongside numerous anthropological and ethnographies concerned with both colonial and contemporary Fiji. Given that Fiji’s experience under colonial rule was unique, a large amount of literature examines the impacts of colonial rule on contemporary Fiji.
28 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach
Studies examining Fiji’s experience under colonial rule generally focuses upon two areas; the role colonialism played in the construction of tradition in Fiji (France 1969; Jones and Kautz
1981; MacNaught 1982; Lawson 1990; Sahlins 2004) or the effect colonialism had upon race relations, specifically in the political marginalisation of Indo-Fijians (Gillion 1962; Lal
2012). Noticeably, these two areas often converge to explain past and contemporary political events in Fiji, with studies generally exploring the reconstitution of indigenous Fijian tradition by colonial administrators and the resultant post-independence implications. These implications are generally argued to have reinforced political legitimacy in later indigenous ethno-nationalist movements (Lawson 2004a Norton 2009). For instance, Lawson (1992) discusses how the privileging of traditional indigenous authority by colonial administrators affected the drafting of the 1970 constitution, while Trnka (2005) highlights how contemporary political tensions surrounding land arrangements can be drawn to early colonial arbitration. Similarly, nationalist movements within Fiji are discussed in reference to the colonial past, emphasising how colonialism institutionalised ethnic segregation, and led to the state becoming an arena of ethnic contest (Lawson 2004b; Lal 2006a; Norton 2009). A few areas are yet to be explored in Fiji concerning the role of colonialism in the development of a national consciousness. Lawson (2005) does state that a national consciousness likely arose during colonialism, and that a modernist analysis of this would prove more fruitful than an ethno-symbolist or primordialist approach because of Fiji’s unique context, yet this has not been pursued further.
Aside from exploring the colonial underpinnings of ethnic conflict in Fiji, the literature also examines Fiji’s political culture, through either an ethnic or class analysis (Robertson and
Sutherland 2001; Lal 2006a). Robertson and Sutherland (2001) conduct a class analysis of
Fijian politics and society in an attempt to explain some of the contradictions present during the coups. They define these contradictions as things like the relative lack of inter-ethnic
29 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach violence, and a feeling of social alienation held by indigenous Fijians, despite being majority political power holders. While others like Lal (2006a) and Norton (2009) postulate that inter- ethnic conflict lies at the core of understanding the coup culture in Fiji. The class approach by
Robertson and Sutherland introduces the idea of ‘instrumentality’ in Fijian politics insofar as a political elite harnessed indigenous Fijian identity to legitimise their own political ends.
Robertson (2012) highlights the constructed nature of racial politics in Fiji as integrated with social and economic factors, like class and rural/urban divides. Yet this does not explain the complicity of the population’s reaction towards certain persistent political events, like coups, that a nation framed analysis might provide.
The events of 2006 led to a continuing second set of literature examining the causes, and possible future consequences of the Bainimarama coup as it broke heavily with tradition (Lal
2006a; Fraenkel 2007; Hodge 2012). This literature has been critical of Bainimarama’s imposed authoritarian rule, with discussions aimed at the means Bainimarama has employed to deconstruct ethno-nationalist ideas. These means included wide scale media censorship, a lack of democratic processes, alleged corruption, and a lack of transparency. Commentators like Hodge (2012) suggest that in order for Fiji to solve its destabilising ethnic politics, a progressive authoritarianism might be needed.
A return to democracy in 2014 with the election of Bainimarama has seen interest in the area reignited with Ratuva (2015), Lal (2014; 2015) and Fraenkel (2015) respectively commentating on what early indicators should be analysed to ascertain Fiji’s future for political stability. Ratuva (2015) comments that a civics education program is in the process of being implemented nationally, hinting that a civic-nationalist ideal may be one direction.
Fraenkel (2015) similarly addresses recent electoral voting trends, pointing out that this could be indicative of wide scale demographic changes. Meanwhile Lal (2015, 85) suggests that
30 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach changing citizenship and electoral arrangements may be indicative of a political realignment.
Others highlight that the new constitution presents a new image of the Fijian nation that breaks with historical trends (Mudaliar 2018). Generally speaking, contemporary examinations of Fijian politics generally revolve around specific examinations of certain phenomena – like the motives behind coups – which leaves holistic explorations of nation- building relatively limited.
The implication of a gap in the literature in this area means that suggestions of Bainimarama forming a new ‘image’ of the Fijian nation with a corresponding national identity are unexplored with reference to a either a pre-existing theory, or a nationalism based framework. This has left normative claims about addressing ethno-nationalist underpinnings through a civic nationalist discourse without an adequate framework for analysis. While there is a very small amount of literature exploring Fijian national identity, it remains somewhat dated and does not contain a holistic frame to draw from.
Fijian National Identity
Two similar schools of thought can be identified as relevant to ‘Fijian’ national identity within the literature. The first is self-described as the ‘traditionalist school’ and views neo- colonialist institutions like the GCC as indispensable and immoveable to Fijian identity (Bole
1992). The second is dubbed by Ratuva (2005) as the ‘politics of tradition school’ and views
Fijian tradition as deliberately invented and imagined in particular ways to serve a contemporary political purpose (Keesing 1989; Lawson 1996; Robertson and Sutherland
2001). These political purposes generally include justifying unequal socio-economic and political rights in favour of benefiting indigenous Fijians, or in Robertson and Sutherland’s case for benefiting elite indigenous Fijians. Ratuva (2005) unpacks this further by adding that
31 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach three dimensions compose indigenous Fijian identity. The first is that identity is represented at a formal bureaucratic level, which includes institutions and agencies like the GCC and land boards and registries. The second states that neo-colonial behaviour carried out through religion, certain symbols, and traditional authorities are often an enforcement of indigenous identity. The final is the use of everyday symbols, like language, dress, food, and sports to display the markers of indigenous Fijian identity. Except for Ratuva, these theories generally consider ‘Fijian’ to mean only indigenous Fijians, ignoring other sizable populations within
Fiji from being considered as part of the nation. This suggests that these schools may have considered ‘Fijian’ to be entirely exclusive towards indigenous Fijians, with anyone outside of this as constituting an entirely different group altogether. Robertson and Sutherland (2001) do however argue that Fijian should be put into inclusive terms as a necessary step for stability in Fiji, but a follow up study examining recent developments does not yet exist.
Another set of literature comprising primarily of ethnographies and anthropological works also allude to certain ‘national’ characteristics of Fijian identity, but only within certain themes and parameters. May (2014) for instance discusses how the British represented Fiji as a nation of ‘warriors’, yet only explores this in relation to indigenous Fijians. Miller (2008) argues that Indo-Fijian music is distinctly different to Indian music, suggesting a unique ‘Fiji
Indian’ expression of identity exists, but does not base this upon a theoretical underpinning.
Spurrier (2008) similarly examines how food in Fiji has been used to create an inclusive national space in Fiji, but again this is only a limited analysis. Other studies like Voigt-Graf
(2008) examine Indo-Fijian identity as trans-national, often taking on a ‘Pacific’ instead of an
‘Indian’ frame, yet do not substantiate this with a theoretical underpinning. While most of these studies do suggest aspects of a unique Fijian identity, it is only discussed within the confines of their study area. Thus while they provide valuable evidence for aspects of a
32 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach presumed Fijian national identity, there is no supporting theoretical framework within to locate these aspects in a holistic fashion.
The implication of this is that discussion surrounding a national ‘Fijian’ identity that is inclusive of all Fijians has not been thoroughly explored in the literature. This suggests that academic analysis may have treated each ethnic group as constituting their own nation with its own corresponding national identity. Alternatively, and perhaps more likely, they may have grounded their assumptions within primordialism and believed that because indigenous
Fijians are native to Fiji that they are the only ones who can legitimately make claim to a
Fijian ‘national’ identity. This view also explains the lack of literature exploring an Indo-
Fijian ‘national’ identity, as perhaps it was believed that Indo-Fijians held a trans-national or
Indian national identity.
To add to this, another complication in the literature is how ethnic groups are often treated as homogenous blocs yet are simultaneously discussed as internally fragmented (Lawson 1990;
Mangubhai and Mulger 2003). There is a distinct contradiction in the literature that presents a united group identity but stresses the unconformity of this identity within each respective community. As such, there is a lack of theoretical discussion around the existence of these contradictions within the literature that could be explained through a discursive framework.
However, such questions cannot be addressed without a proper theoretical underpinning.
Because of this there is yet to be discussion around when a national consciousness formed in
Fiji, and by extension, when it is appropriate to talk about the formation of a Fijian ‘nation’.
The progression of literature on Fiji shows how dynamic and fluid the current situation is, while containing a number of contradictions surrounding Fiji’s future as a politically stable nation. Yet, what the literature neglects to provided is a theoretical framework for which
33 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach stability claims about the nation can be made from alongside recent data to compare and analyse.
Theoretical Approach
The problems of Fijian nationalism literature are twofold; the first is a distinct gap concerning the development of a national consciousness in Fiji, and the appropriateness of when to talk about a Fijian nation. The second major problem is the form of discussions surrounding a Fijian nation, as they usually prioritise primordialist viewpoints without necessarily recognising them as such. This is a view supported by Lawson (2005), who believes that in terms of exploring nationalism in Fiji a modernist account might provide the most satisfactory explanation. The lack of a current modernist approach of nationalism for
Fiji has arguably led to a weak foundation from which Bainimarama’s contemporary nation- building efforts can be compared against, where primordialist views on national identity are on the surface being replaced by ambiguous civic conceptions. The nation-of-intent concept may provide a way to bridge the literature by providing a modernist framework which can discuss the ongoing nature of a ‘Fijian’ nation.
A modified nation-of-intent concept developed over the course of the thesis, may then provide a suitable framework since it attempts to construct a theory of nationalism specific to
Fiji’s context. Using the nation-of-intent concept allows for discussion about the Fijian nation from a non-totalising position, instead providing its own framework for the various articulations of competing ideological visions of the nation. Because of this, the nation-of- intent approach potentially allows an investigation that spans across colonialism, independence, and the coup era to contemporary Fiji. As such, it allows us to see and analyse competing ideological discourses over the nation in political competition over time.
34 Chapter Two: Literature review and theoretical approach
Chapter three provides the contextual history of colonial state-building in Fiji necessary to develop the nation-of-intent concept so it can be applied in the latter chapters. This is further elaborated on in chapter four which examines a number of underlying national discourses that make-up two competing nations-of-intent which became identifiable in the lead up to independence. Chapter five then traces the ongoing conflict between these nations-of-intent through Fiji’s cycle of elections, coups and constitutional redrafting and ends the first half of the thesis.
The second half of the thesis then begins in chapter six by analysing Bainimarama’s rise to power in 2006 and subsequent implementation of a wide-reaching nation-building program.
This is done in order to contextualise Bainimarama’s challenging of national discourses in chapter seven which is elaborated upon as the implementation of a ‘civic-egalitarian’ nation- of-intent. Importantly, the nation-of-intent concept at this point provides a way to interpret quantitative and qualitative results provided in chapter seven and eight.
35 Chapter Three: State formation
Chapter Three: State formation
This chapter investigates how Fiji’s journey from colonial state-building towards independence influenced conceptions of Fijian nationhood. It does this by examining how statehood was attained in Fiji, since under modernism a nation and state are said to form closely together. Although many authors have already identified colonialism as the main driver of Fijian statehood, the structure and effect of colonial power relations between colonisers, indigenous Fijians, and Indo-Fijians is seldom discussed. This includes the operation of two colonial administrative systems, through indirect and direct forms of rule which are argued in this chapter to have formed two different relationships and expectations of the state by each ethnic community. The chapter starts by exploring Fiji’s pre-colonial history to evaluate primordialist claims of a nascent Fijian nation. It then considers whether
Fiji could have represented a state prior to colonial rule, or instead was an amalgamation of competing chiefdoms. After considering this the chapter moves onto the colonial period as an explanation for Fiji’s statehood, examining the indirect rule of indigenous Fijians before contrasting this with the direct rule of Indo-Fijians. The chapter ends by outlining colonial state-building as responsible for the development of two nations-of-intent explored in later chapters.
Pre-colonial Societies
Prior to colonisation, the first reports of ‘Fiji’ were documented by settlers and missionaries trading with sea-faring Tongans who described the population as ‘fearsome warriors’ (France
1969). At this time, the indigenous population called the main island of Fiji ‘Viti’, however when British Explorer Captain James Cook visited Tonga and asked what the neighbouring
36 Chapter Three: State formation islands were called, they responded in their pronunciation with Fisi. Cook then anglicised it as ‘Feejee’, which was then altered into ‘Fiji’ with its inhabitants as the ‘Fijians’ (France
1969).
France (1969) notes that the terms ‘Fiji’ and ‘Fijian’ at this stage are deceptive in the uniformity that they create, since early observations reflect numerous differences among the inhabitants of Fiji, owing to the presence of both western Melanesian and eastern Polynesian features. As such, pre-European contact Fiji is often described as a period of ceaseless inter- tribal skirmishing as well as on-going migration and resettlement (France 1969; Scarr 1989;
1990). Of the settlers and missionaries who began arriving in Fiji around the 1830s, they started to find a number of cultural, political and linguistic discrepancies between the different regions of Fiji (Shultz 1979; France 1969). Linguistic differences were found to exist in both the east and west of Fiji, so much so they were reported as nearly unintelligible from one another (Geraghty 1983). Custom and culture also varied region to region, with reports that some ceremonies conducted in one area were not entirely understood in another
(Scarr 1989). Politically, eastern and western Fiji contained a split between chiefly and big man systems, to the extent that the power and influence that a chief could wield varied from place to place (Scarr 1989). For instance, while a chief usually gained enough political authority through his hereditary linkages to compel his own clan to perform their duties, in some cases chiefly power alone was not regarded high enough for this (Nicole 2010). This saw a growth in the big man system in the west, which operated around personal charisma rather than hereditary (Lawson 1992).
As previously discussed, primordalists often describe the nation as a natural phenomenon that statically exists throughout history supported by an ethnic core. In pre-settler Fiji however, the nature of warring parties and malleable regional borders created a situation of both
37 Chapter Three: State formation political and cultural flux. The diversity across Fiji at this time is reflected by both colonisers and authors alike, who regarded the separate regions and provinces to almost resemble states in and of themselves (Thomas 1990; Sahlins 2004). As such, both pre-contact and early settler Fiji appears to neither contain a homogenous ethnic core, nor static conception of what
‘Fijian’ culture entailed.
The primordialist argument of nation formation applying to Fiji falls short here, mainly because colonial intervention in 1874 occurred before Fiji could naturally develop a stable ethnic core and culture that could resemble a subsequent nation. Similarly, an argument about a ‘Fijian’ nation appearing prior to a stable Fijian state would also be troubled by explaining regional differences as opposed to national4. If the era of warring regions in Fiji continued and resolved themselves, primordialist claims may have proven more robust. These issues notwithstanding, contemporary national identity construction appears to be moving away from exclusive ethnic conceptions based on primordialism, towards inclusive civic conceptions. Analysing contemporary developments in Fiji through a prism of primordialism would prove to be counter-productive because of definitional problems, such as invidious comparisons5, and theoretical contradictions.
Constructivism, underlined by modernism, provides a way to avoid definitional as well as theoretical contradictions since it provides flexibility in describing nation formation. The following section addresses why the ‘warring’ states of Fiji were not ‘states’ as we might best know them, but rather acted as a transitory stage towards full statehood, as required by constructivism. Most definitions of statehood generally revolve around a few key elements.
4 See Lawson (2005) in Nationalism and the politics of ethnicity in Fiji: Critical perspectives on primordialism, modernism and ethno-symbolism for a more detailed deconstruction of notions surrounding a pre-colonial ‘Fijian’ nation. 5 An invidious comparison refers to making an unfair comparison by arguing from a pre-determined normative position that precludes alternatives.
38 Chapter Three: State formation
These centre around the centralisation of power, usually displayed through the ability to collect taxes, raise an army, or gather resources through mobilising labour (Fried 1967;
Carneiro 1981). Carneiro (1981, 37) argues that ‘chiefdoms’ are a precursor to statehood and can be seen as the initial political system that first transcends local autonomy in favour of a multi-community political unit. A precise definition of a chiefdom is offered by Carneiro
(1981, 38) who describes a chiefdom as an ‘autonomous political unit comprising of a number of villages or communities under the permanent control of a paramount chief’.
According to Carneiro, warfare played an instrumental role in the initial step towards a chiefdom since waging war often required a coalescing of villages for defending territory to preserve scant resources. Chiefs then gained power through the limited and not complete redistribution of these resources, taking a portion as a tribute that reinforced their own esteem as a chief and head of a multi-community. Early settler Fiji might then be better described as an amalgamation of competing chiefdoms, with some facets of statehood only existing rudimentarily – instead of being described as complete warring states. These chiefdoms may be best exemplified by the regions of pre-colonial Ba and Ra, and later through the confederacies of Burebasaga, Kubuna and Tovata.
Chiefdoms
Carneiro (1981) contends that chiefdoms acted as a transitory stage to statehood because they represent a limited upscaling of administrative systems. This is because Carneiro argues that chiefdoms, while having state-like attributes, only contain two levels of administration – between a chief and a district of villages. A state generally consists of three levels, from a single village, to a district of villages, which are then incorporated into a single overarching national polity. There are a number of views on what prompts a political community towards
39 Chapter Three: State formation statehood. Two general views contend that either the state develops as a coercive mechanism to resolve internal conflict that arises from class stratification, or that it develops as an integrative mechanism in order to coordinate and regulate different parts of an increasingly complicated society (Haas 1981). The major difference between these schools is whether the transition occurs from a need to control an increasingly conflict bound society, or to further integrate an already ordered society. As MacNaught (1982) describes, the period prior to colonialism contained ‘three millennia of migrations, trading, kinship connections, shifting political alliances between dominant lineages in war and peace, and problems with Tongan imperialism’.
The conflict explanation also appears to have been tacitly accepted by British colonialists when they consented to Fiji’s cession. This is because cession was partly initiated to limit the effects of inter-tribal warfare in Fiji, which was spurred on by the growing influence of settlers as well as complications arising from the black-birding of labour and land title discrepancies (MacNaught 1982). The conflict theory of state formation applied to Fiji suggests that the existence of a relatively homogenous indigenous ‘Fijian’ culture, political or otherwise, appears to not have existed prior to colonial rule, since they were split across skirmishing chiefdoms.
Jones and Kautz (1981, 21) argue that the appearance of the state also marks an increase in ideological scale, since the inclusion of greater territory and people into a state means they must have a degree of commonly held beliefs – a nation – in order to integrate said people.
Given that colonialism marks Fiji’s first foray towards true statehood, the following will firstly examine the process of state formation in Fiji during before moving onto the effect this process had on the development of a national consciousness in the next chapter.
40 Chapter Three: State formation
Cession
Cession in Fiji was initially raised by self-proclaimed Tui Viti (King) Seru Epenisa Cakobau, who reached out to the British in 1858 to cede the islands on the condition that his debt to the
United States would be repaid (Routledge 1965, 38). However, the British rejected this after four years, partly because a report by British Colonel W.J Smythe questioned Cakobau’s authority as king to cede Fiji, given that other paramount chiefs Smythe had spoken to had reservations about the legitimacy of Cakobau’s title (Routledge 1965, 39). In order for
Cakobau’s debt to be resolved, he approached the Australia Colonial Sugar Refining company (CSR) offering them land in return for repaying his debt. Problematically, the resulting influx of planters and settlers saw confusion reign around land arrangements, with no government body in place to settle land disputes. An interim legislature comprised of settlers, Cakobau, and other chiefs formed in order to deal with the resulting problems in
1871. However, the legislature proved unworkable, forcing consul Thurston at the request of
Cakobau to place a formal application with the Crown for the cession of Fiji. In 1874 this request was granted through the Deed of Cession and saw Cakobau renounce his title of Tui
Viti before the arrival of Fiji’s first and most influential governor, Arthur Gordon.
Some immediate cession policies introduced by Governor Gordon included a prohibition on the alienation of native land, instead expressing land as communally owned by indigenous
Fijians. Restrictions were also placed on indigenous Fijian labour working for European sugar-cane planters due to a belief it would undermine the indigenous Fijian communal lifestyle (Routledge 1965, 303). Because of these labour restrictions, Gordon opted to import
Indians under an indenture scheme in 1879. The policies within Gordon’s so-called Native
Administration initially formed the backbone of state construction within colonial Fiji, since
41 Chapter Three: State formation they served to both limit the impact of colonialism upon indigenous Fijians while providing economic viability through the indenturing of Indian labour. Importantly, indentured Indian labourers were ruled directly as opposed to the indirectly ruled indigenous Fijians, explained below.
Subsequently, the colonial state-building experience of indigenous Fijians was markedly different to that of Indo-Fijians. A major reason for this lies in the split administration between both ethnic groups. This is because not only did it lead to a physical separation, which later would become stringently enforced by colonials, but also an ideological one about the role of the state. Given the scope and differences of the policies involved, the state-building policies that affected indigenous Fijians are discussed before that of Indo-Fijians.
Indirect Rule & State-building: Indigenous Fijians
The major difference in how Fiji was ruled compared to other British colonies lies in
Governor Gordon’s ‘indirect’ approach. As encapsulated by Mamdani (2012), ‘indirect’ rule was a system of native administration where a colonised people were claimed to be ruled through their own immemorial ‘customs’. As noted by Veracini (2008), Fiji is one of the first examples of indirect rule use – predating Mamdani’s landmark work centred of indirect rule within Africa. As such, the genealogy of indirect rule can be applied to Fiji. This means that although key authors like Mamdani are referenced throughout the chapter, the operation of indirect rule within Fiji has potential implications for this area of the literature. This is because Mamdani (1996) argues that the ideas underlying indirect rule first arose in response to a rebellion in British India in 1857 by then British India’s chief legal official, Henry
Maine. Maine believed that colonial policy needed to reinforce key stabilising tenets of
42 Chapter Three: State formation
Indian life, through their own traditional bonds of custom and kinship in order to stop rebellious uprisings. Mantena (2010) pursues this topic more keenly, arguing that Maine represents an intersection between defending liberalism and critiquing it – resulting in its reconstitution as a pillar of indirect rule. This is because Maine believed the damaging impacts of imperial modernisation upon India would be reduced if colonisers could ‘protect’
Indian forms of social organisation by preserving customary laws and traditions through codification (Matena 2010, 53). For Mamdani however, the challenge rests in explaining how
Maine’s formulation of indirect rule spread to Africa. This is somewhat contested, with
Mamdani suggesting that the ideas originally spread in a response to an Islamic revolt in
Sudan, however other theorists contest this point (Kennedy 2013). In a similar vein to
Mantena, Mamdani tangentially argues that Maine’s ideas filtered throughout the colonies, suggesting that some of the British Administrators in India later moved to Africa.
Yet, Fiji appears to represent a missing link in the journey of indirect rule, if not represent an entirely different path in application of indirect rule within other British colonies. This is for two reasons. The first is that the report by Colonel Smythe used to reject Cakobau’s initial offer to cede Fiji contained suggestions on how to best deal with the governance of indigenous Fijians – alluding to some of the principles of indirect rule (Smythe 1864). The second, as we will find out, relates to Governor Gordon’s motives behind the implementation of indirect rule of indigenous Fijians, which closely resembles the logic applied by Maine in
India as described by Matena (2010). That is, that indirect rule through co-opting local traditions and customs provided a safety net to the consequences of modernisation brought about by colonisation. Similarly, both Maine and Gordon placed a high value on the protection of land titles, by attempting to arrange for the codification of land holdings for the indigenous population. While it is outside the scope of this thesis, the consequences of
43 Chapter Three: State formation
Smythe’s report and Gordon’s use of indirect rule within Fiji warrants a substantial inquiry of its own surrounding Fiji’s place within the transnational genealogy of indirect rule.
In Fiji, indirect rule was largely predicated on co-opting the unequal relationship between indigenous Fijians and their chiefs. British colonisers came to recognise class similarities between themselves and indigenous Fijians through ceremonies that reflected the disparity of power relations between a ‘commoner’ and a ‘chief’ (Smythe 1864). Importantly, Fijian provinces where this chiefly relationship was at its strongest – Bau – also overlapped with the initial staging ground for British and indigenous Fijians relations. The British through the
Deed of Cession worked to co-opt the ‘chiefly’ relationship by establishing the Queen as a paramount chief at the start of colonialism in 1879. This initial co-opting of the chiefly system allowed the British to rule indirectly from afar, without the need for a full investment of colonial administration staff. This is because most colonial tasks were carried about by indigenous Fijian commoners who answered to their chiefs, who then ultimately answered to the paramount chief, the Queen. However, because of differences in political rule across
Fiji’s provinces the potency of chiefly authority to compel their village to carry out colonial tasks varied. This is particularly apparent in the highlands, where the expansion of colonial indirect rule faced difficulties because of an apparent lack of chiefly authority. In this case, indirect rule through the use of chiefs failed because of a difference in the authority of a chief in the highlands, as opposed to the stronger authority held by chiefs on the seaside – like
Bau6. The lack of chiefly authority to administer colonial tasks in the highlands was mistakenly interpreted by the governor as an act of resistance, since he believed every part of
Fiji had a chiefly system similar to Bau. In order to reinforce indirect rule within the highlands, the colonial administration would either transplant chiefs from another area, or
6 Colonial resistance at this time is thoroughly covered in Nicole (2010) Disturbing History: Resistance in Early Colonial Fiji.
44 Chapter Three: State formation send a colonial administrator armed with indigenous Fijian ‘traditions’ to enforce colonial tasks within the village (Nicole 2010). This process of indirect rule by Gordon through the
‘traditions’ of indigenous Fijians was organised through a ‘native administration’.
Gordon believed that through his Native Administration he could simultaneously preserve indigenous Fijian custom and tradition while expanding state authority and capacity within
Fiji. In attempting to do so however, the problem of regional differences in both tradition and politics had to be resolved. For Gordon, the cure was simple, by imposing selected indigenous Fijian traditions universally over regional nuances. The attempted universalisation of indigenous Fijian customs was paramount for indirect rule to be effective, but with a consequence of itself contributing to the warping of indigenous Fijian ‘custom’. At this point much has already been written on effects of attempting to universalise Fijian custom through
Native Administration, with major contributions by Lawson (1992) on the chiefly system and by France (1969) on customs surrounding land ownership. What is notable about these works, and others conducted in a similar vein, is the difference of opinion between colonials and indigenous Fijians about the authenticity of colonially-reformed indigenous Fijian culture. This is summarised in France (1969, 108):
Whatever outward semblance of a traditional or indigenous system Gordon’s native administration possessed for European observers, Fijians clearly regarded it as an imported institution directly under the control of the governor.
Interestingly, these accounts indicate that indigenous Fijians did not believe the alterations made by the governor were representative of their culture, but rather accepted it as a condition of colonial rule. This contrasts sharply with post-independence arguments by
45 Chapter Three: State formation indigenous Fijian ethno-nationalists concerning the immemorial and unchanging nature of their culture.
Governor Gordon’s Native Administration was only possible if indigenous Fijians had a uniform system of immemorial customs by which to co-opt. However, as previously discussed, no such uniform system existed – albeit some commonalities did – for Gordon to co-opt right away. As such, the system of indirect rule also helped to create awareness of the state through its attempts to enforce a uniform set of ‘immemorial’ customs. The main example of this is again present in the way chiefs were viewed differently within interior Fiji as oppose to sea-bound villages. Establishing one set of tradition, particularly one which supported the colonial economy, was vital for Gordon. The focus on communal labour as a way to provide the colony with much needed produce was entirely dependent upon a chief’s authority to compel his village to carry out such tasks. Thus, indirect rule was at risk if chiefly authority itself came under threat.
Anti-colonial uprisings as seen in the interior of Fiji provoked colonial attention in 1875, and saw the establishment of a constabulary force mainly composed of those from the exterior of
Fiji who attempted to reinforce chiefly authority within these areas through more direct means. Similarly, a chief’s authority was further legitimised by the establishment of traditional law courts, which would persecute indigenous Fijian commoners who did not adhere to village bylaws. Although these courts generally sought to enforce indigenous
‘traditions’ they in effect redefined traditions considered less desirable by colonials by not enforcing some them, like tribute payments in the form of lala.
In step with this, sanitation policies aimed at ‘cleaning’ up villages also attempted to redefine village life by stealth, favouring a more ‘colonial’ image. These sanitary provisions
46 Chapter Three: State formation sometimes included a village relocation or re-arrangement of village quarters for inspection accessibility. Along with this, sleeping quarters were re-arranged in order to stop males sleeping in the same areas as other males who were married. Again, if rules were not followed then punitive punishments were issued through the courts. Such policies were not necessarily about moderating behaviour within the colony but rather acted as a device to display state power when they were not followed, as Thomas argues (1990, 168):
The underlying rational of prohibitions and stipulations was not the prevention or imposition of specific practices because these really matter in particular, specification and regulation were rather the ends in themselves, which constituted the ambit of state control.
Even if the measures were not adopted, the fact that villages attempted to skirt their implementation also meant they were aware of the state. This is what Thompson argues created a tangible sense of government in rural areas. As such state-building did not just focus on building up the colony’s material capacity and infrastructure, but also concerned itself with ordering Fiji’s internal power relations under the Crown.
Land reform proved the most difficult aspect of ‘ordering’ the colony through indirect rule while state-building. This is because it revealed the main tensions between indirect rule and the universalisation of nuanced indigenous Fijian traditions. In order to manage the colony while ensuring that indigenous Fijian ‘traditions’ were maintained, Gordon needed to ensure that the pre-cession chaos over land arrangements between Europeans and indigenous
Fijians was reined in. This chaos arose from general misconceptions over the nature of land ownership, and the relinquishing of land rights through sales between indigenous Fijians and
Europeans. This sometimes saw chiefs ‘selling’ land to Europeans for trivial amounts
47 Chapter Three: State formation without the consent of the occupants, or rival tribes selling a piece of land that did not belong to them – leaving the purchaser to deal with the consequences (France 1969, 49).
Ordered by the Secretary of State in Britain, Gordon was tasked with devising a system of land administration that adhered to existing tenures and ownership as much as possible
(France 1969, 110). To do so Gordon worked under the assumption that land tenure itself had its own immemorial indigenous Fijian tradition and by working under this assumption hoped to slow the supposed degradation of indigenous Fijian culture initiated by Europeans.
Recording indigenous Fijian landownership through their own supposed traditions represented a way to provide stability over land use for planters while also supporting indirect rule. Gordon’s land policy would eventually differentiate land ownership between
Europeans and indigenous Fijians through creating a separate category of landownership as freehold. However, codifying landownership internally between indigenous Fijians proved to be the most complex venture of the administration7.
Gordon initially asked the Council of Chiefs to outline what traditionally recognised land rights looked like so that legislation could be drafted for the registering of land to fit this conception (France 1969, 110). As France (1969, 111) records, the chiefs concluded that land should be divided up among the occupants individually or as large blocks. However,
Gordon was not seeking advice on the future use of land, but rather wanted to know how land customs had been controlled in the past, so that this assumed ‘custom’ might be preserved. Problematically, the council could not come to an agreement about the customary disposal of land rights. The council also found it hard to find common ground over the exact definitions of traditional terms, like mataqali8. France (1969, 12) argues that incessant inter- tribal skirmishing coupled with continuous migration and resettlement during pre-contact
7 This is largely because the Commission found that indigenous Fijians often alienated land amongst themselves (France 1969). 8 Eventually it was settled that mataqali would refer to the landowning unit (France 1969).
48 Chapter Three: State formation times meant that no enduring system of land settlement existed within Fiji. France stresses this further stating that no rigid system of rules for the disposal of land rights had even been evidenced within the earliest stages of indigenous Fijian tradition. With land and property rights often understood as fluid and changing by indigenous Fijians prior, including during the early stages of colonisation9. The council eventually concluded that true land ownership stayed with the mataqali alone, and that it was not possible or lawful for any mataqali to alienate their own land (France 1969, 113). This decision officially introduced the concept of the inalienability of land and communal ownership within Fiji, and in doing so framed how land relations would be understood for the next century.
The inalienability of land aided Gordon’s use of indirect rule, namely because it reduced, and in some cases reversed, the leverage that Europeans had over pre-cession alienated land.
Claiming and enforcing land inalienability as part of indigenous Fijian tradition allowed
Gordon a level of control over land arrangements between indigenous Fijians and settlers, since it gave Gordon the final say on what land was to be made alienable. It also served to place European settlers and indigenous Fijians within two different land-owning categories under the state.
The next step in this process was for indigenous Fijians to register land under the newly created Lands Claim Commission. Importantly, the commission found that among indigenous Fijians land was actually alienable – contrary to what was stated by the chiefs – with instances of alienability occurring via a dowry, or as a result of friendly intercourse or aid rendered during war. Registration of land was left to provincial councils, who were
9 As such, attempting to formalise land arrangements through a land registry also served to centralise land authority within the state. This change in power relations from their traditional moorings towards favouring the state raised suspicion, because of the amount of influence that was gained by mediating internal land disputes.
49 Chapter Three: State formation required to define and differentiate land boundaries within and outside of communities in writing. After recording these boundaries, they would then be checked in person and set down within the Register of Native Lands (France 1969, 130). Yet attempting to define boundaries faced immediate opposition from indigenous Fijians, not only because they believed that it was a ploy from the state to confiscate and sell their lands, but also because it undermined traditional authority. As France (1969, 131) explains, this is because the permanent settlement of exclusive rights to land would also deprive elders of their authority, which was gained through their ability to deliberate and resolve complex land claims.
Similarly, land recorded under the mataqali was often challenged amongst indigenous
Fijians, who preferred land to be recorded under ‘family holdings’ or even individually.
These inconsistencies surrounding land registration were raised by Governor im Thurn, who stated that rights to land differed throughout Fiji and that most land claims were based upon recent settlements. Both im Thurn, and later the administrative officer G.V Maxwell, pushed for more ubiquitous means of land registering. However, devising of alternatives was ultimately rebuked in favour of the mataqali registration that Gordon initially laid down.
This was partly in response to im Thurn’s attempts to alienate unused lands for agriculture, though Gordon believed that even unused land within Fiji ultimately had a claimant based on tradition. Gordon’s underlying belief was that inalienable land ownership and indigenous
Fijian tradition were inseparably linked, and vital to the health of indigenous Fijian society.
This meant that despite the commission finding contrary evidence to the existence of inalienable land rights informed by tradition, nothing could be done about it. This eventually led to the situation that France (1969, 174) summarised at the time of writing:
Whilst in village life the system [mataqali] is ignored or evaded wherever possible, it is, at the national level, lauded and defended as being at the very foundation of Fijian social order. Leading Fijian
50 Chapter Three: State formation
politicians are publically committed to its preservation inviolate against mounting pressure for change from an Indian population.
Essentially, once a land distinction between indigenous Fijians and Europeans was noticed, particularly by elite indigenous Fijians, there was no alternative course. This led to indigenous Fijians resisting any final break down of proprietary land rights, stopping the potential encroachment of Europeans, and in the future, Indo-Fijians. The defiance towards a uniform system of permanent settlement made it harder to rule indirectly, as the state could not directly impinge upon indigenous Fijians. Though indirect rule empowered itself through assumptions of tradition, these ‘traditions’ were now being used as a form of colonial resistance. This is because indigenous Fijians were able to internally avoid the system of mataqali registration, while simultaneously recognising it as an external barrier against the ownership of land and control by others.
Land reform was not the only way awareness of the state spread, or the only route towards the universalisation of indigenous Fijian culture. Education and religion, being intimately linked prior to colonialism, also played a vital role. This started with Methodist missionaries being the first to codify indigenous ‘Fijian’ language in order to increase literacy among indigenous Fijians, though only codifying the province of Bau’s language (Gaunder 1999).
Although a number of missionaries attempted to gain a foothold in Fiji, including Roman
Catholics, Seventh Day Adventists and Anglicans, Methodists won over because they adopted the ‘Fijian’ language to teach scripture. Teaching within the boundaries of a native language also served to tacitly introduce segregated schooling, as language barriers also relegated missionary schools to bias indigenous Fijians. Where Methodists worked with a positive view of indigenous Fijian education, colonial views varied.
51 Chapter Three: State formation
Colonial education policies originally only looked after European children by establishing free government run public schools (Gaunder 1999, 31). Increasing Methodist influence combined with the pressure and desire of elite indigenous Fijians wanting their children to be schooled forced a rethink of colonial education policy. Underlining the formation of colonial education policy was a belief that each ‘race’ within Fiji had a different role to play within society, and because of this different ‘races’ required different education. This amounted to unofficial support for the segregation of schools that was already at work through the
Methodists. It also meant that indigenous Fijian education generally revolved around providing technical training and primary health care since these were seen as vital to the running of the colony (Gaunder 1999, 103). However, school segregation also occurred internally for indigenous Fijians, with the children of chiefs given an academic education that involved learning English, as opposed to the children of ‘commoner’ indigenous Fijians who were usually given vocational training.
The problem caused by attempting to state-build through sketching different educational outcomes, and vague education policies for different groups is best evidenced by the differentiation between the educational outcomes of ‘chiefly’ and ‘commoner’ indigenous
Fijian children. For example, children of chiefly origin were often sent to New Zealand to complete an academic education. This internal differentiation between ‘chiefly’ and
‘commoner’ children reinforced indirect rule early on within the colony, as it normalised power relations between elite and commoner indigenous Fijians by transferring traditional privileges into modern privileges. This is because these children often received early access to the language needed for politics and filling elite roles within the government, English.
The state did however, run some schools themselves, like the Queen Victoria School (QVS), and also supported voluntary agencies starting schools. This namely allowed provincial
52 Chapter Three: State formation councils to levy taxes for the creation of un-denominational schools. Government running of schools only increased when the Methodist missionaries began to pull out around the 1930’s, as they relinquished their schools to either provincial councils or the state directly. By taking over missionary schools the trend of segregated mono-racial schools continued unabated in lieu of a centralised education policy. As the colony matured, the lack of a centralised policy began to show through the reliance on voluntary agencies establishing schools with the help of ‘grant in aid’ schemes. The split between Methodist run schools, provincial, and state run, combined with a lack of a centralised curriculum, meant that in the 1950s indigenous Fijians found themselves underrepresented in secondary schools compared to Indo-Fijians. This is largely because the Indo-Fijian community outpaced indigenous Fijians in taking advantage of grant schemes to establish their own schools. As such, the number and quality of secondary schools available to indigenous Fijians – who relied on the state – was far less than community run Indo-Fijian counterparts.
The lack of a centralised education policy on schools, and school building – with the exception of educating chiefly children – fed into the system of indirect rule. This is because educating chiefly children in English would allow these children to eventually become part of the administration themselves. However, limiting the accessibility of English tuition between elite and commoner indigenous Fijians also served to reinforce the existence of the state, since the state was the main provider of English teaching schools. While this division in
English tuition between elite and commoner Fijians would eventually subside in the face of commoner indigenous Fijian demands – who recognised the power learning English carried – it did highlight an emerging problem within the colony of the different ideological approaches taken by different Governors over the course of colonialism.
53 Chapter Three: State formation
The general confusion over education policy and the running of schools reflected the inconsistent attitudes of Governors. Despite Governor Gordon being the progenitor of indirect rule in Fiji, he was only one of a large succession of governors. Underlying state- building within Fiji was an internal tension between its different governors about the length of indirect rule before the ‘communal’ way of life was replaced by the introduction of direct rule and accompanying ‘individualist’ philosophies. Although Gordon instated indirect rule under an assumption that indigenous Fijian culture was immemorial – and assumed to be consistent – at various times other governors found adhering to these tenets proved extremely difficult.
Governor im Thurn found this out while attempting to balance the needs of the economy with
Gordon’s adherence to tradition, by allowing the alienation of surplus and unused land for agricultural production, as well as encouraging individual agriculture amongst indigenous
Fijians. However, im Thurn’s attempts to promote individualist policies called Gordon – now named Lord Stanmore – back into Fijian politics, who defended the inalienability of land in
Fiji all the way from the House of Lords, forcing im Thurn to put his ideas to rest10. Im
Thurn’s questioning of Gordon’s native administration, and the effectiveness of indirect rule through communalism, exposed internal colonial tensions surrounding the governing of Fiji and the assumptions of Fijian society (Ratuva 2013, 13). Gordon believed that land and social structures were strictly tied together within the fabric of indigenous Fijian culture, and any separate changes to either land or social structures would risk the health of indigenous Fijian society. Although Stanmore put a stop to im Thurn in 1909, individualism was revisited under Governor Fletcher in the 1930’s, who allowed almost 1000 indigenous Fijians to be exempt from communal labour duties in order to pursue wage work. This allowed some
10 The Apolosi Nawai movement also challenged Gordon’s assumptions as it advocated for an indigenous Fijian run trading company (MacNaught 1982, 77).
54 Chapter Three: State formation indigenous Fijians to participate in a growing cash economy which exposed them to markets that expanded beyond there localities, instead of only producing goods under communal labour for tax collection. This exposure towards wage work and larger markets was further sparked by World War II and its aftermath.
The beginnings of Fiji’s military and international participation started with the establishment of a non-active and majority indigenous Fijian group called the Fiji Defence Force, since Fiji was not officially permitted to actively participate in the first World War. The non- participation of indigenous Fijians during World War I stemmed not from their own unwillingness, but rather because of British colonial policy. In fact, most indigenous Fijians thought it was an insult not to be allowed to participate in defence of the Queen, notably with highly prominent indigenous Fijian, Lala Sukuna, enlisting under the French Foreign Legion to fight (MacNaught 1982).
World War II however was a different story with a reversal of the previous policy now allowing Fiji to participate in the war effort. Immediately volunteers enlisted in the Fiji
Defence Force at the urging of then Governor Mitchell. Though indigenous Fijian action was mainly restricted to the Solomon Islands, the experiences of the war overall exposed indigenous Fijians to growing racial inequality between themselves and Europeans.
Anthropologist Geddes (1945) found that prior to the war, racial discrimination by Europeans towards indigenous Fijians included separation within hospital wards, cinemas and public facilities like restaurants, as well as within the civil service. As Norton (2013) argues, contact and intermingling with American and New Zealand soldiers equalised perceptions of race, since they jarred against perceptions of Europeans who were often privileged by the state above indigenous Fijians. This exposure to another class of white people who were treated
55 Chapter Three: State formation equally and mixed with indigenous Fijians, strengthened a sense of racial unity amongst indigenous Fijians. European administrator anxieties, similarly, flared with an influx of tourists mixing with indigenous Fijians, fearing that it would lead to a loss of ‘white superiority’.
An eventual dissipation of racial barriers began to resolve, not only because of the social exposure that the war provided, but also because indigenous Fijians were starting to find common cause with Indo-Fijians on racial grounds against Europeans – particularly on wage disputes. This is because economically the boost from servicemen as customers allowed more indigenous Fijians to take part in the cash economy, encouraging individual enterprise.
Culminating with these two developments were two pieces of important legislation. The first allowed for salary discrimination between Europeans and non-Europeans. The other was a plan to abolish the native affairs department by absorbing Fijian affairs into the district administration, which would be placed directly under British officials – almost eliminating indirect rule in favour of direct rule. The war also saw the replacement of then Governor
Luke with Governor Mitchell, who was opposed to the white racialist attitudes of his predecessor.
Mitchell’s tenure would greatly shift the future of the colony after the war by seeing an end to both a civil service pay discrimination case, and an attempted reorganisation of the native affairs department. If passed, the reorganisation would have effectually removed indirect rule and chiefly power from government. Mitchells moves were supported by district administration reports that exemptions from communal village life had proven ‘unsatisfactory in its results’ (Norton 2013), adding to criticisms of the supposed detrimental effects individualism was having upon indigenous Fijians.
56 Chapter Three: State formation
Mitchell himself even noticed that the post-war atmosphere had left indigenous Fijians with a different outlook, that left people in a ‘melancholy wilderness’. Similarly, it was feared that unrest might spring from the thousands of soldiers and labourers who had been left with new post-war perspectives. For these reasons, instead of pursuing with reorganising the Native
Affairs department – through removing chiefly influence from government – the opposite occurred. Chiefly authority was further empowered within government by way of a newly formed Fijian Administration.
The Fijian Administration was greatly influenced by Sukuna, who had previously persuaded the Council of Chiefs and provincial councils to allow the management of Fijian lands to be placed under a centralised statutory authority, the Native Land Trust Board (NLTB). Sukuna had also previously been very critical about the pursuit of individualism as a development route for indigenous Fijians through arguing that centuries of western civilisation and industrialisation had informed European ideas of individualism, of which Fiji had no requisite history to draw from (MacNaught 1982, 153). This left Sukuna believing that communalism provided:
The most natural, the most convenient, and the cheapest unit of administration and for bestowing most effectively those inestimeable gifts of civilisation can bring to a native race – medical attention, education in the broadest sense of the word, and religious teaching.
Cited in MacNaught 1982, 152.
Thus, a return to communalism away from individualism also meant further empowering chiefs at a time when their own power was waning alongside the British in 1940. The strengthening of chiefly authority through the Fijian Administration greatly aided in returning indigenous Fijians back to their villages. It did this by giving the Fijian Affairs Board (FAB)
57 Chapter Three: State formation complete control over formulating and enforcing rules for village life, meaning that chiefs now held the power over British district administrators when dealing with indigenous Fijian matters – instead of the reverse. Similarly, the secretary for the FAB now sat on the
Executive Council allowing privileged access to the governor. These changes represented a complete reversal from the ideas initially laid down by Gordon, who attempted to rule indirectly through indigenous Fijian tradition by universalising it so British administrators could in effect tell indigenous Fijians what their traditions were. This change to the FAB signalled the slow decline of colonial indirect rule, since it put the rulebook back in the hands of chiefs.
A return to communalism in the perceived safety of villages was also used a way to measure the development of indigenous Fijians. This insulation within villages reinforced the communalisation of labour, with the hope that collective financial and social security interests would incentivise communal labour efforts over individual pursuits (MacNaught
1982, 155). However, as MacNaught (1982, 155) reports a reliance on communal labour meant that domestic tasks, like house repairs, often took priority over tax and revenue raising agricultural work. Similarly, restrictions on personal movement loosened enough so that by
1956 a quarter of indigenous Fijians opted to work under a wage or outside the confines of a village rather than communally.
MacNaught (1982, 157) believes that the real failure of a return to communalism rested upon leadership, stating that because Sukuna chose a top-down heavy bureaucratic administrative system it could not provide inspirational leadership at the local level needed for commercial agriculture. But what the FAB did do was reinforce the spirit behind the initial native administration at a time when previous power structures were being challenged through both the experiences of war and a growing population of Indo-Fijians that now equalled
58 Chapter Three: State formation indigenous Fijians. In doing so the FAB constructed and reinforced that a relationship with the state existed for indigenous Fijians and no one else. This resulted in the FAB being acknowledged externally as a hallmark of indigenous ethnic identity and strength, while becoming internally resented because the chiefs now had new avenues to practice coercive paternalism (Norton 2002, 426).
This perception of indigenous Fijians having a privileged relationship with the state did not go unnoticed by subsequent governors, who had to take into consideration the effect that policies they wanted to introduce might have on the FAB. This included one governor who feared the repercussions of the FAB, to the point that he halted all other development projects to prioritise the construction of QVS. Another governor found the FAB began to challenge his, and by extension, the state’s own authority over an increased sales tax on copra sales tax even though the FAB only had consultative rights over proposals that would specifically effect all indigenous Fijians, they still pushed to be consulted on the matter. The governor declined deferring decisions to the FAB because in his view it would give a perception to the indigenous Fijian community that they had a position of ‘political ascendancy’ over other populations within the colony. Having the FAB hold such a perception was dangerous for the upcoming decolonisation attempt, since it was British policy that maintained racial discrimination and separation, which would be removed come independence. Instead of addressing these perceptions directly, another governor inflamed tensions by contemplating new statutory powers greater than the FAB over land. He attempted this in order to resolve a stalemate between indigenous Fijian land interests and improving the colony’s finances through opening more land for agriculture. The opening up of land was contentious because it meant Indo-Fijian tenant farmer arrangements would continue into the future, which would limit the land available for indigenous Fijians to potentially use. Indecision over land left
Indo-Fijian tenant farmers in a position of uncertainty, especially when some already had
59 Chapter Three: State formation their leases expire. This indecision forced some Indo-Fijians from the land they had worked for decades while watching it return into disrepair afterwards. The issue of land leases and tenure was partly because indigenous Fijians opted for a slow transition towards agriculture, and threatening land reform against that was seen as an affront to their own communal progress. What this episode did prove was that British indirect rule was waning, while indigenous Fijian political power only strengthened since British officers were unwilling or unable to mediate the deadlock surrounding land.
