Political Legitimacy and the Post-Colonial State in the Pacific: Reflections on Some Common Threads in the Fiji and Solomon Islands Coups

Pacifica Review: Peace, Security & Global Change

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Political Legitimacy and the Post-colonial State in the Pacific: Reflections on Some Common Threads in the Fiji and Solomon Islands Coups

Greg Fry

To cite this article: Greg Fry (2000) Political Legitimacy and the Post-colonial State in the Pacific: Reflections on Some Common Threads in the Fiji and Solomon Islands Coups, Pacifica Review: Peace, Security & Global Change, 12:3, 295-304, DOI: 10.1080/713604485

To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/713604485

Published online: 19 Aug 2010.

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Download by: [Australian National University] Date: 14 December 2016, At: 14:57 Paci ca Review, Volume 12, Number 3, October 2000

Political Legitimacy and the Post-colonial State in the Paci c: Re ections on Some Common Threads in the Fiji and Solomon Islands Coups*

GREG FRY (Australian National University)

The recent hostage crises in Fiji and the Solomon Islands quickly merged into a series of deeper crises to do with the political legitimacy of the government of the day, of the Constitution, of ‘democracy’, and even of the idea of the post-colonial state itself as a continuing political entity. While the other twelve post-colonial states in the Paci c share many of the common threads in Fiji and the Solomon Islands, these are unlikely to turn into ethno-nationalist crises concerned with the very survival of democratic change, the system of governance and of the state itself.

When members of the Malaita Eagle Force (MEF) militia, together with some members of the Malaitan-dominated police force, kidnapped the Prime Minister of the Solomon Islands, Bartholomew Ulufa’alu, on 5 June 2000, the international media called it a ‘copycat’ coup.1 This was a reference to the assumed in uence of the actions of George Speight and his armed group in taking the Chaudhry Government hostage in Fiji just two weeks earlier. At a super cial level it certainly looked similar in style. Andrew Nori, the front man for the Solomon Islands hostage-takers, like Speight, is a civilian, in this case a lawyer. It was also evident, as in the Fiji case, that important elements in the state security forces were directly involved or complicit. The Fiji hostage-taking obviously did not, however, cause the political crisis behind the Solomon Islands coup. There had been a rapidly deteriorating political situation for the previous 18 months. And there had been open talk of the possibility of the serious con ict between rival militias deteriorating even further into civil war and a breakdown of the constitutional order (Prime Minister Ulufa’alu had formally requested Australian police assistance just weeks before). Nevertheless, the taking of state power in this way, at this time, was undoubtedly inspired by the hostage-taking in Suva. There were also other direct links between the two events. The crisis in Fiji signi cantly affected the efforts of the Ulufa’alu Government to create a secure space in which the deep-seated causes of the con ict could be dealt with. In the days just before the

* I wish to acknowledge very informative conversations with John Naitoro (National Centre for Development Studies, ANU) and Tarcisius Tara Kabutaulaka (School of Social and Economic Development, University of the South Paci c). I remain wholly responsible for the opinions expressed here. 1 See, for example, Mary-Louise O’Callaghan, ‘Solomons’ Copycat Coup’, The Australian (6 June 2000), p. 1; and Greg Ansley and Bronwyn Sell, ‘Copycat Coup Waiting to Happen’, The New Zealand Herald Online (12 June 2000).

