Eviction from the Chagos Islands African History

VOLUME 1 Eviction from the Chagos Islands

Displacement and Struggle for Identity Against Two World Powers

Edited by Sandra J.T.M. Evers Marry Kooy

LEIDEN • BOSTON LEIDEN • BOSTON 2011 Cover illustration: ‘Uprooted’, Mauritius, 2008. Photograph by AnneMarie Glas.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Eviction from the Chagos Islands : displacement and struggle for identity against two world powers / edited by Sandra J.T.M. Evers, Marry Kooy. p. cm. -- (African history; v. 1) Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978-90-04-20260-3 (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. British Indian Ocean Territory-- History--20th century. 2. Population transfers--Chagossians. 3. Chagossians--History. 4. Chagossians--Biography. 5. Refugees--British Indian Ocean Territory. 6. Refugees-- Mauritius. 7. Refugees--Seychelles. I. Evers, Sandra II. Kooy, Marry. III. Title. IV. Series.

DS349.9.C42E95 2011 969’.7--dc22

2011007059

ISSN 2211-1441 ISBN 978 90 04 20260 3

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List of Illustrations ��vii Timeline ��ix Acknowledgements ��xv

Redundancy on the Instalment Plan: Chagossians and the Right to be Called a People ��1 Sandra J.T.M. Evers & Marry Kooy

From the Birth of the Ilois to the “Footprint of Freedom”: A History of chagos and the Chagossians ��11 David Vine Clement Siatous: Chagossian Artist in Exile ��37

“Native Ilois of Chagos”: Excerpts from the Narratives of Dussercle (1933–36) ��41 Vinesh Y. Hookoomsing Atman Ramchalaon: Seeking the Facts ��59

The Making of the Chagos Affair: Myths and Reality ��61 Jocelyn Chan Low Charlesia Alexis: The Struggle of the Chagossian Women ��81

Sorrow, Sadness, and Impoverishment: The Lives of Chagossians in Mauritius ��83 Laura Jeffery and David Vine Bernadette Dugasse: Born in Diego Garcia December 1956 ��103

Chagossians Twice Forgotten: Exile in the Seychelles ��105 David Vine Allen Vincatassin: Negotiating Life in Mauritius and the UK ��125 vi contents

Responsibility and Redress: The Chagossian Litigation in the English Courts ��127 Stephen Allen Olivier Bancoult: Leading the Way Back to Chagos ��153

Self-Determination in the Post-Colonial era: Prospects for the Chagossians ��157 Maureen Tong Aurélie Marie-Lisette Talate: Young Again in Diego ��181

Cleaning for the Dead: The Chagossian Pilgrimage to their Homeland ��183 Steffen F. Johannessen Perspectives of a UK Member of Parliament: “Chagos, just Plain Injustice” ��217

‘A Lost People’? Chagossian onward Migration and Echoes of Marginalisation in Crawley Laura Jeffery �� 219 Reverend Mario Li Hing: Committed to the Chagossian Cause ��239

Longing and Belonging in Real Time: How Chagossian Children in Mauritius Imagine the Chagos Islands ��241 Sandra J.T.M. Evers

About the Authors ��273

Bibliography ��277

Index ��289 List of Illustrations

Maps

1. Chagos Islands on the World Map ��xvi 2. Map Chagos Islands ��xvii 3. Map Diego Garcia ��xviii

Illustrations

1. Painting by Clement Siatous, Memories of Chagos ��39 2. Rev. Roger Dussercle ��42 3. Text and Musical Transcription of a Çanté Zavirons ‘Innocement’ ��44 4. Map Ile d’Aigle ��49 5. Text and Musical Transcription of Death Song ‘Aniwawaoh’ ��52 6. Voyage of the Diego, 1934 ��58 7. Plight of Chagossians. Source unknown. ��156 8. Sketched Route of the Chagossian pilgrimage from Port Louis to Chagos, 2006 ��185 9. Religious Ceremony in the Abandoned Church on Peros Banhos during the Pilgrimage. ©Photo: Norbert Salomon ��203 10. Clement Siatous: “Peros Banhos Abandoned.” Painting of an abandoned building in Peros Banhos made by a Chagossian artist living in Mauritius. ��211 11. Drawing by Lilli, Life in Chagos ��243 12. Drawing by Anne, Life in Salomon ��245 13. Drawing on Life in Mauritius ��252 14. Picture taken by Daniel (eleven years) showing Chagossian dwellings just after the floods of March 2008. ��258 15. Drawing by Marie, Life in Diego Garcia ��260 16. Drawing by Lianne, Life in Chagos ��261 17. Drawing by Elle, Life in Chagos ��265 18. Drawing by Angie, Life in Chagos ��266 19. Drawing by Rozy, Life in Chagos ��267 20. Drawing by Aurelie, Life in Chagos ��268 21. Picture by Daniel of his brother and his brother’s motor cycle ��269

Timeline

1500s Chagos islands visited and mapped out by Portuguese, who begin using the islands as a stopover between the Cape (South Africa) and India. 1598 Dutch East India Company (VOC) starts using Mauritius as a resupply hub between Europe and East Asia. Formal settlement in 1638. 1700s France and England compete for the islands in the western Indian Ocean as strategic bases to control shipping routes to India. Ca. 1710 After failed settlement attempts, the Dutch abandon Mauritius. 1721 The French establish a successful permanent settlement on Mauritius (renamed Ile de France). Slave trade from mainly Madagascar and Eastern Africa. 1744 The French claim the Seychelles. 1744 The French claim Chagos’ Peros Banhos island. Numerous French and English voyages follow to inspect other island groups in the archipelago. In or around 1783 a plantation owner from Mauritius, Pierre Marie Le Normand, founds a settlement on previously uninhabited Diego Garcia. He brings twenty- two slaves from Mauritius (most likely originally from Madagascar and East Africa), who, by all accounts, become the island’s first inhabitants. 1786 A settlement party of the British East India Company arrives in the Chagos archipelago to create a provisioning plantation, only to discover the French settlement. Le Normand escapes to Mauritius. The British landing party also departs to prevent an international incident. 1786 onwards Fishing settlement and coconut plantations are established in the Chagos archipelago, the latter by Franco- Mauritian entrepreneurs. Labourers are principally slaves from Mauritius, the Seychelles, Madagascar and the East coast of Africa. x timeline