Post-World War II solidified communalism in a way that Gordon believed was necessary to uphold British commitments at cession, as well as undermining British indirect rule through the Fijian Administration. Norton (2002) argues this culminated in the strongest period of indirect rule, since the FAB fully empowered the ‘traditional’ political power structure that indirect rule itself had created. As such, while British indirect rule was undermined, the structures themselves strengthened. In this way chiefly authority was re-empowered at a time where questions of individualism were being asked to indigenous Fijian society, returning labour towards a communal endeavour instead of individually based. This had flow on effects for the ownership of land, as communal landownership combined with communal labour became perceived as a potential shield from modernity. The real beneficiaries of the communal shift were the chiefs, who gained the most from the structural splitting of the state.
This is because general state authority was now split between the Fijian Administration and the Legislative Council, although in principle these were both overseen by the Governor, the
FAB had unquestioned authority over indigenous Fijian affairs – as evidenced by the many subsequent governors who showed an unwillingness to intervene. This reflects that not only was this the strongest stage of indirect rule, but also a difficult stage for colonial administrators to attempt an unforced transition of power through decolonisation.
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Though colonials had at first manipulated tradition to their benefit, this was now being turned against them. Problematically, they could not readily question this challenge, because doing so would undermine the authority of the system they themselves had created and built upon since cession. The Fijian Administration had then effectively split the state into two, turning the previously colonised chiefs into colonisers, within their own backyard, while leaving the rest up to the governor. For ordinary indigenous Fijians this separate ‘state’ then came to be perceived through the strength of their chiefs, a perception that would be enormously hard to break when it was reconciled against the need for self-governance under one state and administration at independence.
State-building for indigenous Fijians was a radically different experience to the state- building experienced by the inhabitants of other colonies at the time. The utilisation of indirect rule to state build in Fiji relied upon three main tenets: A strong distinction between an elite and commoner group, the acceptance of the coloniser by the elite group, and the ability to project the state as omnipresent11. MacNaught (1982, 3) argues that colonialism ordered indigenous Fijian society through utilising ‘tradition’ to create a neo-traditional set of institutions that vertically integrated Fijian society under the Crown. Similarly, Kaplan
(1994) argues that both the British and chiefs mutually reinforced their own power structures in order to maintain authority. Importantly, indirect rule could only be carried out successfully if the state also created an awareness of itself and, in comparison with direct rule, this largely meant reserving displays force for only extenuating circumstances. These limited displays of direct authority were reserved for a constabulary force utilised against the hill tribes to assert a chiefly system early on during colonialism – although even this is debatably not direct as the force was comprised primarily of indigenous Fijians. Similarly,
11 Similarly, the enforcement of bylaws through indigenous Fijian courts showed the omnipresence of the state. The warping of tradition occurred to such a degree that colonial administrators in some districts were asked by indigenous Fijians what their own traditions were (Thomas 1990, 155).
61 Chapter Three: State formation state authority was also flexed during strike breaking, as well as halting the Apolosi’s Nawai movement. For everything else, awareness of the state was slowly manufactured by subtly redefining tradition through created bureaucracies that purported to accurately represent indigenous Fijian tradition. This included minor things, like changes to village by-laws that designated living arrangements, or by removing tribute payments like lala. As well as major things, like the creation of institutions that included the Council of Chiefs, and Native Land
Trust Board with their own legitimacy resting upon notions of an immemorial indigenous
Fijian tradition. Both of these aimed to present a state of uniformity across Fiji that had not previously existed.
Although post-World War II saw the rise of individualism, this was struck down by the reinvigoration of indirect rule and return to communalism through the Fijian Administration.
This time however, empowering chiefs over British administrators but with concessions made on the rigidity of communalism because of poor material advancement compared to
Indo-Fijians. This included the dismantling of bulis and tikina councils in order to re- empower effective state-wide institutions, like provincial councils. Yet, the embedding of a privileged relationship with the state remained in the minds of indigenous Fijians, despite the logistical and bureaucratic bulk of separate administrative institutions being dismantled
(MacNaught 1982, 157). Reconciling the privileged status of indigenous Fijian sentiment within a single state and administrative system, against another ethnic group who had different expectations of the state, proved to be a thorny endeavour come independence. And it is to that group which we now turn – the plight of the Indians of Fiji.
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Direct rule & State-building: The Indian plight
The experience of state-building within Fiji for indentured Indian labourers was vastly different to that faced by indigenous Fijians. Ruled directly, the place of indentured Indians within the colony was originally defined by their economic servitude on plantations. This meant that most of their interaction with the state and its mechanisms revolved around labour conditions, contracts, and punishments. To this end, they were purposely excluded from a number of beneficial state-building policies extended to indigenous Fijians.
The first indentured Indian labourers arrived after cession in 1879 on the ship
Leonidas, though by 1916 they would come to number 60,000 (Scarr 1984, 81). The journey by ship to Fiji from India is well documented (Lal 2006b) with accounts of the caste system being abandoned early on in the voyage due to the necessity of travelling within the confines of a ship. Geographically, they were placed within agricultural hubs for farming sugarcane.
These regional hubs included: Labasa on Vanua Levu, and Lautoka on Viti Levu. As Gillion
(1962) and Scarr (1984) write, plantation life was a transformative experience among the indentured. This is because they often came from different parts of India, like Madras or
Calcutta, with different dialects, and religious or cultural identities. The conditions imposed by plantation work would eventually force an amalgamation of these disparate regional identities into the ‘Indo-Fijian’ moniker. Indentured labourers were generally contracted under four clauses which stated that they were recruited in India under government supervision with free passage to Fiji, had to serve under the government for five years at a wage, and were under the protection of the government (penal sanctions were applicable if the contract was breached). They were also entitled to an optional free return passage if they spent another five years after their original indenture, or they could remain in Fiji after indenture.
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As such, the state saw indentured labourers through the prism of the colony’s economy. This was because Gordon’s Native Administration restricted indigenous labour, which necessitated the use of indentured Indians. Doing so dually allowed colonisers to delay what they saw as the potentially damaging effects of plantation labour upon indigenous Fijians, as well as grow the economy using indentured Indian labour. Conceived of only in terms of their labour left indentured Indians to their own self-organisation and sufficiency. Their customary law was not recognised legally, as opposed to indigenous Fijians whose custom had a prominent place within the colony. They also had no political representation within local government for a time. Although they were taxed lightly, the omnipresence of the state was felt directly through matters pertaining to labour. Particularly around contract work quotas, working conditions, fines, and penal sanctions. The need for European plantation owners to drive the
Fijian economy on the backs of indentured Indian labour saw a burgeoning of exploitative practices, tacitly backed by the state. One example of this was an attempted shift by planters to change pay rates from ‘timed work’ to ‘task work’. In the words of one radical colonial officer:
I do not think it is right to allow Indians, or any other race of people, to be employed under a law which enforces work and admits of pay upon a standard to be adjudged by the employer, and criminal process in default of such scale of work being performed.
Cited in Gillion 1962, 86; CSO 1775/87
However, in these instances and the like, no formal avenues of dispute were available for indentured labour. This meant any action to raise awareness of exploitation put them not just against the plantation owner, but squarely against the colonial state itself. As such, Indian labourers could only represent themselves through illegal protests, which occurred in 1886,
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1920 and 194312. One display of the state’s attitude towards the organisation of Indian labour is the handling of Dr Manilal – a lawyer from India who visited Fiji in 1912 at the behest of indentured labour to lobby the colonial government. Manilal’s attempts at challenging the exploitation of Indian labour, in order to improve their conditions within Fiji, saw him banned from practicing law within any British colony after being accused of eliciting strikes.
Despite Manilal’s forced departure, further strikes occurred in 1920 which again centred around wage disputes and working conditions. Responses to these strikes invariably prompted a show of direct force by the state.
Viewed through a prism of labour also meant from 1909 indentured Indians were excluded from administration plans for government education because it was deemed self-defeating to educate an unskilled workforce (Gaunder 1999). Education was thus left for the Indian community to build itself, as both the colonial administration and settler Europeans wanted
Indians to remain as labourers. In contrast to this, a report into education in 1909 carried recommendations like mixed schools and English tuition, however these were largely ignored because they would have undermined some of the state-building practices already in place.
Similarly, any compromise in educational areas would have contributed to fears about the waning influence of Europeans within the colony. Angst surrounding Indians learning
English stemmed from the administration’s view it would promote Indian political activism while being unnecessary given their agricultural purpose. Given this anxiety, the Educational
Ordinance of 1916 introduced a grant scheme that only subsidised the cost of English language teachers, instead of teachers being provided by the state, forcing the Indian community to source their own English teachers with great difficultly (Gaunder 1999, 61).
Shortly thereafter in 1917 grants for purely English teachers was revoked in favour of general grants, allowing Indian communities to start their own schools with Hindi as the primary
12 Generally, in response to poor working conditions and remuneration.
65 Chapter Three: State formation medium. As such, by the mid-1920s (Gaunder 1999, 61) some thirty Indian schools had been established.
The teaching of English to Indians posed a problem for administrators, since although it was widely recognised by the 1926 Education Commission that Indians were being taught English to some capacity, the Colonial Sugar Refining Company (CSR) were against the idea. As one
CSR manager claimed that English should only be taught to a limited extent as:
...it would be a serious mistake to make English the school language as we believe that this would tend to create a Babu class with a desire for clerical or indoor work in the towns instead of employment in out-door occupations, and we presume the education given will be to fit the students for the life most of them must follow, viz., that of agriculturalists.
Cited in Gaunder (1999, 65) from Education Commission (1926, 81).
The colonial administration13 did attempt to compromise teaching Indians English by allowing Indians to learn English within missionary schools. This compromise is partly from
Europeans opposing the opening up of government schools to all ‘races’ and saw giving grants to missionary schools as an acceptable concession for Indians. However, the Indian community heavily resisted their children being taught within Christian schools and what they saw as the potential encroachment of another religion on their community. This added to the growing problem of mono-racial schooling that was spurred on by the CSR and the
European community. This was in the face of previous education commissions which found that government run multi-racial schooling, and the teaching of English would help solve the
13 As Gaunder (1999) argues the story is more complex than laid out here, suggesting that although the colonial government may not have deliberately set out to segregate schools, they certainly perpetuated it through either dragging their feet or neglecting the situation.
66 Chapter Three: State formation problem of mono-racial schools and also aid in future integration attempts between indigenous Fijians and Indians. These findings were largely ignored or supplanted by particular administrators who supported maintaining the privileges of the European community. Often administrators did not directly enforce a strict policy against teaching
Indians English, but rather reinforced the existing mono-school divide through targeted neglect. While European planters were afraid that educated Indians, who could speak English might move away from a labour force, some administrators feared that teaching Indians
English would also enable them to participate in politics. This is because the requirement for being a Legislative Council member rested on the ability to speak English. Indians however would continue to learn English through whatever means they had available. Yet the policy of supporting voluntary agencies to start their own schools (with some exceptions) meant that up until, and even past independence (1970) the mono-racial status quo of schools was maintained.
Coinciding with a growth of Indian funded schools was the continual growth of Indian free settlers, who continued to partially fill the void created by state neglect within the expanding
Indian community. The continued influx of Gujaratis (who had initially arrived in 1904) and
Punjabis as free settlers introduced tertiary services for the now ex-indentured community.
Free from penal sanctions, free Indian settlers were in a much better position than their ex- indentured compatriots. Capitalising on the lack of goods tailored to the expanding Indian community they established a foothold on retail. Not only did they bring material goods from
India, they also aided in the reinvigoration of Hindu and Muslim traditions that had shrunk over the course of indenture. Similarly, the Indian nationalist movement entered the colony, bringing with it a sense of leadership that the indentured community had thus far lacked.
67 Chapter Three: State formation
World War II provided a major turning point in the political mobilisation of Indo-Fijians across Fiji. It not only provided a catalyst for the expansion of disparate Indo-Fijians communities to politically self-organise, but also caused them to evaluate their worth within the colony. This was only reinvigorated by India’s nationalist campaign against the British.
Similarly, it saw Indo-Fijians became bold enough to vote cross-ethnically on the Legislative
Council against Europeans.
Remembering that World War II for indigenous Fijians brought to the fore internal colonial tensions between individual and communal philosophies, for Indo-Fijians tensions began to rise between Indo-Fijian settlers freed from indenture and established European planters.
Veracini (2008) argues that during these stages Indo-Fijians began to take the place of
European settlers and planters through their collective refusal to provide labour to European planters. Instead, Indo-Fijians worked within their own community on an individual basis to leverage European planters out of the market. As such, while administrators argued about the effectiveness of communalism and individualism within indigenous Fijian society, Indo-
Fijians had already taken the mantle of individualism upon themselves and begun to thrive.
Indirect Meets Direct
The different experiences of colonial state-building between indigenous Fijians and Indo-
Fijians are almost so wide that it would be difficult to find commonalities. To this point, literature in the area almost exclusively deals with the experience of only one group at a time, with little in the way of comparative analysis. Furnivall’s (1948) account of the ‘plural society’ is often employed as a comparative device to describe Fiji’s colonial and early independence social relations. Furnivall’s (1948) plural society states that “a plural society is comprised of two or more distinct social orders, living in parallel within one political entity, without much intermingling”. Both Ali (1982) and Plange (1990) attempt to discuss Fiji using
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Furnivall’s definition, however because of this they are limited when attempting to discuss both the differences of treatment by the state that each ethnic community received, and the effect that this had.
This limitation of using Furnivall exposes the fact that the dual operation of both indirect and direct rule within one state gives the appearance of two artificial states – that must at some point be reconciled. Problematically in Fiji, areas where the state could relate to both groups equally, were quickly shut down because of both irreconcilable promises given to indigenous
Fijians at cession, and the risk posed to European interests should a coalition of indigenous
Fijians and Indo-Fijians form. For Indo-Fijians, this meant the state cornered themselves into a relationship of neglect towards them, as opposed to the paternalistic attention aimed at indigenous Fijians. The difference of treatment between these relationships bore into some crucial areas, namely in labour, education, and land.
The value the state placed on the labour of Indo-Fijians was markedly different to that placed on indigenous Fijians; as Indo-Fijians were the engine of the colonial economy they had to be managed strictly through contracts, with the potential of incurring penal sanctions. Similarly, any attempt at the organisation of Indo-Fijian labour to advance their interests was dealt with directly through state intervention. Ironically, outside of providing labour, Indo-Fijians lacked local government within their own communities, instead having to organise themselves. Indigenous Fijians on the other hand experienced almost the complete opposite – instead of having a strictly enforced labour model through individual contracts alongside an overlooked local government, they had a labour model centred around communalism alongside a strictly administered local government curtailed and professed to be in their interests.
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Education also provoked a different response by the state, with education outcomes split not just along ethnic lines, but also internally among indigenous Fijians themselves. While the children of chiefs or elite indigenous Fijians were sent to colonial schools, like the Queen
Victoria School, or even overseas to New Zealand, commoner indigenous Fijians were largely left to Christian run schools. On the other hand, Indo-Fijians were summarily neglected by the state in terms of education, again having to provide for themselves in lieu of the state. The state’s response to education reflects both the lack of social planning by the state and diverging ideologies of governors, though elite indigenous Fijians were afforded early access to English tuition for their children because of their propensity to end up in leadership roles as their parents. Both commoner indigenous Fijians and Indo-Fijians had to learn English through tertiary providers. This resulted in a de-facto separation between ethnic groups – at times supported by the state through grants – as tertiary education providers tended to provide for the nuances of each ethnic community.
The occupation of land, in a geographical sense, and the restriction of movement within the colony was similarly treated differently by the state depending on the ethnic community.
Separation between communities varied from intermittent contact to the enforcement of strict divisions, where Indo-Fijians populated peri-urban hubs around sugar plantations, indigenous
Fijians largely stayed within their traditional areas. Although the restriction of movement across the colony was enforced differently according to the governor, generally restrictions were mainly in place to limit the movement of indigenous labour so that communalism would be protected. The regulation of landownership warranted completely different treatment, with the state at times attempting to negotiate on behalf of both Indo-Fijians and indigenous
Fijians. This is because while the state wanted to maintain the indigenous ownership of land, they also needed more leases in the hands of Indo-Fijian tenant farmers to grow the economy through sugar production. Though informal arrangements were often organised between
70 Chapter Three: State formation tenants and landowners, the informal nature of these led themselves to precariat arrangements, for the tenant had no recourse available on lease terms if the relationship soured with the landowner (Gillion 1962). Indeed, towards the end of colonialism the state itself shied away from a clear direction on land matters, resulting in conflict around the future of Indo-Fijians as tenant farmers because of difficulties in attaining leases with adequate duration. Though the state assured Indo-Fijians of releasing land for leases, they also simultaneously professed to indigenous Fijians the immemorial tradition of landownership.
This resulted in a situation where each community was given different assurances about how the state would mediate between the needs of each community.
Where commonalities of treatment by the state existed between the two groups, alliances were found. One instance occurred when a discrepancy in salaries between European and non-European clerks was sanctioned on a racial basis (Norton 2013), which caused indigenous and Indo-Fijians to form a voting block against the state until it was repealed.
Generally, these voting alliances were formed when it was perceived that both indigenous
Fijians and Indo-Fijians interests were being subverted in favour of European interests on racial grounds14. At the highest level of politics, the state related to each group differently with indigenous Fijians afforded a separate administration (due to indirect rule) and Indo-
Fijians represented only through a minister of Indian Affairs. Indo-Fijians were, however, allowed to vote on who could represent them on the legislative assembly prior to indigenous
Fijians. This was mainly because it was deemed that democratic voting was unwarranted given indigenous Fijians were represented by their chiefs. Nevertheless, such instances of finding common cause were quickly headed off by Europeans attempting to fabricate themselves as a safeguard for indigenous Fijians against Indo-Fijians, usually through the
14 It must be noted that allegorical accounts also suggest instances of cross-ethnic support at the local level. Usually in respect to indigenous Fijians providing aid for Indo-Fijians escaping the poor conditions of plantations (MacNaught 1982, 113).
71 Chapter Three: State formation media15. Europeans finding themselves threatened by the possibility of a continued indigenous and Indo-Fijian alliance feared being outnumbered, since they would then face a degree of marginalisation within Fiji. As such, they worked to convince indigenous Fijians that they were protecting indigenous interests from Indo-Fijians, often scapegoating Indo-
Fijians as the main cause of indigenous Fijian disadvantage. Their production of media, mainly through the Fiji Times, served to reinforce negative racial stereotypes about the Indo-
Fijian community.
An internal tension held within the colonial government about the role of communalism versus individualism also underlined the different respective treatment by the state within each ethnic group in respect to labour, education and land. Interestingly, advances or reinforcements of communalism as an underlying ideology for administering indigenous
Fijians coincided with the strengthening of indirect rule, as witnessed by Sukuna’s role. The obverse is also apparent, with the promotion or growth of individualism overlapping with the greater use of direct rule, which was indiscriminate towards either ethnic group. This ideological battle between individualism and communalism16 is one of the consequences of attempting to rule both indirectly and directly within the same state, as a permanent move towards either ideology would also result in only one form of rule. By choosing to delay a move in either direction, separate ideas of the state’s role and its relationship with each ethnic community formed.
As independence drew closer, the different forms of rule had to be reconciled against each other, with indigenous Fijians having experienced state-building mainly through their own chiefs by their own tradition – however transformed it may be – being reconciled against
15 Generally, through the Fiji Times (1877) which ran headlines like ‘India for Indians, Fiji for the Fijians’ (cited in Gillion 1962). 16 MacNaught (1982, 112) notes that the same individualistic traits colonials wanted within indigenous Fijians they abhorred within Indo-Fijians.
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Indo-Fijians experience of neglect by the state17. While Indo-Fijians reached for political representation by advocating for equality of treatment before the law due to past experience, indigenous Fijians – especially the chiefs – wished to protect the rights already enshrined and embedded to them within the state through claiming it was necessary to protect their immemorial tradition18. Though, as France (1969) suggests, it was less about preserving a historically accurate image indigenous Fijian tradition, and more about defending what they perceived as making them unique.
Colonial recognition of the situation is encompassed by a statement of the 1960’s
Governor of Fiji, Sir Kenneth Maddocks:
We are now being confronted with the consequences arising from the fact that, since cession, two policies have been pursued which have always been inconsistent. Namely, recognition in theory, by pronouncements and by implication, that the Deed of Cession conferred a moral obligation on the British Government to regard Fijian interests as paramount, and the preference given in fact to the promotion of economic development … (which has taken place largely independent of Fijians) and has led to the Indians becoming established in a dominant position.
Cited in Norton (2002, 11).
The consequence of these two different conceptions of the state left questions beyond independence as to what the state’s role for each community was – for indigenous Fijians was it the protection of communalism through the state? Or for Indo-Fijians was it the expansion of individualism and equal opportunity? What was clear is that the transition towards independence left indigenous Fijian’s assuming the position of the ‘coloniser’, while Indo-
Fijians displaced Europeans to claim the status of ‘settlers’ (Veracini 2008). This left two
17 Kaplan & Kelly (1994) argue that a discourse of ‘affection’ was held between colonisers and chiefs, while Indo-Fijians received a discourse of ‘disaffection’. 18 Indo-Fijians sought further legal ways to represent their interests, since these avenues were restricted under colonialism. Indigenous Fijians may not have understood this, as their interests were already enshrined and embedded within the state.
73 Chapter Three: State formation different relationships towards the state, held by two different communities, with two different experiences of state-building to be reconciled against each other come independence in 1970. The next chapter discusses the impact that these separate experiences had upon the development of national discourses and a national consciousness within Fiji in the lead up to independence.
74 Chapter Four: Nation formation
Chapter Four: Nation Formation
The consequences of colonial state-building arguably accelerated the development of a national consciousness in Fiji through the practices of indirect rule for indigenous Fijians and direct rule of Indo-Fijians. As such, each ethnic group’s different experience of state-building steered them towards two distinct relationships with, and expectations of the state. It is argued in this chapter that this had the effect of elevating local interactions between indigenous and Indo Fijians into national discourses which contributed to the formation of a national consciousness and competing nations-of-intent. This chapter examines these national discourses as related to themes of ‘Religion’, ‘Labour’, ‘Education’, ‘War’, and
‘Land’. Importantly, it is maintained that these national discourses at their core were relational in nature because of the two different experiences provided by colonial state- building, which in turn contributed to the formation of two distinct ‘nations-of-intent’ in the lead up to independence. The chapter opens by discussing post-colonial literature and the applicability of discourse theory to identify national discourses within Fiji and then categorise them under a nation-of-intent. This is followed by a discussion surrounding the circumstances of the 1970 constitution, with the chapter ending by arguing that two competing ethnic- communal and civic-egalitarian nations-of-intent became evident at independence.
Post-colonial Literature
Post-colonial literature generally focuses upon the experience of decolonisation or the political and cultural independence of former populations subject to colonialism. Fiji presents a unique case study, as it did not present a strong anti-colonial movement to drive independence as in many other post-colonial states. This has implications for the formation of a national consciousness, which as Anderson (1991) describes results from an ‘an imagined
75 Chapter Four: Nation formation community’. This community is said to have no direct links to each other but can reasonably be thought to exist because of a shared extensive print-culture that elicits a sense of commonality within a population. However, Chabal (2008) argues that because Anderson’s idea is predicated on a Western model of modernisation it ultimately effects how a country can be imagined. Chabal enlists Africa as a case study, arguing that because Africa modernised differently it could not be imagined in the same way that occurred within
Western countries. Chatterjee (1993, 5) continues this line, asking whose imagined community is being imagined, as to accept Anderson’s model of imagination removes the possibility of alternative ways to imagine the nation. Chatterjee draws on India to explain that the anti-colonial movement provided an alternative way of imagining the nation, which
Anderson only hints at. What is common across all these theorists, is that national consciousness involves a degree of common experience which is felt amongst as a population as a precursor. However, they are separated by how that common experience is transmitted across a population. Chabal (2008) places a caveat on this, stating that how a country modernises also dictates how it can be imagined. As such, while Anderson (1991) recognises communication through print culture as the mechanism behind spreading awareness of a common experience, Chatterjee (1993) thinks that the suppression of Indian identity within the public sphere during India’s occupation created space that allowed a commonly felt
Indian identity to flourish within the private sphere. These accounts highlight the importance of local context when trying to identify how a country develops a national consciousness, since this ultimately affects both what common experience existed as a precursor, as well as what mechanism allowed that common experience to spread.
In order to identify potential mechanisms in Fiji I turn to post-colonialism theorists, like
Mamdani (2012), Ashcroft (2013), and Duara (1995). Mamdani (2012) discusses the operation of indirect rule within certain African colonies and how that resulted in three
76 Chapter Four: Nation formation different levels of political identity. Although indirect rule in Fiji predates Mamdani’s conclusions drawn from his work in Africa, it still represents a close comparative case for
Fiji. This is because Mamdani discusses how cultural identities are reified as administratively driven political identities, which has obvious parallels to the native administration. Ashcroft on the other hand discusses the transformative aspects of colonialism by focusing on anti- colonial sentiment, namely that the colonised can rebel by making use of colonial languages in order to improve their position. This is comparable to the plight of both Indo-Fijians through their use of colonial legal systems and indigenous Fijians ‘re-taking’ their colonially transformed tradition.
Duara (1995) introduces national identity to post-colonial debates by arguing that national identity is best understood as a relational identity. This is because Duara believes that alternative views of national identity drawn from other forms of collective or historical identification can be held in opposition to official versions of national identity. In this instance, Duara considers that dominant narratives of the nation must not be taken as representative of the whole population since the nation is a site of contest and negotiation.
Importantly, this negotiation occurs through different discourses and manifests in different historical and popular representations of community and cultural practices. In terms of nationalism, Duara argues that it seeks a privileged position within a representational network that either subsumes or organises other identifications. In this sense, Duara’s ideas are very similar to Laclau & Mouffe’s (1985) discourse theory on nodal points, since Laclau &
Mouffe would view the nation as a privileged sign around which other signs are ordered.
Meaning is then derived from their relationship to the nodal point. In our case, a Fijian nation would be comprised of a number of national discourses ordered around a particular conception of the nation. Notably, this does not preclude the existence of multiple
77 Chapter Four: Nation formation conceptions of a Fijian nation but rather that hegemonic and subaltern conceptions can coexist. As such, to further explore both the formation of a national consciousness and underlying national discourses I turn to discourse theory.
Discourse Theory
Chapter three discussed the unique contextual history of Fiji in dual forms of rule, which contributed to differing relationships with and expectation of the state. This also had the effect of creating different perspectives of what the state is, and how it should act towards each community. I argue below that these different perspectives are best understood by analysing five national discourses, Religion, Education, Labour, War, and Land. These are discourses that were present on a national scale but were experienced differently according to ethnicity. Because of this, they make particular claims about the nation which I argue led to the formation of two competing nations-of-intent near independence.
Generally, discourse is considered to be ‘a group of statements which provides a language for talking about a particular kind of knowledge about a topic’ (Hall 1992, 201). Central to discursive approaches is a belief that reality is socially constructed through communication practices, like language. Discourse theory positions itself analytically as a way of understanding actions and perceptions within the historical conditions that first allowed such specific actions and perceptions to be considered legitimate (Mole 2007, 18). As such, it can be used as a tool for analysing ‘hegemonic discourses in any given society that condition social and political identities and meanings, which themselves establish the conditions of possibility for political action’ (Ibid). Under this school, discourse is understood as a fixation of meaning within a particular domain, with a discourse being formed through the partial
78 Chapter Four: Nation formation fixation of meaning around certain ‘nodal points’ (Laclau 1985, 112). Jorgensen (2002) states that the purpose of this is to identify which signs have a privileged status (as nodal points) and how they are defined in relation to other signs in the discourse. Following this identification, we can explore how these nodal points are defined alternatively within different discourses (as floating signifiers).
This means that the nation-of-intent as a key signifier represents an empty point that is only filled with meaning gained from a combination of other signs. I argue that these signs are provided by the national discourses which are an assemblage of discourses that partly cover the same ground, and which they compete to fill with meaning in their own particular way. It is from the culmination of these discourses being contested through ‘antagonisms’ and resolved through ‘hegemonic intervention’ that two particular nations-of-intent arose at independence. It should be noted that the nation-of-intent as a key signifier means nothing by itself, it is only through the interplay within the national discourses that meaning became assigned.
However, before analysing national discourses individually, a mention must be made of the internal stratification among indigenous and Indo-Fijians themselves during colonialism.
This is important in regarding the relational nature of these discourses since they had the power to present both indigenous and Indo-Fijians as homogenous ethnic blocs.
Internal Stratification of Ethnicity
The previous chapter discussed the generalities of colonial state-building from indigenous
Fijian or Indo-Fijian perspectives. Problematically, this creates an impression of homogeneity
79 Chapter Four: Nation formation for each group, when they were at times heavily stratified internally. Traditional divisions in indigenous Fijian communities can be found between East and West, owing to the centralisation and enforcement of a particular indigenous group tradition over other indigenous groups. This occurred through the homogenisation of one dialect over others, the ascendency of one region’s importance within national politics, and chiefly power as opposed to big man styles. Indo-Fijians are no exception, with internal divisions arising between those who had arrived as indentured labour, and those who had settled freely from India.
Indentured Indians amalgamated various Indian cultures into one, throwing off the shackles of caste and forming a bastardised version of Hindi dubbed Fijian Hindi, while free settler
Indians mainly comprised of Gujarati’s attempted to retain their purity of religion, caste and language. Religious differences between Muslims and various Indian denominations also amount to varying degrees of internal racism within the Indo-Fijian community. How both ethnic communities appeared distinctly homogenous, despite being so internally stratified, reflects the power of national discourses within Fiji. A common internal experience of colonialism provoked a feeling that despite being stratified, more common interests existed than not, when presented against a perceived external threat. This formed the relational basis for national discourses, where Religion, Education, Labour, War and Land were understood differently within each ethnic community because of a different experience of colonial state- building. These perspectives were not necessarily binary, but contributed to presenting indigenous Fijians and Indo-Fijians as homogenous groups. Although all these discourses are to some degree interrelated, I will now break them down and analyse accordingly.
80 Chapter Four: Nation formation
National Discourses
Though not a prominent focus of colonial state-building, Religion played a vital role in highlighting and perpetuating differences between Indigenous and Indo-Fijians. The development of religion within Fiji took different paths according to ethnicity. Briefly, while indigenous Fijians gained Christianity as a channel to orient themselves with modernity,
Indo-Fijians lost, re-invented and re-found theirs. Importantly, the combining of religion and politics was seen differently by the state. Methodism in particular mirrored the same theory of indirect rule as used by the British in order to spread itself, at times through the conversion of chiefs. Notably, the key relational aspects of this discourse revolve around the different symbols and places of worship and interaction between indigenous Fijian and Indo-Fijian because of their different religions19. Visible differences include the appropriation of landmarks in Fiji for Hindu pilgrimage20, and the private nature of Hinduism in Fiji
(Jayawardena 1980, 432). This is opposed to Christianity’s largely public and state-endorsed nature, displayed through the amount of churches and their associated paraphernalia. The importance of religion is not so much the specific content, but that visible differences existed between the two ethnic groups in how they worshipped or contributed to religious discourses.
Although this is experienced relationally at the local level, such interactions were common across Fiji – leading to a common national experience.
‘Education’ is arguably the most interwoven discourse, having links to both religion and labour. In this context however, education is mainly discussed from two positions. Broadly, for Indo-Fijians education was often constructed as a way of challenging and resisting their
19 This includes a number of different Christian denominations, like Methodism and Roman Catholics. While other religions include Hinduism, Islam, and Sikhism. 20 In Gillion (1962, 147) these include the Labasa hot springs, and Hindu similarities with the Nakauvadra Hills snake Degei.
81 Chapter Four: Nation formation place within the colony, while education for indigenous Fijians was influenced both by colonial demarcations of class, and perceived communal obligations. This is notwithstanding geographical and logistical differences when actually educating indigenous or Indo-Fijians.
When colonisers discussed education they did so differently, in terms of both ethnicity and class. Though each ethnicity faced separate problems. For indigenous Fijians a lack of geographical access, quality, intertwining with church, elite/commoner divides, communal values were placed ahead of education. For Indo-Fijians a struggle for parity, including fights for English tuition, schools, government scholarships, and an equality of access.
However, education for Indo-Fijians was a way of evolving past sugar-caning roots, and transcending their colonial labour image, and was juxtaposed against indigenous Fijians maintaining their position. Yet, this was not extended to all indigenous Fijians as Lal (2006a) notes that while indigenous Fijians, too, had their own schools – with longer histories, and government support – he suggests that educational success among this group was limited.
The educational syllabus, in his opinion, was geared towards cultural factors, emphasising group solidarity. In addition, factors such as rural isolation along with poor educational facilities played their part. He maintained too that indigenous Fijian leaders actively discouraged ‘academic’ education for their communities and the few opportunities for higher education were reserved for people of chiefly rank. As such, education required two different approaches within each community, since each had their own needs and specific contextual histories. This is evidenced as 1970 neared with Indo-Fijians pushing for affordability in education while indigenous Fijians were more concerned with accessibility. Education as a discourse was then built on the two very different local needs of each ethnic community – which fed into a larger national debate.
‘Labour’ within colonial Fiji again was constructed differently depending on which ethnic category the state classified you as. For indigenous Fijians, labour was constructed within
82 Chapter Four: Nation formation communalistic terms, in that indigenous Fijian socio-economic progression was tied inextricably to the outputs of communal labour. However, Indo-Fijian labour was constructed in respect to its importance within the colonial economy that was often exploited for the colony’s benefit. Because of this importance and exploitation, ‘labour’ for Indo-Fijians was concerned with their worth and rights as individual labourers participating within a market economy. This meant material growth from ‘labour’ varied significantly, while material growth for indigenous Fijians was pinned on communal labour. This left Indo-Fijians with the ability to leverage their individual output, albeit within a constrained market, to amass personal wealth. Within the literature this difference in material parity is pointed out as generating particular stereotypes of both Indigenous and Indo-Fijians. As Pangerl (2007, 256) explains Indo-Fijians were seen as ‘cunning’, ‘selfish’ and ‘money-obsessed’, while indigenous Fijians were identified as ‘lazy’.
Yet, it was the conditions set out to manage the colonial economy within dual forms of rule that are partly, if not wholly, responsible for such stereotypes. The effectiveness of indirect rule relied on communalism, hence indigenous Fijian labour was constrained to communalism, while direct rule enforced through contracts was not restricted by this, so
Indo-Fijians were in a better position to mobilise their own labour. The only roadblocks they faced was who defined the worth and conditions of their labour, and whether they could appeal should problems arise. The dichotomy between Indo-Fijian and indigenous Fijian labour was only intensified when Sukuna tried to reinforce communalism through ethno- specific unions. He attempted this by consolidating chiefly authority within exclusive indigenous Fijian labour unions, like the Fijian Mine Workers Union (Ratuva 2013, 14).
Relational elements of Labour as a national discourse stem from this dichotomy between communal and individual labour output, with a disparity of material outcomes perceived to come at the cost of symbolic indigenous Fijian institutions. Namely, that a move towards
83 Chapter Four: Nation formation individual labour output would compromise indigenous Fijian tradition. This is sometimes described as capitalist versus communalist forms of the economy within the literature. Kelly
(1992) argues that capitalist cultural forms fit differently into each ethnic group, signalling commodities, ownership, and labour as key dividers. The differences in how the colonial state negotiated between these two forms was noticeable, as Ratuva (2013, 14) highlights in respect to strikes:
The extent of the deplorable working conditions in the mines has been well documented (Emberson-Bain 1994). The conditions in the mines led directly to the formation of the first indigenous Fijian labour union. Strikes in the mines were suppressed through the intervention of chiefs, acting on behalf of the colonial state and mining companies to remind indigenous Fijian miners that striking is “un-Fijian” and a sign of disrespect for Fijian chiefs.
Indeed, while labour commonalities may have transcended ethnic divides between Indo-
Fijians and indigenous Fijians, colonial intervention saw this off by drawing upon established indigenous Fijian hierarchies. By invoking such language as ‘un-Fijian’ this further painted the subsequent Indo-Fijian sugar-cane related strikes in 1920, 1921 and 1943 (Kaplan &
Kelly 1994) as nationally antagonistic towards indigenous Fijian tradition – despite this being the only avenue of protest available to Indo-Fijians at the time.
‘War’ within Fiji contains the largest amount of transnational elements compared to the other discourses21. The struggle of India’s independence movement during World War II undoubtedly resonated with Indo-Fijians, in terms of challenging discrimination and seeking equal rights. On the other hand, indigenous Fijian tradition influenced attitudes towards participating in both World War I and II. Pragmatically, indigenous Fijians from the outset
21 For more detailed analysis on Fiji’s military history see Lawson (2004a) The Military versus democracy in Fiji: Problems for contemporary political development
84 Chapter Four: Nation formation had been utilised to provide colonial Fiji with its armed forces – starting with the
Constabulary forces to deter the hill people, strike breaking labour movements, to being mobilised for World War I and deployed in World War II. The military had largely become established as an indigenous Fijian institution by the end of colonialism. Literature on nationalism usually points to war as a uniting factor for a nation against a common enemy.
Yet in Fiji this was not the case – with almost the opposite occurring. This is largely because
‘War’ as a discourse was deployed differently for each ethnic group when dealing with certain events, like World War II. In this case, ‘War’ as a discourse does not only refer to actual acts of war, but also the broader use of the legitimate deployment of monopolised state power. In Fiji, World War II was viewed differently by both ethnic groups, as each held different views around what constituted the legitimate deployment of state power.
For Indo-Fijians, participation was only legitimate if given the same rights and conditions as
Europeans (Ratuva 2013, 21). Similarly, the involvement of the Indian nationalist movement raised further questions concerning the morality of enlisting soldiers from a colonial context.
Indigenous Fijians on the other hand, as Norton (2002) argues saw the deployment of state force as legitimate because of the relationship they had already built up with the colonial state. This includes their history of comprising the majority of the states armed forces, fulfilling their traditional obligation towards the ‘chief’ (in this case the Crown) as well as providing for the future by leaving the British in some form of debt towards indigenous
Fijians (Norton 2002). Similarly, Sukuna felt that in respect to the first World War, that
Fijians would never be recognised unless their blood was first shed (Scarr 1980).
Thus, while Indo-Fijians viewed World War II efforts through a prism of conditional legitimacy, indigenous Fijians saw any deployment as inherently legitimate. The differences between these views resulted in ethnic muckraking, with indigenous Fijians having perceived the Indo-Fijian community as ‘scheming’ (Ratuva 2013, 21). Meanwhile Indo-Fijians, with
85 Chapter Four: Nation formation their experience of neglect at the hands of colonial rule, could not identify with the same degree of patriotism displayed by indigenous Fijians.
‘Land’ as a constructed discourse within Fiji resists definition because of the numerous intersections that it holds. In a nation-building sense ‘land’ in can be understood to represent the tensions that exist between claims of primordial sovereignty and modernity. In general ethnic terms, this means ‘Land’ for indigenous Fijians was constructed as an ownership issue, with Indo-Fijians understanding ‘Land’ as provisional according to political circumstances.
This is not to discount the various other intertwining issues on land, which includes its relationship with indigenous Fijian tradition, Indo-Fijian tenancy or leasing, and the influence of the land relations on the colonial economy. Rather, the structural conditions of colonialism confined ‘Land’ for indigenous Fijians to be thought of in specific ways that dealt with ownership, which in turn shaped Indo-Fijians towards a provisional understanding of ‘Land’.
As France’s (1969) work elucidates for us, the ‘immemorial’ tradition of indigenous Fijian land ownership through a mataqali was constructed by colonial policy. While it is hard to divine Governor Gordon’s true intent behind registering land under ‘immemorial ownership’22, there appears to be two different assumptions on what ‘immemorial ownership’ meant. For the colonial office, it seemed to be predicated on a primordial belief that all indigenous Fijians had historically traceable connections to particular land holdings. This connection was then used as a way to legitimise registering land ownership to a mataqali. Yet for indigenous Fijians, witnessed through the debates within the Council of Chiefs, no such uniform set of traditions on the ‘immemorial’ ownership of land had existed in Fiji. Whether this amounts to Gordon believing that indigenous Fijians had ‘immemorial’ ownership of land only when compared to other ethnic groups is up for debate. Expanding a uniform
22 Though it is generally considered to have been done to circumvent sale of land prior to cession.
86 Chapter Four: Nation formation conception of traditional land rights for indigenous Fijians, no matter how historically accurate, did however allow primordial sovereignty to be recognised vis-a-vis other ethnic groups. This often meant that indigenous Fijians internally tended to ignore the conditions of registering land permanently, while simultaneously applying the logic externally against other ethnic groups. Importantly, post-World War II developments point towards concepts of primordial sovereignty only arising in respect to demands of land access from other groups.
As MacNaught (1982) notes, Indo-Fijians believed that “Fijians seemed determined to deny an economic future on the land for Indians, and others, even when the owners themselves were unwilling or unable to bring their lands into full production”. This highlights the crux of the issue, with Indo-Fijian leasing and tenancy negotiations provisional on perceptions, at the time, of whether the primordial sovereignty of indigenous Fijians was being maintained.
Interjecting on this was that land as an asset of the colonial economy was viewed as best utilised through the hands of Indo-Fijian planters. As such when debates over lease length and the future economic security of Indo-Fijians arose post World War II, tensions between ownership and provisional understandings for land came to a head. Importantly, discourses surrounding ‘Land’ were experienced nationally, raising questions of primordial sovereignty amongst indigenous Fijians, who may have had little in common with each other, except that they shared a common interest when negotiating over land. Indo-Fijians were in a similar position, with their ‘Land’ issues reflecting not just provisional tenancy arrangements, but also spoke to their provisional acceptance within Fiji.
Colonialism within Fiji prompted the formation of five national discourses that existed purely because they could be felt and discussed across Fiji by everyone. Importantly, divided views between indigenous and Indo-Fijians surrounding national discourses allowed these ethnic groups, who were otherwise internally stratified, to unify not as cohesive nations, but under a set of principles that could be used as a guide for a future nation. As such, the national
87 Chapter Four: Nation formation discourses that arose during colonialism provided a backbone for the existence of multiple nations-of-intent within Fiji. This is because each discourse informed a particular relationship towards particular nations-of-intent, with each of these discourses making a particular claim about the nature of a Fijian nation. This meant at times either working tangentially, in combination with each other, or re-shaping discursive boundaries through conflict.
Importantly, each of these discourses were internally in a state of flux or competition. For instance, ‘Land’, as previously discussed is viewed differently according to ethnicity, with its particular argument about a nation-of-intent shifting accordingly. This is because while Indo-
Fijians generally viewed ‘land’ as provisional, indigenous Fijians viewed it in terms of ownership, as Indigenous Fijians claims of ownership largely rested on a belief of primordial sovereignty – that because they are the original owners of the land they are the ones who should decide governance over the land. In doing so, this sets up an antagonism about whether land rights vis-a-vis ownership also represents ownership over the nation, and whether Indo-Fijians are only provisionally accepted into the nation on this basis. This antagonism arises because if land ownership were extended to Indo-Fijians it would throw into question whether Indo-Fijians could also make sovereign claims within Fiji, or have an equal claim to the nation. Similarly, this introduces realpolitik elements, since if Indo-Fijians were to gain enough political power to affect land arrangements, then it would call into question the dominance of indigenous primordial sovereignty over the nation.
‘Labour’ functions in a similar manner, except in respect to individual versus communal production. Each of these makes a particular claim about the best way to materially progress within the nation. The ‘communal’ approach arguing that material advancement is best when pursued by communities as a whole, while the ‘individualised’ approached argues that material gains are best sought at an individual level. Importantly, each of these arguments run in tandem with views on ‘land’, as communal labour is dependent on the communal
88 Chapter Four: Nation formation ownership of land. Individualised views surrounding ‘land’ – like through specific leases or individual ownership – would then subvert communal thoughts on labour.
One of the arguments ‘religion’ makes is about the status of specific religions within the nation – like Christianity or Hinduism. Internally to ‘religion’ an antagonism takes places as to whether religion should be recognised by the state as part of the nation, or whether religion should remain apart, practiced only privately. Again, this antagonism has ethnic dimensions in that certain indigenous Fijian groups have historically called for Fiji to be recognised as a
Christian state. Consequently, Indo-Fijians have largely advocated for secularism, since they have historically practiced religion privately. ‘Education’ also operates in similar terrain as religion, since it makes a particular argument about how the nation should ‘look’. Though
‘education’ has many different elements, a continuing antagonism occurs between whether education should be uniform across Fiji or, targeted to specific ethnic contexts. A consequence of this antagonism being unresolved in the lead up to independence it meant that schools were often segregated by ethnicity, with the colonial state taking little responsibility about what this would mean for post-independence Fiji. As such, ‘religion’ has shaped
‘education’ through providing legitimacy (in the form of different religions) for the segregation of schools.
‘War’ as the last national discourse underlies the ‘importance’ or value placed on the idea of a nation. Within ‘War’ an antagonism arises over whether fighting for the nation should be unconditional, because of inherent obligations. Or whether fighting for the nation is conditional on a range of factors, including both the cause and the potential costs associated with a war. Interestingly, this discourse speaks to how sacrosanct the nation is, often used as a gauge to judge how loyal different communities are towards the nation.
89 Chapter Four: Nation formation
These are just a few brief examples of how Fiji’s national discourses near independence informed ideas concerning the nation, and importantly how internally contested they were. As a result, independence did not automatically resolve these discourses into one cohesive nation-of-intent, but instead saw the rise of two competing nations-of-intent. Importantly, each of these nations-of-intent were conditioned by these specific relational discourses spawned during colonialism.
As will be argued, these competing nations-of-intent formed through intersections present across the national discourses. This is partly evidenced by the agenda pursued by political parties at independence, with Indo-Fijians generally supporting the NFP who continued to push for populist ideas, like social welfare, free education, and balanced economic development (Lal 1992, 218) while indigenous Fijians tended to support the Alliance who operated on a conservative platform of responsible and experienced leadership. Each of these parties drew across the previous discourses to inform their views about the nation in a particular way, with Indo-Fijians preferring an equal distribution of social services, while indigenous Fijians defended communalism and all that it entailed (Lal 1992, 218). While there is a relationship between ethnicity and conceptions of the nation, this should not be mistaken as causation since both nations-of-intent arose in response to particular structural conditions created under colonialism. This gives the impression that ethnicity may lie behind particular ideas about the nation, but rather the differences in treatment experienced by ethnic groups under colonialism is what initially informed these ideas. Identifying these nations-of- intent involves looking at the broad commonalities present across the national discourses, specifically looking at how they manifest through different political organisations, state institutions, and non-governmental organisations. This also includes examining ideas of citizenship, national identity, and the political economy. The following explores the nation- of-intent concept more closely before identifying two Fijian specific nations-of-intent.
90 Chapter Four: Nation formation
Fiji: A Nation-of-intent?
The ‘nation-of-intent’ concept was first employed by Rotberg (1966) to explain African nationalism, particularly why African nations did not exist like European nations prior to colonialism. Central to his ideas is that a nation cannot spring from nothing, rather that it is aided by the centralising process of the state, like education, which allows space for a national culture to exist. A nation for Rotberg consists of a definite territory inhabited by a people who possess a distinctive common culture and language and who feel that they constitute a nation. In a European sense, the centralisation of the state made individuals more dependent upon each other for both their survival and to increase material wealth. Rotberg believes the nation embodies this relationship between tying materialist goals with the strength of the nation – that the nation represents a common ‘destiny’ shared between a population. In Africa, colonial domination provided a common experience of history instead of a commonly held culture or language, like in Europe. Combined with colonial powers only half completing a nation-building process, Rotberg argues that at independence they often left an unfinished national design – or a ‘nation-of-intent’. This ‘nation-of-intent’ is seen to be a compromised nation that is informed by the constraints of colonialism, where the idea of a shared destiny within a population is still putative.
Shamsul (1996) provides more clarity surrounding the concept when exploring the Malaysian case. Shamsul uses Malaysia as a case to explore the concept because it offers a way to neutrally discuss nationalism within politically strained contexts. For Shamsul (1996, 328), the nation-of-intent is a shared territorial entity, set of institutions, and culture. This means it is an idealist form of the nation, shared by a number of people who identify themselves with one another and a whole nation whose members hope they will join in their vision of a potential future nation. As such, it represents an inclusive construct, which promises citizens
91 Chapter Four: Nation formation an opportunity to participate in a grand project which they can participate in (Shamsul 1996,
328). This leads Shamsul to believe that a nation-of-intent also provides a vehicle for dissent, since it allows a population to conceptualise of their own nation-of-intent as an act of resistance. As such, multiple nation-of-intents can exist alongside each other, and importantly, alongside dominant forms.