ISSN 1323-9104 print/ISSN 1469/9974 online/00/030295-10 Ó 2000 Taylor & Francis Ltd 296 Greg Fry hostage-taking in Suva, Ulufa’alu had requested a hurry-up in the police assistance that was to come from Fiji and Vanuatu as part of a Commonwealth regional police group. In the event, the Fiji police contingent did not come because of the hostage crisis in Suva. The Fiji crisis also made it impossible for the Commonwealth envoy, Sitiveni Rabuka, to travel to Honiara to continue his mediating role in the Solomon Islands crisis. He had been due to return to the Solomon Islands the day after George Speight’s men entered the Fiji parliament. Speight had not only shown the way to overthrow constitutional and democratic government; his actions had stopped Fiji’s important contribution to peacemaking in the Solomon Islands at a crucial juncture in that crisis. As in Fiji, the MEF insurrection sparked not just one crisis but crises at many levels. First, there is a crisis associated with the hostage-taking itself, the terrorising of the individuals and families involved, and nding the tactical means of ending the unconstitu- tional threat of force in a situation where there is a signi cant amount of sympathy with the objectives of the coup-makers in signi cant segments of the wider community. The hostage crisis in Honiara, like that in Suva, has also created a security crisis for many in the wider community outside the group directly being held hostage. They have also created a severe economic crisis for both countries. More broadly, the hostage crisis in each country quickly merged into a series of deeper crises to do with the legitimacy of the elected government, of the constitution, of ‘democracy’, and even of the idea of the post-colonial state itself as a continuing political entity. This is not just because the handful of coup-makers have in each case claimed their actions in the name of a larger community which nds the current governance arrangements to be unjust or against their interests, or that changes to governance arrangements form the central demands of the hostage-takers. It is also because important segments of the wider society, and of the state itself, clearly are sympathetic to their objectives and share their interests. In each case the coup-makers have tapped a pre-existing concern about the legitimacy of the existing system of governance, whether from self-serving or sincere motives. The negotiations to end the hostage crises have therefore become intertwined with negotiations about the future governance of these states. These questions of political legitimacy and the construction of future arrangements were being considered under duress and only by some parts of society. In Fiji, for example, those for whom most citizens voted at the last election were held captive and therefore could not provide input in a debate about the shape of future governance, and Indo-Fijians are too intimidated to say anything publicly concerning these matters. Even indigenous Fijans are generally afraid to speak against the ethno-nationalist line in case they are seen to be against their own ‘people’. In the Solomon Islands, the MEF forced Prime Minister Ulufa’alu to resign and told the members of parliament to assemble and choose a new Prime Minister. Six members were not present. The outcome, the election of a reportedly pro-MEF Prime Minister, Mannaseh Sogovare, was very likely affected not only by the intimidation of those parliamentarians present, but also of some of those who were unable to be there because of reported threats to shoot at the plane on which they were travelling if it landed on Guadalcanal. For many commentators, Fiji and the Solomon Islands have thus become the eastern extension of an ‘arc of instability’, or ‘arc of crisis’, already said to stretch from Aceh, through Ambon, Timor, West Papua, and Papua New Guinea.2 For some, the ripples from the Fiji hostage crisis and the Solomon Islands coup go further, if not as cause, then as symptom, of a region-wide malaise in the Paci c islands. While some commentators see other Paci c island countries as dominos ready to fall—the Australian Prime Minister named Papua New Guinea in this regard, for example—others see them as having all but

2 See, for example, Michael Maher, ‘Islands in the Storm’, The Bulletin (20 June 2000), pp. 24–26. Political Legitimacy and the Post-colonial State 297 fallen, citing independence issues in New Caledonia, con ict over Bougainville’s status in relation to Papua New Guinea, a political assassination in Samoa, widespread corruption, law and order problems in Papua New Guinea, and failing economies throughout the region. They portray a seriously fragmented and anarchic region that has failed economically and is looking increasingly vulnerable to ‘balkanisation’.3 Before considering this broader claim to a region-wide legitimacy crisis in the post-colonial states of the Paci c, I propose to further explore the nature of the legitimacy crises in Fiji and the Solomon Islands, to suggest some common threads between them.