1794–1810 The British seize control of the Seychelles and Mauritius. 1814 Treaty of Paris: France formally cedes Mauritius, including Chagos and the other islands that France had controlled as dependencies of Mauritius, and the Seychelles to Great Britain. 1835 Abolition of slavery in Mauritius and its dependencies. Indian labourers arrive in Chagos. 1835–1838 Period of apprenticeship. Despite the end of slavery, the plantation complex lives on. 1840s Rate of immigration from India increases dramatically in Mauritius such that Indian immigrants comprise one-third of the Mauritian population by 1846 and two-thirds by 1871. 1865 Colonial government of Mauritius ends the jouissance system, most plantation owners purchase their land outright from the government. 1880 The population of Chagos as a whole has risen to approximately 760. As during slavery, work on the plantations is still conducted on a task basis. 1882 Two companies establish coaling stations on Diego Garcia hoping to create major refuelling ports for steamer lines crossing the Indian Ocean. Labourers from Somalia, China, England, Greece, and Italy are imported, but in 1888, the coaling stations close. 1934–1937 French Catholic Priest Roger Dussercle publishes his books on Chagos based upon his visits to the islands. 1941 Diego Ltd. gains ownership over the Chagos islands. 1950s First schools open in Chagos. Late 1950s US Navy identifies Diego Garcia as a prime base location for deploying US military forces into the Indian Ocean and surrounding regions. 1960 US Navy initiates secret conversations with the British Government with a view to creating a base on Diego Garcia. 1962 Chagos islands purchased by a conglomerate, Chagos- Agalega Ltd. The firm includes both Seychellois and Mauritian ownership. 1965 Negotiations over the independence of Mauritius from Great Britain. Mauritius accepts detachment of Chagos timeline xi

(£3 million paid to Mauritius). The Chagos archipelago along with three islands from the British colony of Seychelles are merged into a new colony, the British Indian Ocean Territory (BIOT). Quantity of supplies going to the island is restricted. 1966 Secret agreement between UK and US governments to deport the Chagossians and grant the United States access to Diego Garcia for a 50-year term with the possibility of a 20-year extension. 1967 UK government purchases Chagos from Chagos- Agalega Ltd. Contract signed with Moulinie & Co. to manage the plantations on the British governments’ behalf. 1968 Mauritius granted independence. Creole/Muslim riots break out in Port Louis. 1968 onwards Islanders leaving Chagos for vacations or medical treatment in Mauritius are barred from returning to Chagos. Basic supplies dwindle. 1971 US Navy starts construction on Diego Garcia. Islanders forced to go to Mauritius and the Seychelles. 1972 UK government grants the Mauritian government £650,000 to finance the costs of resettling the displaced Chagossians. Sum is only disbursed following Chagossian protests in 1978. 1973 (May) Closure of all plantations in Chagos archipelago. Expulsion complete. 1973–2001 US Navy base on Diego Garcia used during Israeli-Arab war, Iraq and Afghanistan conflicts. Following the 11 September 2001 attacks on the United States, the Pentagon adds approximately 2,000 Air Force personnel at a new 30-acre housing facility called “Camp Justice.” In 2001 bomber flights from Diego Garcia to Afghanistan and later Iraq. 1975 Michel Vincatassin, a Chagossian forced to leave Diego Garcia in 1971, begins a private law suit against the UK government for a number of private law wrongs (intimidation, false imprisonment and assault) suffered during his exile. Bernard Sheridan sues the UK government on behalf of Vincatassin. Chagos islanders petition the UK government. xii timeline

1976 The Seychelles are granted independence. 1978 First compensation deal. Eligible Chagossians receive cash payments of Rs7,590 (approximately £650 at the time) for adults and between Rs1,000 and Rs1,500 for children aged 18 and under. Many families receive no money. Three-week hunger strike by Chagossian women. 1979 A group of Chagossians engage British lawyer Sheridan to negotiate with the UK government for additional compensation. Sheridan visits Mauritus to offer mone- tary compensation in exchange for release and waiver. Chagossian leaders and MMM activists halt the process. 1980 Organization of African Unity (OAU), the predecessor of the African Union, passes the Resolution on Diego Garcia demanding that it be unconditionally returned to Mauritius and that the military base is a threat to Africa. 1980–1981 Hunger strikes and demonstrations by Chagossians in Mauritius. 1981 Chagos-born islanders become eligible for British Dependent Territory (BDT) citizenship under the British Nationality Act 1981. 1982–1985 Second compensation deal. UK Government contributes £4 million and the Mauritian government contributes land worth £1 million on which to build houses. Ilois Trust Fund established. 1980s/1990s Various Chagossian organisations founded, including the Chagos Refugees Group, the Chagossian Social Committee and the Chagos Social Committee (the Seychelles). 1997 Fernand Mandarin and his legal advisor, Hervé Lasemillante, gain recognition for the Chagossians as an indigenous or autochtonous people before the UN Working Group on Indigenous Populations. 2000 Verdict Divisional Court Bancoult (1) judgment. BIOT Immigration Ordinance 2000, a piece of subordinate legislation, which allows Chagossians to return to the BIOT (except for Diego Garcia) without permits. timeline xiii

Preliminary feasibility study on the question of permanent resettlement in Chagos published by the UK government. 2001 African Union passes another resolution calling for the return of Diego Garcia to Mauritius in order to complete the process of decolonisation. Diego Garcia Island Council established (in 2007 Diego Garcian Society established). 2001/2002 Chagos islanders and their children can apply for UK Citizenship under the British Overseas Territories Act (BOT) 2002. 2002 Private law proceedings against the UK government for compensation. Case decided in the defendants’ favour. Court of Appeal decides to uphold the verdict. Report of the second phase of the feasibility study of the UK government published. 2002 onwards Groups of Chagossian migrants arrive in UK. 2004 Constitution Order in Council and BIOT Immigration Order in Council take away the right of Chagossians to live in their homeland. Full immigration controls over the BIOT reinstated. Petition lodged at the European Court of Human Rights alleging a number of violations of the European Convention on Human Rights arising out of the Chagos Islanders case. Petition is deferred pending the final resolution of the Bancoult litigation. 2006 Bancoult (2) judgment. Divisional Court holds that the 2004 Orders were ultra vires (beyond the lawful powers of the Sovereign in Council). British Govern ment allows a group of Chagossians to make a short visit to the Salomon Islands, Diego Garcia and Peros Banhos. 2007 Court of Appeal rules in Bancoult (2) that the decision to pass the 2004 BIOT Orders in Council was an abuse of power by the Crown. 2008 Let them Return Campaign launched in London by the Chagos Refugees Group and the UK Chagos Support Association. News that Diego Garcia has been used for rendition flights. xiv timeline

The majority of the House of Lords in Bancoult (2) decides that the Queen has the power to exile the entire population of the Chagos archipelago because the BIOT is a ceded and not a settled colony. In November 2008, Allen Vincatassin and five other members of the Diego Garcian Society visit the Chagos archipelago. 2009 October 27-November 7, 18 Chagossians from the Chagos Refugees Group pay a visit to the Chagos islands to place flowers on the tombs of the ancestors on the occasion of All Saints’ Day/All Souls’ Day. 2010 In January 2010, Allen Vincatassin and a group of Chagossians visit the Chagos archipelago. The European Court of Human Rights’ investigation into the case of the Chagossians right of return continues. Acknowledgements