In the literature a number of general assumptions underpinning the concept have been explored and built upon since Rotberg and Shamsul’s initial introduction. This includes themes from modernism, suggesting that nations are modern phenomenon that develop with or alongside a centralised state. As such, modernisation processes are largely responsible for the formation of a nation, including both industrialism and colonialism. The literature does point out that colonialism acts in a similar fashion to the transformative aspects of industrialisation yet suggest that colonialism is more akin to ‘proto-industrialisation’. This is because industrialisation in a European sense has not occurred in many developing nations, with colonialism being the main transformative factor within these states. Necessarily, the nation-of-intent concept takes an instrumental view of the nation, since its aim is to achieve a particular kind of society. This means the concept is discussed as being understood both at the discursive and the realpolitik level, since it can be dictated and/or influenced by the actions of leaders with a vision. As such, a nation-of-intent can find space at the realpolitik level through a specific political party or movement, as well as being discursively represented through things like campaign material, media outlets or general conversation. It should be noted that a nation-of-intent can be discursively produced without reference to a particular party or movement as a means of either resistance or exploration.
The contexts both Rotberg and Shamsul use to explore the nation-of-intent concept contain a number of similarities applicable to the Fijian context – but with non-trivial differences. Like
92 Chapter Four: Nation formation parts of Africa, Fiji experienced colonial rule with only a half-completed nation-building process exemplified by the compromises made during the formation of the 1970 constitution.
Yet the difference here is that instead of a single common experience of colonialism, Fiji experienced two, due to alternative forms of rule. As such, while the nation may represent the combined ‘destiny’ that a population has because of a common historical experience, in Fiji this can be expanded to include multiple ‘destinies’. This particularly true in reference to the split experiences of Indo-Fijians and indigenous Fijians, with each having a different experience of colonial Fiji. Where a shared material ‘destiny’ was not tied at the national level, but rather internal to each ethnic community. While indigenous Fijians, driven by administrative structures, had to find material advancement as a community through communalism, Indo-Fijians collectively fought for equitable treatment between races in order to materially advance at an individual level. This dichotomy contributed to different understandings and positions on the national discourses previously explored. Consequently, this builds on Rotberg’s view that the relationship between a nation and people in a post- colonial context can only be understood ‘within the perimeters of their colonial existence’. In
Fiji there were two perimeters set under colonialism according to ethnicity, leading to neither a complete ‘Fijian’ nor ‘Indo-Fijian’ nation, but rather as will be argued – two competing nations-of-intent.
The nation-of-intent concept avoids the issue of asserting that a hegemonic form of a ‘Fijian’ nation has either existed in the past or does so currently. This is important, because as with
Malaysia, Fiji has also experienced political tension when discussing issues of the nation and national identity. These tensions extend to both the general population and importantly, within the literature itself when discussing ethno-nationalism. The lack of a neutral way to discuss Fijian nationhood and nationality has led to a fragmented literature, starting with confusion surrounding the appropriateness of when to employ terms like ‘Fijian’ to refer to
93 Chapter Four: Nation formation those who are not hereditary indigenous Fijians. This often meant that a Fijian citizen who was of Indian descent was either described as ‘Indian’ or ‘Indo-Fijian’, though a distinction between when an ‘Indian’ becomes an ‘Indo-Fijian’ is seldom stated. Similarly, Indo-Fijians and indigenous Fijians tended to be discussed separately by authors when examining historical trajectories related to the both the development of indigenous Fijian ethno- nationalism and Indo-Fijian political culture. This means there is a substantial amount of literature that conduct side-by-side analysis of indigenous Fijians and Indo-Fijians, yet few which combine the groups. The reason for this could be the politically charged nature of the topic, where discussion surrounding origins of nationhood and national identity could have led to divisive normative assumptions. This includes talking about ‘Fijian’ national identity purely through an indigenous Fijian lens, advancing notions of primordialism – meaning only indigenous Fijians can lay claim to being part of a ‘Fijian’ nation. Problematically, this leaves other sizeable groups that have resided in Fiji for a long period of time (like Indo-Fijians) from being discussed as part of a ‘Fijian’ nation, since to do so would challenge primordialist assumptions. As such, Indo-Fijians and other ethnic groups are rarely discussed as having a
‘Fijian’ national identity, instead they are either talked about having either an ‘Indian’ national identity or a ‘Pacific’ identity. This means within the literature, national identity and the nation are discussed in mainly exclusive terms, pertaining to only one group. However, the nation-of-intent concept provides a neutral lens to discuss these divisive topics because it avoids questions of self-determination and primordial sovereignty by focusing on an implied future nation – instead of questioning the past. In doing so, the concept can provide a way to inclusively discuss Fijian national identity and nationhood in a way that accounts for – but is not limited by – past notions of exclusivity.
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Two Nations-of-Intent
The ‘civic-egalitarian’ nation-of-intent was formed as a response to the effects of both colonial dominance and segregation. This model largely takes its cues from a cross-section of ideas surrounding the political economy, including the rights of workers and how the means of production are governed, equality in the application and rule of law, and access to legal dispute resolution. It is named as such because it sought equal treatment from the state for everyone – as opposed to the state treating people differently according to communal interests. Because of this it advocates for a meritocratic society, where everyone is given equal opportunity for employment. In turn, political rights – especially voting rights – should be equally weighted and universal. Similarly, it supports a secular view of the nation, with religious practices largely consigned to the private sphere. As such, it believes the state should hold the power over some social services, especially in providing and applying a universal standard of education. In terms of institutions, an equal representative democracy with a number of avenues to both question and appeal controversial legislation is seen as necessary to provide fairness within the political economy and society in general. A strong separation of powers between the judiciary and parliament is often defended to provide checks and balances. Similarly, strong regulatory bodies with adequate powers of investigation are often promoted, particularly surrounding labour relations, in order to limit corruption or exploitation.
A national identity under this nation-of-intent seeks to support an environment where the rights of all groups are equal and protected. As such, the basis of national identity relies upon civic principles, where an emphasis is placed on the value of institutions (e.g. legal, economic, political) binding citizens together. This generally means national identity is a
95 Chapter Four: Nation formation question of both wanting to belong to the nation and accepting the general norms and values within it. Because of this, it is an inclusive identity profile in the sense that anyone can be part of the nation if they so choose to, as opposed to an exclusive model based on something hereditary where you can only belong to the nation if certain unchangeable criteria are met.
This inclusive conception is sometimes referred to as ‘voluntarist’ model which is based on choices and achievements.
This particular nation-of-intent largely arose out of the experiences of Indo-Fijians during colonialism, although at various stages has found cross support from other ethnic groups.
This is because the relational discourses that compose it contain aspects which transcended ethnicity in favour of class commonalities. Labour often includes dialogues of wage parity between Indo-Fijians, indigenous Fijians and Europeans. One example directly intersects with War, and the relative worth of labour when performed by different ethnicities. These issues of wage parity often intersected other discourses, like Education, where arguments initially arose surrounding the status of English tuition – and whether it should be taught to everyone. Later this extended to the general teaching quality of schools in Fiji, and whether it was equal among all groups. Similarly, Religion also found intersections with civic- egalitarian debates which considered if all religions should have the same status within Fiji or whether some should remain elevated above others. Land proved a slightly different axiom, but again questioned the equality of bargaining powers between landowners and tenants when negotiating land arrangements.
It is the intersection between these discourses along such lines as equality which produced this concept of an ‘civic-egalitarian’ nation-of-intent – expressed through equal citizenship and the laws and rights set within the state. Whether recognised in their entirety as a potential set of future principles which could guide Fiji or not, its political class had already taken steps at formalising these ideas. Notably, this nation-of-intent was supported early on
96 Chapter Four: Nation formation by figures like A.D Patel and the NFP, who promoted policies like social welfare initiatives, and a common roll.
The ‘ethnic-communal’ nation-of-intent was formed out of colonial paternalism and indigenous Fijian reconstitution. This model builds upon a number of ideas introduced during colonialism to govern indigenous Fijians. This includes a focus on the development of indigenous Fijians as internally governed communal units, to the exclusion of other ethnic groups. To this end, communalism is scaled up from the local level to the national level. This means the nation is seen as made up of different communal groups, who each have their own combined interests to protect. Importantly, it endorses a primordial outlook, giving ascendency to indigenous Fijians as the main progenitors of the nation. As such, a number of institutions are ethno-specific and are promoted as a way to both express and conform communalism across the nation. This includes the Great Council of Chiefs, the Native Land
Trust Board, the Fijian Affairs Board and the electoral system. Sometimes, non-governmental organisations are also split by communal interests instead of class interests, specifically unions and churches. This means governance is seen as a pseudo-negotiation between communal interests. For example, in terms of developing an education and schooling policy a communal approach would look at the specific needs of each group and address them separately, as oppose to universally applying a set standard.
A national identity under this nation-of-intent follows primordial beliefs, which generally believes that national identity stems from a fixed ethnic identity that has a historically traceable territorial entity. In this sense, a national identity is exclusive in that it only accepts those who have the requisite unchangeable and static traits. A ‘Fijian’ national identity under this nation-of-intent would solely refer to indigenous Fijians since they are the ethnic group who have a historically traceable link to Fiji. Thus, unless you are born an indigenous Fijian
97 Chapter Four: Nation formation you could not be considered to have a Fijian national identity. On the other hand, this means those who fall into a grey area, like Indo-Fijians, would be considered as having an ‘Indian’ national identity since that is where they originate from. This may mean that citizenship rights have a basis of difference, where different groups may be awarded more rights or privileges because of their hereditary identity than other groups.
This nation-of-intent largely evolved from the roots of colonial indirect rule, which treated indigenous Fijians differently to other groups. In doing so, it promotes the nation as exclusive towards indigenous Fijians, although other ethnic groups can conditionally reside within the state. These conditions usually relate to primordial aspects of indigenous Fijian identity, where other groups must respect tenets of indigenous Fijian culture, including communalism, land ownership, cultural practices and religion. As with the civic-egalitarian nation-of-intent, the ethnic-communal version is also built around intersections within the relational discourses. One of these intersections revolves around communalisation, particularly in respect to both Labour and Land. Where the communalisation of indigenous land ownership supports a communalised view of Labour, since the means of production (agricultural land) being communally shared, relies upon labour duties also being communally shared. Similarly,
War also intersects with Land and Labour through communalism by promoting the defence of the nation as a communal obligation. It does this by drawing a link between the nations land as something to protect through the use of communal labour motivated by obligation, instead of being conditional upon certain labour payments and working conditions. Education and Religion also find an intersection through their proffered communal protection, in that certain privileges should remain protected within both Education and Religion because of their status within the indigenous Fijian community. For instance, the idea that Christianity should be reinforced by the state as the dominant religion within Fiji, while schools should teach and reinforce indigenous Fijian culture and language over other cultures.
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This view was predominant throughout colonialism and promoted to different degrees by a number of prominent indigenous Fijians like Lala Sukuna, and Ratu Mara. To this end, the
Alliance party propagated policies which built upon the idea of a communalised nation. For instance, Mara enacted a number of pro indigenous Fijian policies23 perceived to restore
‘parity’ between indigenous and Indo-Fijians. This included higher education scholarships for indigenous Fijians, civil service quotas, and soft loans for commence. Though as Lal (1998,
232) notes these perceptions were often just that, with indigenous Fijians holding more civil service positions than Indo-Fijians.
Both the ethnic-communal and civic-egalitarian nations-of-intent lie at either ends of a spectrum, yet share the same core discourses of Land, Labour, Education, War and Religion.
Both civic-egalitarian and ethnic-communal nation-of-intents are not meant to be imposed on individual level as discrete categories, but rather acts as the two end points of a spectrum that individuals are asked to identify with. This explains some nuances, like the Apolosi Nawai movement or the current National Federation Party which contain elements that overlap. In the lead up to independence they both attempted to occupy the same political space, with constitutional drafting representing a careful and precarious negotiation over which nation-of- intent of should be favoured in the future. This became increasingly evident through the constitutional drafting process in the lead up to independence, with politics providing the means to mediate between national discourses.
Why not Politics?
While the bifurcated colonial experiences of indigenous and Indo-Fijians informed two different nations-of-intent through national discourses, the same logic could be applied for
23 See Lal (1998) Broken Waves: A History of the Fiji Islands in the Twentieth Century for more.
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‘Politics’. However, I argue that ‘politics’ is primarily a tool for mediating between these national discourses, instead of itself representing one. This is somewhat endorsed by Ratuva
(2003), who believes that the state was a site for the contestation of power in Fiji. While there are certainly differences between the experiences of indigenous and Indo-Fijians when dealing with colonial politics, these arose largely as a response towards resolving conflicts or antagonisms within the national discourses. The colonial legislative council sat members according to ethnicity, granting Indo-Fijians voting rights prior to indigenous Fijians who continued to be represented through the Council of Chiefs (until 1966). As such, each group continued to present the views of their specific side of the national discourses during legislative council meetings. Yet, what this did was further emphasise each group as a homogenous bloc by presenting their views collectively, in spite of their various internal differences. This included topics like land tenure lengths, the communal labour market, the war effort, as well as education providers.
Politics as the mediator between national discourses during colonialism was underlined by an early colonial axiom between indigenous Fijians and the British that an immigrant population should neither directly nor indirectly have any part in the control or direction of matters that effected the interests of the ‘Fijian race’. This worked well when the communities were physically and institutionally divided under colonialism, where political interaction was limited to the legislative council. But, in the lead up to independence, such a political arrangement could not be continued because of pressure upon the British to decolonise.
Though the British would no longer represent the third stake at the table between indigenous
Fijians and Indo-Fijians, colonially spawned national discourses would remain. As argued through the constitutional drafting process below, the mediation and re-negotiation of the national discourses would see only one nation-of-intent become state-supported at the eve of independence.
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Constitutions in Fiji
Constitutional drafting was doubly problematic in colonial Fiji compared to other colonies because of the way Fiji was initially administered. Dual forms of rule, and a politically privileged indigenous elite, meant that not only were political rights recognised in both communities prior to independence, but they also varied across ethnic communities. Having political rights through either voting, access to a judiciary system or legislation development recognised prior to independence was quite unique, with only Malaysia being comparable.
Though the split between indirect and direct rule almost necessitated a recognition of political rights during colonialism, the legitimacy of colonial political rights rested upon the Deed of
Cession, and the controversial ‘Salisbury Dispatch’. Briefly, the Deed of Cession in 1874 ceded Fiji to the Crown with assurances that the rights and interests of the ceding party shall be recognised, while the Salisbury Dispatch in 1875 stated that Indian labour would be ‘free men’ with privileges ‘no whit inferior to those of any other … resident in the colonies’ (Lal
2012, 150). These two documents were somewhat contradictory in practice, as recognising indigenous Fijian rights and interests would also weaken the assurances within the Salisbury
Dispatch given to the Indian community.
As questions of de-colonising Fiji began to be raised, references to these documents, particularly the Deed of Cession, became more common. This included an informally published, but widely recognised address to the secretary of state for colonies signed by all the indigenous Fijian members on the Legislative Council in 1963. This address included a number of points, which included that the Deed of Cession in making the Queen the Queen of
Fiji means that breaking from the Crown should “never be contemplated”. If moves towards internal self-government were contemplated the ‘special’ relationship between Fiji and the
United Kingdom should be codified, and that this codification would inform any
101 Chapter Four: Nation formation constitutional change, maintaining the principles laid out in the Deed of Cession. That any move towards constitutional change should only occur at the insistence of indigenous Fijians with a number of assurances. These assurances included topics like land ownership, Fiji as a
Christian state, legislation which would allow for separate administration of indigenous Fijian interests, and that a balance of race should be pursued within the civil service.
These demands spoke to a number of the previous national discourses, but mostly to political power being concentrated towards indigenous Fijians. Having political power concentrated in this way would allow further influence over the aforementioned discourses, as displayed by the request for a Christian state, continuing indigenous land ownership and a balance of races within the civil service. This means that if de-colonisation were to happen, indigenous Fijians
(at least the ‘elite’ behind the letter) wanted to retain power in order to influence ‘Religion’
(through the Christian state), ‘Land’ (through the ownership of land, and interests), ‘Labour’
(through the civil service) as well as ‘Education’ (since the civil service would require an educated workforce). These demands effectively grouped one side of the national discourses together as the ethnic-communal nation-of-intent within one document in the lead up to the constitutional commission of 1965.
The Indo-Fijian response to this became clearer as the constitutional commission of 1965 drew closer. Represented by A.D Patel, they pushed for a common electoral roll that he argued would allow political parties to develop over national lines, instead of racial lines.
Already in the wake of the 1963 election parties had started forming along so-called ethnic lines through both the Alliance and National Federation parties. However, Patel also acknowledged that indigenous Fijian land rights should remain inviolate, though conditions of leasing should be open for discussion (Lal 2012, 157). A.D Patel as the emergent spokesmen for the Indo-Fijian community outlined what was wanted by stating there was no
102 Chapter Four: Nation formation desire to dominate Fiji; that there should be recognition of common and equal rights; and that
Europeans could also have representation (Lal 1997, 192). On the last point, mainly because a belief that if common franchise was achieved there would not be much between the races in the political field, in doing so pulling together Fiji for the welfare of all. Patel argued ‘we believe that the time has come that the different communities living in Fiji should become a nation’ (Lal 1997, 192).
On the other side, Mara represented the spokesperson for indigenous Fijians through the
Alliance party. At the constitutional conference Mara proclaimed that the indigenous Fijian community ‘have never found a sound or valid reason to attenuate, let alone abandon, our historical and happy association with the United Kingdom’(Lal 1997, 193). And in terms of a supposed Fijian nation, believed that within their own respective countries ‘the average
Englishman, and the average Indian’ would similarly react with fear if their special identity became politically irrelevant. Equating political equality to ‘falling from that of [a presumed indigenous Fijian] nation to that of a mere community wherein they [indigenous Fijians] would have to take their place along with others’.
The difference between Indo-Fijians pursuing an equal relationship with the state, and indigenous Fijians maintaining their colonial privilege was noticed at the time:
There is still a feeling among the Fijians that the Governor belongs to them and that he personally, or through his British officers, looks after them first and foremost, and that they are not interested in what happens to others.
A.C Reid, Secretary for Fijian Affairs, 1962 cited in Norton 2002.
And that;
Any reform or innovation calculated in their opinion to undermine the racial identity of the Fijians is condemned irrespective of its merits,
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and any significant development towards interracialism is liable to be regarded by the Fijians as having this tendency [they fear that] any advance towards interracialism in matters of importance is a step towards Indian domination
Sir Kenneth Maddocks, Governor of Fiji, 1962 cited in Norton 2002.
This was particularly apparent in the reporting of Patel’s suggestion of ‘common rolls’ as an electoral policy within an indigenous Fijian section of the Fiji Times, which played on fears over the size of the Indo-Fijian that narrowly outnumbered indigenous Fijians. It argued that a common roll would allow these superior numbers to translate into Legislative Council seats for Patel, since ethnic guarantees of seats would disappear. Following this logic, Patel would then be able to change land arrangements, including leases, as well as remove the Fijian administration. These kinds of fears led to arguments that Indo-Fijians should not even be allowed into the constitutional commission, because Cession was only held between the
Crown and indigenous Fijians who should be the only ones to change it.
Nevertheless, the commission proceeded with representation from both indigenous Fijians in the form of Mara, and Indo-Fijians in the form of Patel. While Mara had no interest in pressing for independence, citing a ‘happy association’ with the United Kingdom, Patel objected. This is because Patel believed that Fiji needed political freedom in order to combat poverty and illiteracy, as well as democratic rule in order to bring it in line with the modern world. Instead, the conference made small steps towards internal self-government that included privileged political power within indigenous Fijians by way of communal electoral rolls, although with limited cross-voting available. Conversely, this meant Indo-Fijians had greatly lost, both losing their political parity and having made no steps forward on common- rolls. As such, coming out from the constitutional commission Mara exclaimed a win for increased indigenous Fijian solidarity. Indo-Fijians took another message at the advice of the secretary for colonies that concessions had to be made for 1965 but would be malleable for
104 Chapter Four: Nation formation future constitutional reviews. This however never came to fruition, with the colonial government forming a coalition of sorts with the Alliance party, further consigning Indo-
Fijians towards a limited political position.
In 1968 by-election writs were issued following a boycott of the Legislative Council by Patel and the Federation party. The lead up to these elections saw Patel label the current political trajectory in Fiji as a road to future discord, largely because communal rolls would facilitate racial compartmentalisation and thus harm attempts for national unity. This earned rebuke from the Alliance, who believed that only under communal rolls could Fiji progress slowly towards self-government. The actual campaign was similar, with the election used as a pseudo-referendum on a number of points, including Patel’s leadership and Mara’s appeal to the Indo-Fijian community. The Federation party campaigned on a basis of eliminating colonial inequalities (like expatriates dominating the civil service) by promoting common rolls, social welfare, fair wealth distribution and nationalising particular industries. It managed to attract enough attention from some indigenous Fijians parties in order to form the
National Federation Party (NFP). The Alliance on the other hand, opted to campaign negatively by dressing Patel as an ‘anti-white dictator’ and the NFP as anti-Fijian (Lal 1992,
204).
In the end, the by-election was decisively won by the NFP – with significant repercussions.
This included allegations that the NFP was responsible for racial polarisation, despite conforming to the system of communal rolls as well as the Indo-Fijian community in general being ungrateful towards land reforms initiated by Mara. A ramp up of divisive rhetoric saw indigenous Fijian extremists call for the tightening of land, leases to either not be renewed or unfavourable towards Indo-Fijians and some suggestions for the deportation of all Indo-
Fijians. Before any racial violence broke out, tensions subsided with some reconciliatory
105 Chapter Four: Nation formation moves by both Patel and Mara. As an advanced move towards reconciliation, and to promote nationalism Mara suggested in 1969 that all residents in Fiji should be called Fijian, a point also raised by Patel in 1967. However, the Great Council of Chiefs opposed the idea, effectively blocking its introduction. The use of ‘Fijian’ to refer to all Fijian citizens would remain contentious even with its introduction under the 2013 constitution. Shortly after this episode, discussions between the Alliance and NFP for independence started.
The final constitutional conference held in London 1970 for an independence constitution was remarkably modest, given the dramas surrounding 1965. Before the conference had started, a number of the instruments of governance and the responsibilities of different branches were already settled. Only the composition of parliament and how members were to be elected remained in doubt. As such, it was decided that Fiji would have a bicameral legislature with an appointed Upper House and fully elected Lower House. The most pressing issues involved the method of election for the Lower House, particularly how many seats were to be contested on either a communal, national or common roll basis. In the end, indigenous Fijians gained the Upper House by effectively being able to appoint more members than Indo-Fijians, with the Great Council of Chiefs given veto powers over legislation affecting Fijian interests and privileges. The Lower House consisted of an amalgamation of communal seats, and national seats that resulted in parity between indigenous and Indo-Fijians. As with 1965, the electoral process involved for the Lower
House as a combination of communal and national rolls was a compromise. This compromise was said to be susceptible to change depending on how Fiji dealt with independence.
As will be explored more thoroughly in the next chapter, the 1970 constitution bore out several important points which placed the ethnic-communal nation-of-intent as the dominant conception of the nation at independence. In doing so, the 1970 constitution promoted the
106 Chapter Four: Nation formation ethnic-communal nation-of-intent and the discourses which made it up into a position of hegemony over other competing concepts of the nation, namely the civic-egalitarian nation- of-intent. The institutions that the 1970 constitution supported, like the Great Council of
Chiefs, Native Land Trust Board, and the electoral system all served to support this communalised nation by separating society into distinct groups. This left the civic-egalitarian nation-of-intent as an alternative conception of the nation from discourses that were either discarded during constitutional drafting or in the lead up to independence. In doing so, it became a form of resistance against the ethnic-communal model by exposing the problems of a communalised society. As such, it attempted to find support through organisations, like unions, which purportedly transcended ethnic divisions in favour of resolving universal problems – often related to class issues.
With the drawing of the 1970 constitution, both communities regarded the end of colonialism differently. Lal (1992, 215) argues that indigenous Fijians thought they were the nation whose patrimony they refused to share with other communities, except on their own terms; while the other, the Indo-Fijians, took it as a given that they were already part of an assumed
‘Fiji’ nation. Taylor (1987) describes each community as homogenous communities with unified interests, though an argument could be made that each community was homogenous only because they were unified through their specific community interests. Similarly, definite party lines began forming on an ethnic basis (partly forced by the electoral system), focusing on community specific issues – often projected as national issues. As such, while the 1970 constitution briefly solved the power sharing and internal government debate, it had only begun to address the emergent national discourses that had previously – and would continue – to split Fiji.
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The separate nations-of-intent allowed ethnicities which were otherwise internally stratified to unite not as one cohesive nation at independence, but instead under different sets of principles, which could guide a potential future nation. Similarly, because of their colonial foundations they also represented the different relationships and expectations each ethnic community held towards the state. As such they provided a signifier for the sum of themes shared across the national discourses, the ethnic-communal nation-of-intent representing an upscaling of indigenous Fijian communal traditions, aided through the creation of national institutions; or the civic-egalitarian nation-of-intent which drew from ideas of universal political equality, and individual autonomy. Conflict between these nations-of-intent would continually be renegotiated through a cycle of elections, coups and constitutional reform explored in the next chapter.
108 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000)
Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000)
The strength of tradition depends less on its historical accuracy than on its social significance.
Mishra (2000, 151) in The Feudal Post-colonial: The Fiji Crisis.
This chapter follows the newly formed nations-of-intent journey from independence to the
2006 coup by Commodore ‘Frank’ Bainimarama. It does this by first exploring the immediate aftermath of independence, including the 1970 independence constitution, and the consequences of decolonisation. Afterwards it explores the events of each subsequent coup in
Fiji, beginning in 1987, continuing in 2000 and ending in 2006. In each case, it identifies the context surrounding the coups along with the choices made by leading political figures, groups, and institutions. Importantly, it examines the relationship between elections, coups and constitutions and how this relationship influenced both the ethnic-communal and civic- egalitarian nations-of-intent. The purpose of the chapter is not to delve into the detailed machinations of the political scene during this period, but rather to examine how the discursive representation of salient events impacted on respective nations-of-intent – and by extension – conceptions of national identity. At times this chapter involves interpreting parts of the historiography of Fiji itself as a discourse, as some writers of key literature became politically active during this time. In doing so, it addresses some key debates in the literature regarding the ethnic or class nature of conflict within Fiji, discussing the potency of instrumental national identity in Fijian ethno-nationalist movements despite the apparent lack material causes.
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The Role of Constitutions
Constitutions represent an important link between joining the discursive aspects of a nation- of-intent with realpolitik, particularly by reinforcing certain identity constructs. As a discursive tool, constitutions are responsible for both forming and maintaining identities. This is because constitutions attempt to constitute who ‘the people’ are by defining their rights vis-
à-vis the state. Tushnet (2010) explains that if ‘the people’ changes, so to must a constitution, as the reformed ‘people’ then need to be re-established through a new constitution that re- defines their new relation to the state. This means constitutions act as a conduit of multiple discourses on identity within a state, seeking to both constitute the people as they are, and simultaneously make them into something else (Tushnet 2010, 672).
As we have seen, they are often designed within particular political and discursive contexts.
Constitutions are generally examined for their institutional and procedural aspects with focus upon either the act of constitution-writing or the construction of democratic institutions
(Lerner 2010, 69). Intersections between constitutions as discourses of identity are rarely discussed, largely owing to the problem of whether a collective of people exists prior to a constitution or if the process of constitution-making actually creates the collective (Preuss
1993, 644). Trenz (2010, 97) drawing on Laclau & Mouffe (1985) argues that collective identity needs to be discursively represented, as it has no existence beyond discourse, since only discursive practices can constitute a collective identity. A constitution as a statement expressing who the collective ‘people’ are must then be considered as a discourse itself.
Returning to Preuss’s problematisation, this means that a constitution occupies a unique discursive position within a state, as its setting of political parameters necessarily influences both representations of identity and how ‘the people’ can identify with this conception. This means constitutions play dual roles as a discourse; by acting as an artefact containing the
110 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000) culmination of multiple discourses that occurred during constitution-making, as well as impacting future national discourses by setting political parameters. In essence, if the discursive landscape surrounding a constitution’s drafting shifts over time, the political parameters set by a constitution would still remain within this new discursive landscape. The political parameters – and their discursive associations with the nation’s identity – laid within the constitution would then be freely reproduced and influential in a new context.
Rosenfeld (2010, 209) sees constitution-making as dependent upon ‘unique contextual and relational factors’. Constitutions attempt to tie both discourses of identity and acts of identification together through the discursive links they create between the preamble and electoral arrangements. Preambles attempt to identify the constituent people or the source of sovereignty through things like establishing a national history (Orgad 2010, 717). The electoral system specifies how the act of identifying as ‘the people’ will occur through voting24. The discursive reinforcement between the preamble and electoral system is arguably the most salient part of a constitution since it links a part widely read by the public and in education sectors in the preamble – with an act of identification through voting, designated by the electoral system. The 1970 Fijian constitution does this through the inclusion or exclusion of identity within the preamble which translates into how the electoral system includes or excludes candidates with a different identity to the one expressed within the preamble.
The introductory text of the 1970 constitution begins by acknowledging Fiji’s Cession to the
Queen in 1874 carried out under the Chiefs with the power of God. The opening statement argues a particular view about a perceived ‘Fijian’ nation through its referencing of Cession which implies that Fiji existed as a unified state, and therefore nation, prior to independence.
24 It should be noted that not all constitutions contain an electoral system
111 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000)
By citing the Chiefs, it explicitly states who the power of the Fijian state was vested in before
Cession. The emphasis placed upon the Chiefs as having the power to cede Fiji glosses over the complicated arrangement of Fiji’s pre-colonial political systems, and only presents a partial image of pre-colonial political configuration. In doing so, it presents historical Fiji as politically unified under one paramount Chief during Cession. In turn, this establishes a link with Cession that legitimises the Chiefly system’s position post-independence. There is a distinct possibility that the introductory text aimed to introduce a version of Fiji that could only be politically unified under a Chiefly system. The reference to God similarly promotes the Chiefs as partly religious symbols, reinforcing Christianity as a prominent part of the nation, despite its ethno-specific role in Fiji (Weir 2015).
The idea of a chiefly political arrangement is reinforced through the following passage in
Article 1 which calls for other ‘races’ in 1970 to adhere to the principles that were held within the Deed of Cession back in 1874.
Article 1.
And Whereas many persons of all races and creeds have come from divers countries and have desired peace and prosperity under the precepts and principles of such Cessionsi:
Fijian Constitution (1970) Introductory text
In terms of national identity, the introductory text so far presents indigenous Fijians as the natural owners of Fiji, and the Chiefs as their symbolic and political heads (Lawson 1992,
67). The emphasis placed upon who Fiji belonged to is important as it establishes a history of
Fiji with which only certain groups can identify with. Drawing on Cession in 1874 acts as a two-fold way of doing this, as it allows only indigenous Fijians to identify with this history, while providing legitimacy for the exclusion of other identities in the nation. The mention to
‘many persons’ instead of naming them as ‘Fijians’ in Article 1 clarifies this, as it is meant to
112 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000) remind other races that they do not naturally belong in Fiji, but rather exist within Fiji on the whim of the Chiefs who are sovereign Fijians. Similarly, it also presents ‘Fijian’ as a term for only indigenous Fijians and relegates anyone who exists outside this as something ‘other’ by placing them antagonistically against ‘Fijian’.
This is further enhanced by the electoral system within the constitution which structurally reinforced the antagonistic use of ‘Fijian’. The constitution put into place ethnically grounded communal electoral rolls that restricted Indo-Fijian access to the state unless aided by a coalition of indigenous Fijians (Lal 2002, 153). One consequence of this is that communal rolls forcibly unified indigenous and Indo-Fijians into respective groups, presenting each as a homogenous political community. This kind of homogenisation aided the transformation of the political sphere into an arena of ethnic contest as it forced people through their voting behaviour to only identify with their respective group identity. In doing so it provided a discursive link between the preamble, which emphasised an exclusive indigenous Fijian identity as the national, with the act of voting. This reinforced messages within the preamble itself since it linked indigenous Fijian exclusivity over the nation with decreased political representation for others.
Constitutions play a determining role in locating the more abstract nature of nationhood conceptions within very real political parameters. The course of Fijian constitutional history is no exception, with successive constitutions playing a key role in representing a nation-of- intent both through its discursive messages and political structures. This is exemplified through the preamble and electoral sections of the constitution, which links the identity of the nation to political parameters. The 1970 constitution supported the idea of an ethnic- communal nation-of-intent, yet left the door open for this to be changed through its electoral system should certain political conditions be met. What exactly happened when these
113 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000) political parameters were met in 1987 contributed to Fiji’s subsequent turbulent constitutional cycle of elections, coups and constitutional redrafts.
The Aftermath of 1970 and ‘De-colonising’
The integration of both indigenous and Indo-Fijians under one set of rules, expressed through the 1970 constitution, now meant that all citizens were directly ruled under the new Fijian government – and theoretically one administrative system. However, the constitution also left provisions for the separate governance of indigenous Fijians, suggesting that although British colonial indirect rule had ended, the power structures that supported indirect rule would persist. As such, although independence had technically ended indirect and direct rule, the new government would still inherit the same power structures that held up colonialism – like the NLTB. Problematically, this meant that the post-independence period was riddled by the legacies of split colonial administration within one state. These included the significant roadblock of attempting to reconcile different perspectives of the state’s role within each ethnic community. Attempting to address these differences was further hindered by an unequal political system that largely left indigenous Fijian elites in power. As such, attempting to mediate differences about the state’s role towards different ethnic communities was far from equal, and often pursued through adversarial bargaining in parliament.
The roots of post-independence political conflict within the framework of the 1970 constitution was foreshadowed by the Council of Chiefs in 1933:
That this council records its strong and unanimous opinion that Fiji, having been ceded to Her Majesty the Queen of Britain and Ireland, Her Heirs and Successors, the immigrant Indian population should neither directly or indirectly have any part in the control of the direction of matters affecting the interests of the Fijian race.
114 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000)
Cited in Ali (1980, 143)
This statement was re-affirmed by the great-grandson of Ratu Seru Cakobau just prior to independence who cautioned that:
I have nothing against independence. Let [it] come. But when [independence comes], I should like this recorded in this house – Let the British government return Fiji to Fijians in the state and in the same spirit with which Fijians gave Fiji to Great Britain. Ratu Penaia mirrored these thoughts by stating that; the running of this colony must be handed over [to] the Fijians – by that I mean administratively, and politically.
Cited in Ali (1980, 143)
While these chiefs no doubted wanted to retain their own position of power in a post- independent Fiji, they also marked an underlying fear about the possibility of being ‘ruled’ by those of Indian descent. To this end, the Fijian Association was set up in 1956 to counter the political ambitions of Indo-Fijians.
At its time of drafting, the 1970 constitution was recognised as limited in being able to deal with both the fears of political domination by ‘Indians’ from indigenous Fijians and the political aspirations of Indo-Fijians seeking equal rights. To this end, the composition of the
Lower House was seen as an interim solution for the first election after independence. This meant electoral rolls were split into three communities, with both indigenous and Indo-Fijians receiving an equal number of communal and national seats, while a category of ‘general electors’ who were predominately Europeans received a small share. In effect, this small share gave indigenous Fijians control of the lower house because Europeans aligned themselves with indigenous Fijians. The Senate was also set up in the interests of providing indigenous Fijians with a safeguard that their rights would be maintained, as they were guaranteed an effective majority and veto powers over legislation that could shift land rights
115 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000) and customs. The Westminster model was first put into practice in the 1972 elections, which saw the Alliance party headed by Ratu Mara comfortably defeat the National Federation
Party led by Koya. Surprisingly, the result of these elections showcased that a peaceful transition towards independence was possible in a climate where it was feared that open ethnic hostilities would arise once the British left. The lack of bloodshed however betrayed the existence of deep divisions concerning the running of the state that would surface between 1977 and the first coup in 1987.
The Westminster style of parliament did not help to resolve lingering ethnic tensions, since they often promote two party systems. Combined with Fiji’s colonial history, the two-party system also contained elements of ethnic partisanship. While the wisdom of the British allowing an adversarial style of government in an already ethnically split polity is certainly questionable, the effect of this saw the consolidation of both the Alliance Party, and the
National Federation Party (NFP). The Alliance Party was initially formed to contest the 1966 elections as a response to Governor Jakeway’s calls for an effective self-governing administration prior to independence. True to its name, the Alliance Party was an amalgamation of Fiji Association, the General Electors Association, the Suva Rotuman
Association, the Rotuman Convention, the Chinese Association, the All-Fiji Muslim Political
Front, the Fiji Minority Party, and the Tongan Organisation. The National Federation Party on the other hand was formed in 1968 as a combination between the past Federation party, which contested the 1966 elections, and the National Democratic Party. Notably, both the
Alliance Party and the NFP were not strictly divided along ethnic lines, as each contained a degree of multi-ethnic representation. However, the Alliance party supporter base mainly consisted of indigenous Fijians and Europeans. While the NFP’s backbone of the Federation
Party made up most of its supporter base – Indo-Fijians, although the merger of the National
Democratic did bring some indigenous Fijian representation. Despite the ethnic leanings of
116 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000) each major party, the 1972 election did reflect some cross-ethnic support, with 24 per cent of
Indo-Fijians backing The Alliance Party.
The interim period between the next election in 1977 revealed just how difficult it would be to reconcile both ethnic groups about the role of state. These anxieties concerning the state’s role were foreshadowed prior to independence, with the Indo-Fijian community fearing that they may be repatriated back to India come independence. While indigenous Fijians feared that the increasing population of Indo-Fijians vis-a-vis their own would make them a minority within their own country, with the consequence of losing political power to an economically powerful Indo-Fijian community.
Indo-Fijian fears were rooted in the treatment experienced by other Indians overseas who had also worked as labour within British colonies. This included: Mauritius, British Guiana,
Trinidad, Jamaica, Natal, and Surinam. In some cases, it was not out of the ordinary for these countries, once having attained independence, to discriminate against Indians. This often meant that Indians were either humiliated or persecuted, and in some extreme cases, being expelled on mass (Lal 1980). However, in most cases meant Indians were excluded from national politics, like in Malaysia and Sri Lanka, were they remained unrepresented. And when they did challenge for political representation, like in the West Indies and Mauritius, fierce conflict arose with those of African descent. In extreme cases like Uganda and Kenya, this saw either a boycotting of ‘Asian’ businesses accompanied by violence and intimidation or, in the latter case, a process of ‘Africanisation’ which saw top government and business positions reserved for only those of African origin. India’s independence did nothing to dispel anti-Indian discrimination with ‘ex-Indians’ faced with either choosing between their country of origin or their country of residency. To this end, the first Indian Prime Minister in 1948 proclaimed that Indians abroad had to choose between either attaining the franchise as
117 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000) nationals of their other country, or to be treated as Indians without the franchise and seek favourable treatment as an alien (Mishra 2000, 20). This played out in Kenya where ‘Kenyan
Asians’ were forced to choose between either renouncing British citizenship or flee to Britain
– although the British government would eventually introduce legislation to stop the ‘Kenya
Exodus’. Alarmingly, in Uganda Indians were not given such a choice, as they were expelled on mass in 1972 by President Idi Amin. Neither the British nor the Indian government wished to take full responsibility for those left stateless. A similar situation developing in Fiji was feared by Indo-Fijians. Indo-Fijians however were considered Fijian citizens at independence with 98 per cent Fiji-born Indians accepting sole Fijian citizenship. In doing so, they were protected as members of Fiji under the Bill of Rights in the constitution, yet this was seen insufficient because the African experience highlighted how precarious such situations could be. As such, fears about the Bill of rights being wound back, or overturned over time persisted throughout the Indo-Fijian community.
With the number of Indo-Fijians vis-a-vis indigenous Fijians nearing parity, some indigenous
Fijians feared that any moves towards political equality between the groups would see Indo-
Fijians become politically dominant because of their numbers. As such, there was a fear that indigenous Fijians could become minority within their own country to a foreign ‘race’, and therefore Indo-Fijians should have limited political access to the state (Lal 1980). In 1976, however, a census pointed out a decline in the population of Indo-Fijians since record-taking began, taking Indo-Fijians to under 50 per cent of the total population. The numerical advantage of Indo-Fijians was actually projected to decrease by 1988 to a point that indigenous Fijians would become the largest ethnic group. However, some indigenous Fijians would still pursue constitutional and political safeguards usually reserved for minority groups.
118 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000)
The Alliance Party and its leader Mara faced difficultly by attempting to reconcile the fears of both Indo-Fijians and indigenous Fijians. This led to an internal struggle concerning the party’s multi-racial policies, which were felt by some to neglect the issues of indigenous
Fijians. The main challenger to this was assistant minister Sakeasi Butadroka, who was subsequently expelled by the party following his criticisms. Butadroka however did not stop there, and instead went on to form the Fijian Nationalist Party (FNP) in 1974 with the aim of having a ‘Fiji for the Fijians’. As such, the FNP was mainly seen as an indigenous Fijian ethno-nationalist party, attempting to undermine the ‘chiefly’ leadership of Mara by lambasting him for the slow economic progress of indigenous Fijians. Butadroka and the
FNP’s ethno-nationalism faced squarely against Indo-Fijians, to the point that in 1975 he proclaimed that:
The time has arrived when Indians or people of Indian origin in this country be repatriated back to India and that their travelling expenses back home and compensation for their properties in the country be met by the British Government
Cited in Lal (1980, 124)
Reminiscent of the African experience, the FNP released its own version of ‘Africanisation’ for Fiji during its 1976 convention, which stated that:
1. The interests of Fijians will be paramount at all times; 2. The Fijians must always hold the positions of Governor-General, Prime Minister, Minister for Fijian Affairs and Rural Development, Minister for Lands, Minister for Education, Minister for Agriculture, Minister for Home Affairs, and Minister for Commerce, Industry and Co-operatives; 3. More opportunities should be given for Fijians to enter business and commerce 4. Total opposition to common roll; 5. Strengthen Fijian Administration and the Government should give it financial backing and support;
119 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000)
6. Establishment of a Fijian institute to teach Fijians business skills 7. Pensions for ex-servicemen; 8. Indians should be repatriated to India after Fiji gains full independence; 9. More Government development projects should be concentrated in rural areas; 10. Expansion of the Royal Fiji Military Forces’ trade section to help ease unemployment; 11. The return to Fijians of all land that was illegally sold.
The differences between the FNP and the Alliance Party represented an uneasy, and almost unresolvable tension between the role of ‘traditional’ politics within a Western devised political system. This is because while Mara was considered a prominent chief in his own right, and therefore at the top of indigenous Fijian cultural and political hierarchy, Butadroka was from a non-chiefly background. As such, the criticism of the Alliance Party by the FNP also represented a breakdown in the influence of traditional chiefly power, providing a new outlet for other disenfranchised indigenous Fijians who felt that their chiefs may be letting them down in relation to other ‘races’. Paradoxically, although indigenous Fijian tradition was being internally challenged at the national stage – through the FNP and the Alliance
Party – it was vigorously defended as immemorial and used to deny Indo-Fijians political parity.
The lead up to the 1977 election started to show that not only did each ethnic community fear different things should the opposite group gain political power – but also faced different issues. One of these was the dichotomy between Land and Education. For indigenous Fijians, land ownership was touted as everything that made an indigenous Fijian who they were. With
Governor General Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau stating that ‘ownership of land is to the Fijians an extension of themselves. It represents culture, identity, and security’ (Lal 1996, 28). The ownership of land was seen as an essential element of their political and economic power, with perceptions that any move by Indo-Fijians to own land was a direct threat to indigenous
120 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000)
Fijian existence. Yet overwhelmingly land was owned by indigenous Fijians, with a minor amount of freehold land in European hands and a smaller portion of that in Indo-Fijian hands.
As we know, Indo-Fijians relied upon leases that offered limited security because they would eventually expire – potentially leaving those Indo-Fijians without stable employment or their dependants as squatters. The lack of a social security system to fall back was a fear not felt by indigenous Fijians, as they had their own separate administrative system on which to rely upon – the Fijian Administration. This effectively worked as a local system of government, looking after indigenous Fijian political, economic, and social development while preserving their traditional way of life. This is not to discount the other organisations set up to protect the interests of indigenous Fijians, like: The Fijian Affairs Board (FAB), the Native Land
Trust Board (NLTB), the Fijian Development Bank (FDB) and the Council of Chiefs. With no social security system or a specialised administrative system, and without land to fall back on, Indo-Fijians turned to education as a provider of social security.
Education was doubly important to those Indo-Fijians who relied upon manual labour, since they were mostly tenant farmers under lease. Educating their children was seen as one of the only ways to gain social mobility for an Indo-Fijian, since it was feared that if they grew up untrained they would face the same scenario as their forefathers, effectively ‘becoming slaves of someone else’ (Lal 1996, 28). To this end, Indo-Fijians were strongly represented in skilled and semi-skilled labour. Yet, their education did not necessarily translate into all work environments. This was particularly noticeable in the civil service, where indigenous Fijians had higher representation in particular ministries, like the Ministry of Fijian Affairs and Rural
Development and The Ministry of Home Affairs. These disparities extended to the police force, with indigenous Fijians outnumbering Indo-Fijians by roughly a third (Lal 1996, 27).
However, the biggest gulf was to be found in the armed forces, with Indo-Fijian
121 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000) representation being practically insignificant. The issues surrounding Land, Labour and
Education sat in the background of the election campaigns run by the two major parties.
As the 1977 election drew closer, debate over how the actual election process was to take place further emphasised the differences between each ethnic community. Setup in 1975, a
Royal Commission into Fiji’s electoral system took aim at the way the electoral system could be seen as a form of racialism, because of its communal nature. One of its charges was the first past-the-post system (FPTP), modelled after Britain’s single constituency model. This is because the FPTP system meant a candidate could win a seat through having the most votes, even if the total percentage was under fifty percent. This means a party could theoretically attain government without a majority of votes cast. In ethnically divisive contexts, such a system was argued to aggravate ethnic division through provoking communal politics.
Both the Alliance party and the NFP provided submissions to the commission. The Alliance party mostly argued for the status-quo. This is because it ensured parliamentary representation for most ethnic groups irrespective of their size, while the common roll method of election may not have returned enough of their own representatives in the Lower
House. Cross-voting was argued to provide enough limited incentives for ethnic co-operation between political parties without seriously challenging the status quo, with it argued that it had already been tested and proved itself successful at restraining political groups and leaders from exploiting racial prejudices during elections. That the system already recognised claims for what many of the Alliance considered the rightful status of indigenous Fijians, and in doing so restrained nationalism in the form of communalism. A combination of communal and crossvoting allowed both communal views and interests based on the common good to be expressed. This gave security to Europeans, Part-Europeans and the Chinese, who constituted less than 5 per cent of the population because they had guaranteed seats in Parliament. That
122 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000) the existing system based on the communal representation had contributed substantially to constructive race relations, and if changed would generate a strong sense of insecurity as no race would know how many members would be seated in parliament prior to counting.
Importantly they argued that because the Alliance Party and its allies, who commanded the greatest support of the voters in the country, it could be asserted that a majority of the people in the country also did not wish to see any change in the system.
The NFP however pushed for the removal of communal rolls towards common rolls, as well as highlighting proportional representation as the best electoral process for a bi-racial country. Its submission, although different, was also at pains to point out their want to safeguard the interests of indigenous Fijians. The biggest problem the NFP had was that communally based seats forced elections to revolve around the interests of each ethnic community, and importantly, those that arose within a communal electoral system could only
‘speak’ the language of communalism, and not that of national politics. Similarly, they charged that the electoral system had failed in Fiji because although a two-party system is fine in multi-racial states – since they force co-operation between multiple ethnic groups – instead in Fiji it had produced a two-party system built on race. As such, the NFP submitted that a proportional system would not allow an election contest between one candidate of one race and the other of another race, and encourage the emergence of a multi-party system – which probably was the most workable in a bi-racial society. Similarly, that no votes were wasted, and all votes secured representation in the legislature, as the system had been devised primarily to provide adequate and equitable representation to minorities. They also claimed that it would ensure majority rule, while encouraging leadership continuity through responsible and reasonable men and women, and that the system guaranteed such leaders would not be under undue pressure to give in to popular prejudices and extremist ideas. This is because they claimed it would produce elections that focused attention on national issues,
123 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000) rather than local, sectarian, or religious issues. In doing so local extremists would find it harder to be elected than under the FPTP model. Most importantly, by-elections would vanish.