The Legitimacy Crises in Fiji A preliminary point to note about the legitimacy crises in Fiji is that they are longstanding. Although tapped by the hostage crisis, they have their roots in long historical processes to do with colonialism, post-colonial development, the nature of political leadership and the changing interpretation of traditional customs and identities. The tensions were particularly evident from the start of the post-colonial state between the Indian community and the indigenous Fijians, and between the various regions and confederations within traditional Fijian society. Added to this are the changing class and urban-based interests that emerged as a result of post-colonial development. These issues came to a head with Rabuka’s coups of 1987 when signi cant Fijian interests saw the newly elected Bavadra Government, and the system of democratic governance that produced it, as illegitimate. The resultant military-backed, racially biased constitution of 1990 was, in turn, not seen as legitimate by the Indian community and those of a democratic disposition from all communities (or by the international community). While the 1997 Constitution, and the consensual processes leading to its adoption, seemed to settle this longstanding legitimacy crisis for both sides, the question was reopened when the general election under the new constitution produced Fiji’s rst Indian Prime Minister and a coalition of powerful indigenous interests in opposition. The legitimacy crises that have emerged since Speight and his group took the Chaudhry Government hostage are perhaps most appropriately seen as ve separate but related crises. The rst concerns the legitimacy of the Chaudhry Government. It partly re ects a widely held feeling among indigenous Fijians that an Indian should not be Prime Minister. The strains were already evident after the general election of 1999 in the negotiation between the partners in the new coalition government over who should be Prime Minister. When Mahendra Chaudhry insisted on his right to form to the position as leader of the largest party, with a majority of seats in its own right, and therefore on the basis of legitimacy given by a ‘mandate’ from the people, this was regarded as inappropriate by many, both in the coalition government and in the wider community. This legitimacy crisis gathered intensity as Chaudhry’s abrasive style, combined with his government’s radical program of reform, further antagonised powerful Fijian interests particularly around the issue of land administration. While the Chaudhry Government’s policies were aimed at addressing poverty among Fijians, among other things, its program was easily portrayed by those with vested interests as threatening to the core values and interests of indigenous Fijians. It was evident even to Labour Party supporters that the mood was moving against the government and that some personal threat to Chaudhry was possible. The legitimacy of the Government was judged not only in Westminster terms of ‘having a mandate’ but on its perceived style