This book was made possible by the 2008 conference “The fate of the Chagossians since their eviction from the Chagos islands” organized by the Department of Social and Cultural Anthropology, VU University Amsterdam. We would like to express our gratitude to the Department, the Faculty of Social Sciences and the Royal Netherlands Academy of Arts and Sciences (KNAW) for their financial support. A second element crucial to successful completion of this book was the generous and high-level criticisms and contributions of the authors themselves, which went a long way towards facilitating our editorial work. The authors of the vignettes also enriched the book with personal testimonies of the trials and challenges of the Chagossian past and present. We also wish to thank Mister Olivier Bancoult leader of the Chagos Refugees Group based in Mauritius for joining the conference and providing further insights into the remarkable stories told herein. Finally, the participants in the conference made numerous valuable contributions to the conference discussions, some of which had an impact on this publication. Thank you to Caroline Seagle for the English editing of the chapters. The encouragement of Joed Elich (Brill Academic Publishers) and his belief in the value and necessity of this book allows us to share the fruits of our works and our exchanges in the hope of advancing and documenting the ongoing chronicles and analysis of the Chagossian history and contemporary livelihoods. Most importantly, we would like to express our gratitude to the Chagossian adults and children who so generously shared their lives and experiences with us.

Amsterdam, 2011 Sandra J.T.M. Evers & Marry Kooy Copyright: David Vine Map 1. Chagos Islands on the World Map Copyright: David Vine Map 2. Map Chagos Islands Copyright: David Vine Map 3. Map Diego Garcia Redundancy on the Instalment Plan: Chagossians and the Right to be Called a People

Sandra J.T.M. Evers & Marry Kooy

The Chagos archipelago in the Indian Ocean has received increasing attention from media, politicians and commentators over recent years, largely due to litigation in the British courts concerning the forced expulsion of approximately two thousand Chagossians in favour of a US military base on the largest island in Chagos, Diego Garcia, during the 1970s. The location and relative isolation of the Chagos archipelago, which is situated virtually midway between Africa, India, Australia, and the Arabian Gulf, make the islands a centre of strategic importance to the Pentagon—particularly in the post 11 September 2001 world. More recently, the environmental lobby has made its voice heard on the fate of the islands. The rich marine environment and coral reefs of the archi pelago inspired Chagos’ declaration as the world’s largest Marine Protected Area in 2010. Furthermore, disputes between the British and Mauritian governments, both of whom claim ownership of the islands, remain unresolved. But what about the Chagossians themselves, who are locked in a political and legal battle for the right to return to the islands?

Chagos as Contested Site: at the Crossroads of Politicking and Exclusion

In April 2010, Foreign and Commonwealth Secretary David Miliband announced the creation of a Marine Protected Area (MPA) in the British Indian Ocean Territory of Chagos. The MPA includes approximately sixty islands scattered across the vast reaches of the Chagos archipel ago. The Miliband campaign was backed by the Chagos Environment Network (CEN), a collaboration of nine conservation and scientific organisations. On its website, www.protectchagos.org, it is stated that “[t]he combination of tropical islands, unspoiled coral reefs and adja cent oceanic abyss makes this area comparable in global importance to the Great Barrier Reef or Galapagos Islands. As a fully protected marine reserve, all extractive activities, such as industrial fishing and deep sea 2 sandra j.t.m. evers & marry kooy mining, will be prohibited in the Chagos. This decision will safeguard the rich diversity of marine life found in the area” (CEN 2010). Exceptional marine ecosystems notwithstanding, the evicted Chagos sians consider Chagos to be their home. The original inhabitants of the Chagos islands are exiles from the African continent and Madagascar. They arrived in the archipelago during the 18th century as slaves, to perform forced labour on private copra plantations. After the abolition of slavery (1835), these former slaves continued working for their former masters. A later wave of indentured labourers arrived from India to meet labour shortages. The historical circumstances underlying the eviction of Chagossians from the archipelago bear consideration. During the era when Chagos formed part of British colonial Mauritius, the British, whose strategic hegemony in the Indian Ocean was on the wane, agreed to make Diego Garcia available to the US as a military base. Diego Garcia is located 1920 kilometres (1174 miles) north east of Mauritius with a surface area of 30 square kilometres (12 square miles). During the 1965 negotiations for Mauritian independence, the British demanded surrender of the Chagos islands in exchange for a £3 million indemnity. This transaction allowed the British to offer the use ofC hagos to the US and triggered the forced clearance of the entire population: plantation owners and work ers alike, to the Seychelles (also a British colony at the time) and Mauritius. Currently, about 750 of the 1,500–2,000 evicted islanders are still alive. It is estimated that 4,000 Chagossians and their descendants dwell in Mauritius, about 550 in the Seychelles and about 1,000 in the UK (Chagos Refugees Group 2008, 12; cf. Campbell 2008; Fletcher 2007). They occupy the lowest rung of these societies, where their lot is one of impoverishment, discrimination, high unemployment, degrad ing housing conditions, ill health, and educational difficulties. The Chagossians blame lamizer—their misery—on being dérasiné, literally ‘uprooted.’ They nurture the memory of a recently lost utopia, where food is abundant, with free housing, education and health care, and where a sense of community prevails. The image of a group of displaced exiles, locked into a perpetual cycle of liminality and poverty while dreaming of their homeland, is common to most descriptions of refugees. However, there is something both pas sive and violent about the eviction of the Chagossians. Uprisings, battles and conflicts did not precede the turn of their fate. Chagossians were essentially dealt away with at the global poker table. Having lost their land, their identity was denied to them a posteriori. Little compensation redundancy on the instalment plan 3 was offered, and no recognition of the Chagossians as a people ever fol lowed. During lawsuits, when Chagossians were seeking financial com pensation and a right of return to Chagos, the British and American governments insisted that people formerly living in Chagos were mere migrant copra workers. How, existentially, do Chagossians react to this blanket denial of their collective existence? And to what extent is the repossession of their land essential to retaining the memory and recog nition of themselves? Researchers investigating the case and the history of the Chagossians came together at an International Conference in Amsterdam entitled, “The Fate of the Chagossians since their Eviction from the Chagos Islands,” (21–22 August, 2008) organised by the undersigned. The results of and exchanges during this conference lay the foundation for this book. Chapters drawing upon research carried out by experts in the field are accompanied by vignettes, where actors involved in the Chagossian case testify to their first-hand experience.