To coincide with this, the NFP also argued that if proportional representation were introduced, a move towards a government of national unity could follow. This is because the
NFP believed that the current two-party system was only leading to ethnic conflict as one ethnic group would always be excluded compared to the other. And because of this, one party would always be in total control of the armed and security forces, which in the experience of other countries showed that such an arrangement could lead to the miss-use of armed forces to maintain political power. Lastly, they believed that a government of national unity would provide Fiji with a better international image that would attract greater levels of foreign aid.
And so, different proposals for electoral systems by two different political parties both attempted to buttress different nations-of-intent.
The commission’s findings after hearing submissions from not only the NFP and the Alliance
Party, but other groups and players, were released in December 1975, which included some important proposals. Briefly, the commission believed that ‘race’ within the electoral system through communal votes still had a role to play; yet the FPTP system was suggested to be replaced by a single transferable-vote system (STV). The extension of the communal roll was due to the commission believing that the indigenous Fijians were likely to resent Indo-Fijians as their traditional culture was at transitional stage with ‘modern’ conditions. For this, they cited that urban migrant indigenous Fijians would feel particularly aggrieved at established urban Indo-Fijians who were perceived as having a much greater level of economic prosperity. However, the commission did propose that the national seats should be held on a common roll basis, as it would allow a limited degree of inter-racial co-operation.
124 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000)
Ultimately Mara would reject the commissions ideas, on the basis that a common roll system would only provide more fuel for conflict between the two ethnic groups. However, he would later amend this statement by suggesting that he was not rejecting a common roll system, but rather that the first aim should be to prepare Fiji so it can accept a common roll system.
Both the 1977 election and the previous electoral commissions work give us some powerful insight into the operation of post-colonial discourses, and importantly the trajectory of each nation-of-intent following independence. Notably, the different issues faced by the two ethnic groups in the lead up to the 1977 election prompted the evolution of the national discourses in different directions. This saw the spawning of Sakiasi Butadroka’s party – the Fijian
Nationalist Party – which espoused a hard-line indigenous Fijian ethno-nationalist position and split the indigenous Fijian vote with the Alliance party. This in turn gave the NFP a theoretical majority and prime ministership, but instead prompted a constitutional crisis and saw Mara returned as a caretaker until further elections were held in September.
These events partly informed the submission about the electoral system, with representatives from each ethnic community offering very different outlooks on what the political future of
Fiji should entail. Importantly, the submissions to the commission on the electoral system reflected an awareness of how access to political power can translate into the way Fiji as a nation could be discursively cast. For the NFP, this meant uniform and equal access to political power and decision-making would cast Fiji as a nation looking to further its civil credentials, accounting for the interests of all citizens. The Alliance however, thought that equitable political access at the time could lead to the dilution of indigenous Fijian culture from the national imaginary – with the potential of aggravating tensions between indigenous and Indo-Fijians. As such, the political stakes at the time did not just include carrying out
125 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000) ordinary government functions, but that whichever group controlled the state apparatus also had the power to define the character of the nation, or in other words to implement principles underlying their preferred nation-of-intent.
A Cycle of Constitutions and Coups: Ethno-nationalist Rhetoric and Opposition
Elections, coups and new constitutions. This became a mantra in Fijian politics starting in
1987 with Fiji’s first coup led by military man Sitiveni Rabuka, and supposedly ending with
Bainimarama’s ‘final’ coup in 2006. This period of Fijian political history saw three coups – two rooted in ethno-nationalist rhetoric – followed by two major constitutional changes, and the seeds of a third constitution that would eventuate in 2014. The motivations and causes of these coups is not the main focus of this section, but rather examining which particular discourses and the ways in which they were drawn upon during each event. This starts with
Rabuka’s indigenous Fijian ‘ethno-nationalist’ coup in 1987, and his two subsequent constitutions in 1990 and 1997; then moving onto the civilian – and supposedly military backed – coup led by George Speight in 2000, which was once again shrouded in indigenous
Fijian ethno-nationalist rhetoric. Before ending with the 2006 coup led by Commodore
Voreqe ‘Frank’ Bainimarama, whose coup was ironically self-proclaimed to be motivated by a desire to rid ethnicity from Fijian politics. Each of these events represents an ongoing struggle surrounding both the relationship the state has with different Fijian communities, and the nature of a national ‘Fijian’ identity.
The lead up and the events of the 1987 coup have been thoroughly explored within the literature, both in terms of its general narrative as well as theories exploring its underlying
126 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000) causes25. This includes accounts detailing the timeline of events, as explored within
Robertson (1998) and Lal (2006a) who note that commonalities between indigenous and
Indo-Fijians began to form in respect to Fiji’s stagnating economy. As such, the Alliance party’s economic management became a focal point, with the new cross-ethnically supported
Fijian Labour Party (FLP) threatening the Alliance party’s position in the upcoming 1987 election. In response, the Alliance party ramped up perceptions that the FLP would represent a decline of indigenous Fijian tradition, with only an Alliance party victory guaranteeing the security of indigenous Fijian interests (Lal 2006a, 58). As we know, the 1987 election saw the FLP elected and then shortly deposed by Rabuka who amongst other things, claimed that he conducted the coup in the national interest and to protect law and order (Lal 2006a, 73).
Shortly thereafter, Rabuka headed off notions that a return to democracy would be swift by unilaterally declaring Fiji a republic.
Importantly, Rabuka’s influence was felt between 1987 and 1990 which saw state resources utilised in order to promote the ethnic-communal nation-of-intent. This culminated in a number of decrees being introduced as an attempt to reinforce national discourses in a particular way, including decrees which made ethnic discrimination permissible in certain areas: Broadcasting Commission (Chapter 105) Amendment Decree 1987, and Declaration- republic of Fiji Decree 1987, Fiji Service Commission and Public Service (Amendment) (No
2) Decree 1987.
Rabuka’s government also passed decrees empowering state institutions to tacitly discriminate: Executive Council of Ministers – Responsibilities of Leadership Code Decree
1987, Sunday Observance Decree 1987, Internal Security Decree 1988, Local Government
25 Robert Robertson’s book Multiculturalism & Reconciliation in an Indulgent Republic Fiji after the Coups: 1987-1998 (1998) provides an in-depth history of the events between 1987 and 1998.
127 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000)
Act (Amendment)(No 1) Decree 1988, Public Order (Amendment) Decree 1988, and
Protection of Fundamental Rights and Freedoms of the Individual Decree 1988.
These decrees were justified through Rabuka’s coup rhetoric, which included the phrase the
‘paramountcy of [indigenous] Fijian interests’, a phrase utilised in the early 20th century by
European settlers against Indo-Fijian pushes for constitutional change (Lal 2008, 10). This appropriation reflects Rabuka’s own popular perceptions that the 1970 constitution provided
Indo-Fijians with too many avenues for stating claims to the Fijian nation through political influence. At this point in time it might be said that perceptions surrounding who could access state power increasingly became coterminous with the identity of the Fijian nation.
Constitutional change then represented an avenue for either reworking or re-emphasising certain aspects of the nation’s supposed identity. This includes the Declaration-Republic of
Fiji Decree (1987) which emphasised particular criteria that the new constitution should contain, such as indigenous Fijians governing themselves for their own advancement, that the nation be founded upon Christianity, and that other citizens should display due deference to indigenous Fijian tradition and custom.
As such, the 1990 constitution was introduced under Rabuka’s shadow with the explicit aim of restoring the paramountcy of indigenous Fijian interests – and by extension to reinforce indigenous Fijian identity as the national (Lawson 1992). As with the 1970 constitution, one of the ways it does this is through constructing a link between the preamble and the electoral system.
The preamble within the 1990 constitution builds upon the version of history outlined in the 1970 constitution, while adding further clarity to the exclusiveness of the nation.
Article 2 highlights a belief by the 1990 constitution makers that the 1970 constitution was inadequate for protecting indigenous Fijian rights. It then applies to claim that certain
128 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000) indigenous Fijian rights should be further enhanced. The main change the 1990 constitution makes is the way it explicitly displays a need for the safeguarding of indigenous Fijian rights, from a perception that other ethnic groups pose a threat to those rights.
Article 2.
AND WHEREAS those events were occasioned by a widespread belief that the 1970 Constitution was inadequate to give protection to the interests of the indigenous Fijians, their values, traditions, customs way of life and economic well-being;
AND WHEREAS the people of Fiji have expressed the desire to have a new Constitution for the advancement of their belief, rights and freedoms and accept that is desirous that the 1970 Constitution be replaced so that the will of the people may truly set forth and their hopes, aspirations and goals be achieved and thereby enshrined;
Fijian Constitution (1990) Introductory Text
The result is a clarification of who should exclude themselves from claiming to have a Fijian national identity. It demonstrates this by specifically excluding the claims of people who disagree with the phrase: ‘the people of Fiji have expressed the desire to have a new constitution’. This is because the only people of Fiji who would potentially express the desire for a new constitution would predominately be indigenous Fijians, as they are the principal beneficiaries. As such, the nature of the phrase intends to exclude anyone who disagrees with the proposition of forming a new constitution founded upon the advancement of indigenous
Fijian rights.
The language used in Article 2 also falsely represents that a majority of citizens believed that the 1970 constitution was inadequate for protecting the rights of indigenous Fijians. The inclusive wording tacitly presents indigenous Fijians as again being a politically unified group, as it excludes anyone who disagrees (Billig 1995, 6). People who would have reason
129 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000) to disagree are then represented as something other than the constitutions articulation of
‘Fijian’. The use of exclusive language supports a view of national identity that privileges indigenous Fijian identity. With indigenous Fijian identity only being able to hold this privileged position because of an outlined and official requisite history to draw from to make such claims, thereby delegitimising competing claims from other ethnic groups.
The introductory text also foreshadowed changes within the electoral system by calling into question the 1970 constitution’s capacity to facilitate the ‘will of the people’. This reflects the idea that the electoral process was singled out as inadequate for the protection of indigenous
Fijian claims to the nation, since they were challenged cross-ethnically in the 1987 election.
This unfavourable electoral result arguably prompted the reformulation of constitution in the first place, as there was a perception that their privileged representation as a dominant and unified group could be challenged by other groups gaining access to state power through the electoral system in the 1970 constitution. The resulting electoral system then reinforced the link between the representation of identity within the 1990 constitutions preamble by tightening political representation. It did this by stamping out any means of cross-ethnic voting, not only further reducing Indo-Fijian voting power, but also guaranteeing an indigenous Fijian majority and simultaneously adding extra powers to exclusive indigenous
Fijian institutions, like the GCC.
The 1987 election result challenged the political salience of indigenous Fijian identity, and arguably was a determining factor in provoking Rabuka’s coup. The re-forged 1990 constitution represented a means of re-asserting indigenous Fijian identity as a national identity by privileging this identity in the preamble, which was further reinforced through the electoral arrangements. This was one way to mediate national discourses that contributed to the ethnic-communal nation-of-intent Rabuka supported. One example is the emphasis upon
130 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000) things like the Sunday Observance Decree 1987 which added and played into relational understandings of Religion as a discourse, as well as a recognition of the Bose Levu
Vakaturaga’s (Great Council of Chiefs) role within the state. In sum, the changes over this period were arguably a way to legitimise different relationships to state depending on ethnicity in a similar vein to colonialism – albeit to a lesser extent.
The following period between the release of the 1990 constitution and the 1997 constitution initially saw Rabuka double-down on rhetoric reminiscent of his coup, before shifting dialogue in the face of internal change and international pressure. Rabuka primarily promoted the 1990 constitution to provoke Indo-Fijian emigration in order to fulfil his vision of Fiji containing only indigenous Fijians (Trnka 2005, 355). Estimates place the Indo-Fijian population dropping to around 33%, which can be traced back to Rabuka’s initiatives (Lal
2013, 2). However, Indo-Fijians emigration also saw Fiji’s economy decline and, coupled with mounting international pressure, saw Rabuka reconsider the viability of his ethno-centric position. A redraft of the constitution was proposed in 1997 in order to soften ethnically divisive initiatives. Similarly, there was a recognition that a ‘fairer’ constitution was needed to maintain state stability. The 1997 constitution was thus formed through a constitutional commission that included prominent members from the Indo-Fijian and international community. The context surrounding the formation and release of the 1997 constitution varies from the previous two, as its commission input meant it was not solely crafted by an indigenous Fijian dominated board.
The 1997 constitution differs from the previous two constitutions introductory texts as it begins by announcing a multicultural Fiji (see Article 3). This is followed by the identification of different ethnic groups, as well as a recognition of their place within Fiji.
The introductory text also calls for a common citizenship based around an undefined political
131 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000) and economic imperative. The departure from a racially motivated introductory text within the opening dialogue suggests that the call for a multicultural Fiji could coincide with a reformulation of historical foundations towards inclusivity. The previous two constitutions supported claims of a racially based Fiji through the presentation of an exclusive Fijian history. By suggesting that Fiji is now ‘multi-cultural’, ethnic historical exclusiveness is diminished.
Article 3.
RECOGNIZING that the descendants of all those who chose to make their homes in these islands form our multi-cultural society;
AFFIRMING the contributions of all communities to the well-being of that society, and the rich variety of their faiths, traditions, languages and cultures;
TAKING PRIDE in our common citizenship and in the development of our economy and political institutions;
Fijian Constitution (1997) Introductory Text
Article 3 selects some key elements of the introductory text to emphasise the placement of using words like ‘our’ and ‘all’. These are important, because the claims towards multiculturalism allow these words to include other ethnic groups as part of the nation (Billig
1995, 6). Problematically, the multi-culturalist claims within the 1997 constitution are somewhat undermined by the re-telling of national history found earlier in the introductory text that recounts Fiji’s constitutional history. This is because it discusses the role of Cession, the Chiefs, and the message behind each coup. By doing so it excludes other representations of Fijian history, making multi-cultural claims less tenable since it only accounts for the role indigenous Fijians have played in Fiji’s history.
132 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000)
Further compounding the issue, the text reports that the 1997 constitution was only allowed under the blessing of the High Chiefs. This is complicated because it infers that once again a
Fijian constitution could not be made without the approval of a Chief. This kind of provision infers that, despite the 1997 constitution’s claim of multiculturalism, a traditional indigenous
Fijian organisation still figuratively operates as a higher authority. This is given more weight, considering it is an organisation that historically underpinned all the constitutions post- independence.
The 1997 constitution also introduced a ‘compact’ within the opening statements (relevant sections in Article 4).
Article 4.
(a) the rights of all individuals, communities and groups are fully respected;
(c) all persons have the right to practice their religion freely and to retain their language, culture and traditions;
(d) the rights of the Fijian and Rotuman people include their right to governance through their separate administrative systems;
(e) as citizens, the members of all communities enjoy equal rights, including the right to make their permanent homes in the Fiji Islands; … (i) to the extent that the interests of different communities are seen to conflict, all the interested parties negotiate in good faith in an endeavour to reach agreement;
(j) in those negotiations, the paramountcy of Fijian interests as a protective principle continues to apply, so as to ensure that the interests of the Fijian community are not subordinated to the interests of other communities;
(k) affirmative action and social justice programs to secure effective equality of access to opportunities, amenities or services for the Fijian and Rotuman people, as well as for other communities, for women as
133 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000)
well as men, and for all disadvantaged citizens or groups, are based on an allocation of resources broadly acceptable to all communities;
(l) the equitable sharing of political power amongst all communities in Fiji is matched by an equitable sharing of economic and commercial power to ensure that all communities fully benefit from the nation's economic progress.
Fijian Constitution (1997) s 6
The compact above presents a number of interesting statements, at times seemingly in contradiction with itself. Although it presents broad statements about respect for all individuals, equality of citizenship, and religious freedom, it also elevates indigenous Fijian entitlements above these. For instance, this starts with ʻFijianʼ as referential to only indigenous Fijians, and absence of ʻIndo-Fijianʼ being used within the compact. The exclusion is evident when the compact mentions ʻRotumansʼ, showing that the compact can be sensitive to different ethnic groups, yet chose to exclude the naming of Indo-Fijians. This leaves Indo-Fijians in a position where they only matter within the compact as a tacit reminder that they are something other than Fijian. In turn, this relegates them to a status outside the national space, and by extension outside the attention of the state. Similarly, despite proposing religious freedom, the compact is preceded by this:
Though religion and the State are separate, the people of the Fiji Islands acknowledge that worship and reverence of God are the source of good government and leadership.
Fijian Constitution (1997) s 5
This sent mixed messages concerning the reality of separation between religion and the state.
Likewise, calls for negotiations to be underscored by indigenous Fijian paramountcy in conjunction with affirmative action policies raises questions into exactly how all communities enjoy equal rights within Fiji under this constitution. In the words of Cottrell
134 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000)
(2007, 238), the true motives of the compact was a way of attempting to legitimately preserve the nature of indigenous Fijian society through protecting their identity under the guise of affirmative action.
The compact also reinforced the new electoral system. The electoral system within the 1997 constitution wound back the harshness of the 1990 reforms by increasing the amount of Indo-
Fijian seats and re-introducing cross-ethnic voting through general seats. The system was also changed from a ‘first past the post’ to a preferential system while retaining a guaranteed indigenous majority in the Senate. As such, it still retained elements of both the 1970 and
1990 constitutions, by once again linking the preamble with communal rolls – but this time offering a genuine chance for Indo-Fijian political power if the stars aligned. This supported the multi-cultural identity purported in the preamble as it allowed for more equal electoral arrangements – though not complete abolishment of communal rolls.
Despite the 1997 constitution winding back controversial aspects of the 1990 constitution, it still contained elements that preserved the duality of the state’s relationship towards different communities. This is exemplified within the compact, which attempted to delineate the different relationships the state held towards each ethnic community. This holdover from colonialism influenced both the 1970 constitution, and the 1990 constitution, which can be seen as a gradual re-negotiation of defining exactly what relationships the state holds towards each community – expressed their portrayal of national identity. All of which played out through a cycle of elections, coups, and constitutional re-drafting. As discussed below this cycle again became politically salient during after elections in 1999.
The new electoral laws within the 1997 constitution and a return democracy saw the election of the first Indo-Fijian led party to government in May 1999. Keeping with the history of
135 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000)
Fijian ethno-nationalist movements, the new government was promptly overthrown by a civilian led coup by George Speight in 2000. Sharing similar aspirations to Rabuka, Speight reverted to arguments that the coup was legitimate because the Indo-Fijian government posed a threat to indigenous paramountcy and identity. Speight’s actions paved the way for the installation of Laisenia Qarase as Prime Minister, an avid supporter of the ethno-nationalist agenda (Ratuva 2011, 112). Qarase supported the marginalisation of the Indo-Fijian community by tolerating demeaning rhetoric by his ministers directed at the community, as well as extending the scope of affirmative action initiatives for only indigenous Fijians (Lal
2013, 3).
The Social Justice Act 2001 introduced under the Qarase government encompassed a lot of tacit assumptions regarding the status of the nation. This is mainly because of the number of affirmative action policies it enacted for only indigenous Fijians registered on the Vola Ni
Kawa Bula. These affirmative action policies have been widely discussed within the literature as discriminatory towards other Fijian citizens. This is because, while affirmative action initiatives are usually introduced as a response for bridging socio-economic divisions between disadvantaged minority groups, in Fiji they were utilised to discriminate in favour of indigenous Fijians. Problematically, as Ratuva (2013, 169) highlights, affirmative action was usually utilised as a vehicle to appeal to other political interests, either through appeasement, conflict resolution, building political patronage, or for blunt electoral mobilisation. Most telling is that it follows a tradition of affirmative action policies treading a line between either supporting communalism through communal project proposals or paying respect to multiculturalism, as projects could be confused as either politically or culturally motivated
(Ratuva 2013, 152). This play between communal and multicultural lines of affirmative action motivation can also be read as part of the larger conflict between the communalised nation-of-intent and civic-egalitarian nation-of-intent as explained below.
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Instrumentalism & Ethnicity
Two main schools of thought seek to explain Fiji’s turbulent political history, with one arguing that ethnicity is the main driver of conflict, while the other argues that class is the core driver of political tensions. Robertson and Sutherland (2001) conduct a class analysis of
Fijian politics and society in an attempt to explain some of the contradictions present during the coups. They define these contradictions as things like the relative lack of inter-ethnic violence, and a feeling of social alienation held by indigenous Fijians despite being majority political power holders – while others like Lal (2006a) and Norton (2009) postulate that inter- ethnic conflict lies at the core of understanding the coup culture in Fiji. The class approach by
Robertson and Sutherland introduces the idea of ‘instrumentality’ in Fijian politics insofar as a political elite harnessed indigenous Fijian identity to legitimise their own political ends, particularly evidenced by the 1987 coup. Robertson (2012) highlights the constructed nature of racial politics in Fiji as integrated with social and economic factors, like class and rural/urban divides. Others like Lawson (1992) talk about the invention of tradition within
Fiji playing a key role in mobilising indigenous Fijian identity for political ends. This is expanded upon by Ratuva (2013), who saw the affirmative action regimes under Rabuka and
Speight as a way of channelling ethno-nationalist demands. Ratuva views this as an upscaling of communalism from its spiritual role within the indigenous Fijian community as a culture and ideology, and towards its use as a way to dominate the national level through ethnicity.
This is because, as Ratuva argues, communalism had surpassed its internal hegemonic role as manufacturer of consent within indigenous Fijian society towards becoming a dominant state ideology – at the expense of Indo-Fijian marginalisation. Norton (2002, 11) agrees, by suggesting that that the manipulation of indigenous Fijian ideals and symbols in order to
137 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000) garner political support has tended to reinforce traditional routine forms of indigenous Fijian political and social life, rather than as a distinctive assertion over other ethnic groups.
Ethnic and class explanations do however contain some gaps. Namely, that a number of the ethnic conflict examples analysed through ethnic and class explanations are also partly explained by different colonial experiences – specifically dual forms of rule. As such, ethnic explanations tend to downplay the incommensurability of beliefs surrounding the expectations of the state, born from differences between indirect and direct rule, by placing too much emphasis on the intrinsic traits of ethnicity – which itself was colonially constructed. Similarly, class explanations tend to downplay the power that ethno-nationalism had at overriding misconceptions surrounding indigenous Fijian disadvantage compared to
Indo-Fijians. Examples often include exposing the constructed nature of indigenous Fijian tradition or exposing that socio-economic disadvantage was not limited to just indigenous
Fijians.
The nation-of-intent concept may fill these gaps, since it is neither reliant upon ethnicity nor the fabrication of tradition. Rather, it represents an ideal type of relationship with the state that anyone can potentially identify with. As such, coup conflicts can also be viewed as a contest between one nation-of-intent over another. This somewhat explains why class alliances that crossed ethnic divisions are often found across Fiji’s political history, as wanting a certain relationship and having a certain expectation of the state is not purely bound by ethnicity. Similarly, it accommodates anecdotal evidence of Indo and indigenous
Fijians not being as divided as the literature often makes them out to be, potentially explaining why there was a relatively lack of bloodshed throughout the coup period.
138 Chapter Five: A Period of Distrust (1970 – 2000)
Both Norton (2012) and Ratuva (2013) touch on this, by suggesting that indigenous Fijian political ascendency was not necessarily about instituting a new form of rule, but rather extending historic notions of the state’s role across the nation – which I have argued are strongly related to a communalised nation-of-intent. Indeed, Fiji’s ‘coup’ conflict period can also be defined by the ongoing conflict between the ethnic-communal and civic-egalitarian nation-of-intent. Although the state has largely supported the hegemonic position of the ethnic-communal nation-of-intent through various constitutions and coups, election results have tended to highlight opposition through the success of political parties with civic- egalitarian ideals. One coup however defies these previous explanations, with
Bainimarama’s coup in 2006 perhaps representing a potential end to the hegemonic position of an ethnic-communal nation-of-intent.
139 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era
Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era
This chapter discusses the arrival and impact of Bainimarama on Fiji’s political landscape. It focuses on Bainimarama’s governance since his initial coup in 2006, which stemmed from a self-proclaimed desire to remove ‘ethnicity’ from national politics because of the cycle of instability it promotes. To do so, the chapter examines particular types of decrees – categorised as ‘prelude’ and ‘procession’ decrees – Bainimarama utilised in order to both consolidate his rule and generate a nation-building program. It continues by discussing how these decrees laid the foundation for the implementation of the 2013 constitution, which itself tries to link new national symbols with redesigned political structures. It argues that the 2014 election results provided Bainimarama with the legitimacy needed to expand his nation- building program by further reinforcing national symbols, increasing the benefits of citizenship, building infrastructure, and fostering international relationships.
The Rise of Bainimarama
Josaia Voreqe “Frank” Bainimarama originally served in the Fijian Navy, reaching the title of
Commodore in 1999. At the same time, he was promoted to Commander of the Armed
Forces in replacement of retired Brigadier-General Ratu Epeli Ganilau. Bainimarama’s rise into political life came during the events of the 2000 coup led by Speight. Speight’s coup as previously mentioned became fuelled by disaffected indigenous Fijians following the 1999 election after seeing an Indo-Fijian become Prime Minister. For 56 days the newly elected government was held to ransom by Speight before being resolved in conjunction with
Bainimarama’s participation on the 13th of July.
140 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era
During the ransom period Speight attempted to form his own cabinet and appoint another prime minister, however President Ratu Mara had already dismissed the captive government from office and assumed executive authority himself. Acting at the threshold of constitutional legality, Mara shortly resigned from office – supposedly under duress from Bainimarama.
Forming his own interim military government, Bainimarama declared a state of martial law and appointed Laisenia Qarase as interim prime minister while also negotiating with Speight.
During this time several events occurred that posed questions about Bainimarama’s own stability within the military. The first incident saw fifteen soldiers and two officers defect to
Speights cause, a second saw rebels occupy a barracks in Labasa, and a third incident seeing an exchange of gunfire between rebels and the military in Suva. The siege by rebels holding the government hostage was only broken when Bainimarama struck a deal with Speight, under this accord the rebels granted the release of all hostages in exchange for surrendering without penalty. However, shortly after releasing the hostages Speight was arrested by
Bainimarama anyway in contravention of a previous accord.
The question of intra-tensions within the military and how involved the military really was during the 2000 coup remains somewhat unresolved. Yet, in November of the same year, a mutiny against Bainimarama was attempted at the Queen Elizabeth Barracks in Suva, resulting in the deaths of four soldiers and four rebels. Nevertheless, Bainimarama facilitated the interim government led by Qarase towards an election in 2001, which would yield a win for Qarase’s party – Soqosoqo Duavata ni Lewenivanua (SDL). After the election
Bainimarama took a step back from national politics, allowing the SDL to rule democratically. However, tensions began to rise between Bainimarama and Qarase after the direction of Qarase’s rule became clearer in the run up to the 2005 election. These tensions arose because a number of questionable choices were being made under Qarase, both regarding the supposed favourable handling of the 2000 coup perpetrators and the
141 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era implementation of an ethno-nationalist agenda benefiting indigenous Fijians. This was evidenced in Qarase attempting to pass a ‘Reconciliation Tolerance, and Unity Bill’ which would have allowed the government to grant amnesty to the perpetrators of the 2000 coup, give compensation to victims of the coup, and return state-owned foreshore back to indigenous landowners under a Qoliqoli Bill. Similarly, a range of affirmative action policies were also set out to benefit indigenous Fijians, including things like commercial contract prioritisation, increased taxi permits, village banks, targeted education initiatives, and agricultural grants. As such, Qarase was largely seen to support the continued marginalisation of the Indo-Fijian community by both tolerating demeaning rhetoric by his ministers directed at the community, and through extending the scope of affirmative action initiatives for only indigenous Fijians (Lal 2013, 3)26.
In the eyes of Bainimarama, Qarase was an avid supporter of the ethno-nationalist agenda who was supporting themes reminiscent of Rabuka’s 1987 coup (Ratuva 2011, 112).
Similarly, Bainimarama grew concerned with the lack of severity surrounding the treatment of the perpetrators of the 2000 coup. As such, conflict between the Bainimarama led military and the Qarase government reached a point where the military became unaccountable to any minister. Criticism directed at the government from the military started to blur constitutional law, with the military becoming accountable only to itself (Ratuva 2011, 111). Qarase responded with several attempts to remove Bainimarama as commander of the military, which ultimately failed. After the 2006 election and the subsequent narrow re-election of the
SDL under Qarase, it came to Bainimarama’s attention that the Qarase government was involved in vote-buying scams through the agricultural minister. Similarly, Bainimarama had publicly accused the government of undermining his authority within the military through
26 The UN committee for the elimination of racial discrimination (2003) also found that affirmative action did little, and urged the Qarase government to look after all citizens.
142 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era land forces commander Jone Baledorkadroka. It was under this context that Bainimarama gave the Qarase government three weeks to resign.
This impasse lasted until December 2006 when Qarase was deposed by a military coup led by
Bainimarama himself. At the time, Bainimarama describe the motives of the coup as a way of ridding the government from corruption that Qarase was accused of during his tenure as
Prime Minister. He addressed these statements to the UN assembly:
The RFMF has observed with concern and anguish the deteriorating state of our beloved Fiji. We consider that Fiji has reached a cross roads and that the Government and all those empowered to make decisions in our constitutional democracy are unable to make decisions to our people from destruction. … RFMF over the years have been raising security concerns with the government, in particular the introduction of controversial bills, and policies that have divided the nation now and will have very serious consequences to our future generations. … Qarase has already conducted a ‘silent coup’ through bribery, corruption, and the introduction of controversial Bill.
Fijian Government (2006)
Although much has already been written about the changing nature of military involvement within Fijian politics (Fraenkel 2013; Baledrokadroka 2015) Bainimarama’s coup represents a significant departure from the motives that underpinned both Rabuka’s and Speight’s respective coups. This is because shortly after removing Qarase, Bainimarama shifted his previous motives for the coup by self-describing the coup as necessary to remove the ethnic nature of politics from Fiji (Ratuva 2011, 116). Considering his coup legitimate because of this, Bainimarama moved towards implementing initiatives that he saw as leading to a political future void of racial tensions. This included the formulation of the Peoples Charter for Change Peace & Progress, with the stated aims of carrying out countrywide consultations
143 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era in order to rebuild Fiji as a non-racial, culturally vibrant, and democratic nation (Peoples
Charter for Change Peace & Progress 2008, 3).
With his new self-appointed status as interim Prime Minister, Bainimarama swiftly moved to limit the political influence of the Great Council of Chiefs and the Methodist Church – mainly using targeted decrees. However, ruling through decree has often been criticised as heavy handed, referring to both the lack of a functioning democratic system, as well as the suppression of critical voices and civil liberties (Republika 2013). In response to growing criticisms of his authoritarian rule, Bainimarama prepared for democratic elections 2009, before postponing until the release a new constitution in 2013 –with a promise to hold elections in late 2014. This would see his democratic election after campaigning around notions of equality, and a common citizenry for all Fijian citizens as ‘Fijians’. However, the foundations of Bainimarama’s election campaign and party – FijiFirst – were already well laid during his tenure as a dictator between 2006 and 2014 with wide reaching nation- building implications. It was during this time that a number of decrees were introduced that foreshadowed his coming political agenda in 2014, by either thwarting direct political opposition or shutting down indirect centres of opinion, like the Great Council of Chiefs and the Methodist Church.
The type of decrees implemented under Bainimarama during this time can be categorised into two types. The first sought to consolidate and centralise government functions, as well increase government oversight into politically sensitive areas. The implementation of decrees under this category were instrumental, and arguably necessary, if the second category of decree introduced by Bainimarama’s were going to be effective. This second category of decree were largely nation-building oriented decrees that overturned historically conflict- ridden terms, either by shifting bureaucratic definitions or by widening their inclusivity.
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Prelude Decrees
The first category of decree, which shall be named ‘prelude decrees’ because of their utility in implementing and supporting a new discursive regime later on, includes the following summarised in chronological order: Immunity (Fiji Military Government Intervention)
Promulgation 2007; Termination of Contracts of Employment (Public Service Senior
Executive Service) Promulgation 2007; Local Government (Amendment) Promulgation 2008;
Executive Authority of Fiji Decree 2009; Existing Laws Decree 2009; Fiji Constitution
Amendment Act 1997 Revocation Decree 2009; Regulation of National Spectrum Decree
2009; Crimes Decree 2009; Media Industry Development Decree 2010; Regulation of
National Spectrum (Amendment) Decree 2011; Essential National Industries Decree 2011;
Electoral (Registration of Voters) Decree 2012; Public Order (Amendment) Decree 2012; and the Television (Amendment) Decree 2012.
These prelude decrees can be broken down further, with some attempting to either prolong authority in Bainimarama, by either superseding the courts and the 2013 constitution, or by centralising government functions and authority through increased ministerial oversight. In the case of the former, this is exemplified by the ‘immunity’ decree in 2007, which partly explained Bainimarama’s motives at its time of introduction. The decree maintains that the
2006 coup was justified by alluding to corruption present in the Qarase government, with the decree to this day offering Bainimarama and his co-operators complete immunity from the courts in perpetuity. This type of ‘perpetuity’ – albeit to a lesser degree – is also carried by a number of decrees introduced between 2006 and 2014. With these ‘lesser’ decrees often providing immunity from court appeals against government decisions in certain areas vital to nation-building. The limiting or removal of influence from the court system was a necessary first step for Bainimarama’s nation-building strategy prior to the re-introduction of
145 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era democracy in 2014. Doing so helped consolidate a new centralisation of authority within the government, and in most cases would place a minister’s decision immutably above the court system.
The centralisation of the authority within the government occurred through a number of decrees, which includes the: Termination of Contract of Employment 2007, Local
Government (Amendment) Promulgation 2008, Executive Authority of Fiji Decree (2009,)
Regulation of National Spectrum (Amendment) Decree 2011, Existing Laws Decree (2009),
Media Industry Development Decree (2010), Electoral (Registration of voters) Decree) 2012,
Public Order (Amendment) Decree 2012 and Television (Amendment) Decree 2012.
The combination of these decrees allowed for the circumvention of a number of normal democratic processes, while at the same time easing the task of authoritarian nation-building.
Terminating public service contracts immediately after the 2006 coup allowed for the appointment of personalised staff within the public service, who were more receptive to implementing Bainimarama’s nation-building program. This also displayed the seriousness of
Bainimarama’s commitment to his original goal of reducing corruption within government.
Appointments of this style were similarly conducted at the local government level, with the selection of ‘special administrators’ – or mayors – occurring at the discretion of a minister, instead of being locally elected. Differences between this system and past systems were commented on during an interview I conducted with a former Labasa mayor. The mayor found that if the council was formed with a party different to the national government then communication problems followed.
Ex-Mayor: I mean in getting things done out of them, so if your council is the same as the ruling party of the country it becomes a lot easy. Working with the government would’ve been much easier, getting the aid out of the government, getting help out of the government because most of our revenue that was collected was spent
146 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era
on the roads and maintenance which was very expensive. We had been asking for the government assistance, but as I said there was a gap between the council and the government.
Compared to now, the ex-Mayor found that the shift in responsibilities between the council and the national government benefitted the council’s ability to provide better services.
Ex-Mayor: Before we had been at that time asking the government for some sort of assistance towards road funds. Now the roads are the responsibility of the government under the road authority. Meaning we can focus on other programs
Because of this the ex-Mayor believes that the government should appoint the council, because a better relationship evolves.
Ex-Mayor: A democratically elected council lacked this type of support from the government. That’s why I’ve said councils should be appointed by the government so they can work hand in hand with them. Naturally if you have another party in a council you won’t have that sort of relationship.
As such, the appointment of special administrators removes the possibility of a tension existing between the national political program and its implementation at the local level through provincial councils. As revealed by the former mayor, a tension with the national government formed when the national ruling party differed politically to the provincial council’s political party. In certain cases, this resulted in punitive measures against the council, like a reduced budget or diminished national projects in the area. Because
Bainimarama is streamlining the national government with the local – through a ‘special administrator’ decree – the implementation of a nation-building program, especially for infrastructure related tasks, avoided repeating past mistakes. In turn, a nationalising of past council responsibilities, like road infrastructure, also further centralises control within the
147 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era government. However, a decree like the Local Government (amendment) Promulgation
(2008) also carries with it a loss of transparency and accountability.
The court of appeal noted this loss of transparency and accountability through the lack of democratic rule in Fiji on April the 9th by finding Bainimarama’s 2006 coup illegal. In response to this, the president abrogated the 1997 constitution, and dismissed all judges in order to implement the Executive Authority of Fiji Decree (2009) which would allow the
Bainimarama government to stay in power. The president did this by firstly removing all judicial appointments before implementing the decree, which granted him the power to appoint a prime minister. During this time, Fiji was placed under a ‘Public Emergency
Regulation’ that saw the country enter emergency rule for thirty days. This allowed the police the right to control the movement of people, including establishing roadblocks on key roads and postponing assemblies of more than 100 people. Notably, this meant that an annual
Methodist Church general meeting was cancelled, with some organisers arrested and ordered not to appear in public.
A restriction was also placed on broadcasts or publications that police deemed “could cause disorder, promote disaffection or public alarm or undermine the government or state of Fiji”.
To this end, newsrooms carried a government censor from the Ministry of Information and a plain clothed policeman to control the flow of ‘negative’ information concerning changes in executive authority. Foreign journalists were also pressured to leave voluntarily through a restriction placed on their permits. Several decrees were since introduced in order to maintain pressure over media reporting, this includes the Regulation of the National Spectrum
Agreement Decree (2011) and the Television Amendment Decree (2010) which both deal with licensing. These decrees allowed a minister to both restrict media licensing to particular media organisations and introduce heavy penalties for breaches in licensing criteria.
148 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era
Importantly, the decrees also shut down avenues of appeal through the court system against the government if a media organisation wished to protest a minister’s decision. Both the
Regulation of the National Spectrum Agreement Decree (2011) and the Television
Amendment Decree (2010) were designed to back up the more important Media Industry
Development Decree (2010).
The introduction of the Media Industry Development Decree (2010) aimed to further centralise the dissemination of information concerning the governance of Fiji. As it is still in effect, I shall only discuss how the decree facilitates increased media oversight by the government, leaving examples and further analysis to other chapters. Within the decree, several clauses exist which can give the government an unprecedented amount of control over media organisations. This includes establishing a ‘Media Authority’ for the creation of a
‘Media Code of Ethics and Practice’ and endowing the authority with the power to investigate and enforce breaches of the code, with the ability to regulate specific content. As well as limiting foreign media ownership to ten per cent.
The ‘Media Code of Ethics and Practice’ includes a number of features of which the Media
Authority can heavily penalise if breeched by media organisations. These penalties include potential imprisonment or fines excessive of FJD$10,000. The code contains provisions that have subsequently been utilised to both aid Bainimarama’s nation-building program, and to aid in the defence of his governance. This includes provisions for, ‘Accuracy, balance and
Fairness’, which seeks to limit the amount of inaccuracy or misinformation present within news reporting – though opens the door for censorship. It also contains provisions to force publishers to republish any inaccurate or distorted statement with a corrected version with an apology. Similarly, it calls for a clear delineation between news, editorials, and advertising – with editorial comments kept separately from news items. An ‘Opportunity of Reply’ also
149 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era exists within the code to give an opportunity of reply to an individual or organisation when an editorial comment is made about them by a media organisation. ‘Discrimination’ clauses also exist to remove reporting, which is prejudicial or discriminatory to a person’s gender, ethnicity, colour, religion, sexual orientation or preference, physical or mental disability or illness, or age. It also includes a restriction on publishable material that may promote or encourage communal hatred or discord. An ‘Impartiality and Balance’ clause provides that media organisations, when running any item or program, or series of items and programs or broadly related articles should maintain fairness, impartiality and balance at all times when presenting news on political matters, current affairs and controversial questions. These provisions within the media code, in combination with the ‘regulation of specific content’ provision – which stops media organisations from publishing any material which is ‘against the public interest or order’, ‘against national interest’, or ‘creates communal discord’ – under the media authority, has allowed Bainimarama to control criticism against his regime. In doing so, the dissemination of his nation-building agenda has been expedited in contrast to attempts made by previous administrations. However, this required a heavy compromise surrounding freedom of expression, where a pervasive level of self-censorship exists within the landscape of Fijian media. This was exposed in an interview conducted during fieldwork with the editor of the Fiji Times – Fred Wesley – in 2016.
Interviewer: What changes within the media industry have you noticed since 2006?
Wesley: A lot of changes, in 2006 as you know there was a takeover of government. 2009 we had the Public Emergency Regulation put in place, we had censors who were in the news room, going through copies, going through everything before it was printed, all content. So they would look at stories, they would look at headlines, pictures, captions and the whole works, in 2012, January 2012, the PER was lifted censorship was stopped. The censors were removed, but in its place we have, we now have the media decree 2010, the media decree
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is uh, sort of a guideline for all journalists in Fiji. We work within the confines of the media decree. Probably the only change that we see now, is the change in terms of penalties, for examples if one of my sub-editors forgets to put a by-line, the name of a person on a report that’s over 55 words. Under the media decree, the Fiji Times would be penalised, we could pay between $50 and a $100,000. Just for not putting a by-line. And I could, I would be fined $25,000 and would be sent to jail for up to 2 years, and also our publisher would be sent to jail just for missing the by-line. So, what we see in the media decree, that we feel should be maybe looked at, or re-looked at, maybe changed, are the penalties within the media decree.
When questioned about whether certain topics attract more scrutiny by the government it was revealed that the Fiji Times is actively trying to negotiate its way around the media decree.
Wesley: Right now what we do, try to do, continuously test the boundaries of what we can say, so if they are certain areas or sections of or issues that are that are probably might need more attention, or might come under scrutiny from the government, it is not an issue with us. We’re reporting, what we can report on. That’s I think that’s the wrong word. We’re reporting what needs to be reporting.
Interviewer: How do you think the government is managing its relations within the media industry?
Wesley: Well I can’t speak for the government, obviously there may be set-perceptions that the government may be trying to dictate what the media can, or what information can be disseminated. Look at the exclusivity deal it has with one of the local newspapers in this country.
Similarly, Wesley hinted at differences government of treatment between the two major print outlets in Fiji, the Fiji Times and the Fiji Sun by the government. As noted by Narsey (2013) the Fiji Sun receives a monopoly of advertising funds from the government because they run positive government stories. In turn, the Fiji Times as a newspaper more critical towards the government, does not receive government advertising, or even consistent access to ministers in order to publish news stories in accordance with the ‘fair and balanced’ reporting criteria.
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Wesley: As the media decree dictates there has to be fair response, there has to be balance, both sides of the story so to speak, so if we’re not able to do that we hold back stories until we can get that.
This means that when publishing a story about the government, the Fiji Times must have a comment from a relevant government representative in order to legally publish the story under the media decree. This has meant that the government can effectively stop the Fiji Times from running a critical story if a government representative does not reply to the Fiji Times. When asked if things have changed after the 2014 election,
Wesley: We are continuously testing the boundaries and so far so good. Prior to 2012, even right up to 2014 pre-election we have issues, post-election we are much, much better off. The scenarios have changed so much that its, really good for all of us and good for the country as well. While there are niggling issues we are in a much, much better position than we were pre-election 2014 September.
The implementation of the ‘prelude’ decrees discussed above made it possible for
Bainimarama to create an environment where the dissemination and promulgation of a nation-building regime could be implemented relatively uncontested. In the past, such shifts like naming every citizen of Fiji as “Fijian” would provoke further ethnic division, arguably evidenced by successive coups and constitutional reforms. Similarly, past democratic regimes have almost entirely upheld ethnic based political parties in which inclusive ethnic proposals have played a handed in stoking ethnic tension, either in parliament or outside. Without the use of decrees, like the Executive Authority of Fiji (2009), Local Government (Amendment)
Promulgation 2008 or the Media Industry Development Decree (2009), the implementation of a nation-building agenda centred upon an ethnically inclusive nation may arguably never have occurred under democratic conditions. This is because prelude decrees ‘freed’
Bainimarama from being dragged into polarising ethnic debates centred around ethnic
152 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era exclusivity as in the past. In turn, the following ‘procession’ decrees that lie at the symbolic heart of Bainimarama’s nation-building program were implemented without the fear of significant political repercussions, like a coup.
‘Procession’ Decrees
Procession decrees are named as such because they would be unlikely to pass under normal democratic conditions, since they rely upon the prelude decrees. In most cases, this unlikelihood is because they represent significant and historically contested symbolic changes, while also reinforcing other structural reforms implemented by Bainimarama. The relationship between symbolic shifts reinforcing structural reforms will be analysed later with an exploration of the 2013 constitution. The origins of symbolic changes that the 2013 constitution solidifies appear to have first existed in a number of procession decrees. In terms of naming conventions, this includes the: Immigration (amendment) Decree 2001, Native
Lands (Amendment) Decree 2011, Fijian Constitutional Process (Constitution Commission)
Decree 2012, and the Political Parties (Registration, Conduct, Funding and Disclosures)
Decree 2013.
The sum of these decrees meant that: ‘The Fiji Islands’ became officially referred to as just
‘Fiji’; the word ‘native’ became replaced with ‘iTaukei’ as a signifier for indigenous Fijians;
“Fijian” became an official term for all Fijian citizens, instead of Indian, Indo-Fijian or
‘Fijian’ used in reference to indigenous Fijians; the Great Council of Chiefs’ was retitled as the ‘iTaukei Affairs Board’; and political parties were not allowed to use acronyms or initials of previous parties. For example, the Social Democratic Liberal Party had to change from
‘SDL’ to ‘SODELPA’.
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Other related changes also included the: Citizenship of Fiji Decree 2009, National
Employment Centre Decree 2009, Public Service (Amendment) Decree 2011, Constitution of the Republic of Fiji (Promulgation) Decree 2013, Political Parties Decree 2013, and the
Tertiary Scholarship and Loans Decree (2014). These decrees respectively introduced multiple citizenship within Fiji, whereas previously citizenship was exclusively Fijian, as well as establishing anti-discrimination and equity principles within the public service. This included: equity of pay between genders and ‘race’, no obligation or prohibition in joining a trade union, equality of employment opportunity, and the abolition of ethnically targeted tertiary scholarships and loans – previously tertiary loans were ethnically based, instead of being awarded by merit.
The implementation of the 2013 constitution through the Constitution of the Republic of Fiji
(Promulgation) Decree 2013 falls into both ‘prelude’ and ‘procession’ since it was introduced through a decree, with a limited consultation period. The introduction of the 2013 constitution also streamlined a number of the aforementioned decrees into one document, while adding a number of nation-building provisions. The following discusses the overall importance of constitutions as nation-building tools, through analysing nation-building tools in the 2013 constitution, while noting significant departures from previous constitutions.
The 2013 Constitution
Constitutions are generally examined for their institutional and procedural aspects with a focus upon either the act of constitution-writing or the construction of democratic institutions
(Lerner 2010, 69). However, in terms of nation-building they represent an important intersection between the symbolic identity of a nation and its people, and its reproduction
154 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era through political institutions. This is rarely discussed, owing to the problem of whether a collectivity of people exists prior to a constitution or if the process of constitution-making actually creates the collectivity itself (Preuss 1993, 644). Trenz (2010, 97), drawing on
Laclau & Mouffe (1985), argues that a collective identity needs to be discursively represented, as it has no existence beyond discourse since only discursive practices can constitute a collective identity. A constitution as a discursive statement of nationhood then expresses both what the nation is, and who the collective ‘people’ of a nation are. To do this, constitutions can either emphasise a national history through a preamble, identify what being a citizen of the nation entails, or define a political regime. The 2013 Fijian constitution implements a number of these nation-building oriented provisions, with some representing a significant departure from previous constitutions.
The preamble indicates a number of cues regarding Fiji’s new national character. This is most evident within the preamble through references to the iTaukei, a common citizenry, and through the inclusive use of “Fijian”. Article 1 contains the preamble from the 2013 constitution and within it we can also see no explicit references to Fijian history or mention of
Fiji’s existence as a pre-colonial national entity. The advancement of the term ‘iTaukei’ as the official signifier for indigenous Fijians is an important inclusion, along with a declaration that ‘Fijian’, as a term, will now encompass all ethnic groups within Fiji. This is accompanied by the publishing of the constitution in each respective language of Fiji, including iTaukei and Fiji-Hindi, with English reserved as the official language for interpretation.