3 Greg Sheridan, ‘Breaking Up Brings No Bene t: We Are Witnessing the Balkanisation of the Region’, The Australian (9 June 2000), p. 13. 298 Greg Fry and attitude in relation to the Fijian community. Chaudhry’s personal style was particularly under scrutiny. After the hostage-taking, support for the return of the Chaudhry Government very quickly became muted. Most of the ministers were in captivity, and the government’s supporters were intimidated. By day six of the coup, Ratu Mara as President of the Republic was telling a UN envoy and the Commonwealth Secretary-General that after the hostages were released the Chaudhry Government would be forced to resign and a caretaker government appointed for several years until new elections could be held. And at this time the Australian Government was already saying it would recognise another Prime Minister as long as they were democratically elected. On the eighth day of the hostage crisis Ratu Mara sacked the Chaudhry Government. The strong opposition to the Chaudhry Govern- ment in signi cant sections of the indigenous Fijian community, and the absence of anyone in authority (including the international community) calling for the reinstatement of the democratically elected government, makes this appear to be an issue that is effectively over, although the release of the hostages might change this. A second crisis surrounds the legitimacy of the 1997 Constitution. On the surface this crisis may seem more surprising. This was after all Rabuka’s constitution; it was the result of a long consultative process, and it had been endorsed by the Great Council of Chiefs. But the crisis goes back to 1997. At the time Rabuka steered the new constitution through the government and the parliament there was still signi cant opposition in some quarters to the degree of compromise on the principle of ‘Fijian paramountcy’, despite the Consti- tution’s strong entrenchment of indigenous rights. This opposition to the 1997 Constitution grew once the outcome of the election was known. The election of an Indian Prime Minister and the loss of power by signi cant indigenous Fijian political interests was seen as a problem of the constitution and the preferential voting system rather than the failure of the Rabuka Government to deliver development to the wider Fijian community, and the misjudgement of National Federation Party leader, Jai Ram Reddy, in linking his party’s fortunes to Rabuka. The upshot was that when Speight demanded that the 1997 Constitution be scrapped there was almost no defence of it among Fijians in authority. With an eye on international opinion, Mara and Rabuka made an initial attempt at working within the terms of the 1997 Constitution. Mara, for example, went through a tortuous process to make his assumption of the executive authority of the state, and the dismissal of the Chaudhry Government look constitutional. But on day 11 of the hostage crisis the Constitution was abrogated when the army took over control of the state from Mara. The military commander, Commodore Frank Bainimarama, made it clear that a new constitution would be considered after review. Five weeks later, when he announced a new civilian cabinet on 3 July, he con rmed that the 1997 Constitution would not be restored and that a review process would be set in train to create a new constitution. For those currently in authority the issue appears to be closed. The international community is also not insisting on the restoration of the 1997 Consti- tution, focusing instead on the restoration of democracy. But there are many supporters of democracy within Fiji who do not regard the issue as over, and who do not accept the legality of the ‘abrogation’ of the 1997 Constitution. Although the legitimacy of the 1997 Constitution is still a live issue, it has to be said that the main struggle has now moved to the legitimacy of democracy as a system of governance. The absence of a serious defence of the 1997 Constitution among Fijians in authority disguises the different positions within this group on the legitimacy of the various principles and provisions that the 1997 Constitution enshrines, particularly in relation to democracy. At one extreme, Speight and his supporters and the Taukei nationalist movement, among others, reject democracy as a ‘foreign ower’. They demand ethnocracy in its stead. Speight Political Legitimacy and the Post-colonial State 299 has made it clear that though he envisages a constitution which provides protection for the rights of Indians, these would not include the right to participate in the governance of Fiji, which would be reserved for indigenous Fijians. Rabuka has shifted from a pro-democracy position to one clearly geared to appeal to the Fijian nationalists at a time when he is seeking the presidency. Despite being the main political force behind the acceptance of the 1997 democratic Constitution, he is now reportedly suggesting that ‘Fiji might need racially segregated houses of parliament, “like pre-Mandela South Africa” ’.4 A more moderate nationalist position which is probably widely held among Fijians is that a new constitution should in some fashion ensure that the Prime Ministership and other key ministerial positions be reserved for Fijians, whether by a change to the preferential electoral system or some other provision. This group otherwise would probably support equal participation rights for Indians in the system of governance. In other words, in a different political climate this group would probably accept the 1997 Constitution with some amendments. In the existing climate they see the need for a new process of review and a new constitution. The Fijian army leadership which is now driving the political process has been ambivalent on the issue. Tarakinikini, the army spokesperson, has talked, for example, of the importance of any future constitution meeting the demands of the Harare declaration, which includes democratic principles. But he also says he has sympathy with Speight’s objectives. Bainimarama’s pronouncement of 3 July which sets out the review process leading to a new constitution suggests a move away from democracy as indicated in the reference to looking to the Malaysian Federal Constitution as a model for dealing with indigenous rights.5 Only Fijians will participate in this process. A fourth legitimacy crisis which is intertwined with the struggle over the legitimacy of democracy, and will become more so as the constitutional review process gets under way, concerns traditional authority within the indigenous system of governance. Like Rabuka before him, Speight’s intervention in the name of indigenous rights has sparked a crisis in the legitimacy of chie y authority at many levels. It has created a struggle within indigenous Fiji over the pecking order among the three Fijian confederacies—Burebasaga, Tovata and Kubuna—in relation to the control of the state of Fiji. It has also sparked a challenge to the existing power hierarchies within confederacies, and particularly between the west of Viti Levu and other parts of the Burebasaga confederacy, to the point where the west has proposed its own confederacy and consequently a change in the power structure of the Great Council of Chiefs. More broadly, it has become clear that there is no commonly accepted authority or hierarchy within the Fijian nation. Speight, although claiming to honour the chie y system, would not even accept the decision of the Great Council of Chiefs to have Mara continue as President. Like Rabuka 13 years before, Speight’s actions have ironically contributed to the declining legitimacy of chie y authority. The above crises have also sparked a fth crisis, one concerned with the continued legitimacy of the idea of Fiji itself. The western part of Viti Levu, feeling marginalised in traditional and state politics despite its relative prosperity and rich resources, has threatened to secede from Fiji if the hostage crisis continues. Seeing the crisis more as a dispute between the eastern confederacies for supremacy, the west’s demand for a separate state could gather pace as the economy declines. The legitimacy of the idea of Fiji itself as a political community in which they are welcome is also in question for the Indian community. The threats to their personal security and political rights associated with the

4 Malcolm Brown, ‘Old South Africa May Be Model for New Regime: Rabuka’, Sydney Morning Herald (30 June 2000), p. 13. 5 ‘Bainimarama’s Speech’, Fijilive (3 July 2000), , wysiwyg://main.2/http:// jilive.net/news/news.php3?art 5 03/ 03z7.html . . 300 Greg Fry hostage crisis and the attitudes of the Fijian e´lite has prompted many to say publicly that they do not know how they can feel at home or safe again within Fiji.