Historical and Political Aspects of the Expulsion

The early chapters of the book focus on the historical features of Chagossians’ eviction from the archipelago. David Vine traces the social and economic history of Chagos society, the initial settlement in the 18th century up to the expulsion of Chagossians in the 20th century. Vine charts the arrival of enslaved and indentured labourers from Africa and later India to the archipelago, and how over a period of nearly two hundred years, this diverse group developed into a distinct identity (Chagossians) known initially as the Ilois. He traces the genesis of the US Navy plan to turn Diego Garcia into a naval base and provides new insights into the collusion of the UK government, the US government and vital particulars of the manoeuvring which laid the groundwork for the forced transfer of the Chagossians into exile. Vinesh Hookoomsing describes the lives of the islanders prior to expulsion, drawing from a written narrative by a French Catholic priest, Roger Dussercle. Hookoomsing has breathed new life into Dussercle’s meticulous accounts of day-to-day life on the outer islands during the 1930s, recounted in Dussercle’s four volume work on Chagos and Agalega (an island part of Mauritius). Jocelyn Chan Low further discusses the relationship between the decolonisation of Mauritius and the creation of the British Indian Ocean 4 sandra j.t.m. evers & marry kooy

Territory (BIOT)—through the detachment of the Chagos archipelago from Mauritius (and the Seychelles)—within the context of the Cold War. He observes how the ‘making of the Chagos affair’ remains a major controversy in both contemporary Mauritian historiography and polit ical discourse. Was there, in fact, a ‘deal’ in 1965 between the British authorities and the Mauritius Labour Party and allies to grant independ ence to Mauritius in exchange for excising Chagos? Or was the Mauritian Premier, Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam blackmailed into accepting parti tions and incomplete decolonisation of Mauritian territory? Chan Low makes use of declassified materials available at the Public RecordsO ffice and focuses on the motivations and strategies of various protagonists— the US and British authorities as well as Mauritian political elites.

Experiences in Exile and Diaspora

The experiences of Chagossians away from the Chagos archipelago are discussed in the second half of the book. Laura Jeffery and David Vine focus on the lives of Chagossians in Mauritius, the principal site of exile, charting the social, economic and political conditions that confronted islanders upon their arrival in Mauritius. Jeffery and Vine show how the lack of a resettlement programme combined with demographic con straints, economic challenges and ethnic tensions in Mauritius during the decades preceding and following Mauritian independence shaped the social and economic marginalisation of the Chagossians. David Vine devotes another chapter to the experiences of Chagossians in the Seychelles. As the large majority of Chagossians were deported to Mauritius, little attention has been directed towards the over two hun dred Chagossians who were resettled in the Seychelles, representing about one-tenth of all Chagossians. By the turn of the millennium, approximately five hundred fifty islanders and their descendants were living in the Seychelles. With a small but growing body of literature doc umenting the history of Diego Garcia and Chagossians in Mauritius, this chapter represents the first significant examination of Chagossians living in the Seychelles.

Battle in the Courts

Stephen Allen’s chapter analyses the case brought to the British High Courts by Chagossians to establish legal responsibility of the UK redundancy on the instalment plan 5 government and redress for the expulsion and exclusion of the islanders from Chagos. In particular, it investigates the Bancoult litigation, which challenged the validity of legislation denying the Chagossian right of abode in the outer Chagos islands. The chapter also discusses attempts made to secure compensation for a number of civil torts allegedly com mitted by the UK government during the process of deportation (the Chagos Islanders case). Maureen Tong analyses the Chagossian case within an international context and related implications for the Chagos archipelago and its peo ple. Tong argues strenuously that international law guarantees the Chagossians a right of return to their homeland Chagos, including the right to restitution. Assuming that they would be afforded the opportu nity to exercise such a right and return to the outer islands to co-exist with the US military base on Diego Garcia, the chapter argues that inter national law guarantees Chagossians a right to self-determination. Tong finally examines the prospects forC hagos islanders to successfully exer cise this right, given recent significant shifts in global attention away from self-determination since Namibia and East Timor (Timor Lester) gained independence in 1990 and 2002, respectively. During the course of legal proceedings, a group of Chagossians were allowed to visit the Chagos archipelago in 2006. Steffen Johannessen dis cusses this event, explaining how the fight for the right to return has proven to be somewhat of a Pandora’s box, generating a whole range of tenuous issues between Mauritius and the UK and multiple objections to the use of Diego Garcia as a US military base. The ‘pilgrimage’ back to Chagos also turned out to be a painful exercise of remembering by Chagossians, who carefully tended to the graves of their ancestors who had fallen into neglect.

Determining the Future Abode

The final chapters in this book consider the future of Chagossians. Chagossian organisations now based in the UK estimate that over one thousand people from the extended Chagossian community—displaced islanders and their spouses plus children and grandchildren born in exile—have migrated from Mauritius and the Seychelles to the UK since 2002. In her study, Laura Jeffery wonders to what extent life in the UK has lived up to the high expectations held by prospective migrants. How do migrants from the Chagossian community compare and contrast 6 sandra j.t.m. evers & marry kooy their recent experiences in the UK with those on arrival in Mauritius and the Seychelles in the late 1960s and early 1970s? In what ways do their experiences of family separation, claims of ethnic discrimination, encounters with bureaucratic hurdles, and educational, employment and healthcare problems echo their earlier recollections of hardship and marginalisation in exile? The chapter also discusses the barriers to eligi bility for UK citizenship, specifically detailing Chagossian chain migra tion to Crawley in West Sussex. Memory of the past and dreams of return have now been transmitted through two generations, to the grandchildren of those forced to relo cate. Sandra Evers concentrates on how Chagossian children attending primary school integrate their current living conditions in Port Louis, the capital of Mauritius, with perceptions of their ancestral homeland. Due to the length of exile, the displaced generation may never see the longed-for day of homecoming, which became further distant since the 22 October 2008 House of Lords judgement striking down of the princi ple right of return. This chapter discusses Chagossian children’s per ceptions and representations of homeland through reflexive drawing techniques and other methodologies. These ideas are measured against their integration into present-day Mauritian society, and how they see Chagos—where they have never been themselves—and their family his tories. The study examines these findings within the practical frame work of day-to-day survival and hopes for the future entertained by these children.