Article 1.
WE, THE PEOPLE OF FIJI,
RECOGNISING the indigenous people of iTaukei, their ownership of iTaukei lands, their unique culture, customs traditions and language;
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RECOGNISING the indigenous people or the Rotuman from the island of Rotuma their ownership of Rotuman lands, their unique culture, customs traditions and language;
RECOGNISING the descendants of the indentured laborer from British India and the Pacific Islands, their culture, customs, traditions and language; and
RECOGNISING the descendants of the settlers and immigrants to Fiji, their culture, customs, traditions and language;
DECLARE that we are all Fijians united by common and equal citizenry;
RECOGNISE the Constitution as the supreme law of our country that provides the framework for the conduct of the Government and all Fijians;
COMMIT ourselves to the recognition and protection of human rights and respect for human dignity;
DECLARE our commitment to justice, national sovereignty and security, social and economic wellbeing, and safeguarding our environment.
Fijian Constitution (2013) Preamble
Similarly, each ethnic group is given equal space within the preamble, with no one group taking a higher precedence over another. This differs substantially from previous constitutions, which either included overt references to ‘Fijians’ as representing only indigenous Fijians, and Indo-Fijians as only Indian – or excluded from mention at all.
The preamble also presents Fiji’s national history as somewhat ambiguous, signalling that constitution makers have devised a new, or at least amended national history for Fiji. In doing so, the scope of people included within the nation’s revised history is substantially increased.
This is opposed to past constitutions which made clear delineations about Fiji’s national history within the preamble. Altogether, these past constitutions included references to Fiji
156 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era being ceded to the Queen, religion, past coups, and the chiefly system. As such, these past constitutions constructed a version of Fijian history that assumed Fiji existed as a unified pre- colonial community under the chiefs, when in actuality the situation was vastly more complex. While such a telling of history served to reinforce the political position of indigenous Fijian chiefs, and claims of absolute sovereignty, it also presented roadblocks to other ethnic groups from identifying as “Fijian”. Similarly, references within the 1990 constitution preamble state that ‘the people of Fiji’ wished for a new constitution because the previous 1970 constitution was inadequate for the protection of indigenous Fijian interests.
While this assumes that everyone in Fiji feels this way, it also excludes anyone who disagrees with the proposition of forming a new constitution based on the advancement of indigenous
Fiji rights from being included as part of the ‘people of Fiji’. The 2013 constitution avoids explicit references to national history or past political events precisely because it removes questions of indigenous sovereignty, the place of particular religions within the state, and cause behind past coups. In doing so the 2013 constitution opens itself to being interpreted more inclusively both because of its ambiguity, and by removing controversial or contested elements from such a politically important document.
Another indicator of a newly devised history within the 2013 constitution is evidenced by the manipulation of language within the statement ‘indentured labourers from British India’.
At first glance this statement contrasts starkly with the historic constitutions which either excluded the group from being mentioned alongside Fijian history, or relegated them to
‘Indians’. The invocation of ‘indentured’ labourers alludes to the idea that those coming from
British India to Fiji had a degree of choice, as opposed to arriving by chance. The degree of choice this amounts to is contested, as being ‘indentured’ has often been argued as being a blurred line between accepting slavery or partaking in free labour market opportunities
(Marsh 2012, 221). In either case, it has been shown that indenture has contributed to high
157 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era mortality rates from alleged abuses and resulted in historical diaspora populations (Mongia
2004, 754). The experience of Indian labourers who stayed in Fiji is no exception (Gillion
1962). This could mean that the use of the word ‘indentured’ by constitution makers was embedded as a deliberate attempt to recognise the historical plight of Indo-Fijians. This lends itself to the idea that Indo-Fijians who are currently in Fiji are there because they are partly victims of historical circumstance. This recognition points to Indo-Fijians as a named and accepted group in the official history of Fiji.
A second indication is the (re)introduction of ‘iTaukei’ as an umbrella and exclusive term for indigenous Fijians representation, allowing ‘Fijian’ to be re-signified as an inclusive term for all citizens. The implication of this is that it allows ‘Fijian’ to be inclusive of more groups than just indigenous Fijians, as iTaukei can be re-established as a signifier for indigenous
Fijian identity. This in itself points towards two new conceptualisations of ethnic identity present within Fiji. Firstly, iTaukei attempts to shift what being indigenous Fijian represents; and secondly, the term allows ‘Fijian’ to act as a signifier for something else. This is a major shift as previously the historic constitutions deemed ‘Fijian’ as an exclusive indigenous Fijian term, with other groups being defined in relation to it.
A new conception of what it means to be indigenous Fijian through iTaukei is evidenced in the preamble by the employment of the word ‘unique’ preceding its introduction. References to the iTaukei and Rotuman people as having a unique culture signifies that their culture and language only exists within Fiji, whereas other cultures within Fiji could foreseeably exist elsewhere. This suggests that the constitution makers are attempting to link indigenous Fijian identity specifically with culture and language, rather than being coterminous with a politicised racial identity. Removing racial or ethnic connotations away from the term ‘Fijian’ could be further evidenced by the etymology of the word iTaukei, and how its original
158 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era definition has been manipulated to a degree by constitution makers. Generally speaking iTaukei has been defined as: Native, original occupant, or owner (MacNaught 1982; Sahlins
2004), yet the term does contain a dualism27.
This shows that the foundation of iTaukei has been set relationally as way of differentiating between those who possess land – either ancestrally or literally – and those that hold political power over the land. Yet, as we have seen, constitution makers are attempting to link iTaukei as being representative of a unique language and culture, and not necessarily as a distinct racial group nor land owning unit. The ambiguity and progression of meanings around the term could form a basis for further study, as the original and relational nature of the term seems at odds with the official conception. Together these indicators point towards the reconceptualising of Fijian national history carried out through a selective use of inclusive language. The 2013 constitution preamble then attempts to change the parameters of what it means to have a Fijian identity – from something historically and ethnically intrinsic – to just wanting to identify as Fijian. It does this by removing previous exclusive representations of
Fijian history in order to establish an ambiguous history, which by default can be inclusive of other communities.
Immediately following the preamble is a statement of values on which the state is founded, as seen in article 2.
Article 2.
1. The Republic of Fiji is a sovereign democratic State founded on the values of— (a) common and equal citizenry and national unity; (b) respect for human rights, freedom and the rule of law;
27 Sahlins (2004, 53) derivation shows that the term arose in relation to a dualism between ‘sea’ chiefs and ‘land’ chiefs, with iTaukei representing the original owners of the land if they were ruled by an immigrant ‘sea’ chief. It would then seem that at its core, iTaukei has previously been a relational term to describe those who have ancestral claims to land, and those that do not. This may explain why MacNaught (1982) says the term is often employed by indigenous Fijians to refer to themselves as against other races, as Indo-Fijians have traditionally sought more permanent land arrangements in Fiji at the consternation of indigenous Fijians.
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(c) an independent, impartial, competent and accessible system of justice; (d) equality for all and care for the less fortunate based on the values inherent in this section and in the Bill of Rights contained in chapter 2; (e) human dignity, respect for the individual, personal integrity and responsibility, civic involvement and mutual support; (f) good governance, including the limitation and separation of powers; (g) transparency and accountability; and (h) a prudent, efficient and sustainable relationship with nature.
Fijian Constitution (2013) s 1
While some of these provisions can be found in past constitutions, the emphasis placed upon a common and equal citizenry and national unity suggests past policies targeting specific ethnic groups would now be unconstitutional. In the past, this would have meant affirmative action policies aimed at indigenous Fijians under Rabuka’s government would be technically illegal under the constitution. Similarly, emphasis placed upon democratic institutions and civic involvement hint that Fijian sovereignty should be thought of as built purely upon civic foundations, with no exemptions or privileges directed at particular ethnic groups.
The following section on citizenship further builds on the importance of civic principles within the national character of Fiji through clarifying the intended use of “Fijian”, as seen in article 3.
Article 3.
(1) All Citizens of Fiji shall be known as Fijians.
…
(2) Subject to the provisions of this Constitution, all Fijians have equal status and identity, which means they are equally – (a) entitled to all the rights, privileges and benefits of citizenship; and
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(b) subject to the duties and responsibilities of citizenship
...
(4) Citizens of Fiji may hold multiple citizenship, which means that (a) upon accepting the citizenship of a foreign country, a person remains a citizen of Fiji unless he or she renounces that status; (b) A former citizen of Fiji, who lost that citizenship upon acquiring foreign citizenship, may regain citizenship of Fiji, while retaining that foreign citizenship unless the laws of that foreign country provide otherwise; and (c) Upon becoming a citizen of Fiji, a foreign person may retain his or her existing citizenship unless the laws of that foreign country provide otherwise.
Fijian Constitution (2013) s 5 sub-s 1,4(a,b,c)
The provision also expands upon the rights afforded to being a Fijian citizen from past constitutions, through allowing Fijian citizens to carry multiple citizenships with other states.
By ‘legalising’ the term “Fijian” for all Fijian citizens, the constitution opens up the term to be linked with more ambiguous criteria, rather than being a strictly ethnically exclusive term reserved only for indigenous Fijians. The historical importance of opening up the term
“Fijian” for all citizens of Fiji will be discussed below. However, the opening up of “Fijian” also goes hand in hand with the previous emphasis placed upon the civic nature of the Fijian nation. This is further built upon a declaration that Fiji is a secular state, with religious belief as personal affair. As religion and the State are separate, this means that the State and all persons holding public office must treat all religions equally, and not dictate any religious belief. While previous constitutions may have had secular provisions, they also included overt references to the importance of Christianity within the state. As indigenous Fijians represent the main body of Christians within Fiji, this had the effect of privileging a particular ethnicity’s religion over others within the state. To this end, past constitutions subverted civic relationships towards the state by privileging a particular ethnic group. By declaring Fiji as
161 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era completely secular without any exemptions the 2013 constitution avoids subverting a civic relationship with the state. This is important, as such exemptions arguably led to the impetus behind Rabuka’s discriminatory Sunday Observance Decree.
The Bill of Rights builds on the increasing emphasis placed on civic relationship between citizens and the state. Similarly, it also contains important provisions signalling the direction of future nation-building within Fiji. While the Bill of Rights contains a number of common provisions held within most constitutions – like he right to life, personal liberty, access to courts, freedom of speech, assembly and association – it does contain some limitations or circumstances when these rights may be lawfully curtailed. This includes, any speech advocating for violence or insurrection against the Constitution, or advocacy of hatred based upon discrimination in the case of free speech.
Article 4 highlights four sections within the Bill of Rights section that are relevant for nation-building in Fiji.
Article 4.
28. – (1) The ownership of all iTaukei land shall remain with the customary owners of that land and iTaukei land shall not be permanently alienated, whether by sale, grant, transfer or exchange, except to the State in accordance with section 27. …
31. – (2) The State must take reasonable measures within its available resources to achieve the progressive realisation of the right – (a) to free early childhood, primary and secondary and further education; and
(3) Conversational and contemporary iTaukei and Fiji Hindi languages shall be taught as compulsory subjects in all primary schools.
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(4) The State may direct any educational institution to teach subjects pertaining to health, civic education and issues of national interest, and any educational institution must comply with any such directions made by the State. … 33. – (1) The State must take reasonable measures within its available resources to achieve the progressive realisation of the right of every person to work and to a just minimum wage. … 37. – (1) The state must take reasonable measures within its available resources to achieve the progressive realisation of the right of every person to social security schemes.
Constitution of Fiji (2013) s 31 sub-s 3,4
These sections within the Bill of Rights cover four important topics concerning nation- building within Fiji, which are: the alienation of iTaukei land; the teaching of ethnic languages within school; the implementation of a minimum wage; and the intent to provide a social security system.
Enshrining a provision within the constitution which guarantees that iTaukei land cannot be permanently alienated works to assuage indigenous Fijian community fears that their land might be taken over. In the past, land and lease debates acted as a tension point between
Indo-Fijians and indigenous Fijians. By adding this provision to the constitution, it may have been hoped that the indigenous Fijian community would feel more comfortable in knowing their right to inalienable landownership was protected constitutionally. In terms of nation- building, this potentially removes a significant tension point between the Indo-Fijian and indigenous Fijian community since it is constitutionally bound. This means that an act of parliament will not be enough to enable the alienation of iTaukei land. In theory, this means a change of government should not provoke past fears about land arrangements being drastically altered – as with past coups and Indo-Fijian governments – since the constitution itself would need to be changed.
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The education provisions are new in the history of Fijian constitutions, representing one of the major nation-building tasks undertaken by the Bainimarama government. In the past, education provisions were strictly limited to things like the privatisation of education through religious organisations, rather than curriculum directives. In summary, the three provisions allow the government to unilaterally implement civic education or national interest subjects within the education curriculum, teach all students three languages to at least a conversational level, and provide free education for early childhood, primary and secondary school. By doing so, the constitution hands the government unprecedented access to the youth of the country, allowing them to potentially shape future generation’s images of “Fiji” as a nation, and to an extent dictate what being “Fijian” entails. One of these facets of being “Fijian” is highlighted by the want to teach all children English, Fiji Hindi and iTaukei in primary school. The importance placed on teaching all three languages has historic as well as future ramifications. This is because of the role language plays in the creating an inclusive national identity, since it can bridge gaps between different ethnic groups. In Fiji, English has traditionally played this role, acting as the main vehicular language for communication between Indo-Fijians and indigenous Fijians (Mangubhai 2003, 50). Internally, each ethnic group tends to communicate with each other in their respective language (ibid). Generally, within bi-cultural states, differences in language within everyday societal interactions can translate into a public atmosphere that emphasises ethnic difference through vocal difference.
By teaching each respective language in primary school, ethnic difference through language vocalisation could be minimised as each ethnic group in the future comes to understand the language of the other. Similarly, the compulsory teaching of the iTaukei language in particular works to alleviate fears within the indigenous Fijian community that their cultural identity is being eroded. Conversely, the teaching of Fiji-Hindi indicates that Indo-Fijians are an accepted part of the Fijian nation, with their own unique language. Another aspect of
164 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era cross-language tuition is the message it sends about the meaning of iTaukei. The use of iTaukei as referring to a language reinforces the message that being iTaukei is more about a linguistic or cultural identity, rather than a racial or ethnic descriptor. Shifting iTaukei to being representative of indigenous Fijian language helps to remove connotations of “Fijian” from being seen as a marker for only indigenous Fijians.
The flagging of a minimum wage within Fiji was also a first for the constitutional history of
Fiji. Indicating intent for a minimum wage within the constitution also serves to bolster the rights afforded to Fijian citizenship, as every Fijian citizen would be equally entitled to receive the minimum wage regardless of ethnicity. This is important in building support towards the Fijian state, and by extension the Fijian nation, as each citizen should expect an equal relationship with the state regardless of ethnic group. In terms of nation-building this is particularly important in Fiji where in the past the state had traditionally treated ethnic groups separately, leading to feelings of either privilege and entitlement, or feelings of being discriminated against because of their ethnicity. This builds into the new social security provision right below, where the constitution also flags the intent for the development of an accessible social security system. Again, this implies that the state will in the future have the ability to look after any citizen who by circumstance cannot look after themselves. Fostering a closer relationship towards the state equal across all citizens within Fiji through provisions like minimum wage, social security systems and free education within the constitution also minimises the effect of ethnically based party politics. This is because in the past political campaigns and debates revolved around the concerns of respective ethnic groups – by removing these elements from routine political debate, the potential for wider nation-building changes to last or penetrate outside of party politics is increased. This may potentially elevate political debate away from being ethnically based to national, inclusive of everyone. The
165 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era reformed electoral system also attempts to facilitate a move away from ethnicity-based politics.
The electoral system has changed markedly in the 2013 Constitution from previous systems and represents a significant shift away from embedding political power in the indigenous
Fijian community. It lowers the voting age to 18 and introduces a new voting system through a proportional representation system, while converting Fiji into a single 50-member constituency. The bi-cameral parliament has been replaced with a unicameral system, which makes redundant the heavy influence of the Great Council of Chief within the senate.
The removal of communal rolls, the abolition of the senate and a new proportional system means that by design, ethnic groups are theoretically fairly represented within parliament.
This is because in a proportional system parties are represented in parliament according to their direct proportion of overall electoral strength (Heywood 2007, 256). This means their percentage of seats within parliament should roughly equate to the percentage of votes they received. This allows all votes cast under a proportional system to have equal weighting, meaning that indigenous Fijians do not have an artificially created and disproportionate advantage over other groups as in past systems. In the past, communal rolls created a type of gerrymandered system where indigenous Fijians would have a higher proportion of allocated seats as compared to other ethnic groups. This also meant that voting inter-ethnically was restricted, with the majority of votes cast internally within a given ethnic group.
The shift away from communal rolls towards a proportional system somewhat equalises political power across ethnic groups, since it allows voters to select which ever candidate they desire, instead of being forced to vote according to ethnic lines. Similarly, it is less adversarial as compared with the Westminster system, which produced a two-party system based along ethnic lines. Although this does not removal ethnicity from politics in Fiji
166 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era altogether, it does lessen the competitiveness between ethnic interest groups as proportional systems often have to appeal to a wider range of voter (Lal 2011, 94-95). Similarly, under the new electoral system the act of voting is less about ethnicity playing a part in the production of political power, and more about individual choice. This is further emphasised through votes not being wasted under a proportional system, as all votes carry political weight. These changes allow voting to become an important individual act that counts as a display of individual political power instead of a collectivised ethnic display of power. Individuality of political power is also emphasised through the removal of the senate, as the senate has historically been controlled by the GCC. The lack of a senate allows for the removal of a significant political symbol that has traditionally emphasised indigenous Fijian power at the national level. This means that displays of political power within Fiji that have hinged on ethnic identity, like the GCC, are now removed from the political sphere. As such, under the
2013 constitution political representation in Fiji does not structurally hinge on particular ethnic identities.
One of the strengths of the 2013 Constitution in terms of nation-building is the way it ties significant symbolic changes, with structural changes. The most notable example of this is the way it attempts to remove indigenous Fijian paramountcy by decoupling ethnicity with being “Fijian”. This begins in the preamble with the naming of each respective ethnic group of Fiji, and the signalling of both iTaukei as a signifier for indigenous Fijians and the expansion of “Fijian” to include all Fijian citizens. This call for a common name for citizens in the form of “Fijian” is further solidified through actual rights, including education, social security systems, and the minimum wage. Similarly, it builds on the preambles claims for an inclusive nation. The electoral system also reinforces the inclusivity claims of being “Fijian” by abolishing communal rolls and instituting a proportional system, which tends to include smaller parties and foster coalitions (O’Neil 2010, 135). Such systems also encourage voting
167 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era to be done individually, rather than under communal obligations, which might alleviate some of the institutionalised collective ethnic voting that the previous electoral systems enforced.
The abolishment of communal rolls – and associated ethnic identities – could only have happened with the re-signifying of the term “Fijian” that was only possible because of the introduced term ‘iTaukei’ taking up the mantle as an expression of indigenous Fijian identity.
The electoral system then acts to reinforce the inclusiveness of Fijian identity through the voting process at every election. The consistency of the 2013 constitution to reinforce the symbolic messages sent within an otherwise legally unimportant section – the preamble – in the body of the constitution allows it to deliver on these symbolic changes.
Post-constitution Nation-building
A number of salient nation-building developments have taken place post the introduction of the 2013 constitution,. These occurred through legislation, court rulings, and decrees. Decrees ranged from laying out electoral arrangements for the upcoming 2014 election, to amendments of past decrees and general government duties – like taxes and tariff adjustment.
Importantly, electoral decrees set up the structure for the 2014 election – the first since 2006.
This included voter registration, establishing an electoral commission, and revising registration guidelines for political parties conduct and funding. Having clear electoral infrastructure and political party standards prior to the 2014 election sent a message that the
Bainimarama government was serious about the direction of the 2013 constitution – particularly with ideas of national civic engagement. Although more will be said about the
2014 election in the next chapter, electoral reforms were stated by the Multinational Observer
Group (MOG 2017) to have resulted in an election that was “broadly representative of the will of the Fijian voters”. It saw FijiFirst, led by Bainimarama, receive a sizeable majority in the 50-seat house. Since winning, important nation-building themed legislation, schemes,
168 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era proclamations, and court cases have followed, which includes: National Flag Protection Act
2015, Coat of Arms Act 2015, a currency redesign, new national holidays, a poverty benefit scheme, a care and protection programme, a social pension scheme, minimum wage implementation, tuition fee free grants, infrastructure development, building international relationships, naming the Republic of Fiji Military Force as a “custodian of Fiji’s constitution”, renaming the iTaukei Land Trust Board, establishing a legal aid commission, and ruling on media decree breaches and sedition charges.
These can be broadly broken down into different nation-building strategies – symbolic production, enhancing citizenship, and bringing the nation together. ‘Symbolic production’ deals with important symbolic constructs relevant to the characteristics of a nation, while
‘enhancing citizenship’ works to build loyalty towards the state and nation through the implementation of social welfare programs. ‘Bringing the nation’ together refers expansive infrastructure programs which aim to shorten resource gaps between cities, towns and villages.
Symbolic Production
After the release of the 2013 constitution, further legislation was introduced in order to protect and redefine the status of national symbols. This included changes to the currency, national holidays, and the protection of use and display of the national flag and the Coat of
Arms. A redesign of the nation’s coins and notes saw that the bust of Her Royal Majesty the
Queen Elizabeth II would be removed in favour of flora and fauna. In the words of the
Reserve Bank Governor, this is because the change would allow Fiji to embrace its “very own heritage and unique biodiversity” (Reserve bank press release 2012). Both acts relating
169 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era to the national flag and the Coat of Arms contain provisions allowing for their change, which were related to a failed campaign in 2015 to update the national flag introduced at independence.
The campaign to change the national flag was initially raised by Bainimarama during his
2013 new year’s speech, however it was not until February 2015 that the campaign to change the flag was officially launched. During his speech, Bainimarama raised a few key reasons behind the decision to change the flag, one of which was adopting a new symbol that better represented Fiji’s contemporary aspirations. Continuing, he referenced the pride that Fiji’s
UN peacekeepers, sports people, and school children feel when they sign the national anthem in front of the flag. He also explained that because the independence flag contained colonial symbols – the Union Jack and Fiji’s colonial shield – it could not truly represent Fiji, as the independence flag has symbols only relevant to Britain through the Union Jack, the British
Lion and the Cross of St George. In their place, Bainimarama thinks a newer flag should contain symbols relevant to Fiji – like indigenous and truly Fijian symbols of identity – in order to have a more authentic representation of the nation that can promote unity by being relevant to all Fijians. The process of designing the flag was similarly focused to be inclusive of all Fijian citizens, with the government setting up a competition and a national committee to judge flag submissions from the public. After an assortment of flag designs picked by the committee had been finalised, the public would then vote via social media and text messaging to select the final winning design. In terms of limits, designs must feature the distinctive “Fiji blue” and have none of the previous colonial symbols. The new flag would then be presented on the 45th anniversary of Fiji’s independence, October 10th 2015.
However, mounting criticism surrounding the flag change proposal saw Bainimarama extend the deadline for submission until the 31st of December. Yet the campaign stalled after the Rio
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Olympic games in 2016. In Bainimarama’s words, seeing the independence flag raised with the historic gold medal placing by Fiji’s Rugby 7’s team during the Rio Olympics, combined with the aftermath of Tropical Cyclone Winston made changing the flag untenable in terms of resource allocation and public will. As such, the flag change is currently shelved, despite
Bainimarama remaining convinced of the need to change it.
The range of symbolic changes has similarly extended to national holidays and festivals. This has seen past public holidays like the Queen’s Birthday, Prince Charles Birthday and Sir Ratu
Sukuna day removed in favour of holidays that are supposedly more representative of the nation. As of 2018, the current national holidays are as follows: New Year’s Day, Good
Friday, Easter Saturday, Easter Monday, National Sports and Wellness Day, Constitution
Day, Fiji Day, Diwali, Prophet Mohammed’s Birthday, Christmas Day, and Boxing Day
The introduction of Fiji and Constitution day, and removal of holidays like the Queen’s
Birthday, shows a continued thread in Bainimarama’s nation-building scheme to downplay
Fiji’s colonial history in favour of his own orchestrated modern developments. In a similar vein, public holidays have been extended to include notable events from other Fijian cultures, like Diwali and Prophet Mohammed’s Birthday. While these changes contribute to building general pride towards Fiji, through Fiji and Constitution day, they also give other cultures a chance to have their beliefs represented nationally. Similarly, by making things like Diwali,
Prophet Mohammed’s Birthday and Christmas public holidays, other cultures have a chance to be included and exposed to the festivities of different cultures. Such religious oriented holidays also speak to Fiji’s professed secularism through the 2013 constitution, by showing that each religion is equally included within the nation. This is historically important as
Christianity has often been portrayed or levied as the state’s religion.
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Other symbolic changes include the criteria for presidential nominations. The presidential office was first established after Rabuka’s coup in 1987 when Rabuka proclaimed Fiji as a republic. Prior to that, Fiji’s heads of state were respectively noted as Seru Cakobau – the self-styled ‘King of Fiji’ – the various colonial governors of Fiji between 1874 to 1970 as representatives of the Crown, and the Governor-Generals between 1970 and 1987. Although the presidential office as the head of state is usually considered a symbolic role, Fijian political history demonstrates that the president has exercised their reserve powers. This notably occurred during the 2000 coup with George Speight, when then President Mara attempted to dismiss the elected government held hostage by Speight and assume emergency powers onto himself.
The 2013 constitution grants the Parliament of Fiji the power to appoint a president under a three-year term, with the president also becoming the Commander-in-Chief of the military.
Previously, under both the 1990 and 1997 constitutions the president was elected for a five- year term by the Bose Levu Vakaturaga (Great Council of Chiefs) and the Prime Minister. In effect, this limited the presidential office to only being held by an indigenous Fijian. With the removal of the Great Council of Chiefs, the 2013 constitution only requires that a potential presidential candidate:
(a) has had a distinguished career in any aspect of national life, whether in the public or private section; (b) holds only Fijian citizenship; (c) is not a member of, or holds any office in, any political party; (d) is not a candidate for election to any other office in the State; and (e) has not, at any time during the 6 years immediately before being nominated, been convicted of any offence under the law.
Fijian Constitution (2013) s 83, ss1
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Notably, this opens the door to a president holding office who is not iTaukei. And this is exactly what happened in October 2015 with the appointment of Major General Jioji Konrote over notable indigenous Fijian Ratu Epeli Ganilau during a parliamentary vote. As a
Rotuman, Konrote represents the first president of Fiji who is not an indigenous Fijian. This appointment, and changes to presidential appointments, is in-line with Bainimarama’s rhetoric of an inclusive Fijian nation, with the highest office in the country no longer ethnically exclusive. As such, changes to presidential appointments may also effect the palatability of other executive offices being held by other leaders who are not iTaukei.
Historically, executive positions – like the prime ministerial office – being held by someone not of iTaukei descent coincided with a rise in ethnic tension. This notably occurred during both the 1986 and 2000 coup. By appointing a Rotuman president, Bainimarama may hope that it normalises the thought of other executive offices being held by non-iTaukei citizens.
The symbolic changes made by Bainimarama remain consistent with his overall nation- building aims. Common themes present throughout these changes include downplaying Fiji’s time spent as a colony through either attempting to remove or removing colonial era symbols.
This includes increasing the focus of unique Fijian national symbols, like fauna and flora, and broadening the spectrum of nationally inclusive events and state positions. While these are only symbolic changes, they work to support more concrete changes related to
Bainimarama’s agenda, particularly ones related to the relationship held between the state and its people – citizenship.
Enhancement of citizenship
The improvement of citizenship in Fiji closely follows the historical process described by
Marshall (1992) where the acceptance of equal civil, political, and social rights for all implies equality. Though citizenship is seen as a ‘formal state membership and the rules of access to
173 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era it’ (Joppke, 2007, 37), it also implies equality before the law, with everyone having a right to a minimum standard of living. Post 2013 constitution nation-building builds upon this latter point, by attempting to raise the minimum standard of living experience in Fiji through meeting the requirements laid out in the 2013 constitution.
The increase of benefits bestowed upon citizenship bestows stem from the 2013 constitution, which broadly states within a Bill of Rights that it is the state’s responsibility to provide social security schemes, a minimum wage, and free education prior to tertiary level.
Coinciding with the release of the 2013 constitution, the government introduced a number of social security schemes. This includes the: Poverty Benefit Scheme (PBS), Care and
Protection Allowance (CPA), Social Pension Scheme (SPS), the Fee Free Tuition Grant
(FFTG), Tertiary Scholarship and Loans Scheme, a minimum wage, and changes to the iTaukei Land Trust Board.
Together the PBS, CPA and SPS were announced in late 2012 and rolled out over the course of 2013, with the PBS replacing and expanding upon the old Family Assistance Program
(FAP). The PBS was designed as a welfare program to target poor households, instead of individuals. Previously under the FAP social welfare of this sort only targeted the individual level, providing for the elderly or the permanently disable and chronically ill. Under the PBS up to four people in the same household can receive the benefits of the scheme provided they meet the criteria. The criteria for assessments revolve around means testing based on a
Household Income and Expenditure Survey (HIES) which includes a home visit. This allows the PBS to account for seasonal workers who may not have a permanent source of income.
Similarly, the use of the HIES is argued by the Ministry of Social Welfare to maintain an anti-discriminatory approach when identifying potential applicants because it provides an objective source of information for welfare officers to process. The ministry argues this is
174 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era important because in the past welfare officers often bypassed proper checks and balances which may have led to discriminatory practices. Since its introduction, expenditure on the
PBS has increased from $22 (FJD) million to $38 (FJD) million under the 2019 budget.
The CPA is a smaller scheme which only targets underprivileged children in order to ensure their welfare, with the criteria being that the child is a dependant of a: Single mother, deserted spouse, widow, prisoner dependant, or foster guardian. The Social Pension Scheme (SPS) was similarly released during 2013 for senior citizens aged 70 or above and who have no source of income from other pension schemes or social welfare – importantly this includes funds from the Fiji National Provident Fund (FNPF). With the FNPF representing Fiji’s only superannuation fund mandated by law to compulsorily collect contributions from employers on behalf of employees. Prior to the SPS, income from the FNPF represented the only form of revenue for non-working or post-retirement senior citizens. Since its initial introduction, the pension scheme has reduced its acceptance age from 70 to 65 years, and increased payments from $30 (FJD) to $100 (FJD).
The Fee Free Tuition Grant (FFTG) in 2014 represents the government’s realisation of free education from primary until secondary level, meeting the terms of the 2013 constitution.
This is also accompanied by various, sometimes means tested, grants which either partly or fully subsidise school bus-fares, textbooks, food, or early education. The education ministry claims that these programmes have seen a significant reduction in absenteeism and the re- enrolling of students who had previously dropped out, increased punctuality, and cut down on resource shortages. This also coincides with an upturn in school infrastructure spending and development. Although tertiary education is not free, the Tertiary Scholarship and Loans
(2014) Decree also represents a departure from previous methods of tertiary grants. This is because it phases out the previous awards like the Public Service Commission, Multi-ethnic
175 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era affairs, and iTaukei scholarships in favour of a new scheme. This new scholarship is dubbed the National Toppers Scheme and is aimed at students who have finished at the top of their year level prior to tertiary education, with the government selecting priority areas for specific undergraduate courses eligible for the scholarship. The main thing to note about the new scheme is the lack of ethnic based criteria in favour of a meritocratic approach, whereas in the past, notably under Rabuka, tertiary scholarships were perceived to be an arena prone to ethnic discrimination.
A National Minimum Wage (NMW) was released on the 1st of March 2014. At its announcements, the NMW’s main objective was described by the Minister for Labour,
Industrial Relations and Employment – Jone Usamate – to “alleviate poverty among the most marginalised worked in the informal and formal sections…to build a better Fiji for these workers, who have been disadvantaged and disregarded for a long period of time” (Fijian
Government 2014). At its release, the NMW was set for $2 (FJD) per hour and available for those not covered under the ten Wages Regulation Orders. Under the 2017-2018 budget, the
NMW was increased to $2.68 (FJD) with it currently under review for further increases.
The iTaukei Land Trust Board (TLTB) or previously known as the Native Land Trust Board, is responsible for the administration of iTaukei land. Its duties include the collection and distribution of land rents to land owning units, whether that be to the Yavusa (tribe), Mataqali
(clan), Tokatoka (family unit) or the titular head of a tribe (chief). It similarly oversees the release and use of iTaukei land for development projects. Under Bainimarama’s tenure – who is the Chairman of the TLTB – income from land rents must be distributed equally, and at the individual level between landowners. This was announced in May 2013, with the aim of giving all Mataqali members ‘equal access and benefit to the proceeds from the Mataqali land leases’ (Fijian Government 2013) . In May 2015 the TLTB started implementing the
176 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era equal rent distribution of leases, which saw landowners receive payments directly to their bank accounts (Ahmed 2015). The equal distribution of land rent has been expanded upon to also include the equal distribution of income received from mineral royalties. Under the Fair
Share of Royalties Act (2018) any royalty collected on behalf the state must be equally distributed to all the owners of communally-owned land. The changes to the way both land rents and royalties are distributed represent a significant shift from the past.
In the recent past, rents received from leases or resources were distributed through the chief of the mataqali. As others have pointed out (Robertson 2012) this sometimes meant that chiefs withheld or collected more than their ‘fair share’ of income. In turn, this is argued by
Robertson and Sutherland (2001) to have led to a class divide within the indigenous Fijian community between the elite and commoner Fijians. Indo-Fijians then represented a convenient scape-gape to detract from the inequality within the indigenous Fijian community, since Indo-Fijians were perceived as prospering over indigenous Fijians. Bainimarama’s reforms, although not strictly a nation-building endeavour, work to reduce the level of economic disparity between Indo and indigenous Fijians through the equal distribution of rental and resource income. Similarly, addressing the internal economic inequality within the indigenous Fijian community also limits the effectiveness of Indo-Fijian scapegoating like that seen during both Rabuka’s and Speight’s coups.
The enhancement of citizenship qualities seen under Bainimarama largely has roots within past commissions, or documents like the Peoples Charter. Although these have effectively been in the pipeline prior to the release of the 2013 constitution, their actual implementation has coincided with the range of nation-building changes rolled out under Bainimarama.
Because of this, changes made to the nation’s symbols are acutely reinforced in a very real way at the individual level through adjoining citizenship rights. This highlights the bounded
177 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era nature of citizenship within Fiji since it provides exclusive political, social, and economic rights for Fijian citizens despite other cultural associations. In nation-building terms removing discriminatory practices from within institutions, and implementing broad socio- economic rights reduces the chance that the state is seen as ethnically bias. Delivering these services however requires access to state infrastructure, which is especially challenging to provide given Fiji’s geography.
Building a ‘closer’ Fiji
Within emerging nations, nation-building as a concerted effort at developing a sense of loyalty towards the nation often takes on a dimension of state-building. In Fiji’s case, its geographical features make it hard to portray a sense of national unity across the state because of the way it is spread out across many different islands. A result of this is uneven infrastructure development, which often means some areas are deprived of access to state infrastructure readily available elsewhere. This means simple things like road infrastructure can bring the nation closer together by making state resources more accessible through better roads that link local markets to a national network. This is particularly important for remote communities, where a disparity of infrastructure development between capital cities and remote counterparts can create rural-urban tensions between differently resourced regions.
Under Bainimarama a number of state-building projects have worked to foster a sense of national integration across Fiji by increasing accessibility to state resources within remote areas. These include: Road infrastructure projects, a domestic “Look North” policy, recovery efforts from Cyclone Winston, and various rural infrastructure projects, like increasing accessibility to water and electricity.
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Road infrastructure projects include the upgrading of major roads that service both trade hubs and accessibility between major cities. One of these projects include a $22 (FJD) million upgrade of the arterial roads around the capital of Suva. Similarly, rural road infrastructure projects include the sealing of previously unsealed roads, and the building of bridges, crossings and sometimes jetties. The budget between 2016-2019 for rural road development was estimated at $50 (FJD) million, with the aim of improving or creating links within rural communities and to link them with nationally available services, like health care and education.
The “Look North” policy refers to the government’s ongoing attempt at increasing the infrastructure available on Fiji’s second largest island, Vanua Levu to match that with the main island of Viti Levu. This “Look North” policy is distinctly different to that of the
“Look North” foreign policy, which concerns itself with Asian investment. The domestic policy has included building road and education infrastructure and resource security through increasing the reliability of access to water and electricity. Other things included an expansion of government service centres, housing projects, health centres and a broadened telecommunication network. Although the “Look North” policy originated prior to the release of the 2013 constitution, its ongoing implementation and expansion beyond Vanua Levu remains an important aspect of Bainimarama’s nation-building. This is because infrastructure development is squarely aimed at reducing the rate of rural-urban drift from places like
Labasa on Vanua Levu to more populated and better resourced capitals, like Suva and Nadi.
However, the secondary effect of the policy does a great deal at bringing the imagined concept of the nation closer to the local level, as Bainimarama (Fiji Times 2016) himself has hinted at:
We have to look after people in the maritime and deep rural areas by making an extra effort to extend services to them, to develop the
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infrastructure that links them to other Fijians and to markets, and to give them a boost to develop their own livelihoods.
By increasing government centres and services at the local level in rural areas, those communities become further integrated with a national framework. In doing so, rural, and semi-urban communities become part of Bainimarama’s “Fiji” when they access national services and markets, instead of existing as a disparate collection of individual rural communities.
International appearance
Fiji’s foreign relationships, obligations and actions are somewhat secondary to how they are portrayed to a domestic audience in terms of nation-building. This is because Fiji’s portrayal of itself at an international level speaks to a domestic audience about who they are compared to other states. Over Bainimarama’s tenure, three areas have been pertinent in this regard:
Climate change, peacekeeping, and regional involvement. This has seen Fiji increase its links to supranational organisations, like the United Nations, either through its peacekeeping or development programs. And increase its regional forum involvement with the Pacific Island
Forum (PIF) – although Fiji were suspended during 2009 until democratic elections were held in 2014 – and the Melanesian Spearhead Group (MSG).
Climate change has taken a prominent position within Fiji’s international discourses since
Bainimarama’s rise to power. This has seen Fiji become more involved with the UN’s
Climate Change secretariat, with Bainimarama currently holding the COP23 presidency.
Fiji’s presidency came in the wake of the Paris Agreement (2015) which established specific actions and targets for mitigating and adapting to the effects of climate change, reducing greenhouse gases emissions and financing mitigation and adaptation efforts in developing
180 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era countries. Notably, the agreement is legally binding, with signatory countries agreeing to limit global temperatures rising to below 2 degrees Celsius. Bainimarama’s presidency of the
COP23 is important for the domestic Fijian audience because it allows citizens to view Fiji’s influence on an international stage. This is exemplified through Bainimarama’s introduction of the ‘Talanoa dialogue’ method during COP23 meetings, which works to find common ground rather than opposition (Deptfo 2018). By bringing a pacific concept like the Talanoa dialogue to the world stage through the UN, Bainimarama shows his citizens the value of being Fijian. Fiji’s climate change work has also affected its position within regional forums through taking on the mantle as a spokesperson for the pacific describing the damaging effects climate change will have on the region to the world. This has seen Fiji push against countries like Australia from joining regional forums because of their lack of action on climate change, arguing that such countries are out of step with pacific interests and should been barred from pacific forums. To show his seriousness, Bainimarama facilitated Kiribati’s purchase of Fijian land in 2014 as a safety net for its people should they be forced from their homes because of rising sea levels (RadioNZ 2017).
Aside from recent developments in climate change, Fiji’s international reputation has largely stemmed from its involvement with the UN’s Security Council peacekeeping forces. A mission as part of the UN’s interim force to Lebanon in 1978 marked Fiji’s first foray into peacekeeping. Since then, Fiji has taken part in more than 20 UN missions and is the country with the largest contribution of troops per capita than any other. Currently, Fiji is active in 6 peacekeeping missions with a contribution of 826 troops. Fiji’s reasons for its extensive peacekeeping involvement varies across different years, however some common themes do exist. This includes the importance of Fiji’s commitment to upholding international rule of law and peace as a guarantee for its own independence and survival as a small member state of the UN (O’Keefe 2018). Economically, Fiji’s contributions to peacekeeping sees the
181 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era government pocket $(FJD) 1,332 per solider per month as reimbursement from the UN
(Siegel & Feast 2014). This represents a fair portion of Fiji’s economy which also serves to sustain Fiji’s sizeable military in respect to its total population, as well as support local villages through military remittance. At times its peacekeeping efforts have also been utilised as a state-building tool in order to both occupy surplus labour while developing skills in areas experiencing shortages. Similarly, an overlap exists domestically between international peacekeeping and domestic nation-building, with the RFMF providing assistance in the wake of national disasters, like tropical cyclone Winston. This overlap however also means that some peacekeeping figures also find themselves seeking national leadership, with mixed political outcomes. In terms of nation-building, Fiji’s peacekeeping efforts allows it to both invoke a sense of national pride stemming from its global influence, and turn those into tangible outcomes, either through monetary dispensation or state-building outcomes.
Fiji’s geopolitical relationship with commonwealth countries vis-a-vis other countries – mainly China – also influences its nation-building agenda. This includes Fiji’s position as a country in the middle of both China’s engagements within the Pacific, and Australia’s subsequent re-orientation to the Pacific. Although Fiji traditionally shares a strong historic relationship with Australia, this soured following the events of the 2006 coup. In 2009
Australia’s high commissioner to Fiji was expelled after accusations from the then military regime that the commissioner was meddling in its local affairs. In response, Australia expelled Fiji’s high commissioner from Canberra. After elections in 2014 Australia lifted sanctions imposed on Fiji in 2006 with trade ties said to be almost ‘normalised’ in 2016
(Flitton 2012). During this period of diplomatic turmoil Bainimarama adopted a stance that looked past Australia and New Zealand towards China (Hill 2010). This is partly said to be because China did not criticise Fiji’s domestic political situation, whereas Australia was particularly vocal about a return to democracy within Fiji. At present, Fiji finds itself part of
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China’s Belt Road Initiative (BRI) which through investment and aid is responsible for a large amount of Fijian state and nation building projects. Although Australia is still Fiji’s largest trade and aid donor, China’s influence within the pacific is arguably prompting
Australia to re-engage with its pacific neighbours, like Fiji, in order maintain its dominant position within the region. In terms of nation building, Fiji is leveraging its position as part of
China’s BRI to partly fund its state and nation-building projects. Consequently, Australia has stepped up its involvement within the region because of a fear that an increase in Chinese influence would limit its own position within the position. As a result, Fiji has been able to attract varying levels of aid and financial assistance from both countries seeking to spread their influence, and in doing so partly fund Fiji’s nation building agenda.
Domestically, a visit from India’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi to Fiji following elections in 2014 also reflects positively on Fiji’s nation-building program. This is because Modi was only the second Indian Prime Minister to visit Fiji since 1981, with the visit representing a domestic step forward in terms of internal ethnic relations. Although welcomed by FijiFirst in his parliamentary address, Modi’s visit was boycotted by the opposition party, SODELPA, because of alleged discrepancies between SODELPA’s involvement during his visit. On the ground, Modi’s visit was hailed as of national importance, not just because of the historical linkages that Fiji and India share – but also the economic opportunity it presented.
Fiji’s re-admission into the Commonwealth and a lifting of sanctions placed upon it by
OECD countries – like Australia – following the 2014 elections in 2014 was showcased in local media as Fiji, and by extension the FijiFirst government, being on the ‘right track’ in the eyes of the international community. This was important for Bainimarama’s own internal legitimacy as the leading hand of Fiji’s nation-building agenda, since it showed that Fiji successfully navigated the years between 2006 and 2014 to return to democracy in 2014 in its
183 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era own way, despite criticisms and sanctions imposed from the international community during this period.
Court Cases
A number of court cases and rulings since the implementation of the 2013 constitution have also influenced the nation-building campaign. This includes the operation and judgements of both communal antagonism and sedition laws in cases against media organisations and individual citizens. As such, they can be seen as a form of negotiation surrounding what the
Fijian state considers an acceptable discourse of dissent. Two important case areas include media breaches and recent separatist movements in western Fiji. The others include the eligibility of current and potential candidates to sit in parliament. This includes the ongoing applicability of the SODELPA opposition leader, Sitiveni Rabuka, to sit in parliament given his alleged breach of the Political Parties (Registration, Conduct, Funding and Disclosures)
Act 2013. Under this act, it is alleged that Rabuka disclosed false information about his assets, incomes and liabilities, with a trial scheduled for October 15th -19th 2018, and if found convicted would rule Rabuka ineligible to sit in parliament28 (Deo 2018).
Two cases of “inciting communal antagonism” listed under section 64 of the Crimes Decree
(2009) have both received judgements in and out of court since the introduction of the 2013 constitution. The first case dealt with on air comments broadcast on the Wasea Bhasha television show, a show which teaches the vernacular of both iTaukei and Hindi languages to an audience through sentence construction. In one broadcast, the host made comments which were interpreted as discriminatory towards the iTaukei community. Following complaints
28 Post-script, though cleared in October 2018, Rabuka faced another charge in February 2019 which was also dismissed.
184 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era about the aired comments, a referral to the both the Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP) and the Media Industry Development Authority saw the charge of inciting communal antagonism dropped against the broadcaster (Fiji Broadcasting Corporation) who aired the show and its comments. In both cases, they ruled that the comments did not meet the threshold of inciting communal antagonism, since they did not overly call for violence or represent a pattern of hostility to any community, but instead only caused insult and offence to people (Pryde 2016). The ruling by the DPP meant that the public broadcaster, FBC, did not go to court over the comments. The host and the producer of Wasea Bhasha did not have their contracts renewed by the FBC following the incident.
The second case of communal antagonism charges were laid by the Government against the
Fiji Times, a privately owned newspaper media company in August 2016. The charges were laid in response to comments within an article of the newspaper’s iTaukei section, Nai
Lalakai, which directed derogatory comments at the Muslim community. Although at first the
Fiji Times were referred to the courts under a charge of inciting communal antagonism under the Crimes Decree, this was changed to sedition after review by the DPP. The comments under question were written in iTaukei vernacular and appeared as a submission under a letter to the editor section, which attempted to draw a comparison with Muslims in Fiji and negative Muslim activity in Bangladesh. Sedition charges were laid against not only the writer of the article, but also Fiji Times staff and editor – Fred Wesley – for publishing the letter (RadioNZ 2018a). In May 2018 a not guilty verdict by the High Court was found against the both the letter writer and Fiji Times staff. The judgement read that the prosecution failed to prove beyond reasonable doubt that the article published in Nai Lalakai was seditious in a way that it had a tendency to promote feelings of ill-will and hostility among
Muslims and non-Muslims (Cava 2018a).
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Sedition laws have not only been utilised against media companies, but also against individual citizens. Two cases of sedition include two separate groups who were alleged to have conspired to establish a Christian state in Nadroga, Navosa and Ra in 2014. In a similar vein, another sedition case was formed against a group carrying out military-styled training in the highlands of Ra in 2015. Both these cases have seen a total of 63 people charged in relation to sedition (Pratibha 2015). These cases reached a high enough profile to warrant comments from Bainimarama himself, who stated that “there will be no so-called independent states established in Fiji…any insurrection will be crushed” (Conan 2015). The treatment of the alleged perpetrators prior to court rulings has come under question, with some arguing that the sedition charges are politically motivated with no evidence of sedition.
A number of parliament members or provisional candidates have also been forced to confront numerous allegations of law breaking, ranging from providing misinformation and corruption, to discrimination. Although not strictly related to nation-building, in Fiji’s circumstance the prosecution of politicians either within or outside of government has ramifications for the perception of the separation of powers between parliament, the court system and the authorities. This perception is vital, given that Bainimarama is attempting to give citizens the impression of both an independent judiciary and police force under a new
“Fijian” nation. Aside from Rabuka’s ongoing investigation that may rule him out of parliament, a number of other parliamentarians or potential candidates have also had investigations made into their conduct. Interestingly, this includes a member from within
Bainimarama’s own government, including the Minister for Education Dr Mahendra Reddy and Balmindar Singh.