The Legitimacy Crises in the Solomon Islands In the Solomon Islands there also existed a serious political crisis prior to the recent coup. These conditions had been created by a con ict between Malaitans and Guadalcanal people, primarily over the large presence of Malaitans on Guadalcanal, both in and around the capital Honiara and around development projects on the Guadalacanal Plains. Although these ethnic identities are relatively recent identities constructed out of the impact of colonialism and post-colonial development and migration within the Solomon Islands, particularly since World War II, the con ict between them had become very intense in the 18 months prior to the coup. From late 1998 the Guadalcanal Revolutionary Army (later calling itself the Isatabu Freedom Movement—IFM) intimidated Malaitans on Guadalcanal, resulting in an exodus of 20,000 Malaitans. From January 2000 a rival militia, the Malaitan Eagle Force, was created to counter the IFM. The con ict escalated as the rival militias attacked each other on Guadalcanal. By the time of the MEF coup around 50 people had been killed. The MEF coup of 5 June exacerbated existing legitimacy crises concerning the democratic governance of the Solomon Islands and also caused new crises. At one level, there was a crisis concerning the legitimacy of the Prime Minister, Bart Ulufa’alu, in continuing to lead the government. Nori claims that the hostage-taking was necessary to make the government do something about the compensation for those Malaitans who lost their land and for relatives of the 15 Malaitans kidnapped and killed by Guadalcanal militants after the Malaitans were forced to leave their land on Guadalcanal. The claim is that this was not a move against the constitution but rather was aimed at making the government work better to resolve the basis of the con ict between the Guadalcanal and Malaitan people. Ulufa’alu’s leadership was no longer considered legitimate because he was not seen to be doing anything about addressing the issues underlying the con ict. The fact that Nori and his men acted against a fellow Malaitan, Ulufa’alu, suggests that there is some plausibility to this stated objective. Nori has been careful to say that he wants democracy, and the constitution, to continue. If seen in this way, the Solomon Islands crisis is to be seen as something akin to the so-called Sandline Affair in Papua New Guinea in 1997,6 where the commander of the army forced the resignation of the PNG Prime Minister but a general election followed and constitutional succession proceeded, or the kidnapping of the Vanuatu President by elements in the Vanuatu Mobile Force and the police in 1996 forcing the government to pay outstanding wages.7 But Nori’s group has forced a change of government under the threat of guns. It is not working within the constitution as he claims. This then takes the Solomon Islands not only into a crisis about the legitimacy of the Ulufa’alu Government and of the constitution but into a third crisis concerning the legitimacy of democracy, because the MEF action has overthrown the idea of peaceful change (without intimidation) through parliamentary vote or general election. Prior to the coup, democratic governance was already losing legitimacy on both sides of the con ict. The representative democratic system was not seen as delivering a government that could deal with the fundamental causes of the con ict. It was viewed by some as part of the problem because it was seen as being captured by middlemen

6 See Sean Dorney, The Sandline Affair: Politics and Mercenaries and the Bougainville Crisis(Sydney: ABC Books, 1998). 7 See David Ambrose and Savenaca Siwatibau, ‘Recent Developments in Vanuatu’, Paci c Economic Bulletin, 12,1 (1997), pp. 1–14. Political Legitimacy and the Post-colonial State 301 between state and ethnic groups who could manipulate the system for their own interests but whose interests were served by playing on ethnic division. In addition, the MEF action in taking over the state has opened up a fourth crisis, that concerning the legitimacy of the post-colonial state as an ongoing entity. Soon after the coup, a third militia, led by a Bougainvillian, took over Gizo in Western Province to pre-empt any action there by the MEF. The intimidation of the pro-Ulufa’alu Western Province politicians from voting in the parliamentary election for Prime Minister could accentuate this tension. There has been talk of the possibility of Western Province breaking away from the Solomon Islands for the past 20 years. These new developments may encourage secessionist action. For the Guadalcanal people too, the MEF coup has prompted a questioning of the continued legitimacy of the Solomon Islands as one country. There has been a longstanding concern in Guadalcanal with gaining greater autonomy, particularly to control the movement of people into Guadalcanal. The election of a new pro-MEF Prime Minister under duress and without the presence of the three Western Province parliamentarians will further encourage separatist sentiment among Guadalcanal people. It will also heighten the possibility of civil war and the break-up of the Solomon Islands.