Current Developments

The announcement of the Marine Protected Area (MPA) left many Chagossians wondering how it would impact upon their possible return to the islands, on either a temporary or permanent basis (for a discus sion on the implications see Sand 2010). Chagossian leaders are divided as to the implications of the protected area. Currently, it is unclear whether small-scale livelihood activities such as fishing would be allowed, which would make a modern-day Chagossian settlement on the islands feasible. After years of legal struggles, it is obvious that co- existence with the military base would be the more realistic option, yet even this option has so far eluded them as the American military leaders deem Chagossians living in the outer islands to be a security threat to the base. redundancy on the instalment plan 7

While the Marine Education Trust states that it fully supported the UK Government’s efforts to protect the Chagos archipelago by labelling it an MPA, in a letter to Miliband, the Trust concedes that ‘no-take zones’ around reef areas “would provide no means for resettled islanders to utilise their marine resources for subsistence or income generation.” It nevertheless suggests that ‘[c]ommunities and Marine Protected Areas coexist across the world, and there is no reason why the islanders could not be successful stewards of their coral reef environment’ (MET 2010). Some islanders believe a reserve would effectively bar them from return ing because it would prevent them from fishing (Rincon 2010). Fernand Mandarin (president of the Chagossian Social Committee) called it a second violation of the rights of Chagossian people and declared that he was ready to work together with Olivier Bancoult (leader Chagos Refugees Group) to defend the case of the Chagossians (Tuyau 2010b). On the seventh of April, 2010, in a letter to Miliband entitled, “Nothing about the Chagos and its environment without the Chagossians,” Olivier Bancoult wrote: “[t]he Chagos Archipelago is our native homeland. It is our sacred duty, responsibility and right to protect and preserve it as a home for its native people and a nature reserve for the world. We lived in harmony with our natural environment until we were forcibly removed to make way for a nuclear military base. We contest the asser tion that pollutant levels in the Chagos ‘are exceptionally low’ in spite of continued military activities. We will oppose all plans, like yours, that want the world to believe that preserving the pristine nature of the Chagos is compatible with the maintenance of a nuclear military base— where you yourself have admitted the existence of extraordinary rendi tion activities—but not with the peaceful presence and ordinary activities of the native people” (Bancoult 2010). The UK-based Diego Garcian Society (DGS) however presented a report entitled, ‘Diego Garcia, The Way Forward’ to Miliband on 4 March 2010 in which it declared to be in favour of the creation of an MPA around the Chagos archipelago (Tuyau 2010a.) Allen Vincatassin, president of the DGS, regards the issue of the MPA as separate from the question of the right to return, charging that “[i]f a resettlement occurs in future on the outer islands, the marine protected area can be adjusted. These are two separate issues and I think there has been a deep misun derstanding.” He called the exile of the Chagossians “a great injustice,” but later added: “We don’t want another state to come and exploit the area, do massive construction of hotels and bring in commercial fishing. Then the area will be finished” (Rincon 2010). 8 sandra j.t.m. evers & marry kooy

In November 2008, Allen Vincatassin and five other members of the Diego Garcian Society visited the Chagos archipelago (Diego Garcia, Eagle Island, Peros Banhos and Salomon islands). Before leaving, Vincatassin stated: “This visit to our homeland is vital, as it will give us a broader picture of whether it is more advantageous to live in the UK or in the islands. We are also being reconnected to our cultural and ances tral heritage. We will be bringing back this heritage to share with others, in the UK.” According to him, the UK remains the best place “for our people to resettle” (website Diego Garcian Society). However, on 25 March 2009, the European Parliament adopted a res olution calling for the European Union to take steps to secure the return of Chagossians to their homeland. The Parliament stated that it “recog nises the plight of the people of the Chagos archipelago, who have been forcibly removed from their islands and are currently living in a state of poverty in the islands of Mauritius and the Seychelles, and considers that the Union should work towards trying to find a solution for the Chagossians to allow them to return to their rightful homeland islands” (European Parliament 2009). The Chagos Refugees Group has now presented its case to the European Court of Human Rights in Stras bourg (which makes rulings of whether or not states are abiding by the European Convention on Human Rights). In the meantime, Chagossians are very active in preserving their historical and cultural heritage. During the 2008 Amsterdam confer ence, Olivier Bancoult announced the idea of creating a Chagossian resource centre in Mauritius. Two years later, on 3 March 2010, the new Training and Resource Centre of the Chagos Refugees Group, in Pointe- aux-Sables Mauritius, was inaugurated by Mauritian Prime Minister, Ramgoolam.

Another Chapter of the ‘Chagossian Affair’

In a front page article, The Times of London (22 April 2010) revealed a Times investigation charging that an independent feasibility study into whether Chagossians’ return to the archipelago was indeed possible was manipulated to reflect the British Government’s opposition to their return. The 2002 feasibility study was central to the UK Government’s case to the European Court of Human Rights on the subject of Chagossian islanders’ right to return. The Government’s final report to the European Court of Human Rights contended that the study, “which redundancy on the instalment plan 9 was prepared and adopted by all the independent experts involved, clearly indicated that resettlement is not feasible,” according to the arti cle. However, one of those independent experts, Stephen Akester, has alleged that his conclusion that the islands could be resettled was erased from the study amid political pressure. Mr Akester, whose consulting firmM acAlister, Elliott and Partners won the joint contract with Posford Haskoning, sketched out three scenarios by which Chagossians could resettle outer atolls nearly 322 kilometres (200 miles) from Diego Garcia without damaging ecosystems or compromising the operations of the military base. His conclusion mirrors that of a 2000 preliminary feasibil ity study, which stated that “there is no obvious physical reason why one or both of the two [outer] atolls should not be repopulated” (Philp and Kennedy, The Times of London, 2010). As the Times article points out, in the period between these two feasi bility studies, the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq have altered the political climate surrounding the Chagossian issue. Thus the 11 September 2001 attacks and political agenda of ‘war against terror’ may have further impacted negatively upon prospects for Chagossians to acquire rights to live on the islands. The most recent revelation in The Times might improve their future outlook and facilitate return, perhaps even leading to increased financial compensation. In the meantime, the dream of return is nurtured and firmly anchored in Chagos, which is so essential to the Chagossians existentially and vital to their sense of community.

From the Birth of the Ilois to the “Footprint of Freedom”: A History of Chagos and the Chagossians

David Vine

Ernestine Marie Joseph Jacques, born Diego Garcia Joseph and Pauline Pona, born Peros Banhos Michel Levillain, born Mozambique Prudence Levillain, born Madagascar Lindor Courtois, born India Theophile Le Leger, born Mauritius Anastasie Legère, born Three Brothers [Permits to Transport 1828.]1

These are among the first-known slave names2 and birthplaces of some of the initial inhabitants of the Chagos archipelago—the ancestors of the people known today as the Chagossians.3 In 1783, enslaved peoples from Africa became the first settlers in Chagos, brought to the middle of the Indian Ocean by Franco-Mauritians to work on the archipelago’s largest island, Diego Garcia. More enslaved Africans followed, forced to work on expanding plantations in Chagos. After the abolition of slavery, they were later joined by indentured labourers from India, as well as by a few with European and Chinese ancestry. Over nearly two hundred years, until the expulsion of the entire population, this diverse mixture of peoples, religions, and traditions merged to create a distinct society in Chagos.

