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Small States & Territories, Vol. 3, No. 1, May 2020, pp. 249-258 Guadeloupe’s postcolonial syndicalism and its critique of the nation-state project. And, perhaps, this is the practice of guerrilla thought. Felicia Denaud Brown University Providence RI, USA [email protected] Tuila’epa Sa’ilele Malielegaoi & Peter Swain (2017). Pālemia: A memoir. Wellington, New Zealand: Victoria University Press. 301pp, Hbk. ISBN: 978-1-77656-115-5. NZ$49.99. A memoir offer readers a window into someone’s life. It provides an informative snapshot and knowledge about a subject. Simultaneously, it can also attract reactions, at times misguided when given out of context or when one does not possess a degree of familiarity and intimacy with the subject. Outsiders are often accused of this, particularly in cultural spaces where open and critical debate are not encouraged. However, an outsider’s view is just as relevant, so long as it is considered and delivered with an openness and respect towards mutual learning and understanding. Reviews offer this opportunity and, in this particular case, to learn about and engage with story of a visionary statesman and an exemplary Pacific leader, Tuila’epa Sa’ilele Malielegaoi, Pālemia or Prime Minister of Samoa, who has penned his memoir with Peter Swain, a long time Pacific development specialist. Samoa is the first Pacific nation to gain political independence (as Western Samoa, in 1962). It has population of approximately 197,000 and has about the same number in the diaspora. Tuila’epa was elected to office in 1998 and is the longest serving Prime Minister of Samoa. In his foreword to the book, Tuila’epa is very clear about the intentions behind the volume: the memoir is “a simple political story”, closely connected to the development and success of party politics and that of the Human Rights Protection Party (HRPP) against the backdrop of a society navigating the realities of culture and modernity. The memoir has six chapters. The first opens with the assassination attempt on Tuila’epa’s life, nine months after he was elected to office; and the concluding chapter reflects on his leadership and the associated era of political and economic stability. The rest of the chapters detail Tuila’epa’s journey from the village of Lepa to the office of Prime Minister. Young Tuila’epa’s story will resonate with readers who have experienced a rural upbringing; the separate bath pools, night games and walks to school, attending Christian schools, living with urban relatives and an overseas education. The stories are enough to make one smile, giggle and turn nostalgic about the past. The older Tuila’epa was a seasoned bureaucrat, over time honing his political craft whilst navigating Samoan socio-cultural dynamics. Given the memoir’s focus, it would be natural to offer a political review. That is not my intention; I reserve that to those who have a taste for it. Instead, I broadly explore the memoir’s relevance to three issues of interest: young people, Pacific leadership and higher education in small states and territories. Reference to young people in the memoir is sporadic. However, it is specific in describing the place and role of young people as embedded in Fa’asamoa (or, the Samoan way of life). Youth were referred to as executioners of chiefly orders and at times used by adults with political motives to erect roadblocks and illegally occupy land. At the same time, the young people were exposed to significant events hosted by Samoa like the 2007 South Pacific Games, 2014 Small Islands Development States (SIDS) Conference and the 2015 Commonwealth Youth Games. One has only to read the SIDS Pre-Conference Talavou (Youth) Forum 251 Book Reviews Section Outcome Document in 2014 to appreciate that young people, including young Samoans, live in a diverse and globalised world with multiple challenges and opportunities. The document advocates for structural and governance reforms to address youth issues. As Tuila’epa himself puts it, ‘Samoa is a conservative society where social change is often slow’. Thus, youth issues can also be addressed individually; and suitable role models play a critical role in this process. Prime Minister Tuila’epa may now be of a different generation; but his story is one that every Samoan or Pacific young person could aspire to emulate. He offers good advice to the interested: “… observe, listen, reason, ask questions and you are there”. Pālemia reveals the extent of Tuila’epa’s influence in the Pacific. He is a senior Pacific statesman, entrusted with much responsibility. One of the memoir’s interesting revelations is his relationship with Fijian Prime Minister Frank Bainimarama, the former military commander who came into power via a coup in 2006. Tuila’epa was consistent in reminding Bainimarama about the illegality of his actions and the non-Pacific way in which he treated perceived opposition; these ranged from ordinary citizens, political leaders, Fiji’s Great Council of Chiefs and traditional bi-lateral partners, Australia and New Zealand. For many law-abiding Fijians, Tuila’epa was an ally particularly when dissent in Fiji was restricted and met with severe penalties. On the international stage, Tuila’epa was the voice of reason. He was diplomatic in negotiations, always pursing the best for Samoa. Thanks to him, Samoa is today a small middle-income country punching above its weight, busting the myth that ‘smallness is a state of mind’. Pālemia presents opportunities for learning communities that support Pacific curriculum and conversations. The memoir can be a valuable resource for academic staff and students interested in Pacific leadership and politics. It addresses the dearth of literature on Pacific leaders and offers an incentive for prospective postgraduate students and researchers to engage in political life-writing in collaboration with Pacific leaders or in researching other issues such as climate change and non-communicable diseases. This is more easily said than done because many (especially non-Pacific) researchers tread cautiously in the Pacific or refrain from engaging with the Pacific and its people because it is ‘too difficult’. If it is any consolation, Samoans offer great advice, as Peter Swain remarks, “use your family networks, it’s who you know, not what you know, that counts; and: go to the top”. This advice is common across the Pacific. It embodies the spirit of relationships. Prime Minister Tuila’epa epitomizes this via his deep connections with Fa’asamoa and his proven ability to navigate the realities of modern governance. Despite his traditional status as a matai and his political status as Samoa’s longest serving Prime Minister, he is connected to his community through village and religious activities, and relates to the ordinary folk with his wit and humour. This book resonated with me and I am sure that it would do the same for anyone keen on Pacific politics and leadership, including Pacific Islanders interested in reading about one of us. If reading Pālemia sparks your interest and curiosity, then go a step further: grab your keyboard and begin drafting your own story. The world is vast enough to embrace every story, even those originating from small states and territories. Patrick Vakaoti University of Otago, New Zealand [email protected] 252 .