Some Common Threads There are a number of issues underlying these political crises in the Solomon Islands and Fiji that can be seen at a very general level to be in common. The rst point to note is the fact that, however self-serving and manipulative the perpetrators, and there are signi cant personal agendas involved in each case, the coups were claimed to be on behalf of the interests of a large ethnic group. They could each be portrayed as ethno-nationalist coups and in the name of a cause of justice for the wider group. In the case of Fiji, it quickly became evident that the objectives of the attempted coup had wider support in signi cant segments of Fijian society, and that this reached to varying extents into the agencies of the Fijian state such as the parliament, the police, the army, and the Great Council of Chiefs. A crack unit of the army was directly involved in the attempted coup; the loyalties of some of the police were in question; prominent individuals such as Ratu Mara, Sitiveni Rabuka and Filipo Tarakinikini (as spokesperson for the military regime) openly stated their support for the objectives (though not the methods) of Speight’s group. The head of the army, Commodore Frank Bainimarama, even apologised to the coup leader after shots were red by soldiers at Speight’s car when it broke through an army roadblock! And in the Solomon Islands it soon became clear that the six armed men who kidnapped the Prime Minister had the support of most of the police force and the MEF militia and an unspeci ed segment of the broader Malaitan community. Second, these two states have an ethnic structure which allows the mobilisation of ‘them and us’ politics at the national level of the kind more common in African states, and which has made constitutional democracy such a dif cult path in the post-colonial states of that continent. In such situations a great number of people can be made to think that a lot is riding on who is in government. This can mean the security of your land, or life. In the case of the Solomon Islands and Fiji coups there was suf cient existing dissatisfaction with government policy to bring ‘them and us’ politics into play. Furthermore, in both cases one group, or at least those representing them, claim superior rights as the indigenous people. They see the others as foreigners or visitors despite the fact that they were born on Guadalcanal, in the case of the Solomon Islands, and in Fiji, in the case of the Indo-Fijians. And in both situations, extreme groups on the indigenous side of the con ict want a form of ‘ethnic cleansing’ in terms of the removal of the outside group or at least the removal of their rights to participate in governance. 302 Greg Fry

A third issue in common is the centrality of land to the ethnic con ict and consequently to the legitimacy of the system of governance. In Fiji the supposed threat that the Chaudhry Government posed to the way Fijian-owned land is used is a major contributor to the emotion associated with those supporting the nationalist movement. For Indians too, living precariously from generation to generation on leased land, the security of their lives is tied up with what happens in land-use policy. In trying to handle this vexed issue the Chaudhry Government’s efforts were easily distorted by their opponents as a threat to indigenous rights, despite the safeguards in the 1997 Constitution. In the Solomon Islands, the settlement of Malaitans on Guadalcanal land was disputed despite in many cases the Malaitans of an earlier generation having paid for the land and Guadalcanal people having agreed to its use by Malaitans. Reminiscent of the start of the Bougainville war, some of the younger generation are not accepting the arrangements made by their fathers. For Malaitans too the land issue is central. They feel that justice is on their side because in many cases they were forced to leave land on which they were born and for which their fathers had paid. They were expelled without compensation. Fourth, we should note the underlying issue of uneven development. For a start, the important role of young unemployed men in these con icts should be noted. For them the current system has no legitimacy and they are open to manipulation. In Fiji, Tarakinikini, the army spokesman, is reported to have referred to the ‘legitimate grievances of the young urban poor who have been sucked into Speight’s orbit’: I see those [in the parliamentary compound] who … cannot nd a job. I see young men who ock into urban areas … and cannot make a living. And they have to take their frustration out on someone.8

In Fiji there is a perception that Indians gain unevenly in the modern economy; and the same is true in the Solomon Islands, where Malaitans are seen as dominating wage employment. Moreover, Guadalcanal people feel they are not receiving adequate return for development and resource projects on their island, particularly vis-a`-vis the government or private companies. Finally, in both coups we note the importance of the middle class businessman and politicians whose personal wealth and status are tied up with who controls the state. In Fiji, Speight himself, and many of those supporting him, lost a great deal of income and status when the Rabuka regime fell. They were also threatened by the Chaudhry Government’s reform policies aimed at controlling the corruption and preferment that was a feature of the Rabuka Government. Speight had not only lost his position as Chairman of the Fiji Hardwood Corporation, but he was about to be tried for extortion. In the Solomon Islands, as in Fiji, the Ulufa’alu Government was introducing anti-corruption regulations which would have upset established business connections.