1 See also MA: IA 32; IG 59; IG 112/5052, 5117, 5353, 5355, 5448. 2 Some of the surnames are significant in that, while common, they are the same as those of families last born in Chagos. Cf. Gutman (1976, 185–201) on naming practices during slavery reflecting the maintenance of kinship ties among African Americans. 3 This chapter draws upon David Vine,Island of Shame: The Secret History of the U.S. Military Base on Diego Garcia (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2009) and Vine 2006a. Thank you to the following individuals and groups for their help in the research and writing that resulted in this chapter: Chagos Refugees Group, Chagos Committee (Seychelles), Kamarad de Resers, Olivier Bancoult, Lisette Aurélie Talate, Janette Alexis, Bernadette Dugasse, Laura Jeffery, Philip Harvey, S. Wojciech Sokolowski, Shirley Lindenbaum, and Satinder Ragobur. Thanks especially to Sandra Evers and Marry Kooy for their comments and tireless assistance in revising the chapter. The research found in this and my other chapters in this volume was initiated in 2001 after lawyers representing the Chagossians asked me to serve as an expert witness in their lawsuits. I am not and have never been employed by these lawyers. The US lawyers reimbursed most formal research expenses during 2001–2002 and 2004. 12 david vine

Working on coconut plantations, surrounded by a setting of white sand beaches and fertile green vegetation, the ancestors of today’s Chagossians built a society that by the 20th century included numerous villages complete with hospitals, roads, churches, and schools. The people, who were initially known as ‘the Ilois,’ 4 began to speak their own language, Chagos Creole, and grew to a population of about 1,500–2,000 inhabitants. In purely material terms, life was far from luxurious. However, Chagossians generally needed little, controlled their own lives, and enjoyed practically universal employment. In exchange for their labour, Chagossians received regular salaries in cash and food, housing and land, and a range of other social benefits. In 1961, Mauritian colonial governor Robert Scott remarked that the main village on Diego Garcia had the “look of a French coastal village miraculously transferred whole to this shore” (Scott 1976 [1961], 242). Today, the quaint image of a French hamlet on the coast has changed considerably. The only people living in Chagos are military personnel and civilian contractors working on the billion-dollar US military base on Diego Garcia. The Chagossians have been left in exile, to live a life of impoverishment mostly in Mauritius, the Seychelles and the UK. This chapter tells the history of the Chagossians, from the the initial settlement and development of their society in Chagos to the destruction of their way of life through forced expulsion. The chapter provides the context in which the expulsion, the military base, and the Chagossians’ lives in exile must be understood. In writing this narrative, there were relatively few historical sources upon which to draw. The best and only complete histories of Chagos come from two British administrators who governed the islands: former governor of colonial Mauritius Sir Robert Scott’s Limuria: The Lesser Dependencies of Mauritius (1976 [1961]) and former commissioner of the British Indian Ocean Territory Richard Edis’s Peak of Limuria (2004 [1993]). A handful of other sources are also particularly useful (Dussercle 1934; Ly-Tio-Fane and S. Rajabalee 1986; Walker 1986; 1993; Stoddart and Taylor 1971; Bulpin 1958). This history builds upon these sources with the help of archival research in the Mauritius Archives, the Seychelles Archives, the UK Public Records Office (National Archives), and the US National Archives.

4 The name Chagossian is generally preferred today and will be used in this chapter except when quoting others and discussing the use of the name Ilois. a history of chagos and the chagossians 13

While the prevalence of sources and authors in the historical record are colonial, Chagossians were also an important source of historical information; however, it is important to note that the perspectives and voices of prior generations have gone largely unrecorded. To address this gap, Chagossians’ memories of Chagos and the expulsion were recorded during ethnographic research and interviews between 2001 and 2004. Interviews with former US government officials conducted mostly in 2004 and 2005 helped provide additional details about the creation of the base and the eviction process. Given the limitations of the available sources, however, this history, like any, must be understood as a partial one.

Imperial competition in the Indian Ocean

“A great number of vessels might anchor there in safety,” remarked a French lieutenant named La Fontaine, who led the first naval survey of Diego Garcia’s lagoon in 1769 (Scott 1976 [1961], 68). For the first time, the imperial powers of the 18th century—England and France—were beginning to grasp the strategic significance of Diego Garcia as a naval base at the centre of the Indian Ocean. Although there was no human habitation in Chagos before the 18th century, the islands were likely known by the seagoing people of several trading and imperial powers, including the Malays, Arabs, and likely the Indians and Chinese. Still there is no conclusive evidence to prove anyone visiting Chagos prior to the arrival of 16th century Portuguese visitors, who provided the name Chagos (originally, Chagas or ‘the wounds of Christ’ (Toussaint 1966, 110). Scott (1976 [1961], 34) suggests that most of the islands of Chagos were probably first sighted and recorded on maps in 1512 by Pedro Mascarenhas. By the end of the century, the Portuguese had mapped all of the islands of the archipelago and the rest of what would become known as the Lesser Dependencies of Mauritius, from which Chagos was governed. However, in general, the Portuguese remained ‘indifferent’ to the islands, using them only as markers on their trade routes to the Indies (Scott 1976 [1961], 35). Imperial competition over the spice trade in the Indian Ocean led the Dutch to initially claim and settle Mauritius in 1598. After four failed settlement attempts, the Dutch had abandoned the island by 1710. This left the Indian Ocean open to France and England. The two competed for the islands in the western Indian Ocean throughout the 18th century 14 david vine as strategic bases to control shipping routes to India (Scott 1976 [1961], 42–3, 48–50; Teelock 2001, 16–17). After occupying Ile Bourbon (today’s Réunion Island) in 1642, the French replaced the Dutch with a successful permanent settlement on Mauritius (which they renamed Ile de France) beginning in 1721. The French later settled nearby Rodrigues and, by 1742, the Seychelles (Scarr 1999, 5). As in the Caribbean (Stein 1979, 9) France soon shifted its focus from military to commercial interests. French settlers built societies on the islands around enslaved labour and, particularly in Mauritius, the cultivation of sugar cane. At first, the French Company of the Indies tried to import enslaved people from the same West African sources supplying the Caribbean colonies. Soon though the Company developed a new slave trade to import enslaved labourers from Madagascar and the area of Africa known then as Mozambique (a larger stretch of the southeast African coast than the country occupies today) (Teelock 2001, 104–105; Stein 1979, 119). Indian Ocean historian Larry Bowman writes that French settlement in Mauritius produced “a sharply differentiated society with extremes of wealth and poverty and an elite deeply committed to and dependent upon slavery” (1991, 13). For most of the 17th and 18th centuries, the Chagos islands served only as a safe haven and provisioning stop for ships gradually more familiar with its waters (Orian 1958, 129; Scott 1976 [1961], 76). As the 18th century progressed, competition between the French and English increased in Europe, spilling over into a fight for naval and thus economic control of the Indian Ocean. Centrally located Chagos became an obvious military and economic target for the imperial powers. English and French vessels started visiting and surveying Chagos with increasing frequency. France first claimed Chagos’s Peros Banhos island group in 1744 (Walker 1993, 562). A year later, the English surveyed Diego Garcia. Numerous French and English voyages followed to inspect other island groups in the archipelago, including Trois Frères [Three Brothers], Egmont Atoll, and the Salomon Islands, before La Fontaine’s survey in 1769 (Scott 1976 [1961], 63, 69; Grant 1995, 359).