Reddy was to be charged with one count of both bribery and undue influence in response to statements he made towards a high school manager in Ra about procuring a steady water
186 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era source for the school. The comments were argued by the prosecution as intending to influence the vote of the school manager by directly offering to confer a benefit. However, in
December 2017 Reddy was acquitted after the magistrate found that the comment failed prove Reddy’s alleged intention beyond a reasonable doubt (Talei 2018a). Fiji’s Independent
Commission Against Corruption (FICAC) appealed the decision to the High Court, on the basis that the magistrate was overstating the threshold required for the charges. In June 2018 the High Court dismissed the appeal by FICAC on the basis that the prosecution’s case was built entirely around the comments of the school manager. Because of this the prosecution failed at providing enough evidence to prove that the school manager’s political rights were interfered with, and that Reddy did not intend to influence him (Cava 2018b).
Other opposition members aside from Rabuka have also been caught afoul of the law, with a provisional candidate from the National Federation Party (NFP) awaiting trial and a former
SODELPA member jailed. The NFP member, Pradeep Chandra, charged with one count of racial or religious vilification under the Electoral Act of 2014 after a number of people came forward and stated that Chandra had made comments inciting hatred against the Muslim community. Although charged by FICAC, Chandra is still awaiting trial for October 2018.
Chandra’s own party, the NFP, even found itself temporarily deregistered by the Supervisor of Elections empowered under the Political Parties Decree for 60 days (PIR 2017). The
Supervisor found that the NFP had used an auditor without a Certificate of Public Practice to certify the party’s accounts. The NFP appealed the decision to the High Court, where the appeal was dismissed. The 60-day suspension was lifted shortly after the appeal was filed.
Former SODELPA member, Moses Bulitavu, in 2011 was charged with sedition for graffiting government billboards, with an expected judgement due in January 2016. With this charge hanging over this head, Bulitavu ran as a SODELPA candidate in the 2014 elections
187 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era and won his seat as the 4th highest SODELPA candidate. However, in March 2018 Bulitavu was convicted by the magistrate’s court on one count of sedition because of graffiti spread between Nausori and Suva that incited hatred against the government in 2011 (Talei 2018b).
This charge was overturned because of a miscarriage of justice on appeal. An adjournment is currently scheduled in February 2019. Because of this, Bulitavu was able to contest and win a seat within the 2018 election in November (Talebula 2018)29.
These court cases are important because they represent either the initial operation of new decrees, or the re-interpretation of older laws under Bainimarama’s government. The operation of an independent legal system outside of government control is an important image to uphold given Bainimarama’s push for equalised citizenship. In terms of nation- building, the effect of having an independent watchdog in the form of FICAC appeal a court decision against an important government minister like Reddy, is an important display for the separation of power between courts and the government.
This dually goes for the case against the Fiji Times and the FBC where the government attempted to charge the Fiji Times for sedition, and the FBC for communal antagonism.
Again, in these cases the High Court ruled against the government. While the government lost both these cases, the outcome from all the cases dealing with either sedition or communal charges points to negotiation of what is considered an acceptable discourse of dissent within
Fiji. The outcome from these cases suggests that both the government and the media are testing the boundaries of communal antagonism and sedition laws through the courts. In doing so, the judgements by the courts are setting a precedent on what is considered an acceptable discourse of dissent within Fiji, by either ruling for or against the government. In the Fiji Times case, the judgement going against the government represented a form of
29Post-script: The case is yet to be heard.
188 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era dissent towards the government’s anti-discrimination agenda. This is because the court decision could be seen as allowing the comments within the Fiji Times as acceptable because they did not warrant a conviction, even though they were borderline discriminatory.
Cases where sedition or communal antagonism charges were successful included prosecutions against citizens who took a form of direct action, like the case of a meeting in
Ra about the formation of a Christian state. This also goes for charges like ‘inciting hatred against the government’ utilised against Bulitavu and his co-accused because of a graffiti spree, with a court initially finding them both guilty. In these cases, the outcome of charges either being laid or not are arguably less important than the process of legal action for nation- building. This is because going through the process of legal action in highly publicised cases which deal with sedition or communal antagonism charges shows that there is a transparent legal process in place. Given Fiji’s history, this transparency within the legal system when dealing with ethically charged topics is important for Bainimarama’s nation-building agenda because it reflects that the state has a vested interest in hearing and resolving transparency issues. This reorients the states position from either ignoring or being complicit towards ethnic conflict, to being an arbiter for ethnic conflict through the court system itself.
A 20-year nation-building program?
Post-constitution nation-building within Fiji has largely taken direction from the release of the 2013 constitution. Fiji’s National Development Plan (NDP) released in November 2017 attempts to plan for Fiji’s immediate development within 5 years, which is then used as the framework for a longer 20-year development strategy. At its core, the NDP revolves around the implementation of the socio-economic rights embedded in the 2013 Constitution. This means the NDP is largely concerned with state-building, focusing on things like access to
189 Chapter Six: The Bainimarama era water, electricity, technology, and equal access to both education and health care. As we have seen, post-constitution nation-building includes this type of state-building as part of
Bainimarama’s redesign of Fiji’s national character. This has seen the implementation of an
‘equalised’ citizenship through “Fijian” as a common name for citizens, and a number of socio-economic rights, like access to social welfare. Similarly, democratic fundamentals have also been tested by the 2014 election, as well as through a number of court cases challenging the influence of government upon the judicial system and media landscape. The NDP’s long
20-year projection also hints at another aspect to Bainimarama’s nation-building agenda, that the continued focus on ‘inclusive socio-economic development’ is also attempting to address historic ethnic fault lines. As argued through the nations-of-intent concept within previous chapters, this is important as competing views on the state’s relationship with each ethnic group contributed to uneven ideas of national development. By attempting to equalise socio- economic development in Fiji Bainimarama is also subverting historic nation-of-intent conceptions in order to implement a version of his own that encompasses an ideal Fijian nation.
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Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past
This chapter critically examines Bainimarama’s nation-building program as an attempt to symbolically resolve competing nations-of-intent through challenging historic national discourses. It does this by analysing Bainimarama’s formulation of a civic nation-of-intent through examining pertinent nation-building documents, like the people’s charter and long- term development plans. It argues that to promote a civic-egalitarian nation-of-intent
Bainimarama has challenged the relational nature of national discourses (Labour, Land,
Education, Religion, and War) by attempting to redefine them towards categorical definitions. This is especially pronounced in Education, which warrants the most attention in the chapter because of its key role in influencing future generations before other national discourses are discussed. The chapter draws upon interviews conducted during fieldwork.
Bainimarama’s Nation-of-intent: New or Old?
Where Bainimarama’s nation-of-intent fits on the spectrum between the historic ‘civic- egalitarian’ and ‘communalised’ nations-of-intent is debateable. The Peoples Charter for
Change, Peace and Progress and the Roadmap for Democracy and Sustainable Socio- economic Development produced in 2008 and 2009 contain indicators of Bainimarama’s nation-of-intent which were adopted formally at a later date – either through decrees, the
2013 constitution or as legislation. The charter was initially proposed by Bainimarama, and then prepared by a National Council for Building a Better Fiji (NCBBF) which was said to be broadly representative of Fijian society. Since its introduction it has arguably provided the main principles underlying Bainimarama’s nation-building program. The document’s stated main objective is:
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To rebuild Fiji into a non-racially, culturally-vibrant and united, well- governed, truly democratic nation that seeks progress, and prosperity through merit-based equality of opportunity and peace.
Interestingly, this is followed by an account of Fijian history detailing the reasons why Fiji needed a Charter. It states that the reasons behind Fiji’s lack of a common national identity stem from its three decades of divisive race-based politics, policies, and institutions. And that this resulted in:
Indigenous Fijians fearful of dominance by Indo-Fijians and anxious of their status as the indigenous people thus seeking protection of that status while Indo-Fijians feel alienated and marginalised as second class citizens in the country of their birth. Also, indigenous Fijians generally feel marginalised from the mainstream of the modern economy.
Draft charter 2008, 2
Similarly, it calls out the past constitutions (1970, 1990 and 1997) as responsible for race- based politics because they maintained ‘race-based architecture’ which emphasised communalism in the make-up of parliament, and put into place structures that emphasised racial divisions.
The released document broke reforms down across nine working groups with the task of addressing:
- Governance, Leadership, Constitutional & Electoral Reform; - Institutional & Public Sector Reform; - Clarifying the Respective Roles of Government, Private Sector & Civil Society to achieve stronger growth, greater equity & sustainability; - Development of Financial Services Sector; - Development of Resource-based Sectors; - Poverty, Social Justice & Human Rights; - Meeting Basic Needs: Education, Health & Housing; and
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- National Identity & the Role of Religion & Culture in National Building
In essence, the charter document attempts to address the legacies of colonialism, with the main concern centred upon giving all ethnic groups within Fiji an equal relationship with the state. During colonialism indigenous and Indo-Fijians were administered under distinct systems of either direct or indirect rule. This led to a situation where the role of the state was understood differently by each ethnic community after independence. These differences played out in the coup years, through the cycle of elections, coups and constitutional drafting.
Although each particular election and coup played out in different political contexts, an underlying trait was constitutional drafts to define the place of the citizen vis-a-vis the state.
As explored in the last chapter, this can be viewed as an ongoing negotiation about the relationship between different groups with the state. The Charter arguably represented the latest stage to this negotiation prior to the introduction of the 2013 constitution since it attempts to redefine the relationship between the state and its people. It does this by advocating for the expansion of the welfare state, mainly by focusing upon social security systems – including education and health. By equalising the treatment everyone receives from the state through a well-defined social security system, past misconceptions can slowly be resolved. The Charter argues that an appropriate identity profile – or national identity – is needed to unify citizens under one common banner.
The “National Identity & the Role of Religion & Culture in National Building” working group identified five problems and issues for developing a common national identity in Fiji.
It describes these as stemming from a legacy of colonial ‘divide and rule’, which combined with the institutionalisation of communal identities, left people to identify closer to their religions, ethnicities, communities or provinces rather than the nation. Racially divisive leadership is then argued as further fracturing and fragmenting Fijian society. Other roadblocks included a focus on differences that divide society, rather than on commonly
193 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past shared values and interests. It ends by suggesting that a change is needed if citizens are to be united towards a common good under one nation, and for people to share a vision for a common national destiny.
The Charter then proposed the following 10 steps to address these problems: naming the nation as ‘Fiji’; adopting “Fijian” as a common name for all Fijian citizens, with full recognition that indigenous people are the iTaukei; developing a national moral vision for the common good; encourage and promote religious freedom and understanding and conduct interfaith dialogue and the sharing of spiritualties; promote shared national values through the national education curriculum; ensure the teaching of the vernacular language and the comparative study of major religions; ensure minority indigenous Pacific languages like
Rotuman and Banaban are taught and examinable within island schools; and promote multi- cultural education. As well as: gradually phase out institutional names that denote racial affiliations, while promoting a national moral vision, narratives, rituals and symbol; singing the national anthem to at all public state functions; observe flag ceremonies in all schools and important state functions; review and revitalise the National Youth Service Scheme; eliminate racial and inappropriate categorisation and profiling in government records and registers with the status of Vola Ni Kawa Bula (VKB), Native Lands Commission (NLC) and
Native Lands Trust Board (NLTB) records protected, since these apply specifically to the affairs of the iTaukei; and lastly that principles of inter-communal dialogue and accommodation should be adhered in respect to promoting an over-arching and stronger national identity based on principles of equal and common citizenship. These must recognise the unique identity of the iTaukei and other community’s interests that are important to their own identities.
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As we know, a number of these proposals have already been adopted, either prior to the 2013 constitution in decree form, or within the constitution itself. What is important to note, is that the Charter recognised the need for compatibility between the push for a new national identity and the need to address the relationship between state and people. Subsequently, the
Charter in combination with the reforms already carried out by Bainimarama give us a clear picture of his nation-of-intent.
Ideas drawn from civic nationalism feature strongly within Bainimarama’s nation-of-intent.
With the basis of national membership and identity resting upon re-designed political and legal systems (Hall 2003, 28). This allows for an inclusionary relationship with the state and nation, while leaving room for the expression and maintenance of different ethnic groups.
Importantly it provides a common and equal relationship with the state, with clear delineations of what the state’s responsibilities are for each citizen. Because citizenship provides a clear baseline of this relationship towards the state, national identity is left to ambiguity, though it does take some cues from Bainimarama’s redeveloped national symbols.
To this extent, Bainimarama’s conception of Fijian national identity revolves around aspiring to be “Fijian” through accepting his particular image of the nation. This includes principles of equality, like accepting cultural and religious differences, equality before the law, and sharing in a common future. In a sense, Bainimarama’s reluctance to delineate Fijian national identity further stems from the impact of broadening the term “Fijian” to be representative of all
Fijian citizens. Pushing further to redefine Fijian national identity after such a significant change may have been a bridge too far. Similarly, civic conceptions by their nature have less substantive content, because they do not rely on prescriptive criteria. For Bainimarama, Fijian national identity is more about what it does not represent – ethnic exclusiveness – rather than what it does.
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At the surface it appears that Bainimarama’s nation-of-intent follows the civic-egalitarian model which historically arose in response to direct rule by the British under colonialism.
During the coup years its ideas were drawn upon by political parties seeking to address class disparities, finding limited democratic success. Yet this was often short lived, as coups motivated in the name of iTaukei nationalism supplanted the ideas of a civic-egalitarian nation-of-intent in favour of communal ideas. Hence, a significant question relates to the production of Bainimarama’s civic-egalitarian nation-of-intent being produced within a context that has traditionally espoused such ideas.
This is also where Bainimarama’s civic-egalitarian nation-of-intent differs from the one conceived during colonialism – since although it may be similar in its content – its production is different. This is argued below, that Bainimarama utilises the same historic national discourses (Religion, Education, Labour, War, and Land) that led to the creation of both the civic-egalitarian and ethnic-communal nation-of-intent in a way that reduces relational ethnic antagonism. This is because the projection of the welfare state and increased citizenship qualities in Fiji creates the same expectation, and arguably, same experience for everyone when relating to/and their expectations of the state. This is how Bainimarama can project the civic-egalitarian nation-of-intent without the consequences of it acting in competition with an ethnic-communal nation-of-intent, as in the past. This is attempting to be achieved by utilising the same national discourses – since they have historic precedent – and turning them away from being inwardly antagonistic with each other, and towards outward commonalities.
The Reproduction of the ‘New’ Nation
The reproduction of Bainimarama’s nation-of-intent occurs through either drawing on or repurposing historic national discourses. The main mechanism underlying Bainimarama’s repurposing of historic national discourses is the expansion of the welfare state. The most
196 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past common way Bainimarama does this is through linking new national symbols within a redesigned political structure. This section presents examples of how each historic national discourse, starting with Education, has been repurposed under Bainimarama’s nation-of- intent while drawing on relevant interviews and literature.
Education
In the colonial past, ‘education’ as a national discourse was broadly experienced under two guises – either through private religious groups (Christian or Hindu based), or as part of an exclusive state service. From independence until the arrival of Rabuka this split school system manifested into ethnic groups advocating for separate outcomes. This was most apparent under Mara’s rule, with the Indo-Fijian community asking for free schooling, and the indigenous Fijian community requesting rural school infrastructure instead (Gaunder
1999). Rabuka in turn widened the differences between each community’s understanding of
Education by implementing ‘discriminative’ affirmative action initiatives for indigenous
Fijian students. This was supposedly implemented to bridge gaps in educational outcomes and employment within the indigenous Fijian community, however it also had the effect of being perceived by the Indo-Fijian community as discriminatory since they felt they were not allowed to compete on an even playing field with indigenous Fijians. While ‘Education’ as a discourse does contain many relational facets that spring from different ethnic experiences, it also contains an important commonality. This dates to the availability of English tuition within colonial schools, where both ethnic groups pushed for the mainstream introduction of
English tuition for their children. In this case, English tuition transcended ethnicity by presenting a commonality within Education. The main difficulty in building upon a commonality like the tuition of English rests on different relational understandings about ways to achieve such benefits. As discussed in past chapters, this includes Indo-Fijians desire
197 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past free education despite it conflicting with indigenous Fijian settings, and affirmative action plans only targeting indigenous Fijians. To address this, Bainimarama is attempting to subvert past relational understandings of ‘Education’ in favour of a categorical understanding. To do so, Bainimarama has rolled out structural changes within the school environment as discussed in the previous section, which includes free: education, bus fares, books, milk, and lunch.
These aim to provide equal access to schooling by reducing either, monetary barriers
(through providing free education, and books) or distance (bus fares, infrastructure development). Similarly providing milk and lunch also reduces the effect of class disparities within schools, as well as promoting attendance. These reforms work to turn ‘Education’ from being understood relationally to categorically because they attempt to standardise the school experience. This also has the added effect of reducing education gaps between ethnicities as enrolments have trended higher since 2010. These structural reforms in turn are framed by symbolic changes, which has seen: the deployment of a civics and history curriculum; the tuition of conversational English, Fijian-Hindi, and iTaukei languages in primary schools, and national ceremonies mandatorily performed within schools (flag raising, anthem recital, and national pledges). These also extended to the tertiary sector with mandated leadership courses in universities.
The above symbolic changes within the school system aim to reinforce the broader
Bainimarama nation-building agenda. Importantly, they target the country’s school attending youth which accounts for roughly 17% of the population30. In terms of nation-building theory, mass education systems are vital for informing ideas of the nation and national
30 This figure was arrived at by taking data from the Ministry of Education Report (2016) on enrolled students and census data in 2017.
198 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past identity at a young age. By targeting higher enrolments year on year Bainimarama can influence the next generation of citizens while they are still within a state regulated domain.
As Gellner (1983) and Anderson (1991) point out mass education systems are extremely useful at disseminating ideas of the nation as a distinct political community through providing a uniform experience. Most importantly, education systems also spread images of the nation by portraying a national history, and what it means to be a good citizen (Foster
2011). A nation’s history curriculum involves both addressing positive elements, like democratic evolution, tolerance, and respect for human rights as well as negative concepts like stereotyping, racism, and violence (Roord 2009, 80). This includes content in history textbooks, which are argued as central to the transmission of national values, since they present an official story to highlight contemporary patriotic narratives (Hein & Selden 2000,
3-4). Sometimes this is seen as controversial as some states depict within textbooks specific historical events in a way that relates closer to myth than truth (Zajda 2015, 5).
Civic education generally differs, since it seeks to develop student attitudes towards social commitments, obligations, and norms (Veugelers 2015, 103). This is discussed in the literature (Haste 2004; Wenger 1998) as being achieved through active, dialogic, and participatory methods of instruction. This is because the overall goal of civic education is to deliver a base for students to become active and aware citizens within their society.
Fundamental to this goal within linguistically diverse societies is to provide students with the ability to understand other state languages, since doing so can promote the national value of the other language, as well as open new opportunities (Ricento 2006, 21). Ratuva (2004) similarly writes in respect to Fiji, simply changing constitutions and electoral processes is not enough to constitute civic education. Instead, a healthy civic education program should create citizens who can ‘rationalise independently and act constructively for the broader social
199 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past good’ rather than passive citizens who are easily influenced (Ratuva 2004, 172). Ratuva also notes that in 2003 a pilot study by the UNDP-Fiji looked into putting in place a national civic education program, with Bainimarama’s reforms potentially drawing upon this data for his nation-building program. Importantly, political attitudes coalesce in adolescence as they emerge into adulthood, suggesting that attitudes formed during school years hold more sway than after completion (Rekker 2015).
Examining Fiji’s new history, civic curriculum, and language tuition is vital to understanding the future direction of attitudes towards national identity. This section contains information and quotes from interviews taken during fieldwork in 2016 conducted from both
Viti Levu and Vanua Levu.
The creation of the history curriculum, though state sanctioned, surprisingly contains little state interference. As described by a senior academic who was involved with the project, the process of revamping the history curriculum started in 2009 after a university department approached the government to revise its outdated history curriculum. They did so because the past curriculum contained a number of colonial era leftovers, meaning it contained little
Pacific island content. As such, the redesign was broadly phrased as ‘de-colonialising the curriculum’ with the new content broken into three different sections. This saw the curriculum reconstituted as a history of ‘Fiji and the world’, ‘Fiji and the region’ and ‘Fiji’ itself. This approach follows the recommendations of Guyver (2015) who believes that avoiding an overtly exceptionalist or nationalist history can be achieved by integrating national history within a wider regional and global framework. The commissioning of the curriculum was funded partly by the United Nations Development Program and contained a panel of collaborators. These collaborators were drawn from the department of education itself, primary school teachers, and university staff who acted as an editorial collective.
Although the curriculum redesign was completed in 2015, the process was interrupted by the
200 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past release of the National Curriculum Framework in 2013, however this appears not to have affected the redesign. This was expressed during an interview with a senior academic and commission member in 2016:
They went and wrote a national curriculum framework in the middle of all that, they wrote a national curriculum framework for the whole curriculum, but it didn’t say for each curriculum, just global statements. So that didn’t really give us any direction, you know if we had wanted to do something completely radical like devote the whole thing to a study of Antarctica or something or only do urban history but we didn’t adopt radical ideas, we kept it pretty conservative.
In terms of further guidelines or state censorship around sensitive topics;
Absolutely zero, we had a free hand completely, and I think that other subjects in the curriculum are jealous, I think because we were a university led project, that sort of gave us a certain status within the system
Although when pushed further about how the commission approached colonialism or the coup period;
Well we made a very wise decision I think because in the middle of all this, Fiji had a coup, the Bainimarama military coup and there was a media decree which didn’t allow people to talk about politics it was removed completely out of the media, you know it became quite a repressive state Fiji in that period. So we decided rather than confront that we’d take, in a sense, the easy path, so we stopped history in 2006 we only bought the history of Fiji up until 2006. So in a sense, it’s the soft option to not, but we felt that we, didn’t want to lose the whole curriculum because someone might have said are you doing a unit on such and such.
On the introduction of ‘Fijian’ as a signifier for all Fijians and ‘iTaukei’ as a signifier for indigenous Fijians;
Yeah we adopted that, so everywhere in the five books that we wrote, the five textbooks its iTaukei, it’s common right throughout. And for Fijians, if we talk about Fijians generally, it’s Fijians. If it’s Indian
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Fijians, then its Indo-Fijians. And if iTaukei its iTaukei, otherwise Fijian generally. I think that was introduced by Bainimarama about 2009, or 10, I can’t remember now. But you know, it became general parlance so we adopted it.
The new history curriculum appears to be free of direct government influence, although there was a level of self-censorship around sensitive topics. The focus of the curricula redesign however, revolves around bringing Fiji to the forefront by exploring its relationship with its region and the world. This differs from past curriculums, since because they were colonially derived they often focused on topics unrelated to Fiji, with things like:
…they were studying, they did some modern day things like apartheid in South Africa for example, that eventually got its way into the curriculum and Mao’s China eventually got its way in. But pretty much it was all about the British and the British Empire and they even did really ridiculous subjects here like, the social welfare state in New Zealand in the 1960’s…
Similarly, curriculum handbooks on “Government and Governance” also offer specific retellings and examples of Fijian political history ambiguously to detract from past tension points. This includes the turbulent coup period within Fiji. As seen below, the motives underlying Rabuka’s initial coup were only given one line – “restoring political leadership to ethnic Fijians” – though subsequent events dealing with governmental arrangements were more detailed.
Excerpt from “Government and Governance” Year 11
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Similarly, the Speight coup in 2000 described below follows a similar pattern. In this case, it lists Speight’s reasons for the coup as entirely revolving around the formation of a new constitution, which would reserve the positions of President and Prime Minister for iTaukei’s only. The motives behind why this was necessary remain unclear within the text.
The Bainimarama coup is provided with more context, by describing the events which lead up to his eventual coup. Though his motives run counter to that of Rabuka and Speight, it is only mentioned that the coup was a result of tensions between Bainimarama and Qarase about the treatment of former mutineers, and the legislative focus on indigenous Fijian interests.
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Interestingly, each of these accounts presents an inconsistency of naming convention compared to the rest of the handbook, which generally follows a format of “iTaukei” to describe indigenous Fijians and “Indo-Fijians” to describe Fijians of Indian descent. Instead, these sections refer to Indo-Fijians as “ethnic Indians” or just “Indians”, and thereby de- emphasise their “Fijian-ness” in relation to Fijian political history. This is important because it plays into another aspect of the handbook’s re-telling of the coups, which is that it emphasises the actions of political actors and events, over underlying ethnic tension during the same period. However, it must be noted that the emphasis on the actions of political actors and events may have been done due to the curriculum writers fear of potential censorship should they explore issues surrounding historical ethnic tensions.
In terms of nation-building, by redesigning the curriculum to contain more of Fiji’s historical relationships to the world and its region, the curriculum also proliferates a common understanding of the nation’s history. This is especially important in Fiji, as by exploring external relationships with other states, it also has the dual benefit of portraying “Fiji”
204 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past historically as a uniform autonomous and unified nation, even if this is historically inaccurate. This goes hand in hand with the ambiguous re-telling of Fijian political history through the actions of political actors and events, rather than ethnic tension points. Similarly, the naming convention between ‘iTaukei’ and ‘Indians’ during the coup section creates a figurative barrier between the students themselves as supposedly unified ‘Fijians’ and the actions of two historical groups who were at conflict with each other.
The 2013 constitution also mandated the implementation of two landmark education policies: the introduction of a civic education curriculum and the teaching of conversational iTaukei,
Fijian-Hindi, and English. The following contains a section analyses about the development of the civic education curriculum, drawing upon three in-depth interviews with teachers on the implementation of the civic education and languages programs within schools.
The formation of a civic education curriculum within Fiji started with the securing of
NZ$2.53 million from NZaid in 2006. This included a further NZ$2.2 million for “…long- term community civics education…” while developing “…a school-based civic education programme”. In 2006 the government also released this statement about the direction of the school programme:
…designed to show through lessons in class and practical work, how politics could be conducted in a peaceful, lawful, participatory and equitable manner. It is designed also to support the teaching of human rights and civic education topics in the curriculum of both primary and secondary schools
(Fijian Government 2006)
Koya (2010, 6) states that the continuing development of civic education programme was best summarised within a document titled “Policy in Enterprise Education”, which proposed that civic education was best taught as an integrated or cross-curriculum approach from Year
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3 to Year 13. During her study of teachers and their pedagogical approach to teaching civic education, Koya (2010) found that most teachers preferred an integrated approach of teaching civic education. In terms of civic tutoring, teachers presented different avenues of instruction, including: Motivational lessons, practical community projects, thematic approaches, and leading by example. One thing to note is that Koya’s interviews in 2010 were undertaken before the Ministry of Education had conducted any teacher education. The section below contains three interviews from teachers in Vanua Levu carried out during fieldwork in 2016
(and after teacher education programs) about the teaching of civic education and conversational language programs.
The first participant (P1) is a male iTaukei headmaster of a primary school, the second participant (P2) is a male Indo-Fijian primary teacher of sixteen years, and the final participant (P3) a female head teacher of the language department who oversees the teaching of vernacular languages31.
On Conversational Language Tuition
The responses towards the teaching of conversational language were consistent, with each participant behind the idea of teaching conversational language and noting its effects. P1 noticed that the focus on conversational language instead of formal tuition was a good approach because it placed less emphasis on being assessment, and more on day to day use of the language32.
Before there were only iTaukei students would take vernacular classes for Fijian. Hindu children taking Hindi classes. Apart from that you
31 According to one participant teachers are given a handbook on how to teach civic education and language curriculums. Each interview was conducted separately, but for the sake of clarity I will include all responses for corresponding questions. 32 It should be noted that ‘Hindi’ in this circumstance refers to ‘Fiji-Hindi’, a variety unique to Fiji.
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know it was not like really pressed hard by the ministry. But now, taking into consideration the new things coming in, for example iTaukei students, many now taking vernacular language as a subject, but it should be as a curriculum. But the government shift it to ‘conversational’ Hindi and Fijian. At least if you don’t have to sit exam, at least you can still understand Fijian. But actually going to be tested or whatever, but at least some knowledge but a few phrases and learn some bit of Hindi, I’ll be able to know something with regards same wise to iTaukei students. That is one thing, and the government is really pushing forward for conversational, especially for these two major races.
P2 recounts a similar experience, suggesting that the move has allowed both iTaukei and
Indo-Fijian students to mix. Interestingly, his experience indicates that iTaukei students were more willing to learn Hindi than Indo-Fijians learning iTaukei. This was also suggested by P3 below.
The school I’m in at the moment English is compulsory, secondly the iTaukei’s are so well versed with Hindi because every now and then they sit and mingle with the Indian’s. But the Indians, Indo-Fijians they lack the language33. They the iTaukei’s, the Fijians, they know but these ones [Indo-Fijians] they don’t know iTaukei. Now the conversational language has come in and every week we have to take out 45mins to teach them. There’s a set guideline.
P3 who is more actively involved in the development and teaching of conversational languages within Fiji found that the benefits of language tuition also spans across generations.
In Labasa the plan is very good because we have iTaukei students speaking fluently, my husband’s family actually speak Hindi and when they are by themselves they speak the Hindi language more than their iTaukei or English language but in school of course they do socialise a lot, they don’t take into account all this bad ideas [racism]. So like in Labasa we don’t see much of those racial barbs and all that. We have lovely good friends from other races and even gone to the
33 The respondent believed this was either because of family reasons, with parents wanting their children to focus more on other studies.
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extent of calling them aunt uncles and the children enjoy each other’s company, we see that in the school too. Not only converse in English but they converse in using each other’s languages, it’s like an exchange and its like the fashion so that it’s a fashionable thing if an iTaukei student speaks Hindi so most of them are grabbing the opportunity at picking up words
P3 also noted that Indo-Fijians were slower to learn conversational iTaukei than their counterparts.
Yes, they [Indo-Fijians] are, but I would say not as much but they’re picking it up. I think those that have been in a predominant iTaukei group, those Indo-Fijian students they have been picking up language quicker and they use it more confidently compared to those that just pick up the words from their friends in school and mostly they are vulgar words or words to tease each other. But for Fijian students the iTaukei students, they use their Hindi a lot, but most of them they are actually trying their best to learn. Even with the teaching of conversational Fijian, Indo-Fijian students are also grabbing the opportunity to learn and speak the language also. And they understand things like if you want to ask them why didn’t you come to school they would have a reply if you were to ask them vernacular.
These early indicators suggest that the tuition of conversational languages is influencing cross-ethnic relationship within schools. Although the interviews represent a limited data, the positive effect of the reforms, despite the short timeframe since their implementation in 2014, is promising. The importance of cross language tuition is especially significant in Fiji, where communication difficulties further complicate already sensitive topics, like land negotiations.
This was raised during an interview with leader of the Fiji’s largest sugarcane grower’s union, who mentioned one of the difficulties involved in both grower and worker negotiations were language barriers.
Union leader: At the end the biggest problem in our society is the language barrier. Because all the staff in the NLTB are indigenous Fijians, and most of our farmers are Indo-Fijians so when they get up there, there is a problem of communication and then they find difficulties”
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On Civic Education
Responses towards the practical instruction of civic education within schools varied. This suggests that a uniform pedagogical approach on civic education does not exist, with implementation largely left to the discretion of individual teachers. This is in-line with
Koya’s report, implying that little has been done since its release in 2010. The Ministry of
Education did however introduce ceremonial guidelines relating to national symbols that are to be followed in schools. This included singing the national anthem, raising the flag, and reciting a student pledge. P1 as a Headmaster was responsible for making sure these were implemented, and recounts his experience below:
For example, national anthem, we do that every week. It gives us pride, because it’s about our country our nation, because when we raise the flag there are two things, there’s a pledge for us to say then raise the flag and something to be said about the flag. The importance of those two things, linking it to the country to the whole of Fiji our people. And then other activities is like fund raising, the government is only giving fundraising to schools who they have to inform them, before we use to do that when we were paying school fees, now it’s the government providing everything, they are forbidding fundraising.
P2’s school similarly implemented the ministry’s changes, while also noting that he uses an integrated approach to teach both civic principles and conversational languages:
Before there was a lot of slackness in that area [ceremonial duties], now since the ministry has given a policy whereby every day we have to host the flag, on Friday’s we have to have the flag ceremony its compulsory. And with the national anthem, so it depends on the teacher on that particular week, whoever is on duty, he or she can choose either English, Hindi version or iTaukei version of the national anthem. Two weeks ago I was on duty so I informed the whole school that on Monday we’ll be having all three versions, so on Friday when my turn was to host assembly I had all three versions I started with iTaukei then English then Hindi.
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Interviewer: Do you teach stuff like citizenship or democracy?
We have a separate section whereby we have in the morning we spend about 15-20mins, we have moral values integrated with citizenship education, there’s a special booklet.
P3 confirmed that there is no strict approach to teaching civic education within primary schools in Fiji, and that much is left up to the discretion of the teacher – although most prefer an integrated approach.
But I think for civic pride and history we’ve had that mentioned in our national curriculum framework but right now it’s just a lot of talk and not much action. That’s how I feel because that’s what I see in my school, because I’ve always had to accompany the rest of my teachers who go around marketing to students, like after form 4 they get to pick a mix of subjects so we’ve had to really encourage them to take up history. Civic pride is something that is inserted into almost all the subjects, like for English we read a conversation on civic pride and then that’s the opportunity to teach them civic pride or if there’s an essay writing topic on civic pride. But having it as a separate aspect would also be fine because the students would learn something which is also worthwhile for them, and reflect on how they live in their community and then as they go onto be adults they will have a sense of ownership and responsibility for their environment because as students even in my school currently we have to really talk to them that the papers is where you write and not on the wall.
The pledge discussed by P1 was introduced in April 2016 by the Minister for Education –
Mahendra Reddy to be compulsorily recited everyday within classrooms. This was in response to preventing children from engaging in risky behaviours. The pledge includes making commitments for showing respect towards parents, teachers, friends, and elders. As well as staying healthy through exercise and believing in themselves (Bolatiki 2016).
These early indicators suggest that direct civic education instruction has not received the same amount of emphasis as language tuition. However, a frequent and repeatable formalised
210 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past ceremonial process surrounding the nation’s symbols has been implemented. Whether the tuition of civic education gains greater importance by the Ministry of Education in the future remains to be seen.
On State Oversight
A number of social welfare initiatives for school children – like free bus fares, textbooks, and breakfast – were also introduced by Bainimarama as a nation-building strategy. The effect of providing social welfare initiatives for school aged children echo the findings of the
Education Commission’s report in 1969 which identified the main reasons behind children remaining uneducated. These were generally acknowledged as class issues, resulting from expensive transportation, textbooks or malnutrition. Each of the participants below details their experience with Bainimarama’s new initiatives.
P1 found that more students were coming to school because of the services provided, but that this also led to some parents taking the initiatives for granted.
P1: Many are coming to school now, uh we can take it in, from my point of view, many are coming, on the other hand I’m not saying this to all, some parents they tend to think that everything is provided by the government, so like bus fare, milk, textbook. Apart from that we can still some students who are still you know without proper footwear eh? Some are really doing well, but some they’re uh, they want to be spoon-fed all the time.
P2 commented that the increase in the school budget provided a number of positives, which saw attendance increase as travel allowances helped in adverse weather conditions.
P2: Before there was a very limited amount of income to run the school, maybe they use to run the school with $10,000 budget. Now the school I’m in with the moment were working with $45,000. And the year 1 they are getting the Weetabix, and milk and that sorta gives
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an encouragement to come to school. So the attendance is improving. Like today it was raining, if the transport was not provided it would have half the roll out of school today but since the transport was provided picking from home to school, 100% even though it was raining.
P3 also found that attendance improved with the initiatives but that some parents became too complacent with the government.
P3: Very good for parents who cannot afford because we also get to have a high attendance rate but then those who do not come to school and are in our risky periods for bus fare, we really make it our business to work out why they did not get to school. The students need to realise that the government is pouring out money for them to be in school, so that they understand that part and their responsibility, so that goes well for us. And the textbooks too it has saved a lot of parents a lot of money so we applaud the government for the initiative, so it goes both ways because at the same time complacency on the parents part and also the teachers they have to work harder instead of same. But otherwise the initiative is a grand one.
All the participants found that attendance increased when transport and dietary necessities were provided for by schools. While class inequality is an ongoing issue within Fiji, by implementing social welfare through schools, class-based constraints on transport and nutrition can be reduced.
Similarly, the implementation of social welfare initiatives also coincides with a new top- down approach to the administration of the education system. This is because the education minister believed he could unilaterally direct and manage at the release of these initiatives.
Each of the interviewed participants experienced this new administrative system with mixed results. Some found that the ministry’s approach facilitated the smooth implementation of the curriculum, with improved communication between schools and the ministry – however it also placed a lot of power within the education minister who could make sensitive calls somewhat arbitrarily.
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P1 found that the implementation of a standardised curriculum was benefitting his school, as more parents were likely to send their children there because of a newfound confidence in the curriculum breadth. While also commenting that the ministry kept in regular contact to ensure the delivery of the standardised curriculum.
P1: Yeah, because before only some schools would teach these subjects, and then the choice of subjects depends on family. So they send children there because they’re teaching these subjects. But subjects are now in the all the schools, so we can say now that all schools are teaching same thing, same curriculum.
P2 also found that consultations were frequent enough, with enough autonomy in the system to allow for teacher feedback. In regards to government micro-management they felt that the same standard was being applied across all of Fiji.
P2: They [the government] are closely following and also managing they want our views. Like last year they gave a book and we were not satisfied and we had to lodge our submission to what we want and they have changed.
P3 however mainly commented on the delivery, suggesting that finding the right communication channel could be difficult. This is because of a shift between hard materials through paper to online delivery.
P3: We have regular communication and we always receive circulars, back when I began teaching they use to have things like gazettes which they would send every month or at the end of every term. But then they switched and said everything would be online and when we checked couldn’t find anything online. There are things that are there and then they are out dated. So they communicate with us but often with curriculum.
Similarly, P3 believed that everyone was following the same curriculum because the ministry has increased accessibility.
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P3: Yes, because we have different NCO’s, and subjects so they have very good communication, they communicate well with the head teachers and the school because we are the people doing whatever it is they want. But for us, for English, only when there is a need they send circulars, but it is also good to note that they have opened up the ministry, whenever we call and need information they give, so they answer phone calls and talk with us so we feel of course that we feel secured because there are people out there who care.
However, in terms of administration there appears to be a few different views. While P2 believes there is a strict route for dealing with complaints or requests, both P1 and P3 find that the system is often undercut arbitrarily by those higher up within the ministry of education.
The responses found that when it came to complaints or accusations against a teacher, due process was often not followed.
P2 outlined that the communication channel that is followed for complaints goes from the original complainant to the head teacher, and then to the education districts education officer.
However, P1 found that often this process was not followed.
P1: If anything happens at the school, we just pick up our phone. The proper channel of communication is not followed, from there direct to the top. And then some teachers some schools, they been you know, penalised unfairly, that’s what I would say. The situation was not thoroughly being screened or discussed, not real concrete evidence about what was happening, you feel sorry for those teachers and for those schools who have received those kinds of unfair treatment. They never went through proper process or investigation for them to be convicted or discharged or removed from the system, terminated. And uh that what happened to some schools and some teachers, and I do really feel that something should be done about it, if anything happens they should follow the proper channel. Through the school to the district and then it goes up, sometimes matters come and it comes top to bottom.
P3 when asked whether having direct access to the top is a good thing, had concerns over people taking advantage.
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P3: Not so much because people might take advantage of it. But if we’re using it for the right things then that would be okay, it increases the efficiency and also because there are so many, like for us in Labasa the school is always used for other schools to benchmark themselves so we always take it upon ourselves to have the right information so we make sure whatever we are doing in school is all the correct things so that we do not also lead the others astray. So that’s what they always say, in Labasa they are doing this so its what’s supposed to be done, we take very seriously that responsibility so open door policy is good but there a lot of people out there who are very cunning and use it for advantage which then effects everybody else. Because the next day when we want to call for someone to help us, they will not because we have to explain so many more times to get what we want
State oversight throughout the education system also increased with an extension into higher education through the “Fiji National University Decree 2009”. The decree allowed for the creation of a university as a public institution in order to provide tertiary qualifications.
Because Fiji National University (FNU) is publically funded, it must remain politically impartial. Impartiality within the tertiary education sector is especially pertinent given Fiji’s history of political activism in university campuses – as seen with the University of the South
Pacific during the 1980s. By offering a local alternative in FNU to a regional university (like
USP), Bainimarama may have been hoping to reduce tertiary student activism against his agenda. Similarly, the rise of a state university against USP also works to reduce external influence over the tertiary sector. At the time of writing, FNU generally offers technical oriented – like accounting and hospitality – courses. While USP tends to offer a broader range, from various sciences and agriculture to teaching and humanities. Though traditionally universities have functioned as both a bulwark for political dissent, and as a source of political discourses, the establishment of a supposedly politically neutral tertiary institution may blunt university activism like that witnessed in the 1980s that occurred in respect to both anti-nuclear and class activism.
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The importance of education systems when nation-building is the uniformity it can interject within an important population segment. This applies to the standardisation of the curriculum, as well as the normalisation of ceremonial duties. Because Fiji has historically viewed
Education through a relational lens, with different problems and solutions at different times offered to different ethnic communities who each sought similar outcomes. By standardising education through uniformity its relational elements become reduced, allowing a common understanding of education to form. An emphasis on reducing the relational nature of education is repeated with other national topics, like labour.
Labour
Labour as a discourse contains a number of complex elements. In Fijian terms, labour discourses have traditionally ranged from things including pay disparities between groups, and communalised work during colonialism, to disputes surrounding land income and leases, to civil service appointments under Rabuka’s era. While historically labour presents a strong cross-section with Land discourses, this section will mainly focus on Bainimarama’s attempts to address historic problems associated with labour discourses, while limiting the voices of traditional players – like unions. As explored in chapter 3, historically labour discourses arose in response to specific ethnic experiences. This includes ideological differences between the nature of communal and individualised labour, as well as differences between labour industries – like agriculture or the civil service. Problematically these differences contributed to a relational understanding of labour, as common experiences bridging ethnic divides were usually limited to unions in specific circumstances. The implementation of a number of decrees since 2009 under Bainimarama has arguably sought to address the relational nature of labour discourses. Important decrees included the Essential National Industries Decree
(2011) and legislation relating to social welfare.
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Accompanying these was the rebranding of Fijian society within the 2013 constitution’s preamble a ‘meritocracy’. Traditionally, civil service employment has attracted comments about the employment hiring process being ‘ethnicised’. While the current number of civil workers by ethnicity is not published, the move to merit-based employment is an attempt to alleviate ethnic biasing during hiring, as seen in the past. This is in part due to historical stereotypes surrounding civil service employment, with Indo-Fijian attitudes believing they should hold more positions within the civil service because of their relatively higher education levels. Which were no doubt entwined with Rabuka’s moves following his 1986 coup, that saw civil service hiring bias iTaukei candidates based on claims they were underrepresented when they were not (Ratuva 2013).
During fieldwork, a number of comments were made about the move towards ‘meritocracy’ branding and the data to support claims that Fiji was moving to this standard. Including one by the National Federation Party leader and lower house representative, Binman Prasad who himself cannot access ethnic data. This suggests that people still use civil employment as a barometer to gauge FijiFirst’s claims of an equal citizenry – i.e. whether equality between ethnic groups is a reality within Fiji.
The introduction of a minimum wage, social security systems for the unemployed, and numerous subsidies for agriculture or small business grants similarly contributes to reversing historical relational discourses surrounding labour. This is because they aim to provide categorical benefits to Fijian citizens based on their citizenship, rather than ethnicity. In the past, material inequality between ethnic groups contributed to fragile ethnic relations – which in turn created an environment where access to certain types of jobs was perceived as an ethnic issue. As such, the creation of a wage floor, and base social security system attempts to
217 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past address both gaps in material wealth, and perceptions of ethnicity influencing employment.
While this is not directly a labour discourse, the increase of state oversight on reducing inequality may be an attempt to stop inter-ethnic blaming, as seen in the past.
The limiting of traditional voices – particularly unions – again seeks to address the relational nature of past labour discourses. This is because in the past some unions were organised around the ethnicity of the workers they represented – despite residing within the same industry as a similar union. For example, the Fiji Teachers Union (FTU) was formed as a multi-racial organisation but a number of iTaukei members left to join the ethnically exclusive Fijian Teachers Association (FTA) when it was founded.
To this extent, the politicisation of unions representing ethnic interests within the workforce has a contributing factor for deteriorating ethnic relations in the past. Potentially in response to this, Bainimarama introduced a number of decrees to make unions unnecessary. However, it is more likely that Bainimarama also wants to limit public voices, like unions, that are critical of his regime. These decrees include the Essential National Industries Decree (2011), which was responsible for rendering trade unions in essential services powerless, losing to decades of negotiated benefits and dispute settling machinery denied.
During an interview with the president of the National Farmers Union the effect of
Bainimarama’s reforms became apparent. The president noted that a lack of active members made his job of lobbying the government on work related issues harder.
Interviewer: And you would say your role as the union is to make that link (between farmer and FSC)?
Union: Yeah, were only possibility comes in when people get together and we can make demands. How all the unions work, and the sad part is, after 2009 just because of this current political issues coming up and so forth and Bainimarama government putting in pressure, cutting the throats of unions stopping membership, and there’s a shift that
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people are feeling ‘oh I think everything is dead nothing is working for us’, so there’s no focus on us, getting together, getting the unions make it work, because union needs your support. If your voice doesn’t come out from your own membership, then I as a leader can’t transfer that into action.
This was echoed by the Fiji Public Service Association, who also believed that public sector unions in particular were being targeted in order to weaken the collective voice of their members (Savike 2018). Reforms limiting union involvement in politics and acts like the
ENI, have forced the two biggest umbrella trade unions in Fiji – Fiji Trades Union Congress and Fiji Islands Council of Trade Unions – to unite.
Although Bainimarama has taken a scorched earth approach to unions, the number of social welfare initiatives introduced have worked to reduce Labour as being understood relationally.
This is through providing access to a number of services to either to gain employment or provide welfare in the meantime. Similarly, a minimum wage ensures that labour is valued equally at the lowest levels. Addressing a relational discourse in this way is a partly a doubled-edged sword, since it attempts to reduce crude ethnic comparisons by placing increased emphasis on reliance towards the state.
War
War as a nation-building discourse was especially prominent during World War 2 as Fiji was still a colony of the United Kingdom. As previously discussed, this is partly the reason for
Fiji’s military being almost entirely composed of the iTaukei to the exclusion of other ethnic groups. The expansion of Fiji’s military into peacekeeping under the United Nations both contributed to Fiji’s international reputation, gave financial benefits and demonstrated their commitment to ideals of international co-operation. But it also allowed the expansion of war as a discourse from being primarily built on the events of World War 2 to expand and include
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Fiji’s relationship with the international community through its peacekeeping efforts. As such, war as a discourse expanded from being purely about responding to external threats to including international relations – and how Fiji as a nation is externally represented. Under
Bainimarama, Fiji’s external representation through its peacekeeping efforts, and other newly identified external threats – like climate change – are also aimed at a domestic audience.
In nation-building terms, Fiji’s contribution to international peace-keeping efforts and climate change advocacy are channelled domestically in order to showcase Fiji’s role within an international order to instil a sense of national pride. This is a significant shift from the past, where war discourses evolved from a dichotomy between the willingness of the iTaukei to fight on the behalf of the British in World War 2, as opposed to Indo-Fijians who both sympathised with India’s independence movement while demanding better working conditions as a condition of their involvement in the war. To being reflected internally, with the rise of military intervention in the state cascading from Rabuka’s 1987 coup. And now with a focus on peacekeeping efforts, with the domestic impact of Fiji’s peacekeeping forces as explained by the Commissioner of Police –Brigadier-General Sitiveni Qiliho – during a
United Nations Chief of Police Summit in 2018 claims that Fiji’s participation in peacekeeping efforts has now ‘become a part of Fiji’s identity’ (Kate 2018).
While the evolution of war as a discourse has its roots in relational aspects as previously mentioned, the move towards promoting things like peacekeeping, work to reduce relational elements of the discourse in favour of categorical identifications. Recognising climate change as an existential threat likewise ties into the theme of shifting war away from being understood relationally into being understood categorically. This was initially raised by Aiyaz
Sayed-Khaiyum who stated “we are all in the same canoe when it comes to climate change.
Our response must be collective and it will take input and action from all of us”. And follows
220 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past in the work of Bainimarama’s Presidency of COP23, where he steered many high-level international conferences surrounding the impacts of climate change by introducing the
Talanoa Dialogue34. The importance of identifying an external threat to a nation is well discussed within nation-building theory, since it allows a commonality to form within a population in response to an existential crisis. In this instance, the threat of climate change is being utilised domestically to transcend ethnic divides through identifying a common existential threat.