A Region-wide Legitimacy Crisis? What does all this suggest for the other 12 post-colonial states in the Paci c? Each of these, except Tonga, has after all been trying to run a democratic constitutional post-colonial state where many of these features are present. In a sense these countries have had a legitimacy question from the start by virtue of being post-colonial. Their boundaries did not generally accord with pre-colonial political communities and the political institutions they adopted at independence were foreign to their experience under colonialism and in relation to

8 Murray Mottram, ‘Sorry, George, Times Up’, The Sydney Morning Herald (7 June 2000), p. 17. Political Legitimacy and the Post-colonial State 303 traditional practices. The experience of post-colonial states in dealing with introduced democratic systems elsewhere did not inspire hope. But something very unusual happened in the post-colonial states of the South Paci c. The Westminster and presidential democratic systems adopted at independence have remained intact; general elections have been held and governments have accepted defeat and left the government benches when they have lost at election. Peaceful democratic succession of government has been the norm. The statistics are quite staggering. Samoa has been operating democratic and peaceful succession for 38 years, Cook Islands for 35 years, Niue for 32 years, Nauru for 32 years, Tuvalu for 22 years, Kiribati for 21 years, Vanuatu for 20 years, Papua New Guinea for 25 years, Palau for 7 years, and the Federated States of Micronesia and Marshal Islands for 14 years each. While Fiji and the Solomon Islands had 18 and 22 years of democratic governance respectively before the recent coups, there are particular reasons why they would be more vulnerable to destabil- isation. Unlike African and many Asian post-colonial states, in nearly all Paci c states there is either one ethnic group sharing one language, as in Samoa, Nauru and Cook Islands, or hundreds of ethnic groups as in Papua New Guinea. It seems that Westminster models using majority rule procedures are easier to run with one or many ethnic groups. With one ethnic group making up the whole state there is the feeling that there will not be a challenge to the core interests and security of your identity group if you or your representative lose power. Where there are many groups, as in PNG, there is the feeling that if you play your cards right you can work your way back through skilful politics and alliances to power at the next election. Again there is not the feeling that your identity group is unduly affected in terms of security or core interests. Either way, there is not the feeling that all is lost for a long time if one group gains control of the state through election, as there can be in societies with just two or three large ethnic groups. In the Paci c, the obvious example of such a society is Fiji. Until recently this appeared to be the only post-colonial society in the Paci c that had this ethnic structure. Accordingly, even well before the 1987 coups Fiji was seen as the most likely site of a severe legitimacy crisis leading to the breakdown of democratic succession.9 But recently it has been joined by the Solomon Islands as the ethnically diverse islands of Malaita and Guadalcanal have forged large island-wide ethno-nationalist identities which have begun to dominate Solomon Islands national politics as if they were the only two ethnic groups in the country. In this sense, it has effectively become more like Fiji in ethnic structure, with two important identities available for political mobilisation in national politics. The control of the state by one is now seen as disastrous to the security and fundamental interests of the other. The absence of such ‘them and us’ politics in other Paci c island states has made possible a remarkable tenacity in keeping to democratic change of government despite the pressures of ethnic diversity, uneven development, and tensions between ‘tradition’ and modernity. Samoa’s recent experience of a political assassination, for example, underlines rather than challenges this point. Rather than being seen as an example of instability, the system coped very well. The perpetrators came to justice and the system was upheld. While other Paci c Island states will always have legitimacy questions, they are unlikely to turn into ethno-nationalist crises concerned with the very survival of democratic change, the constitution and the state itself, of the kind being experienced in Fiji and the

9 See Greg Fry, ‘Succession of Government in the Post-colonial States of the South Paci c: New Support for Constitutionalism?’, Politics, 18,1 (1983), pp. 48–60. 304 Greg Fry

Solomon Islands. This is no cause for complacency, however. While the particularly dif cult crises to do with ethno-nationalism are less likely to appear, attention will need to be focused on other elements in these crises—broadly under the rubric of uneven development—if democratic and peaceful change is to be upheld in these societies.