Settlement in Chagos

On 17 February 1783, the French colonial government in Mauritius granted influential local plantation owner Pierre Marie Le Normand the first concession to found a settlement on Diego Garcia (Couve 1783). a history of chagos and the chagossians 15

According to Mauritian historians Ly-Tio-Fane and Rajabalee, Le Normand received his concession (in exchange for taxes on future coconut oil production) “and immediately prepared his voyage to Diego Garcia” (1986, 91–92). Le Normand took with him twenty-two enslaved people, who became the island’s first inhabitants (Ly-Tio-Fane and Rajabalee 1986, 91–92; Walker 1993, 563; Scott 1976 [1961], 20; d’Unienville n.d.). Unaware of Le Normand’s arrival, just three years later, the British East India Company launched a settlement party from Bombay to create a provisioning plantation on Diego Garcia. Surprised to find the French settlement, which they disparaged as “a dozen huts of the meanest appearance,” the British party did not flinch, and on 4 May 1786, “took formal possession of the island of Diego Garcia and all its dependencies in the name of His Majesty King George the Third” (Edis 2004 [1993], 30–31). Unable to resist the newcomers, Le Normand left for Mauritius to report the British arrival. When France’s Vicompte de Souillac learned of the British landing, he sent a letter of protest to the British Council in Bombay and the frigate Minerve to reclaim the archipelago (Ibid., 31; Scott 1976 [1961], 75; Walker 1993, 562). To prevent an international incident, the British sent departure instructions to its landing party. Upon its arrival in Diego, the Minerve found the British settlement abandoned (“Diégo Garcia”; Scott 1976 [1961], 20). With a diplomatic incident averted, France continued to control Chagos. Monsieur Danquet5 soon established a new fishing settlement on Diego Garcia (“Diégo Garcia”; Walker 1993, 563). Four more coconut plantations followed, established by Franco-Mauritians Lapotaire, Didier, and the brothers Cayeux (Ly-Tio-Fane and Rajabalee 1986, 92; d’Unienville n.d.). Like the societies in Mauritius and the Seychelles, and in other island colonies, life in Chagos revolved around the use of enslaved people to exploit natural resources—in this case, primarily coconuts. By 1808, there were one hundred enslaved people working under Lapotaire alone, who proved the most successful of the owners, building a copra processing plant for oil extraction in 1793 (Walker 1993, 563). By 1813, there were similar numbers of enslaved workers in Peros Banhos, shortly after

5 Documents in the Mauritius Archives are difficult to decipher, with the name perhaps spelled “Dauguet” (Scott 1976 [1961]) or “Danguet” (Walker 1986). 16 david vine the Mauritian colonial government granted an 1813 jouissance, or concession, to create a coconut plantation there (Ibid., 563). Other plantations were similarly established under other owners at Six Iles [Six Islands] in 1808 and at Trois Frères, Ile d’Aigle [Eagle Islands], and Salomon Islands in 1813. Along with Mauritius’s other dependencies Agalega and Rodrigues, Chagos was soon known as one of the Oil Islands—so named for cultivating the dried flesh of the coconut, called copra, to make coconut oil.

A climate for coconuts and a growing society: environmental conditions in Chagos

The islands in Chagos had, in the words of a 20th century agriculturalist, “a climate ideally suited to the cultivation of coconuts” (Lucie-Smith 1959, 6). Vegetation is particularly dense on Diego Garcia because of high rainfall and almost unvaryingly high temperatures, conditions also found in the other islands. And unlike the cyclones (hurricanes) that frequently tear across Mauritius and can damage sugar cane crops, Chagos is in the part of the Indian Ocean where cyclones form and is thus commonly free from harm. Coconut palms grow to as high as 125 feet and produce nuts year round for potential harvest (Orian 1958, 129). All of Chagos’s islands are coral (rather than volcanic rock) atolls and extremely low-lying; the highest elevation is 15 metres above sea level on Diego Garcia, a V-shaped island surrounding a large lagoon with 30 square kilometres (12 square miles) of land area (Walker 1993, 561; Scott 1976 [1961], 16). Fishing opportunities are abundant (commercial fishing companies still fish the waters under special agreements with the British Indian Ocean Territory (BIOT) ). Describing conditions on Diego Garcia, which many call idyllic, one agricultural observer writes, “The atoll is covered with luxuriant vegetation of bright green colour and is fringed by pure white sandy beaches” (Orian 1958, 129).6

A transfer of power and life from slavery to indenture

French power in the Indian Ocean crumbled during the Napoleonic Wars at the turn of the 19th century. The British first seized control of

6 Other than in the cultivation of coconuts, the natural environment played another important role in Chagos’s history: From around 1792 until the 1830s, Diego Garcia a history of chagos and the chagossians 17 the Seychelles in 1794 and Mauritius in 1810. France formally ceded Mauritius, including Chagos and the other islands that France had controlled as dependencies of Mauritius (as well as most of its other island possessions worldwide) to Great Britain in 1814’s Treaty of Paris. Unlike most instances of British colonial rule, however, Mauritius under the British retained its French laws, language, religion, and customs (including enslaving people of African ancestry). Bowman (1991, 17–18) notes, “Mauritius became formally British but remained very French.” British oversight in Mauritius and even more so in the isolated dependencies like Chagos was weak at best. The British sent the first government agent to investigate conditions in Chagos between 1824 and 1829 (Scott 1976 [1961], 128) but otherwise simply encouraged the production of oil in Chagos to supply the Mauritian market (Ly-Tio- Fane and Rajabalee 1986, 92–93). Slavery thus remained the defining feature of life in Chagos from Le Normand’s initial settlement to the abolition of slavery in Mauritius and its dependencies in 1835. Enslaved labourers built the archipelago’s infrastructure, produced its wealth (mostly in coconut oil), and formed the overwhelming majority of inhabitants. While most enslaved people in Chagos arrived from Mauritius, some are likely to have arrived from the Seychelles (Scott 1976 [1961], 112, 119) and perhaps even on slaving ships direct from Madagascar and the Mozambique coast of Africa (Peerthum and Peerthum 2002). Some enslaved people would have been born in Mauritius and perhaps the Seychelles, but most were probably born in Africa (Scott 1976 [1961], 2). Colonial Parliamentary papers from 1826 (below) provide a picture of the population, including the nature of the islands as absolute slave plantation societies. It is important to note the significant gender imbalance in the islands, which continued through an 1832 census enumerating almost twice as many enslaved males as enslaved females (Commissioners of Compensation 1835). Although the gender ratio had generally equalized by the mid-20th century, the relatively small number of women in earlier decades may have increased their desirabil- ity and thus their power, which may help to explain the significant power and authority Chagossian women exercised in exile. served as quarantine for lepers given its isolation, climate, and abundant supply of turtle meat (thought to cure leprosy). Contrary to the predictions of some that this would produce a sickly population, Scott found “there has, however, been no such genetic quirk. … Physically, the people of Diego Garcia are not different from the inhabitants of the other Dependencies” (Scott 1976 [1961], 256–257, 299; see also Ly-Tio-Fane and Rajabalee 1986, 92). 18 david vine

Table 1: Chagos Population, 18267 Male Female Noirs/Enslaved Blacks 269 108 Blancs/Whites 8 1 Libres/Free Persons 13 9

[Source: Parliament Papers of 1826 in Labouchere 1857b.]