The military represents another important actor at influencing war. The role of the iTaukei dominated military within Fiji’s coups has been well discussed, usually in terms of it as a disruptive political player. However, the RFMF has since attempted to shift this image following the introduction of the 2013 constitution and subsequent election of FijiFirst – undoubtedly in no small part due to Bainimarama’s military ties. This includes statements and language found within the 2013 constitution concerning the role of the military, “it shall be the overall of the Republic of Fiji Military Forces to ensure at all times the security, defence and well-being of Fiji and all Fijians”. Which is underlined by a statement-of-intent from the RFMF’s that states the “RFMF shall remain as the custodian of Fiji’s constitution”.
Although seemingly innocuous, this statement-of-intent strikes at the heart of anxiety surrounding a potential future coup, since it suggests that the military will intervene politically if they decide the current constitution is threatened. The signalling to safeguard the constitution indicates that the military will not conduct another ethno-nationalist coup, but may act should the current civic nationalist project within the 2013 constitution became derailed. Though the chance of this happening is slim, opposition parties still actively campaigned to change the constitution during both the 2014 and 2018 elections.
34 A process of inclusive, participatory, and transparent dialogue used in Fiji and the Pacific.
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The proclamation does however reinforce the 2013 constitution’s designation of the military as a military for ‘all Fijians’, despite its dominant iTaukei makeup. This has been exemplified by the RFMF taking on disaster relief efforts during the aftermath of tropical cyclone
Winston in 2016 as well as conducting numerous nation-building exercises involved with capacity building across Fiji.
Similarly, recent admissions have also been made by the RFMF surrounding the internal conflict faced within iTaukei communities because of the decisions behind enacting the 2000 coup. Chief of Staff Colonel Ratu Jone Kalouniwai (Delaibatiki 2017), stated in a response to an NFP candidate in 2017 that “some people fail to appreciate the sacrifices it [RFMF] made for Indo-Fijians “over their own blood and Vanua”, who went on to say that:
The RFMF together with its commander stood with the few against ethno-nationalism. The rebels were prepared to shed blood for this cause and lives of our service men in both the Military and the Police Force were lost the line of duty standing up against an ethno nationalist threat that was designed to bring about total indigenous iTaukei supremacy and the expelling of Fijians of Indian descent.
This highlights both the internal conflict felt within the iTaukei community on ethno- nationalist movements, and the spreading of revisionist views surrounding military history.
This is because the comments support an idea that the military looked after Indo-Fijians throughout the 2000 coup, which at best occupies a grey area given the complexity of issues at the time. Though, the comments do fall in-line with the current re-imagining of the RFMF as a protector for all Fijian citizens – suggesting that the military is actively trying to rectify its past reputation as an ethnically bias organisation.
Baledrokadroka (2015, 130) believes this is not surprising, as the military has a long history of viewing themselves as political patrons who play a nation-building role similar to Fiji’s
222 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past founding leaders and high chiefs. Under Bainimarama Baledrokadroka (2015, 131) believes the military will remain a player within politics, since it regards itself as necessary should an ethno-nationalist opposition party – like SODELPA – continue to exist. Similarly, he argues that the military’s increased expenditure is a signal of military expansion as a nation-building institution through projects like the Engineer Rural Development Unit, Trade Training School and National School cadetship programme. However, Baledrokadorka (2015, 132) ultimately believes that despite the military’s best intentions at promoting an inclusive state based on civic nationalism it is undermined by its ethnically exclusive composition.
Religion
The main shift within Religion as a national discourse is not about altering the content, so much as the space it interacts with and occupies. In the past Christianity, namely through
Methodism, was protected and elevated within the public sphere by the state above other religions. This position was then symbolically leveraged by ethno-nationalists as a signifier for iTaukei dominance over other ethnic groups within Fiji. However, two things have worked to displace the idea of a single dominant religion in Fiji since Bainimarama’s rise to power. This includes a move to limit the role of organised religion within politics by shifting
Religion into the private sphere, while simultaneously allowing symbolic events from a number of religions to be celebrated within the public sphere.
The main purpose of reducing the role of organised religion within the public sphere was squarely aimed at the Methodist Church, who supported previous ethno-nationalist coups but criticised Bainimarama’s 2006 coup. At the time, the Methodist Church was against joining
Bainimarama’s National Council for Building a Better Fiji because they believed he did not have legitimate authority to do so (Newland 2009). As Weir (2015, 168) discusses, in return
Bainimarama refused to allow the Church’s annual meeting to take place unless certain
223 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past conditions were met, when they were not, and the meeting went ahead, nine church leaders were arrested in breach of emergency regulations. One of the reasons behind Bainimarama’s decision to cancel the Methodists annual conference in 2009 was in respect to fears that the conference would promote political instability because of the Church’s views. Similarly, he believed that the ethno-nationalist Methodist Church leaders acted more as politicians than church leaders, forcing him to act against their supposed ethno-nationalist aspirations (ibid).
Interestingly, Bainimarama did little to stop the formation of New Methodists, who established formal links within the police force during 2008 – with evangelism being utilised as a crime-fighting technique (Newland 2012, 542). Though this reached a fever point with police officers answering calls with religious connotations, Newland (2012, 544) believes
Bainimarama ultimately intervened when a number of scandals involving overspending of the police budget on religious functions surfaced. As Weir (2015) outlines, the Methodist Church was eventually allowed to hold a shortened annual meeting in 2012, since its leadership had been adopted a new position in response to Bainimarama pressure steering them away from ethno-nationalist leaders or policies. However, Weir (2015, 170) notes that other reasons are responsible for these shifts, like the rise of new religious groups being more accepting of women than the Methodist Church.
The decline of the Methodist Church’s political aspirations continued the 2013 change in direction, as the church began to focus more on spirituality and social problems – rather than on overt political goals, like the formation of a Christian state (Weir 2015, 171). The 2014 election saw the Church confirm that officeholders could only contest the election if they leave their church appointment during election campaigns, with sermons in the period focusing on gospel and not political party manifestos. Though Weir (ibid, 172) notes that ethno-nationalist elements did emerge in coded terms during the 2014 election. The 2018 elections continued the Methodist Church’s antipathy towards politics by releasing a
224 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past statement35 that if a Church Minister wanted to join a political party for the election they
“have to resign from the church and leave the premises, vacate the premises and then pursue their dream to join a party. They cannot be doing both. The church does not tolerate that because the church is neutral” (Talei 2018c). These came in response to comments by
Bainimarama accusing the Methodist Church as a front for the SODELPA party, namely because of their leader Rabuka’s work as a Lay preacher.
Although there are similarities between the policies of SODELPA and the Methodist Church, there appears to be some shifts happening within the Church itself. This was highlighted to me in an interview with Reverend Akuila Yabaki – a former Methodist Church member and
Executive Director of the Citizens Constitutional Forum – who was dismissed from the
Methodist Church following his political activism in the wake of the 1987 coup. Akuila believes that the:
Methodist Church is moving through its own evolution including ups and downs in its annual Methodist Conferences; fundamentalism is about embracing all peoples who live in multicultural society; what’s pluralism, tolerance and respect for differences. The leaders are still around who are part of the problem and shifting to be part, I think, of the solution.
This corresponds with the Church’s move to allow the teaching of the Hindustani language to students who are currently studying at the Davuilevu Theological College. It was also argued that Indo-Fijian customs and traditions should also be taught in order for the church to better work and communicate with Indo-Fijian families.
The expansion of public holidays for other religious denominations, like Diwali or Prophet
Muhammad’s Birthday, also works to reduce the influence of Christianity within the state.
While this adds weight to the government’s claim of equality between all Fijian citizens, it
35 Other denominations and religions released similiar statements across Fiji.
225 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past also showcases the government’s intent to control religion as a discourse. This is because the state is attempting to both force organised religion out of politics – while simultaneously regulating what religious symbolism appears within the public sphere. Although seemingly contradictory goals, this targets a key area of ethnic division, since it normalises the existence of other religions within Fiji while limiting the influence of religion on the state.
Land
Land as a discourse remains prominent within Fiji both as a signifier for iTaukei identity, and as a reminder of the ethnic differences between those who can own land, and those who cannot. Although this is unlikely to change, Bainimarama has attempted to restrict the divisive rhetoric that the discourse can produce. This is mainly through reassuring iTaukei communities about the permanence of their land ownership, ensuring the availability of leased land to Indo-Fijians and other communities, and by allowing iTaukei landowning units to benefit more from their ownership through the equal distribution of lease monies.
As discussed by (Robertson & Sutherland 2001) the class roots of ethnic conflict cannot be ignored in Fiji, and in particular the effects that material disparities can have. As they argued in the past, ethnic conflict between land and leases was driven because of a material discrepancy – or in other words, class issues. Anecdotal evidence at the time suggests that ethnic conflict was driven by a tension between iTaukei landowners not receiving enough value from leased land, while not being allowed to live on their land because of long leases afforded to Indo-Fijian tenants. By introducing the Equal Rent Distribution (ERD) Decree in
2011 – and fully implementing it in 2015 – Bainimarama is arguably attempting to restrict the likelihood of this perception appearing again. This is because the decree effectively stops funds from leased land being distributed manually, which in some cases resulted in members
226 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past of the same landowning unit either receiving little or no funds. The ERD means that all leased monies must be distributed into a trust bank account which is then processed and paid individually through online banking – thereby removing manual distribution and increasing accountability. Similarly, if the landowning unit is particularly large with a low amount of lease monies, the money received could be pooled for community projects or businesses
(Bolatiki 2018).
The ERD was controversial when first introduced in 2011, but since then the iTaukei Lands
Trust Board (TLTB) general manager – Tevita Kuruvakadua – has stated the ERD has benefited the iTaukei community by: majorly reducing landowning unit disputes and complaints, encouraging a culture of saving and future planning around finance, allowing female members to receive lease monies, sometimes for the first time, and encouraging iTaukei families to educate their children within higher education.
When discussing the ERD with the Vice-President of the FijiFirst party and the Tui Macuata
– Ratu Wiliame Katonivere – during fieldwork he stated that the effect of the decree was noticeable. For Ratu Wiliame, this was because the decree forced chiefs to distribute funds equally instead of keeping funds for themselves. Although he felt that chiefs should have equally distributed funds in the first instance, out of obligation, instead of being forced through a decree.
Ratu Wiliame Katonivere: …pre 2006, I was a board member for NLTB, that time it was native land trust board, and then the coup happened. Yes one of the things that changed the mindset of the Fijians was this thing here, the money, you know the chiefs were getting something like 50% of all the income, so imagine those people there in Nadi, so I mean in a year some of these Chiefs were getting 100,000$ salary sitting there from leasing, and then the structure in some places the traditional structure is so strong that the chief still overrules and their power and greed. So when I am in power I said
227 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past
this is my share and for the mataqali members deduct 10% for this vanua obligation when you should be doing that. And then came the title disputes, everybody wants to be Chief I have to support chiefs because maybe I can get some money from that 10%.
Similarly, the Roko for Macuata also noted that although some chiefs were not happy, the communities they looked after were appreciative of the changes.
Oh yeah that’s a big issue, the chiefs don’t like it because in the past they receive bigger portion of the cake and uh those that were under him who held some title in the village got less portion than those who are just commoners got smallest bit of the cake. Which was in the past system. And what they argued is that they used this money to run the affairs of the clan in terms of funding whatever, with the traditional levies like the church and vanua and they manage that through these monies. And now that they’ve equally distributed they’re [chiefs] very angry.
Interviewer: What about the rest of the iTaukei community?
They are happier now they get equal share so its equal share of the cake. Because most, they started with that kind of distribution where the chiefs and those with title get bigger percentage of the cake, then there were lot of complaints coming in that the chiefs were abusing the money they weren’t equally distributing to clan members. Then they initiative trustee and they say trustees got the government and distributed but they distributed still on the terms of chiefs and titles. What happened with trustees got some time also abuse, the complaints were piling up in the PM’s office and he said no more and threw these ways of distributing to equally distribute everything.
The Roko's response reflects that the motives behind Bainimarama’s shift in the distribution of funds comes from the realities of dealing with a complex landownership system. Although the connection between iTaukei identity and land ownership is widely discussed by (Ravuvu
1988). This type of reform may have only passed under an authoritarian regime like
Bainimarama in 2011. This is because of the politically sensitive nature of land reform within
Fiji, which was partly responsible for the fall of two Indo-Fijian backed governments around
228 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past perceptions they would alter land laws. Although Bainimarama has been criticised by certain chiefs who suggest these changes are unpopular within the iTaukei community, this was refuted during an interview with a lawyer who stated there was a significant uptake in land related cases following the legislation – suggesting a rift between the iTaukei elite and commoners.
The often discussed connection between iTaukei identity and their land was also reinforced in further discussion with the Roko, when asked what it means to be iTaukei.
Land is a big part. Because when your born you’re clan connects you with a piece of land so here you have these big (shows registry book) it’s like an iTaukei bible. They say you aren’t an iTaukei until you’re in this book, it’s called the VKB. Each clan in each district this one is Muctauta. Twenty or how many clans, and within each clan are smaller clans made up of their families and here you’ll have the names when they were born their fathers with their numbers here so when you are inserted into the VKB this is your number with toka toka number like the family. And the mataqali. So what means to be iTaukei if you’re not in this book you’re not iTaukei because this is what connects you to your lands. So if you’re not connected to your land or connected to the book they say you are not iTaukei because you’re not connected. I think that’s a big part of being iTaukei there’s your culture and tradition its identifier from other cultures. If you go to Suva there’s a big office they have more ideas on what it means to be iTaukei there is hundreds of these books, there’s a concrete vault the door is like a barricade about this thick and you really need to pull to open the thing. Shaped like a boat they say it’s the Fijian boat or something. Because it’s the heart of Fijian people. They have all these books here, every Fijian go to check their sons and daughters name are in the book. Now that lease money is coming, there has been an influx for people coming to our office checking this book, before this book it wasn’t damaged like this before, just from last year when distribution started then those who are aren’t concerned about being in the book started coming. We used to get 500 or 800 people a day. It was really busy when it started, they come and check and their names and if names are not here they would make a fuss.
229 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past
Politics
The shifts within the national discourses since their colonial inception, weathering of successive coups, and attempted modifications by Bainimarama has always been mediated through politics. Under Bainimarama, the use of the political sphere in order to mediate between various actors and their contributions to national discourses is no exception. This includes the targeted curtailing of democratic rights on certain influential actors and organisations through decrees. Namely, the limiting of the Methodist Church and Unions, the removal of the Great Council of Chiefs, and in some cases the expulsion of academics.
Similarly, relationships within the corridors of power are seemingly intertwined. This includes the Fiji Broadcasting Corporation (FBC) which runs a number of pro-nation- building programs whose CEO is the brother of Fiji’s attorney-general and cabinet minister
Aiyaz Sayed-Khaiyum. Likewise, the ceding of control over civilian institutions, like the police commissioner, to ex-military officials raises questions about the transparency of
Bainimarama’s rule.
This presents a clear tension with the ideals of Bainimarama’s nation-of-intent being undermined through its implementation. However, it also begs the question of whether such reforms would be possible without the curtailing of certain rights and institutions under an authoritarian leader. As we have seen, the Methodist Church, the Great Council of Chiefs – and to a lesser extent – unions, have all played a historic role in contributing to national discourses that exacerbated ethnic tensions and run counter to Bainimarama’s agenda. Both the Methodist Church and the Great Council of Chiefs were politically and symbolically expedient for use by ethno-nationalists during successive coups against democratically elected governments attempting to implement the principles of a civic-egalitarian nation-of- intent. Bainimarama as an iTaukei, a significant military figure, short-term dictator, and now
230 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past democratically elected leader has escaped the fate of a coup against him, despite implementing a political ideology that has historically prompted significant political upheaval. This raises an interesting line of questioning, whether such a reform could have successfully occurred democratically within Fiji. Or, in other words, if the scale of
Bainimarama’s nation-building agenda could only have materialised under a dictatorship.
While these questions have no clear answer, it is apparent that Bainimarama has created a
“conditional democracy” in order to transition his nation-building agenda from their authoritarian underpinnings into a democratic context.
Conditional democracy in this sense refers to the authoritarian foundations of Bainimarama’s democratic rule and his continual reliance upon them. These foundations were discussed previously as prelude decrees, as they were introduced under a dictatorship without democratic scrutiny yet supersede democratic conventions today. This has been well reported by opposition parties, non-governmental organisations, and independent government critics.
The continued reliance on these decrees – and their success as witnessed in the 2018 elections
– also speaks to Bainimarama’s mediation of the political arena. Particularly because they facilitate the implementation of his nation-building agenda and nation-of-intent to continue unabated and largely uncriticised by influential historic actors. For Bainimarama democracy in Fiji was (at least prior to 2018) conditional on the continual existence of prelude decrees, since they assured the foundations for nation-building by protecting Bainimarama from legal objections.
The feeling of democracy being conditional on Bainimarama remaining in power was similarly felt when discussing the 2014 election with ordinary citizens throughout fieldwork – notably this was not as apparent during the 2018 elections. In most cases, many feared that should Bainimarama not have been elected in 2014 another coup would ensue, with most
231 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past pointing out his military backing. Although this will be explored more thoroughly within the next chapter, there was a sense that the ideas behind Bainimarama’s campaign were sound, but their implementation left lingering doubts. As such future study in the area may yield insight into the limits of authoritarian nation-building.
This chapter discussed the arrival and impact of Bainimarama upon Fiji’s political landscape.
It argued that Bainimarama’s nation-building campaign prior to the restoration of democracy was contingent upon prelude and procession decrees. These decrees were then leveraged into a conditional democracy in 2014, which further consolidated his nation-building program. It argued that the 2013 constitution itself tries to link new national symbols with redesigned political structures in order to present a universal relationship with the state aided by welfare initiatives. This saw the reinforcement of particular national symbols, increased benefits associated to citizenship, the building of rural infrastructure, and the fostering of international relationships. The culmination of this nation-building program is argued to be the implementation of Bainimarama’s own civic nation-of-intent, which projects its own flavour of civic nationalism. Where this nation-of-intent fits alongside historic nations-of-intent requires further analysis in future, given its short lifespan to date compared to both the communal and civic-egalitarian nation-of-intent. This should allow time to account for
Bainimarama’s commitment towards his nation-of-intent as the iTaukei population grows proportionally, and whether (or how) tensions between his nation-of-intent and its implementation are resolved. This includes the continued domination of iTaukei within the
RFMF, operation of village by-laws, and ethnically exclusive land holdings. However, the processes used to promote his nation-of-intent remains significant through its utilisation of national discourses (Labour, Land, Education, Religion, and War) to reduce their relational nature towards the state with a categorical relationship. National identity was ambiguously
232 Chapter Seven: Challenging the Past expanded, rather than truly redefined while drawing on tropes of civic nationalism. The emphasis on human rights rather than indigenous rights showcases that the shift in national identity was more about limiting what it does not represent, rather than what it does.
Importantly, much of Bainimarama’s rhetoric surrounding a civic identity follows general convention. Fiji’s progression towards the idea follows its own unique history, drawing from the experiences of indigenous Fijians fighting for their own equality – like the Apolosi movement – to Indo-Fijians resisting their own colonially ascribed purpose. Rather than simply being a transplanting of foreign ideas, the journey towards civic nationalism is very much rooted in Fiji’s colonial experience just as much as the communalist principles that dominated until the arrival of Bainimarama. Whether this could be achieved without
Bainimarama’s conditional form of democracy will no doubt became a long-standing debate.
233 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation
Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation
This chapter explores whether Bainimarama’s nation-of-intent can provide long-term political stability to Fiji. It does this by gauging popular attitudes towards Bainimarama’s implementation of his nation-of-intent. To do so, the chapter examines the reception of key public policy documents or releases related to Bainimarama’s nation-building program through both qualitative and quantitative methods. Qualitative analysis includes examining the drafting period of the 2013 constitution, which saw an alternative to the 2013 constitution crafted from public consultations ultimately abandoned in favour of the current constitution.
Similarly, public reactions are gauged through both election results, and interviews with key public figures carried out during fieldwork in 201636. Quantitative analysis includes a major fieldwork study of attitudes held by tertiary students (n=323) towards national identity, sampled from Fiji’s main universities and colleges. To end, the chapter discusses
Bainimarama’s nation-building program following the 2018 election.
The Yash Ghai Draft Constitution
In anticipation of a return to democracy, the Bainimarama government set up a constitution- making process in 2012. This process was trigged by two decrees, the Fiji Constitutional
Process (Constitution Commission) Decree 2012 and the Fiji Constitutional Process
(Constituent Assembly and Adoption of Constitution) Decree 2012 which saw the establishment of Yash Ghai’s constitution commission, with a view to:
Inform the public at large about the process, to collect and receive submissions from them and finally to draft a constitution in line with
36 During fieldwork it was often commented that Bainimarama holds traditional meetings with chiefs relatively often, with it being speculated these were carried out as a way of pressuring chiefs towards Bainimarama’s agenda. The author could not substantiate these claims
234 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation
the views of the people and the non-negotiable principles that would then be presented to the Constituent Assembly for further deliberations. The role of the Constituent Assembly was to debate the draft Constitution, as well as the Explanatory Report of the Commission, and the views of the people of Fiji expressed on the draft Constitution; keep the people of Fiji fully informed of the progress of debate and adoption of the draft constitution in its passage through the Constituent Assembly; and ultimately to adopt the draft constitution.
By the end of the three-month collection process, the Commission had compiled a remarkable
1831 oral or written submissions during 110 public hearings. In addition to this, they also received 5339 written submissions through either the post, hand delivery or emails – with more than a 1000 of these being group submissions (Commission Constitution 2012, 123). In comparison to this, the official 2013 constitution – which was ultimately adopted by the
Bainimarama government after the Ghai constitution was thrown out – only contained 1000 submissions that were never publicly disclosed.
Although the Ghai commission started strongly, the relationship between Ghai and
Bainimarama deteriorated after details emerged of the draft constitution, which included the implementation of: Regional electoral constituencies, safeguards surrounding the Bill of
Rights, a 144-member body of unelected people (named the People’s Assembly) and a number of transitional arrangements. These transition arrangements may have seen the revival of past proceedings under laws since removed by Bainimarama. Similarly, the arrangements required Bainimarama to step down six months prior to elections, without guaranteed immunity for any future court proceedings against his regime. In 2018 Ghai revealed that the commission had been hamstrung by the Bainimarama government, through having its funding cut – making it rely completely on international funding to carry out its terms of reference.
235 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation
The failed relationship between Bainimarama and Ghai culminated with the burning of documents linked to Ghai’s draft constitution in 2012. Police burned the documents due a belief within government that the draft would be publicly circulated before it was debated by the constituent assembly (Walsh 2012). The release of the official 2013 constitution removed the controversial aspects of Ghai’s constitution, by containing no interim or transitional arrangements, a single electorate for all of Fiji, a Constitutional Offices Commission chaired by the Prime Minister to appoint the heads of a number of institutions (head of military, police, human rights commission, electoral commission, public service commission), and a state of emergency clause which could limit human rights.
Though the Ghai draft constitution was never implemented, its collection of submissions remains a useful data point to examine some of the reactions of prominent and historic contributors to national discourse towards Bainimarama’s nation-building agenda. This includes political parties, unions, and former political leaders. For instance, the Fiji Trades and Union Congress (FTUC) submission argued that the GCC should be retained, because it maintains a traditional and customary role – but should not have any political role; that the
1997 constitution was adequate, and if a new constitution is implemented it should focus on transparency issues and the separation of powers – especially in terms of ex-military civil service appointments. The FTUC notably does not discuss the universal naming of “Fijian” for all citizens. The submission details of Sitiveni Rabuka – the ex-Prime Minister, 1986 coup leader, and now opposition leader – includes the suggestion of a truth and reconciliation commission (cites South Africa) surrounding the events of 2006, as well as a declaration to make Fiji a Christian state. This is followed by a call for a re-designed GCC, and the preservation of iTaukei culture through iTaukei exclusive schools. Once again, no mention is made of naming all citizens “Fijian”. Another ex-Prime Minister – Mahendra Chaudhry – as a representative for the FLP submitted that the new constitution should revert to the system of
236 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation open and communal voting systems as recommended by the Reeves Commission (1996).
Similarly, it calls for the 1997 constitution to be re-instated with amendments.
The submission by SODELPA (under the SDL moniker) initially calls for the delineation of ethnicity within Fiji, by naming indigenous Fijians as “Fijians”, indo-Fijians as “Indians”, and citizens as “Fiji Islanders”. And that the development of a national identity must take into consideration past lessons from the causes of indigenous Fijian insecurity – like the removal of indigenous Fijian institutions, economic marginalisation, cultural degradation, and the role of Christianity within the state. It also contains a call for the reinstating of a number of 1997 constitution throwbacks, including a limitation upon citizenship. Throughout the submission an emphasis is placed on the preservation of iTaukei culture, as SODELPA believe that the iTaukei language should be the lingua franca of Fiji and its fluency should exist as a pre- condition for public service employment. Similarly, they believe the electoral system should reinforce iTaukei political power through limited communal breakdowns within the lower house, with retention of the senate because of its historical connection to the GCC.
The National Federation Party (NFP) submission is more subdued, carrying suggestions that continue in the footsteps of its founder – A.D Patel – by advocating a civic nationalist agenda. However, it does suggest a communal electoral system, with both a lower house and senate – yet does advocate for a common name for Fijian citizens. The majority of the NFP submission calls for a return to transparency and accountability within government.
These submissions were generally used at the time as an opportunity to criticise the
Bainimarama regime, usually in reference to the undemocratic implementation of decrees.
Similarly, they focused on issues surrounding the process of coup immunity and related clauses. Though many agreed with the principles of the original terms of reference, they
237 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation differed in how they should operate – especially in respect to limitations placed upon human rights.
Newland (2013, 239) summarises broader iTaukei submissions herself, finding that these generally contained similar proposals submitted by other ethnic groups, with some containing iTaukei specific elements which included the: reinstatement of the GCC and chiefly system, reservation of President and Prime Minister for the iTaukei, restoration of Crown or freehold land to iTaukei ownership, for ‘Viti’ to become the official name for Fiji, the banning of both same-sex marriage and gay rights, the reinstatement of corporal punishment legalised on children, the declaration of Sunday as a holy day, banning work and the declaration of Fiji as a Christian state.
The draft explanatory report of Ghai’s constitution also summarised submissions itself, finding that recurring themes included: a call for social welfare provisions, anxiety around land security within the iTaukei community and conversely, lease security anxiety within the
Indo-Fijian community. As well as concerns around unemployment, access to education and the inaccessibility of state resources because of public servants or location. Submissions also voiced their concern at politicians and civil servants perpetuating ethnic differences for their own interests. There was also mixed themes of support between communal electoral systems and a non-racial political system, as well as the promotion of ethnic identifiers for national pride and unity, including suggestions of a Christian state.
The draft report stated that the commission found that Fijian society was deeply fragmented and polarised along ethnic lines, but also fragmented internally within ethnic communities themselves. They similarly flagged a growing division between urban and rural attitudes. The report attempts to explain these divisions by citing historical and economic reasons, though it
238 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation also offers that the pressures of living within a small-knit society like Fiji, cultivates anxiety when different life-style choices are expressed.
Although this is by no means an exhaustive analysis of the Ghai constitution and its submissions, it does frame the many views that were circulating prior to the 2014 election.
Similarly, opposition parties’ campaign content centred upon the same themes made to the
Ghai commission. In a way, Bainimarama’s promotion of a civic nationalist view of Fiji with an accompanying inclusive national identity was put on trial in the 2014 election. However,
Bainimarama’s democratic return cannot entirely be attributed as an endorsement of his nation-building campaign, as his authoritarian incumbency also provided a distinct advantage.
2014 Election
The democratic return of Bainimarama in the 2014 election has been explored within the literature in a number of ways. Fraenkel (2015) discusses the authoritarian incumbency of
Bainimarama as contributing to his election. He describes that a ‘competitive authoritarian’ election took placed because Bainimarama was not only able to avoid a caretaker period prior to the election, but also utilise a number of incumbency advantages. These included controls over the media, manipulating how opposition parties and candidates were nominated, using state finances to harass opponents, and hampering the ability of civil society organisations to arrange public debates or forums. As such, while the election was competitive in the sense that a democratic vote could be cast, and the opportunity of a genuine choice was given,
Bainimarama maintained a number of advantages over his opponents. Norton (2015, 113) identifies that the 2014 election broke with past elections by being the first election with a full common franchise, while also prohibiting ‘invidious ethnic appeals’ during campaigns –
239 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation through the use of decrees. Similarly, Norton notes that inter-ethnic co-operation and cross- ethnic voting featured stronger in this election, giving rise the possibility of broad-based national leadership. This is because Norton believes that no party has previously attracted or sustained multi-ethnic support like FijiFirst has, largely owing to Fiji’s history of ethnically bias political parties. Fraenkel’s analysis of provincial, urban, and ethnic loyalties in the 2014 election generally supports Norton’s assertions, as Fraenkel (2015b, 39) finds that support for
FijiFirst was ‘reasonably spread across the country and strong in both rural and urban areas.
Madraiwiwi (2015) believes that the popularity of FijiFirst stemmed from a desire for both political stability and the popularity behind social services. Ratuva (2015) meanwhile discusses how intra-communal discourses within the iTaukei community played its part during the 2014 election. He discusses the role colonially embedded discourses – categorised as either ‘protectionist’ or ‘reformist’ – have historically played within iTaukei communities.
Protectionist discourses are described as stemming from Gordon’s original aim of preserving iTaukei institutions as a protective mechanism against outside influences. Reformist discourses are described in the vein of Thurn, who believed a reconfiguration of iTaukei socio-political structures was needed to empower commoners and reduce chiefly influence.
Ratuva (2015, 138) describes the 2006 coup as representing the triumph of reformist discourses over a historically dominant protectionist discourse. In Ratuva’s eyes, the 2014 election was no exception to this continued battle, with FijiFirst’s reformist discourse winning enough of the iTaukei vote over SODELPA’s protectionist discourse to ensure victory.
Election campaigns by political parties generally followed their historic lineage. As discussed by Lal (2014, 461) the Fiji Labour Party (FLP), People’s Democratic Party (PDP), and the
National Federation Party (NFP) generally represented the views of Indo-Fijians. While these parties ran on platforms of social justice, freedom of speech and association, they were
240 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation ultimately superseded by FijiFirst’s campaign of inclusiveness and equality – leading to an estimated 80 per cent of Indo-Fijian votes37. The NFP is an exception to this, as it broke with tradition and presented a multi-ethnic image managing to gain some representation within
Parliament. SODELPA on the other hand, continued with its historical disposition (formerly
SDL). Led by one of the three highest chiefs – Ro Teimumu Kepa – its election campaign was conflicted. This is conflict is largely because of its attempts to ride on Bainimarama’s coattails by proclaiming policies of equal opportunity for all Fijian citizens, and to respect the beliefs of other faiths. Yet, it fielded only 3 Indo-Fijian candidates while also negatively campaigning on Bainimarama’s reforms. This included statements suggesting the reintroduction of the Great Council of Chiefs, the term Fijian being reserved for the iTaukei, as well as appeals for a Christian state. Ratuva (2015, 144) believes this is the fundamental difference between FijiFirst and SODELPA, as SODELPA campaigned centred around reclaiming and preserving a supposedly immemorial iTaukei identity and its institutions – despite its inherently unequal social configuration born from inheritance, against FijiFirst’s egalitarian outlook, where meritocracy and equality ensure fairer outcomes. Madraiwiwi
(2015, 55) agrees with this characterisation, arguing that the election was mainly between
FijiFirst’s message of ‘progressive development for all Fijians’ against SODELPA’s
‘protection of Indigenous Taukei identity’. However, as raised by all these commentators
(Firth 2015; Fraenkel 2015a; Lal 2015; Norton 2015; Madraiwiwi 2015; Ratuva 2015), one of the main reasons behind the election of Bainimarama was the assurance of stability and continuity. This accounts for a large amount of the Indo-Fijian community deserting their historical patterns, as it assured the Indo-Fijian community a check upon iTaukei nationalists through Bainimarama’s inclusive agenda. Similarly, despite SODELPA attracting majority iTaukei support, Bainimarama attracted a significant minority of iTaukei votes who saw the
37 I owe this figure to Professor Wadan Narsey’s analysis in ‘The Final Count in the 2014 Elections’ Fiji Times, 23 September 2014.
241 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation value of a continuing rural infrastructure program. The significance of FijiFirst’s victory is discussed both by Firth (2015) and Lal (2014) with both questioning the longevity of
Bainimarama’s reforms, given the military’s predominant iTaukei composition. Lal (2014,
459) questions how many of Bainimarama’s supporters also share his multiracial vision of
Fiji, while querying if the level of power invested into Fiji’s current attorney-general,
Khaiyum, is healthy for democracy38. Firth (2015, 100) concurs with Ratuva (2015), believing that Bainimarama has ousted the ghost of Gordon from Fijian politics – mainly because SODELPA’s appeals to iTaukei identity were electorally weak in 2014. However, he believes that the erosion of respect for political institutions poses a major threat to future stability in Fiji, especially given that much of that is owed to Bainimarama’s individual support (202,469 votes out of a total 500,078 were directed personally to Bainimarama). It was raised to this researcher39 by a confidential source that during a FijiFirst meeting a question asking about Bainimarama’s potential successors was met with silence, then an admission there was none.
The numerous reasons given for Bainimarama’s election in 2014 gives pause in making claims about the result representing an endorsement for Bainimarama’s nation-of-intent and its new conception of ‘Fijian’ national identity by the electorate. The result does however illustrate changing perceptions and a growing discussion surrounding what exactly constitutes a national identity in Fiji. As discussed throughout, Fiji’s colonial history was marked by the construction of two different relationships with the state. This made discussions of a truly national identity existing across both of Fiji’s main ethnic groups almost unmanageable, as national identity claims were bound within the constructs created by colonialism. The 2014 election campaign in combination with Bainimarama’s previous reforms introduced language
38 This is because Khaiyum was the chief lawmaker prior to the election and authorised a number of decrees while Fiji was under authoritarian rule. 39 During fieldwork in 2016 between March and June.
242 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation to expand the concept of an abstract Fijian national identity. Bainimarama’s targeting of institutions linked with iTaukei identity facilitated a constriction of primordial elements within this Fijian national identity being supported by the state. While this aimed to displace the foundations of iTaukei ethno-nationalism, it also posed a number of questions surrounding the concept of national identity. This is because Bainimarama’s election campaign, or rather ‘movement’, professed to equalise relationships towards the state through claims of equality and inclusivity. While this promoted the idea of ‘Fijian’ national identity representing an equal relationship between state and citizen, it did little else. Problematically, it also gave little indication into how much iTaukei culture was to be a part of this new
‘national’ identity – now that politically salient iTaukei institutions for the time being were muted. This confusion over what exactly constitutes ‘Fijian’ national identity is still being negotiated, but this re-negotiation is arguably only possible because national identity as a concept has been redefined away from its primordial roots into something abstract and contestable. The following survey examines attitudes towards national identity among tertiary students in Fiji. This is followed by select interviews with key figures examining how Fijian national identity has been conceptualised.
Attitudes Towards National Identity
The following presents a survey (N=323) of Fijian tertiary student attitudes towards Fijian national identity conducted in 2016. The survey uses a modified version of the International
Social Survey Programme (ISSP) amended by Leach (2003; 2008; 2012) for use in Timor-
Leste. The aim of the survey is to provide an initial snapshot into the effectiveness of
Bainimarama’s nation-building that acts as both a baseline for future surveys as the nation- building program matures, and as a comparative point between similar states within the pacific. It discusses the problems in the conceptualisation of Fijian national identity within
243 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation the literature, as well relevant literature on surveying. Importantly, a number of similar surveys have been conducted in other pacific states, which presents an opportunity for cross- country comparisons to be made. These comparisons and other relevant comparisons are presented within the findings.
In the literature ‘Fijian’ national identity is conceptualised in a number of ways, with most leaning towards primordialist views which conceptualise ‘Fijian’ national identity in only iTaukei terms (Bole 1992; Keesing 1989; Lawson 1996; Robertson and Sutherland 2001).
Paradoxically, this has not stopped theorists from adopting a constructivist stance in describing iTaukei identity as deliberately invented and imagined in particular ways to serve contemporary political purposes (Keesing 1989; Lawson 1996; Robertson and Sutherland
2001). Part of this paradox might be explained by the levels of ethnic bifurcation within Fiji, where commentators may believe that each ethnic group constituted its own nation with an accompanying national identity within the state. As such, primordialist claims surrounding
“Fijian” national identity seems to begin and end with a belief that because the iTaukei are native to Fiji they are the only ones who can legitimately make claim to a “Fijian” national identity. When broken down into the sub-group of iTaukei identity, constructivism features prominently, particularly in the cases of Keesing (1989), Lawson (1996) and Robertson and
Sutherland (2001). This means academic writing about a holistic conception of national identity within Fiji has been rare, since discussion about an encompassing “Fijian” national identity is usually constrained to analyses of iTaukei identity. This leaves little case specific theoretical room to explore the recent nation building developments within Fiji aimed at building a holistic sense of national community and identity that transcends ethnic lines. Due to a limited literature it is particularly challenging to discuss the recent inclusive use of the term “Fijian” against its historic iTaukei exclusive connotations. The use of the International
244 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation
Social Survey Programme (ISSP) within this study can supplement some of these gaps within the literature by quantifying attitudes towards Fijian national identity and disaggregating them by gender and self-identified ethnic background. Key to this is identifying whether an underlying sentiment of ‘national’ characteristics and commonalities that transcends ethnic lines currently exists within Fijian tertiary students.
The ISSP was devised to conduct cross-national research in a way that produces theoretical insights about political participation. One of its aims was to develop a comparative perspective that allows differentiating between country specific patterns and universal phenomena (Smith 2009, 3). To this end, it contains numerous thematic modules, including modules on national identity and citizenship.
Literature that utilises the national identity modules of the ISSP format tends to fall into two categories either cross-national comparisons (Brechon 2009; Haller et al. 2009; Leach et al.
2009) or focus upon domestic politics (Clarke et al. 2013; Leach 2012). Smith (2009) argues that the latter provides a basis for potential future comparisons within surveyed states as their political scene progresses. While a number of studies utilise national identity modules to examine commonly held ‘national’ attitudes within European contexts (Weiss 2003; Smith
2009; Storm 2011; Dražanová 2015), fewer explore the Melanesian region. Of the studies that focus on the Melanesian region, they have to date targeted tertiary students as a demographic because of the likelihood that they will comprise part of the future political elite within their small states (Leach et al. 2013). Some findings from these surveys indicate that conceptions of traditional authority and custom, influences tertiary student understandings of political community within Papua New Guinea, Solomon Islands, Vanuatu and Timor-Leste.
Yet, this is usually matched by high indicators of respect towards modern state authority and accompanied by high scores of pride and faith in democratic principles and citizenship
245 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation
(Leach et al. 2013). However, it was also found that both pride in contemporary democratic performance and inter-group tolerance generally score low. This is largely attributed to the unique features of Melanesia, where lingering colonial legacies and high ethno-linguistic diversity constrain nation-building attempts. Similarly, it suggests that while Melanesian countries are likely to have an understanding of principles underlying the nation, they remain conflicted about its representation through the state. This conflict arises from the challenge of representing multiple competing indigenous or regional identities as a singular national object. This is usually resolved by either utilising state resources to implement a particular regional or indigenous identity as a national identity, or deferring to generic trans-communal representations of identity (Leach et al. 2013, 453).
A number of independent surveys have been conducted within Fiji at various points. Two notable publications include surveys and interviews conducted in 2012 and 2013. The first by the Pacific Theological College titled ‘Voices of the people: perceptions and preconditions for democratic development within Fiji’ and the second by the Citizens Constitutional Forum
(CCF) labelled ‘Fiji: The challenges and opportunities of diversity’. Both publications discuss political attitudes in relation to ethnicity within Fiji, as such relevant findings from these publications will be examined within the discussion. Similarly, market research groups like
Tebbutt have often conducted survey polling data for media outlets on specific topics which will also be discussed where relevant.
The following survey findings presents a dataset of 323 tertiary and technical college Fijian students. Surveys were conducted by the author anonymously in two locations, Suva (urban) and Labasa (peri-urban) at two tertiary institutions, the University of the South Pacific (USP) and Fiji National University (FNU) in April 2016. The survey tool was based on the
International Social Survey Programme (ISSP) National Identity module, with supplementary
246 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation questions that reflected local conditions. Sampling was conducted in English as the teaching language of USP and FNU, with respondents either comprising of tertiary or technical college students aged 18 years or older. Respondents roughly reflected the tertiary student demographic (USP 2015), with 183 Indo-Fijian students edging out 118 iTaukei students with the difference (22) split across minority ethnic groups. In terms of gender, the study recorded
153 males and 169 females.
Survey questions were broadly split between three categories: Subject related information questions (gender, age, self-identified language proficiencies, ethnic background and province of origin); with the second containing adapted ISSP questions that tested the strength of affiliation between political communities at the national, sub national and local level; with the third addressing attitudes towards markers of national identity. As a whole, the survey questions sought to identify whether historic ethnic cleavages surrounding attitudes towards national identity still exist within a youth demographic generally considered a forbearer of nationalism (Gellner 1983). Tertiary students are considered forbearers of nationalism because of their exposure to higher education levels and preponderance to become part of an educated elite (Leach 2012). Importantly, political attitudes also coalesce in adolescence as they emerge into adulthood, suggesting that attitudes formed during school years hold more sway than after completion (Rekker et al 2015).
The surveying of this demographic in Fiji is important for a number of reasons, but primarily to build a baseline of data for future research, which can be used to gauge the effectiveness of
Bainimarama’s nation-building program. This program attempts to reverse salient historic ethno-nationalist discourses has through a heavy-handed top-down approach. Importantly, the targeted demographic represents a group of people who have never experienced democratic rule, and who also hold second hand experience of ethno-nationalist movements from their
247 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation families. Surveying this demographic represents a unique chance to gauge the potential effects of “authoritarian” nation-building. This includes whether a civic national identity can be enforced, and whether Bainimarama’s education and language policies will be effective – as the majority of the surveyed demographic represents the last cohort before education reforms were implemented. Identifying whether or not ethnic biases lean towards certain historic conceptions of national identity is achieved through cross tabbing subject information
(such as ethnicity) against national identity modules. Survey findings are then presented in both frequency tables and graphs split by ethnicity.
Table 1a details the self-identified language proficiencies of respondents. These roughly align with the sample sizes of each respective ethnic group within the study iTaukei (118), Indo-
Fijians (183), other (22).
Table 1. Tertiary students by language proficiency ... (%)
Language Fluent Moderate Basic None N iTaukei 31.5 9.5 21.5 34.5 323 Fiji-Hindi 47.5 8 16 25.5 323 English 68.5 24 6 0 323
Graph 1. Tertiary student language proficiency by ethnicity ... (%)
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Unsurprisingly, iTaukei and Indo-Fijian respondents rated themselves as having a high degree of proficiency at their own respective language, while rating themselves with a lower degree of proficiency in the reverse. Indo-Fijian respondents rated themselves as having some fluency (44.5 per cent) in the iTaukei language, while iTaukei respondents rated themselves as having some fluency (46 per cent) in Fiji-Hindi.
Both respondent groups reported a high degree of English proficiency, although Indo-
Fijians tended to rate their English fluency higher (74.5 per cent) than iTaukei respondents
(61 per cent). The high degree of English proficiency is consistent within Fiji’s context – given that English was historically utilised as a ‘vehicle’ language between the two ethnic groups (Mangubhai and Mulger 2003). The relatively higher self-reported proficiency of
Indo-Fijians also speaks to historic reasons, as colonial land policies prompted Indo-Fijians to settle in urban and peri-urban areas where they played a large role in the evolving cash economy (Mangubhai and Mulger 2003). Accessible education and the need to be dual- lingual for trade purposes may have played a role in the accelerated development of English fluency within the Indo-Fijian community (Mangubhai and Mulger 2003). Conversely, the iTaukei are more likely to reside in rural areas, where access to education and the importance placed upon speaking English may be less emphasised. Legislation within the 2013 constitution states that the both iTaukei and Fiji-Hindi40 languages must be taught within all primary schools. This makes the language indicator an important data point for futures observation on self-reported language proficiency.
40 These changes were implemented as an attempt to bridge ethnic divides, as well as to stave off fears that iTaukei as a language was ‘dying’.
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Responses to Political Community Questions
The survey asked respondents to indicate how close or ‘emotionally attached’ they felt to different levels of sub-national, national and supranational political communities. Table 2 reflects the relative strength of affiliation that respondents hold towards sub-national
(neighbourhood, island, and province), national (Fiji) and supranational (Melanesia and the
Pacific) communities.
Table 2. How close or emotionally attached do you feel to your… (%) Not Very Total Not very Close Close at Unanswered Close Close Close all Neighbourhood 39 39.5 78.5 15.5 2.5 3.5 Island 45 36.5 81.5 12 3 3.5 Province 35 38 73 16.5 6 4.5 Fiji 64.5 25.5 90 7 1 2 Melanesia 6 29.5 35.5 38 22 4.4 Pacific 12.5 42.5 55 32 8.5 4.5
Closeness towards Fiji (90 per cent) ranks the highest in comparison to the various sub- national and supra-national levels, closely followed by island (81.5 per cent) and
Neighbourhood/Vanua (78.5 per cent). Closeness to supra-national levels score poorly, with both the Pacific (55 per cent) and Melanesia (35.5 per cent) representing the lowest scores.
This points to a rebuff of Narokobi’s (1983) ‘Melanesian way’ within Fiji, which is described as a reconciliation between modern nationalism and traditional culture thought to exist between Melanesians. Possible causes for this may include the regions strong negative reaction towards Fiji following the 2006 coup, which internally received positive acknowledgement following elections in 2014. Surprisingly, no significant differences between either iTaukei or Indo-Fijian respondents were present in these indicators. Notably, in the Leach et al. study (2013) other pacific countries like Papua New Guinea, Solomon
250 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation
Islands and Anglophone Vanuatuans all reported stronger attachments towards Melanesia than the Pacific. The only other exception to this was Francophone Ni-Vanuatu.
Table 2a. ‘Closeness’ to Fiji by ethnicity…(%) Total Not very Not close at Very close Close Unanswered close close all iTaukei 70.5 19.5 90 7 0.5 2.5
Indo- 63 29.5 92.5 5.5 0 2 Fijian Other 45.5 22.5 68 22.5 9.5
The high importance placed on closeness towards ‘Fiji’ speaks to historical reasons, as well as the introduction of the 2013 constitution and 2014 election. The introduction of “Fijian” within the 2013 constitution as a signifier for all citizens of Fiji coupled with the election campaign may explain the current high levels of attachment displayed by Indo-Fijians, who have historically been alienated from the state. Previously “Fijian” was a term reserved for only the iTaukei.
However, the high levels of attachment displayed by iTaukei respondents towards Fiji might be better explained through historic reasons. This is because previous iTaukei ethno- nationalist movements co-opted their own local level political communities for use as a national affiliation signifier. Associations have previously been drawn between the two ethnic groups, with Indo-Fijians seen to favour inclusive notions of Fiji, while the iTaukei are seen to defend exclusive traits (Norton 2009).
Responses to National Identity Questions
The survey similarly asked respondents to identify the relative importance of factors that they believe contribute towards being ‘truly’ Fijian. Responses in Table 3 are tabulated as either
‘very important’/’fairly important’/’not very important’/’not important at all’. This module
251 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation aids at identifying whether demographic similarities exist between those who rank exclusive or inclusive aspects of national identity as more or less important. Exclusive criteria are generally considered to be articles like cultural or ethnic requirements, as opposed to inclusive articles that focus on participatory or civic criteria. In this survey, the following indicators are considered exclusive: ‘Born in Fiji’, ‘Share iTaukei Customs’, ‘Be Christian’,
‘Have iTaukei ancestry’. With inclusive civic indicators comprising of: ‘Citizen of Fiji’,
‘Lived in Fiji’, ‘Respect political institutions and laws’, ‘Feel Fijian’ and ‘Share the ‘Fijian’ way of life’.
Table 3. Relative importance of factors defining ‘Fijian’ national identity ... (%) Not Very Fairly Total Not very Indicator important Unanswered important important important important at all Born in Fiji 70 23.5 93.5 6 0.5 0.5 Citizen of Fiji 72 21.5 93.5 4.5 1 1 Lived in Fiji 51 34 85 12 2 1 Share iTaukei 52.5 29 81.5 14 4 0.5 customs Speak iTaukei 39.5 30.5 70 23 7 0 Speak Fiji-Hindi 34.5 29.5 64 24 10.5 1.5 Speak English 65.5 18 83.5 10 5.5 1 Be Christian 28 18 46 26.5 26.5 1 Respect political institutions and 64 27 91 7.5 1 0.5 laws Have iTaukei 28.5 28 56.5 26 16.5 1 ancestry Feel Fijian 60.5 27 87.5 9 3 0.5 Share 'Fijian 51.5 34.5 86 11 3 0 way of life'
The top two indicators selected by respondents as the most important attribute for being
‘truly’ Fijian includes both being ‘Born in Fiji’ (93.5 per cent) and being a ‘Citizen of Fiji’
(93.5 per cent). Both of these criteria paint a dichotomous picture of the attributes pertaining
252 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation to Fijian national identity, while being ‘Born in Fiji’ is an exclusive criterion, being a ‘Citizen of Fiji’ is inclusive. This can be read as either attribute being separately important, or as both being equally important. However, when combined with the higher responses towards inclusive characteristics (‘Respect political institutions and laws at 91 per cent, ‘Feel Fijian’ at 87.5 per cent and ‘Share in the “Fijian way of life”’ at 86 per cent) compared with exclusive ones (‘Be Christian’ at 46 per cent, and ‘Have iTaukei ancestry’ at 56.5 per cent) it would appear that criteria for being ‘truly’ Fijian leans towards inclusivity.
Responses to relative importance of language disaggregated by ethnicity contained predictable trends as displayed in Graph 2a.
Graph 2a. Importance of language by ethnicity ... (%) 100%
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Indo-Fijian respondents generally found Fiji-Hindi as more important for being ‘truly Fijian’ at 71 per cent than the iTaukei language at 61.5 per cent. Conversely, iTaukei respondents judged their language at 80.5 per cent important and Fiji-Hindi at 51 per cent important.
English again proved to be a middle ground, showcasing its continued prominence as a
253 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation vehicular language within Fiji as both iTaukei (79.5 per cent) and Indo-Fijian respondents
(85.5 per cent) rated it highly. Whether Fiji-Hindi and iTaukei move towards a similar rating as English in the future will be a key indicator for assessing the effectiveness of primary school languages tuition. This is an important indicator for national cohesiveness as in similar countries, like Timor-Leste, it was observed that linguistic affiliations informed ideas of national identity (Leach 2012). For Fiji, it may be expected that teaching both iTaukei and
Fiji-Hindi to a conversational level within primary schools will elicit a similar positive correlation. This would in turn fulfil the constitutions designations of each official language having equal importance within the state.
Graph 2b below showcases ethnic differences when identifying what it means to be ‘truly’
Fijian. Ethnic differences arose in respect to either ‘being Christian’, ‘having iTaukei ancestry’ or ‘sharing iTaukei customs’. Indo-Fijian respondents scored lower for both ‘being
Christian’ and ‘having iTaukei ancestry’ than their iTaukei counterparts, while ‘sharing iTaukei customs’ was generally considered important by both. This is unsurprising, given
Christianity is mainly the preserve of the iTaukei and ‘having iTaukei ancestry’ has previously subverted Indo-Fijians claims to being ‘Fijian’.
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Graph 2b. Attitudes towards being ‘truly Fijian’ by ethnicity ... (%)
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The graph also shows the relative importance of ‘Respecting political institutions and laws’ of each ethnic group. Surprisingly, iTaukei respondents were more likely to rate the indicator as ‘very important’ at 73 per cent, than Indo-Fijians at 57 per cent, though the total importance was consistent across both groups at around 90 per cent. These results could be taken as either an endorsement of the 2013 constitution, or as a re-buff towards the destabilising political history of coups in Fiji. In either case, the results point to civic traits as meaningful criterion for being ‘truly Fijian’.
The results broadly reflect the greater importance on inclusive aspects of identity over exclusive ones, however when ethnicity is accounted for notions of exclusivity persist. Being
‘truly Fijian’ for iTaukei respondents generally centred upon iTaukei traits. However, given the pervasiveness and politicisation of the term “Fijian” historically to mean only the iTaukei this is not surprising. Similarly, the relatively recent introduction and broadening of the term
“Fijian” by Bainimarama in the 2013 constitution may take time to become embraced.
255 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation
However, the initial results of these indicators do suggest that being ‘truly’ Fijian may be moving away from the strict iTaukei exclusiveness of the past towards inclusivity.
Responses to ‘iTaukei’ identity questions
The introduction of iTaukei as a signifier for indigenous Fijians came into full effect with the
2013 constitution after being initially launched in 2010. Table 4 charts the relative importance of factors that define iTaukei identity. The survey sought to delineate some attributes that are historically considered to be representative of iTaukei identity. These indicators are important because they historically represent some of the most contentious elements between the iTaukei and Indo-Fijians. Similarly, the insights of other ethnic groups towards what they regard as important attributes for iTaukei identity may become salient within future discourses about the inclusivity of Fijian national identity.
Table 4. How important do you think the following characteristics are for ‘iTaukei-ness? (%) Very Fairly Total Not very Not at all Indicator Unanswered important important important important important iTaukei ancestry 51 34.5 85.5 10.5 3.5 0.5 Land ownership 49 31 80 13.5 5.5 1 iTaukei language and 62 25.5 87.5 10 2 0.5 culture Chiefly 37 35 72 20.5 6.5 1 representation Church membership 31 32 63 20 16 2
Overall, church membership (63 per cent) and chiefly representation (72 per cent) surprisingly feature lower than other traits, considering that both indicators are referred to as part of the ‘three pillars’ of iTaukei identity (Niukula 1994; Ratuva 2005). At the other end, both ‘iTaukei ancestry’ (85.5 per cent) and ‘iTaukei language and culture’ (87.5 per cent)
256 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation rank highly, with ‘land ownership’ (80 per cent) featuring well. Graph 3 contains the differences in responses between iTaukei and Indo-Fijian respondents.
Graph 3. Importance of factors to iTaukei identity by ethnicity ... (%)
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Variation in responses between iTaukei and Indo-Fijian respondents was prominent within three indicators. The largest difference was found in ‘Church membership’, where iTaukei respondents found it 33 per cent more important for iTaukei identity than Indo-Fijians. This trend continued with land ownership (22.5 per cent) and chiefly representation (16.5 per cent). Both groups rated iTaukei language and culture as the most important part for iTaukei identity. Interestingly, both groups found ‘chiefly representation’ and ‘church membership’ as least important when compared to other indicators. Unsurprisingly, Indo-Fijians rate all these factors as less important, since they represent some of the strongest lines of ethnic division within Fiji.
257 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation
These results are mixed, with some going against conventional wisdom surrounding the importance of so-called tenets of iTaukei identity, while others remain consistent. The relatively lower importance placed upon ‘chiefly representation’ and ‘church membership’ is interesting because of how they have been utilised in the past to support iTaukei ethno- nationalism. The importance of political representation through both a chiefly system, and a state religion was previously featured in coup rhetoric to emphasise differences between
Indo-Fijians and the iTaukei. This is because previous iTaukei ethno-nationalist movements largely formed around a perception that iTaukei identity could only be protected by maintaining political supremacy in Fiji through a national chiefly system (Norton 2002).
These results suggest that this position is evolving towards being independent of a national chiefly system.
Similarly, the church has also played a role in previous ethno-nationalist movements with Methodism, described as the religion of indigenous Fijians, offering a common rallying point for the iTaukei against other ethnic groups (Newland 2013). Past constitutional drafting debates showcase this, with arguments centring on both chiefly representations within politics at a national level and whether Fiji should become a Christian state instead secular (Lal
2002).
The relative lesser importance placed upon both chiefly representation and church membership hints that iTaukei identity may be moving away from the strong dichotomous relationship it has with Indo-Fijians. However, elements of Christianity do remain, as witnessed by 80 per cent of iTaukei respondents believing that Christianity is important for being ‘truly Fijian’. The relative ranking between indicators showcase that the replacement of
“indigenous Fijian” to iTaukei is not a simple case of shifting signifiers across terms, but indicative of a wider process to re-conceptualise what iTaukei identity is. These results from tertiary students also coincide with some of Bainimarama’s institutional reforms, which have
258 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation seen the removal of the Great Council of Chiefs and the restriction of the Methodist church from politics following a long vein of constitutional reformation (Mudaliar 2018).
Responses to Bainimarama’s Reforms
Respondents were asked to indicate how much they agree with a number of Bainimarama’s reforms, as well as whether they agree with limitations on free speech. The results are shown in Table 5.
Table 5. Changes of national symbols in Fiji ... (%) Strongly Total Strongly Indicator Agree Disagree Unanswered agree agree disagree Changing the Fijian flag 11 22.5 33.5 22 42.5 2 Referring to indigenous Fijians 30 46 76.5 14 7.5 2 as iTaukei Referring to every citizen as 50 32 82 6 10 2 Fijian Supporting the 2013 28 44.5 72.5 14 11.5 2 Constitution Should the media support the current government even if this 33.5 41 74.5 16.5 8.5 0.5 means some voices are restricted? The current national leader has Fiji's best interests for the future, but we should remain 33 56.5 89.5 8 2.5 0.5 critical of the government even if this means divisive voices are heard
‘Changing the Fijian flag’ (33.5 per cent) represents the lowest level of agreement.
Respondents were also asked how much they participated with the flag design and voting process, with 51 per cent stating they did not participate at all with the flag campaign, 34 per cent of respondents discussed alternative designs with their friends and family, and only 15 per cent stated that they voted for a design. The results are expected, given the flag change
259 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation campaign took place over the course of Fiji’s first Olympic gold-medal in Rio, where the original flag was highly visible and used a marker of the nation’s success. Similarly, alternative flag designs were eschewed on the ground as hollow, with the process described as being ‘forced’ upon the population by Bainimarama. This general distaste left
Bainimarama no choice but to delay changing the flag until as of yet undesignated time.
These results are consistent with other opinion polls at the time, like the Tebbutt poll, which placed public support for a flag change at 38 per cent41 . Interestingly, Graph 4 indicates that
Indo-Fijians were more likely to support a flag change (46 per cent) than iTaukei respondents
(11.5 per cent). This most likely owes to the presence of the union jack on the current flag, as the Indo-Fijian community historically harbor more anti-colonial resentment than the iTaukei.
There was strong support for calling all citizens “Fijian” (82 per cent) and indigenous
Fijians as iTaukei (76.5 per cent). While both groups were relatively even in their support for the iTaukei shift, Indo-Fijians were more likely to support calling all citizens Fijian (92 per cent) compared to iTaukei respondents at 64.5 (per cent). This level of support by Indo-
Fijians was unmatched by any other indicator. This trend continued, by ‘supporting the constitution’ remaining overall steady at 72.5 per cent, with Indo-Fijians offering 84.5 per cent support in contrast to the iTaukei at 53.5 per cent.
The last two indicators attempt to gauge how much respondents agree with limitations on freedom of speech given two scenarios. The first asks respondents whether they think the media should be supportive of the government by restricting critical voices, while the second probes whether criticism of the government is acceptable if divisive voices are also heard. In terms of total support, respondents placed the latter with the highest level of agreement (89.5 per cent), while the former received 74.5 per cent. Differences between Indo-Fijian and iTaukei responses in these two indicators were negligible.
41 Cited by Narsey in ‘The Tebbutt Poll and Bainimarama Poll’, Fiji Times 4 July 2015.
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Graph 4. Changes of national symbols in Fiji by ethnicity … (%)
These results are not altogether unanticipated, with differences between ethnicities falling into an expected pattern of attitudes. When taken as a whole, these indicators trend slightly lower compared to responses across the rest of the survey. Modest levels of support were shown towards both the naming of all citizens as Fijian, and the 2013 constitution. In nearly all indicators Indo-Fijians responded with higher levels of agreement than iTaukei respondents. This makes sense, as Bainimarama’s reforms generally targeted, and offered,
Indo-Fijians a number of gestures they had historically been denied. In contrast, iTaukei privileges were restricted accordingly. Similarly, the results reflect some hesitation towards
Bainimarama’s reforms, as although they had key benefits, they came with some restrictions.
This may be why support for the constitution hovers around 72.5 per cent, as perceptions are mixed given the controlled nature of democracy it maintains – mainly through clauses that can limit the Bill of Rights at any time. This potentially accounts for respondents marking this as their highest agreement level, as they accept the trade-off between being critical of the government, and allowing a return of divisive voices. Though this should not diminish the
261 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation fact that 74.5 per cent of respondents believe the media should more supportive of the government, even if this means a restriction of divisive voices being heard.
Table 5a illustrates forms of political and social action taken by respondents over the past year, in the more distant past, or forms of political and social action they would never take.
Table 5a. Forms of political and social action taken ... (%) Have Have Have Have not done it not done it done it in the done it Indicator in the and Unanswered more but past would distant might year never past do it do it Signed a petition 9.5 15 47.5 25 3
Took part in a demonstration 10.5 11 48 24 6
Attended a political meeting or rally 4 11 48 23 4 Donated money or raised funds for a social 32 24.5 29 11 3.5 or political activity Expressed political views on the internet 21 16 35.5 25.5 2.5 (Facebook, Twitter, blogs...etc.) Voted 46.5 11.5 30.5 5.5 6
While respondents generally answered by stating they would consider a form of political or social action, the results do present some useful information. The first being that 56.5 per cent of respondents had either donated or raised funds for a social or activity political activity over the past year or longer. While 58 per cent of respondents had at some pointed voted, with a majority of these (46.5 per cent) occurring within the past year. Interestingly, only 21 per cent of respondents confirmed they had spread political views over the Internet, reinforcing the views of Vakaoti & Mishra-Vakaoti (2015) that youth were hesitant to engage on social media during the 2014 election. Ethnic differences were negligible across these indicators.
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Table 5b displays attitudes towards behaviours associated with being a good citizen. No significant differences were found between ethnicity.
Table 5b. There are different opinions as to what it takes to be a good citizen. How important is it ... (%) Not Very Total Not very Indicator Important important Unanswered important importance important at all To always vote in an 73 18 91 7 1 1 election To never try to evade 49.5 37 86.5 9 3 1.5 taxes To always obey laws and 77 19.5 96.5 2.5 0 1 regulations To keep watch on the 67 27 94 4.5 0 1 actions of government To support the positions of 45.5 39 84.5 12.5 2 1 national leaders To be active in social or 43.5 38.5 82 14.5 2 1.5 political associations To try to understand the reasoning of people with 59 33 92 6 0.5 1 other opinions To help people in Fiji who 73 20.5 93.5 5 0.5 1 are worse off than yourself To help people in the Melanesian region who 46 38.5 84.5 13 1 1 are worse off than yourself
The highest indicators include ‘To always vote in an election’ (91 per cent), ‘To always obey laws and regulations’ (96.5 per cent), ‘To keep watch on the actions of government’ (94 per cent), and ‘To help people in Fiji who are worse off than yourself (93.5 per cent). What sets these indicators apart are their general 70 per cent rating of being ‘very important’. The majority of survey respondents had only experienced Bainimarama’s democracy for two years prior to the survey and unsurprisingly these results show a strong association with criteria related to the functioning of a democratic society. Notably, ‘to support the position of
263 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation national leaders’, while high, was the second lowest indicator at 84.5 per cent. Similarly, ‘to be active in social or political associations’ was the lowest at 82 per cent. Given their relative positions to the other indicators this suggests that democratic principles are rated higher than party politics in respect to being a good citizen.
Responses to National Pride Questions
Table 6 gauges ‘national pride’, or rather the positive effect that a population feels towards their country because of their national identity (Smith and Jarkko 1998). A number of the indicators are historically important, namely ‘the way democracy works’, given the recent revision of the electoral system, and the differentiation between peacekeeping forces and the military. Though there are no real distinctions between the military or peacekeeping forces in
Fiji, historic connotations of the military’s role surrounding the coup culture of Fiji still exist.
Table 6. How proud are you of Fiji in each of the following… (%) Not Very Somewhat Total Not very Indicator proud at Unanswered proud proud proud proud all The way democracy 36.5 44 80.5 15 3.5 1 works Political influence in 25 55.5 80.5 14 4 1.5 Melanesia Political influence in the 37.5 46 83.5 13.5 2 1 world Fair and equal treatment 60.5 28 88.5 9 1.5 1 of all groups in society National sporting 83 14 97 2 0 1 achievements Peacekeeping forces 74 20.5 94.5 3.5 1 1 Republic of Fiji Military 54.5 27 81.5 12 5 1.5 Forces Its History 58 30 88 8 2 2
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At the relatively lower end of general pride sits both ‘the way democracy works’ (80.5 per cent) and Fiji’s ‘political influence in Melanesia’ (80.5 per cent). For many respondents the
2014 elections represented their first experience voting democratically after an era of military rule by commander Frank Bainimarama. Remarkably, the elections returned Bainimarama both because of his incumbency and perceptions that he would continue to remove ethnicity from Fijian politics. The level of pride in ‘the way democracy works’ can be seen as either an evaluation of the egalitarian reforms implemented by Bainimarama, or early a sign of uncertainty surrounding the reforms.
Table 6a. Proud of ‘the way democracy works’ by ethnicity… (%)
Very Somewhat Total Not very Not proud Unanswered proud proud proud proud at all
iTaukei 20.5 48 68.5 22 9.5 0 Indo-Fijian 47.5 41 88.5 11 0 0.5
This may account for the slightly lower pride by iTaukei respondents (68.5 per cent) as key iTaukei institutions were removed from the national political arena (GCC and the Methodist church). Conversely, Indo-Fijian respondents were likely to be prouder of the way democracy works (88.5 per cent), because of communal rolls being abolished in favour of a common roll under a proportional representation system – which saw votes hold equal value between ethnic communities. Yet, the relative low ranking of ‘the way democracy works’ relative to other indicators may represent uncertainty towards the new agenda, or some conservatism towards whether the spirit in which they were implemented continues long-term.
The ‘fair and equal treatment of all groups in society’ is another theme that featured heavily within the 2014 election campaign. As a slogan for the elected FijiFirst party, the high (88.5 per cent) result could be indicative of the egalitarian direction slowly taking a foothold. Prior to the survey period FijiFirst initiated a social security system (including a
265 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation pension), anti-discrimination laws, education subsidies, the fair distribution of land rents amongst owners (formerly collected and held by chiefs) along with developing infrastructure projects in previously neglected areas (e.g. providing access to water). This ran counter to previous state policies, which in the past promoted a form of positive discriminate in favour of the iTaukei, as well as the hierarchical distribution of state resources along a class basis
(Robertson 2012).
Table 6b. ‘Fair and equal treatment of all groups in society’ by ethnicity ... (%)
Very Somewhat Total Not very Not proud Unanswered proud proud proud proud at all
iTaukei 51 32 83 14.5 1.5 1 Indo-Fijian 68 23.5 91.5 6.5 1.5 0.5
On an ethnic basis, this is a striking result given historic discrimination issues surrounding the treatment of Indo-Fijians. Similarly, the iTaukei have also historically felt threatened by a perception that Indo-Fijians would come to politically dominate them, if they were granted equal footing in opportunities, like education and politics. Given that access to tertiary education has previously been a contested arena, with Indo-Fijians often requiring higher academic benchmarks to access scholarships than iTaukei counterparts. This result by tertiary students appears to be a positive indication for the future.
The ‘history’ indicator (88 per cent) received similar levels of pride from both Indo-
Fijians and the iTaukei. The high levels of proudness displayed by both groups was unexpected, given that Indo-Fijians have been politically displaced through coups and exploited during colonialism. This may reflect the younger demographic of the respondents having not directly experiencing the coups, or their acceptance of the past. In either case, the high levels of proudness displayed by both groups is promising in that it reflects a lack of generational angst surrounding Fiji’s divided past.
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The highest pride indicator matched by both ethnic groups of ‘national sporting achievements’ (97 per cent) is no surprise, given Fiji’s rugby sevens culture which is supported by media legislation sanctioning that all games Fiji plays must be broadcast on all television stations. The role sport plays in bridging cultural and ethnic communities within
Fiji suggests that sport might be a key point of commonality in a “Fijian” national identity.
The discrepancy between the indicators on ‘peacekeeping forces (94.5 per cent) and the military (81.5 per cent) points to displeasure at the role that the military has played in previous coups. On the other hand, peace-keeping forces are seen as a national good since they build Fiji’s international reputation as a friendly society (Kanemasu 2013).
Table 6c. Pride in ‘military’ and ‘peacekeeping forces’ by ethnicity … (%) Not Very Somewhat Total Not very proud at Unanswered proud proud proud proud all iTaukei 33 39 72 18 9.5 0.5 Military Indo- 70 20 90 6.5 2 1.5 Fijian iTaukei 68 27 95 5 0 0 Peacekeeping Indo- Forces 80 16 96 1.5 1 1.5 Fijian
The biggest surprise in these indicators is that Indo-Fijians were more likely to fall into the
‘very proud’ side for both indicators as compared to iTaukei respondents. This could be due to the military influence surrounding Bainimarama and their proffered support for the 2013 constitution. However, despite the new constitution’s goals of inclusion, the military itself remains almost entirely populated by the iTaukei.
In comparison to the rest of the region, these results throw up some interesting data. For instance, Fijian tertiary students maintain a total pride level of 80.5 per cent in ‘the way democracy works’, which is higher than PNG (51 per cent), Solomon Islands (68 per cent),
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Vanuatu (63 per cent) and Timor-Leste (79.5 per cent) (Leach et al 2013.). Similarly, Fiji also recorded higher levels of pride in the ‘fair and equal treatment of all groups in society’ (88.5 per cent) than PNG (44 per cent), Solomon Islands (72.5 per cent), Vanuatu (70.5 per cent) and Timor-Leste (76.5 per cent) (Leach et al. 2013). The relatively high pride across all the indicators on Fiji reflects that the respondents as a whole possess a strong sense of the nation in general. Leaving Vanuatu aside, this result is distinctive within the Melanesia region where the concept of the nation is weak, and often supplanted by sub-national communities (Foster
1995). The results also reveal some commonalities between Indo-Fijians and the iTaukei.
Primarily in the areas of sport, democracy and peacekeeping forces which may act as areas that can invoke a sense of civic nationalism in the future.
Responses to Cultural Indicators
Table 7. Some people say that it is better for a nation if different ethnic groups maintain their distinct languages, customs and traditions. Others say it is better if these groups adapt and blend into one society. Which of these views is closest to your own? (% within ethnicity)
It is better if It is better if groups maintain groups adapt and their distinct Unanswered Total (n=323) blend into larger customs and society traditions iTaukei (%) 57 39 4 118 Indo-Fijians (%) 40.5 52.5 7 183 Other(%) 59 36.5 4.5 22 Total (%) 47.5 46.5 6 323
In addition to the previous sections, respondents were also asked to report their views concerning the importance of local cultures. Table 7 displays the results grouped as a percentage of ethnicity. Noticeably, iTaukei respondents seem to prefer maintaining their distinct culture and traditions (57 per cent) whereas Indo-Fijians split themselves evenly, but were inclined to favour cultural blending within society (52.5 per cent). The difference in
268 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation results between the two ethnic groups is most likely explained through the history of inter- ethnic relations within Fiji. Generally, inter-ethnic relations within Fiji have broadly centred on arguments concerning the nature of the Fijian nation. Whether the nation should be exclusively iTaukei, or inclusive of all citizens – an argument that Indo-Fijians historically pursued to support calls for equal political access. The leaning of results towards either side of the question may suggest a similar trajectory within the current tertiary population about the nation.
The slight leanings towards cultural integration by Indo-Fijian respondents could be underlined by their immigrant history which forced them to adapt to Fiji’s unique environment. This includes the use of iTaukei cultural artefacts, like the use of Kava during
Indo-Fijian rituals when the consumption of alcohol is prohibited. Similarly, Indo-Fijians who have travelled to India often find their cultural links to India are not as strong as anticipated, leading them to adopt a ‘Pacific’ identity (Voight-Graf 2008). Conversely, the inclination of iTaukei respondents to maintain group distinctions arguably stems from past anxieties about the settlement of Indians within Fiji. Historically, a perception exists that iTaukei culture will become diluted because of the influence of perceived outsiders, like
Indo-Fijians. Past coup rhetoric has stoked these anxieties to emphasise fears that a blended society will result in iTaukei land becoming alienable.
Importantly, the results do offer insight into Fiji’s relative position within the Pacific, with previous studies finding that Papua New Guinea (71.5 per cent), Solomon Islands (82.8 per cent), Vanuatu (86 per cent) and Timor-Leste (62.4 per cent) all overwhelmingly prefer cultural distinctions to be maintained (Leach et al. 2013, 467). It concludes that the sway towards maintaining cultural distinctions may harm nation-building efforts within those states because of their preponderance and reliance upon local community cultures, over a national culture (Leach et al. 2013, 467). Although Fiji has modest ethnic differences in this
269 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation component, they compare favourably with other Melanesian states. One of the reasons for the favourable comparison could revolve around the homogenisation of culture internal to each ethnic group within Fiji. Both iTaukei and Indo-Fijians historically contain internal cultural divisions, which lessened as each group came to band around more generic representations of their culture. This may explain why they seem to be more receptive towards cultural integrationist ideas than other Melanesian countries, where a generic representation of culture is often limited or subverted in favour of specific regional identities.
The results reflect that Fiji may be more receptive towards nation-building efforts than previously thought, and more conducive to such attempts than other Melanesian countries.
Interview Responses towards Fijian National Identity
A number of influential Fijian citizens with public profiles were interviewed separately throughout the collection of survey data in 2016. Most interviews centred on the respondent’s area of expertise, though common questions surrounding Bainimarama’s nation-building programs were posed in all interviews. These responses are presented below.
When asked about Fijian national identity, and the change to all citizens of Fiji being named
‘Fijian’ a similar vein of responses arose. Most respondents believed that the change to naming all citizens was good, following the logic that if Australian citizens are known as
‘Australians’ then Fijian citizens should be ‘Fijians’42.
Personally from my perspective as an iTaukei … it doesn’t really make a difference? Fiji Fijians, India Indians, Europe Europeans…before we are just trying to identify Fijians as the iTaukei. Fiji Fijians, or Australia Australians. You know in New
42 This was a well-publicised argument run by FijiFirst in the lead up to the change.
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Zealand its New Zealanders. So I think Bainimarama for us educated we know its just going along those lines.
Similarly, ideas arose that wanting to be Fijian was enough to be called Fijian. This includes the Citizens Constitutional Forum Chief Executive Officer43 - Sara Bulutani Mataitawakilai:
To be honest, someone who’s born in Fiji. Someone who’s born in Fiji, someone who has Fiji at heart, I can see that even people who are born overseas, lot are born overseas but they have some connections in Fiji so they are proud to call themselves Fijians. Someone whose born in Fiji and have the feeling that your Fijian and you can say that you have something to contribute to Fiji.
The Ratu of Macuata and vice-president of FijiFirst - Ratu Wiliame Katonivere44 - also agreed:
Fijian, that’s the norm, it’s you know, the Islands of Fiji, its Fijian. If you’re from the Solomon’s you are a Solomon, if you’re from Vanuatu your Vanuatuan, but if you’re native Vanuatuan then you’re a Kanak. In Fiji it can be the same, we can all be Fijian you have your rules [citizenship] here so you’ll always be Fijian. But iTaukei, has a separate meaning, the word is a native indigenous Fijian. But if your Fijian you’re from Fiji.
The Roko45 for Macuata believed that being Fijian related to how you treat others.
You know the Fijian way of life, were very friendly people and I think that’s what it means to be Fijian. We look out for each other we see relatives taking it hard in life we try and help him you know
When asked what the people he visits think about the change, the Roko believed that some of the iTaukei community harboured alternative views to the government, but were fearful of
43 The Citizens Constitutional Forum (CCF) is a non-governmental organisation which provides community education and advocacy on Fiji’s Constitution, democracy, human rights and multiculturalism. 44Acts as the head of development and wellbeing within the province, with a focus on undeveloped areas. The head chief of the Macuata province (out of 14 provinces). 45 The representative of the Tui who performs the ground work around villages, acts a provincial administrator reporting the concerns of villages directly. Ensures positive relationships are maintained within, and with other villages. Acts as the link between the national and provincial level under the iTaukei Affairs Act [cap 120].
271 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation voicing their opposition. Especially in respect to calling everyone ‘Fijian’, though admits that these kind of changes do not come easily.
Calling everybody Fijian. iTaukei people are the Fijians here and the others are the Vulagi46, they don’t uh know raise their views in public for fear of being victimised although it’s a democratic government everybody knows that militaries behind them. We’ve heard from a lot of our villages they don’t agree, but they don’t voice their concerns in public for fear of being victimised, but they accept that other races are here in Fiji and will come to live together and develop Fiji together because there’s nobody taking their cane or neighbours
One respondent believed that the name change follows a logical progression that will require time before its fully adopted.
Locally [Labasa] here I mean we are still in our own different groups, iTaukei, Indo-Fijians. Before when we started it, it was getting quite awkward, we kept on forgetting and calling them Indians, even now once in a while. But its…becoming easier to call them Indo-Fijians and iTaukei. So everything just comes with practice, you accept it and you just go along with it and before you know it, it’s just part of your life.
Others believed it is complicated relationship. The editor of the Fiji Times, Fred Wesley, originally raised this. He also believes it’s a generational process:
I am very happy that everyone is referred to as Fijians. … Maybe it will take time, who knows? Obviously you have Australians, Kiwis you have the people from New Zealand, it probably took years for people to start accepting that, and start getting it to be part of their lives, and children will be born… they’ll be born into this new scenario where they are referred to as Fijians. Whereas the guys who are already alive now, the older generation, it will probably be difficult for them.
46 An iTaukei term for foreigner or stranger, sometimes used as derogative term for other ethnicities.
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Although, he also understands the reluctance to accept the name change partly because of the timescale involved.
You have a lot of people – iTaukei – who are for very very long time, over decades and I think hundreds of years they have been referred to as Fijians and all of a sudden to be now referred to as iTaukei and the Fijians a tag that refers to everyone who lives in the country, obviously there will be some resent maybe, some concern.
Similarly, he voiced an opinion that Indo-Fijians also have some difficulty in calling themselves Fijian.
When you consider there some Fijians of Indian descent too, who prefer to be referred to as Indian’s, they don’t want to use their cultural identity, their traditions, they don’t want to be referred to as Fijians. They find it difficult to refer to themselves as iTaukei, and also Indians who find it a bit, how can I put it? Unusual to be referred to as Fijians when they are Indians.
Roshika Deo, a young female independent Indo-Fijian who campaigned across Fiji during the
2014 elections, takes up this argument.
I love being called a Fijian it makes me feel patriotic it makes me feel ownership of my country, it makes me feel empowered about my country it just gives me, I feel like a lot more value in country, but at the same time there are times when you know I mean like times when I’m an Indo-Fijian, like I want to, I want my you know I want my ethnicity to be recognised I don’t want it to be get diluted because my ethnicity is still so important to my identity. … Sometimes I’m scared to fully claim the word Fijian because then I feel like I’m losing that essence and the discussion and that narrative47.
47 This narrative refers to cases of ethnic discrimination within institutions. For instance, Indo-Fijian visits to the iTaukei Land Trust Board require the accompaniment of an iTaukei to access services, despite everyone being ‘Fijian’ and the ILTB being a state service.
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Although Deo does expose the complex nature of the topic further by suggesting that although iTaukei communities ask about her thoughts on being called Fijian, Indo-Fijian communities do not.
None of the Indo-Fijian communities ever asked me about whether I wanted to be called Fijian, Indo-Fijian, or whatever.
Similarly, she points out that part of the Indo-Fijian community does not realise how culturally dislocated they are from Indian culture.
What really annoys me is when Indo-Fijians say I’m an Indian… Culture is a big difference [India compared to Fiji] still your more culturally similar to this country than to Indians, and Indian nationality. You can’t call yourself an Indian, you can call yourself of Indian background if you want.
Both the NFP’s leader – Binman Prasad – and the Fiji National Farmers Union leader –
Surendra Lal – both represent the complexity within the Indo-Fijian community Deo raises.
Well personally I feel there is not much issue in respect to what I feel. Because my own identity, my identity comes from my language my tradition and my culture. And that is based on Indian philosophy, and that our motherland is India. That is where the stronghold lies, so I have far more attachment with Indian traditional cultures.
Lal similarly cites that naming an equitable naming convention through “Fijian” does not make up for what he feels is equity on the ground. Through equal representation within civil service jobs, military positions, and the police force.
Prasad does not air his convictions as freely, although refused to identify himself as a
Fijian during the interview, instead calling himself a Fiji citizen.
I’m a very proud Fiji citizen. I have my very proud identity, being an Indo-Fijian. I’m very proud of myself being a descendant of the
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girmitiya48, so you know, this is our country, this is what we’ve known. But, just calling everybody a Fijian doesn’t mean you have equal citizenry to do all the things, the rights. … So this identity, you know forced identity creation, like saying I’m a Fijian. It means nothing… because you have the media control, everybody is Fijian all of you are equal. But then if you look at Bainimarama’s record, you know, the militaries about 99 per cent indigenous Fijian. The civil service is going that way as well.
Notably, in the interview with Fred Wesley he rejected the idea of state interference upon the
Fiji Times in the promotion of ‘Fijian’ as an identifier, instead citing a voluntary shift in order to simplify naming conventions.
I don’t think anyone was forced, it’s just the mechanics of how things were sort of, how can I put it, just became part of our lives. The government insist, this government insists that everyone should be considered Fijians, they should be one I.D for everyone in this country regardless of ethnicity or where you come from, who you are the person you are, everyone who lives in this country is a Fijian. And the Fiji Times, we actually adopted that as well, we refer to everyone as Fijian, but there was a bit of an issue with how we are going to refer to people with different ethnic backgrounds. So we started off by saying Fijians of Indian descents, Fijians of Chinese descent and then it’s just caught on, and everyone uses that.
Some respondents were also asked what they think it means to be iTaukei, as well as their thoughts on the removal of some iTaukei institutions, like the GCC. Most believed iTaukei identity was predicated on a birthright basis, as well as the ownership of land.
Katonivere: Well, if you wanted to be, it’s uh a tough question. If you want to be one [iTaukei] then you would have to have someone to be an iTaukei you would have to someone you know blood, some DNA that’s says that your real Fijian.
Wesley further clarifies some finer points concerning gender,
48 The name given to the generations of Indians who left India to serve as labourers in British colonies.
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I think it’s about being registered in the Vola Ni Ki Bula it’s about identity, you are iTaukei, because your parents are iTaukei, your father is iTaukei, your ancestors are iTaukei. I’m a Rotuman, but my mum is iTaukei, but I am in the Vola Ni Ki Bula I am not registered because, it sort of emphasises or focuses on the fathers side, so if your dads an iTaukei obviously you’ll be able to be registered in the Vola Ni Ki Bula. If your dad’s Rotuman or Indian or whatever you wouldn’t be, you will have issues trying to be registered in the Vola Ni Ki Bula.
While Mataitawakilai believes it is entirely to do with a connection to land,
Well, iTaukei means, if you’re connected to the land, connected to the traditional setup then you call yourself iTaukei, you belong to that land owning unit.
When asked about the removal of iTaukei institutions, like the GCC, the Roko felt that the iTaukei communities he looked after believed that the GCC acted as a check on government power.
GCC was certainly very close to the hearts of the iTaukei because that it was their way of like you know. They the chiefs were their leaders, and they were there to lead and when it was taken away it was really not easily accepted by iTaukei people because everything is by government. The GCC was like a second government they scrutinised whatever the issue the government make and they make decisions about the wellbeing of the iTaukei.
The Roko was further questions about his current portfolio, and whether he thought it carried out work the GCC was previously responsible for:
Yeah its true. It’s like we taken over all the GCC terms but with the less power, GCC had more power. Some good things have come out of GCC, being demolished. The GCC abusing their powers (laughs) always taking larger part of the cake and now this equal distribution oh the big chiefs don’t like it.
Katonivere believed that chiefly authority had shifted from being rooted in community development during colonialism, into a political role post-independence.
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But that was the purpose of the GCC, back then [colonialism] they said okay we have to make road here. Nobody there to say this is my land you can’t, but the chief said it so they said oh by all means do it. So their [chiefly] rights were recognised then, and more respected. … But come after independence post-independence, it was used as a political thing. You know, and the members they were only few members then, but after the members when up to 60 or 80 when there are only 40 provinces in Fiji yeah
When questioned about the reasons behind the removal of the GCC, and the changes in chiefly responsibility under Bainimarama, Katonivere believes that chiefly authority should have limits.
I think it doesn’t have to make like a code of ethics or leadership or something, but I think to me that is what I’ve been saying all along, chiefs, traditional chiefs Fijian chiefs they should have their boundaries. This is where, they should be taught where to limit their authority like you may have heard this thing about the traditional apology. So that didn’t happen back in the days, so you did the crime you did the time, because doing that can create some disturbance in the community49.
However, Katonivere did not wish to project his thoughts on other chiefs within Fiji, given the contested nature of the debate:
For me, I am a Chief in my own right, I don’t owe allegiance to anyone here in Fiji so I think that is my role. I’m not worried about what other Chiefs, because I’m helping my people I’m here I’m working I see changes I see things are happening. I’m supporting the government, because the government is doing its very best to, you know, help everybody gets their fair share.
49 Made in reference to clashes of traditional law versus common law, where Katonivere is arguing common law should take precedence.
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Fijian National identity
The developing nation-building program within Fiji potentially offers insight into a rare transition period of a developing nation. Although no previous quantitative data exists, a substantial amount of previous qualitative work summarises Fijian national identity as primarily revolving around ethnocentric conceptions. However, this survey suggests the recent ‘authoritarian’ nation-building program led by Bainimarama is influencing a transition from ethno-centric conceptions of national identity towards civic conceptions. Unlike similar surveys carried out in other Melanesian states, tertiary students in Fiji appear to have both a stronger sense of national identity and are more likely to accept cultural adaptation within society. This is promising, given that Melanesian states often prioritise sub-national levels of political community over the nation (Foster 1995).
Responses differed on questions surrounding the characteristics of Fijian national when ethnicity was accounted for. Generally, both Indo-Fijian and iTaukei respondents found that being ‘truly’ Fijian involved mostly inclusive criteria. However, exclusive criteria also attracted higher responses by iTaukei participants than Indo-Fijians. This is not surprising given past ethnic divides and the historic usage of the term “Fijian” – traditionally a signifier for only the iTaukei. One promising sign is that both groups did place importance upon the sharing of iTaukei culture and language for being considered ‘truly’ Fijian. When asked about the importance of factors defining iTaukei identity, Indo-Fijian respondents were more likely to rate historic ethnic differences as least important (including both Christianity and the chiefly system). Interestingly, iTaukei respondents also placed these factors last, while land ownership remained a controversial factor between the two groups when defining iTaukei identity. National pride indicators overall reflected a strong sense of the nation, with three highly shared factors across participants no matter their ethnicity, including high
278 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation proudness in sport, peacekeeping forces, and democracy. Overall, the survey results suggest that a strong national imaginary is present within tertiary students in Fiji but the character of the nation is still in a transitional stage. While promising, future surveys into the area will provide clearer direction as to whether the ‘authoritarian’ nation-building approach set by
Bainimarama can succeed at promoting a civic national identity over an ethnic conception.
Some of the results from other polls and surveys on notable subjects include questions on secularism within Fiji, and the adoption of “Fijian” for all citizens. In terms of secularism, a Tebutt poll held in 2014 found that 58 per cent of people were in favour of a secular state, while 35 per cent wanted Christianity recognised as Fiji’s state religion. Naidu’s (2014) report found that iTaukei respondents generally felt they were discriminated against because the government had banned Methodist meetings. In terms of naming conventions, Naidu
(2014) found that 80 per cent of respondents believed call all citizens Fijians added to a sense of inclusiveness and a sense of belonging. The name change was once again justified through international naming conventions, with parallels drawn with ‘Australians in Australia’ which corresponds with my own findings.
Ideology vs. Implementation: The 2018 Elections
A number of conclusions can be drawn from the 2018 election results, which saw FijiFirst led by Bainimarama face off against SODELPA steered by a reinvigorated Rabuka. One of the most telling impacts of Bainimarama’s nation-building program since 2014 was the campaign platform of opposition parties during the 2018 election. This is because they broadly attempted to follow in the footsteps of FijiFirst’s popular country-wide social welfare, infrastructure, and nation-building program. This meant instead of opting to fight FijiFirst on their somewhat illegitimate rise to power, opposition parties generally shifted to arguing that they could implement socio-economic reforms more equally, as well as more transparently
279 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation than FijiFirst. For SODELPA this could have been a necessary change, given its own leader was responsible for an ethno-nationalist coup in 1987 and implemented a widely condemned constitution in 1990.
The Multinational Observer Group (MOG) co-led by Australia, India, and Indonesia delivered an interim statement prior to election results being counted, stating that “the outcome of the 2018 Fijian General Election is on track to reflect the will of Fijian voters and that Fijian voters were able to exercise their right to vote freely”. Although Bainimarama’s
FijiFirst ultimately won the 2018 election with a majority of 27 seats in the 51-seat house, this is down from 2014 which saw them receive 32 seats in a 50-seat house. This result could be down to how FijiFirst has implemented their agenda from 2014, rather than the underlying ideology itself. This is suggested by the shunting of visible ethno-nationalist campaigns by opposition parties in favour of nation-building themes throughout the 2018 election period.
However, there is one caveat to this, although SODELPA campaigned on implementing socio-economic reforms better than FijiFirst through advertisements in newspapers, television, and radio – Rabuka had other ideas. This included claims of bringing the Great
Council of Chiefs back within 100 days of being elected, installing the 1997 constitution, and reversing the equal distribution of indigenous land lease money to traditional means (Radio
NZ 2018b). While SODELPA’s contradictory campaign approach can be seen as a play towards both attempting to woo FijiFirst supporters and keep iTaukei ethno-nationalists onside, it does suggest a significant change to Fiji’s political landscape. This is because
SODELPA also declared they would keep “Fijian” as a term for all citizens. Similarly, it suggests that the battle between the communal and civic nation-of-intent is reaching a different stage.
Bainimarama’s initial implementation of a civic nation-of-intent as an attempt to dislodge the ethnic-communal nation-of-intent was underlined by authoritarian rule, and now
280 Chapter Eight: Reactions to the ‘new’ nation through a conditional democracy. However, 2018 election results suggest that although
Bainimarama’s civic egalitarian nation-of-intent has passed its first real test, it could still be undermined through its implementation because of Bainimarama’s conditional form of democracy.
281 Chapter Nine: Conclusion
Chapter Nine: Conclusion
The journey towards Fiji's nationhood, much like other nations, was not a smooth one. An unresolved legacy of colonial rule at independence left Fiji with two different sets of principles to guide the nation into the future. Ensuing conflict between these two separate principles resulted in the 1970 constitution bearing several important points that placed the ethnic-communal nation-of-intent as the dominant conception of the nation at independence.
In doing so, the 1970 constitution promoted the ethnic-communal nation-of-intent and the discourses which made it up, into a position of hegemony over other competing concepts of the nation, namely the civic-egalitarian nation-of-intent. This position of hegemony would continually be challenged in Fiji's coup period, until it was ultimately confronted by
Bainimarama in 2006. Because of historic conflict between these two nations-of-intent a cohesive nation-building agenda was not able to be pursued until Bainimarama's authoritarian rule. The forced imposition of the civic-egalitarian nation-of-intent might bring to fruition the untold story of Fiji's other conception of nationhood born out of colonialism, even if it is somewhat undermined by its implementation. Although both the ethnic-communal and civic- egalitarian nation-of-intent share many similarities with other conceptions of nationhood, like primordialism or civic nationalism, the journey towards their formation was brought about by the unique history and circumstances of Fiji. The mixed results of the 2018 elections point to a potentially uncertain future for Fiji, with the effectiveness of Bainimarama's nation-building program perhaps not best measured by the ideas it attempts to instil, but rather the way it redefines the relationship with the state and people.
This thesis examined Bainimarama’s government-led nation-building program in Fiji. In order to do so, the thesis established both a substantive frame of analysis that included both a relevant contextual and theoretical background. The second chapter explored relevant
282 Chapter Nine: Conclusion theoretical literature before outlining the unique socio-linguistic and political histories of both the Melanesian and Fijian context. This allowed the thesis to determine that the ‘nation-of- intent’ concept was the most applicable theoretical framework for use within the Fijian context. The third chapter builds on this by examining the colonial construction of statehood in Fiji. It examined this because the nation-of-intent concept falls under a school of nationalism which believes that the state and nation generally form close together, though usually with statehood preceding nationhood. In doing so, the chapter argued that split colonial administrative systems between indirect rule for indigenous Fijians and direct for
Indo-Fijians was responsible for state formation in Fiji. The impacts of colonial state-building are then discussed as responsible for indigenous and Indo Fijian communities developing different relationships and expectations of the state.
The fourth chapter explored this further, arguing that colonial state-building through dual forms of rule provided the conditions for a Fijian national consciousness to arise. This is because different expectations of the state held by each community elevated local experiences between indigenous and Indo Fijians into national discourses through their common experience with the other. Salient national discourses are argued as including ‘Religion’,
‘Labour’, ‘Education’, ‘War’, and ‘Land’. Importantly, it is maintained that the relational nature of these national discourses arose in response to cross ethnic interactions at the local level during colonialism. Because of this, national discourses came to be understood through two different prisms relating to the nature of the nation. This included an ethnic-communal nation-of-intent which views the nation as made up of different communal groups who each have their own interests to protect. As well as a civic-egalitarian nation-of-intent that thinks the nation should be founded on principles of equality. At independence, the ethnic- communal nation-of-intent was argued as the dominant view of the nation.
283 Chapter Nine: Conclusion
The fifth chapter examined the immediate aftermath of independence and argued that decolonising set up an ongoing conflict between the ethnic-communal and civic egalitarian nation-of-intent. This is argued to be rooted in the relationship between constitutions and conceptions of nationhood. As such, the chapter explores the interplay between elections, coups, and constitutional redrafting as a negotiation about what and who the Fijian nation represents. In doing so, it discusses other contributions from the literature which suggest ethnicity or class were core drivers of conflict between 1987 and 2000. It argued that conflict between competing nations-of-intent within the same timeframe also builds upon, and provides an alternative explanation to both class and ethnic explanations of conflict in Fiji.
The sixth chapter discussed the arrival and impact of Bainimarama on Fiji’s political landscape. It focused on Bainimarama’s governance since his initial coup in 2006, which stemmed from a self-proclaimed goal of removing ‘ethnicity’ from national politics because of the cycle of instability it promotes. The chapter argues that Bainimarama carried out his goal by implementing ‘prelude’ and ‘procession’ decrees in order to both consolidate his rule and generate a sustained nation-building program. It continued by discussing how these decrees laid the foundation for the implementation of the 2013 constitution, which repeated the past by attempting to link new national symbols with redesigned political structures. It then argued that the 2014 election results provided Bainimarama with a ‘conditional’ democracy that allowed Bainimarama to expand his nation-building program by further reinforcing national symbols, increasing the benefits of citizenship, building infrastructure, and fostering international relationships.
284 Chapter Nine: Conclusion
The seventh chapter then critically examined Bainimarama’s nation-building program as an attempt to symbolically resolve competing nations-of-intent in Fiji by challenging historic discourses. It argued that Bainimarama’s own formulation of a civic nation-of-intent follows in the footsteps of the civic-egalitarian nation-of-intent explored in past chapters. It argued that in order to promote his civic nation-of-intent Bainimarama challenged the relational nature of national discourses (Labour, Land, Education, Religion, and War) by attempting to redefine them towards categorical classifications.
The eighth chapter questioned Bainimarama’s civic nation-of-intent as a means of providing long-term political stability to Fiji given the historic conflict between different nations-of- intent. To do so the chapter drew upon both qualitative and quantitative methods in order to gauge popular attitudes towards Bainimarama’s nation-building program. Qualitative analysis included an examination of the drafting period for the 2013 constitution, the 2014 election, and interviews with key figures. This was discussed in combination with a major quantitative survey of attitudes held by tertiary students (n=323) towards national identity, sampled from
Fiji’s main universities and colleges. Amongst other results, the survey found that tertiary students tended to prefer ‘civic’ traits over ethnic ones when asked about national identity criteria. This result in tandem with the success of FijiFirst in the 2018 election suggests that
Bainimarama’s nation-building program has been successful at displacing am ethnic- communal nation-of-intent in favour of a civic nation-of-intent.
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Appendices
308