An 1828 letter from plantation owners in the Lesser Dependencies to the colonial government in Mauritius reveals important aspects of daily life for enslaved people (despite the letter most likely being an attempt to cover up an illegal slave trade in the dependencies, portraying the enslaved as “happy and content” and receiving treatment of “the greatest gentleness”). According to the letter, the enslaved labour worked “from sunrise to sunset for six days a week” under the supervision of overseers. Outside their regular workdays, each enslaved person had the ability to make a small savings of money and to have a petite plantation, a small kitchen garden to grow food and raise animals (Lapotaire et al. 1828, 13). Significantly, these small plots marked the beginnings of formal Chagossian land tenure, which continued until the expulsion. Scott confirms that, by law, slave owners were required to provide basic food rations, clothing, housing, and medical care, and that “slaves were usually supplied with various vegetables … [and] encouraged to rear small livestock … either by way of incentives to good work or to place on the slaves themselves as much as possible of the onus of providing a bal- anced diet” (1976 [1961], 99, 104–105, 149).

The plantation system

Society in Chagos had little in common with the islands of the Maldives and Sri Lanka several hundred miles away and shared much more with societies thousands of miles away in the Americas, from southern Brazil to the islands of the Caribbean and north to the southern states of the USA. What connected these disparate places (as well as Natal, Zanzibar,

7 There were also 35 male lepers and 7 female lepers, though their ethnicities were not identified (Commissioners of Compensation 1835). Records for Six Iles indicate a Mr. Duperrel of Mauritius established on the islands without being granted a title and accompanied by some enslaved people (“avec quelques noirs”). a history of chagos and the chagossians 19

Fiji, Queensland, Mauritius, the Seychelles, Réunion, and others) was the plantation system, also known as the “plantation complex” (see Mintz 1971, 17–46; 1974; Curtin 1990; Craton 1997). With the plantation system of agriculture well established in the sugar fields of Mauritius by the end of the 18th century, Franco-Mauritian entrepreneurs applied the same technology in Chagos. Like societies from Bahia to Barbados and Baltimore, Chagos had a mostly enslaved labour force working in an agriculture-based economy organized around capitalist plantations supplying specialized products (in this case, copra and other coconut products) to distant markets (Curtin 1990, 11–13; Mintz 1974, 46). Unlike most other plantation societies, however, the majority of the copra harvest was not produced for European markets but was instead for the Mauritian market. The islands were thus a dependent part of the Mauritian sugar cane economy, which was itself a dependent part of the French and later British economies. In other words, Chagos was a colony of a colony, a dependency of a dependency: Chagos helped meet Mauritius’ coconut oil needs and in doing so kept the Mauritian monocrop sugar industry satisfying Europe’s growing sweet tooth. From the workers’ perspective, however, the plantations were, like others, “as much a factory as a farm,” employing the “factory-like organization of agricultural labour into large-scale, highly coordinated enter- prises” (Mintz 1974, 52, 54). While some of the work was agricultural in nature, much of it required the repetitive manual processing of hundreds of coconuts a day by women, men, and children in what was essentially an outdoor factory area at the centre of each plantation. Still, as in the Caribbean, most of the work was performed on a ‘task’ basis, generally allowing labourers to control the pace and rhythm of their work. Plantation owners—who mostly lived far away in Mauritius— probably viewed the relatively less onerous task system as the best way to maintain discipline and prevent greatly feared slave revolts, given Chagos’s isolation and the tiny number of Europeans on the islands.8 For the same reasons, authority over work regimens was carefully—and at times brutally—controlled, helping to shape a rigid colour-based plantation hierarchy mirroring that of the French Caribbean. In Mauritius and the Seychelles, these same fears made ‘domestic discipline,’ armed mili- tias, and police the backbone of society (see Eccles 1998, 172–74; Miles 1986, 32–4; Scarr 1998).

8 This was the case in the isolated Out Islands of the Bahamas where similar conditions prevailed (see H. Johnson 1996, 50). 20 david vine

Plantation owners came from the grand blanc—literally ‘big white’— ruling class and ran the settlements essentially as patriarchal private estates. “For all practical purposes,” explains former Governor Scott, power “was normally delegated to the manager on the spot, the admin- istrateur,” who was usually a relative or member of the petit blanc— literally ‘little white’—class, running the plantation from the master’s house, the grand case (Scott 1976 [1961], 136; Craton 1997, 3; Eccles 1998, 172). Petit blanc, ‘mulatto’ sub-managers and other staff helped run the islands, recruited to Chagos and rewarded with better salaries, housing and other privileges rarely extended to labourers. The sub-managers in turn delivered daily work orders and controlled the workers through a group of commandeurs—overseers—primarily of African descent, who were given some privileges and, after emancipation, were paid higher wages. Despite the constraints on their lives, some labourers achieved a degree of upward mobility by becoming artisans and performing other specialized tasks. The vast majority of the population remained general labourers of African descent at the bottom of the work and status hierarchy in a system that, as elsewhere, became engrained in the social order.

Emancipation and the continuation of the plantation system

Slavery was abolished in Mauritius and its dependencies in 1835. After emancipation, a period of apprenticeship continued for about four years. As in the Caribbean (Craton 1997, 380–381), the daily routine of plantation life during and after the apprenticeship period changed according to the dictates of each island’s administrator. On some islands, like Diego Garcia, life and the conditions from slavery apparently changed little. On others, daily work tasks were reduced in accordance with the stipu- lations of the official Assistant Protector of Slaves in Mauritius, who was charged with ensuring that slavery-like conditions did not persist (Scott 1976 [1961], 140–141). In short, life in Chagos after emancipation was part of a continuum (cf. Craton 1997, 358) with the pre-emancipation era rather than a revolutionary departure. While the quantity and demands of work lessened over time in favour of labourers, the plantation complex continued. In 1949, a visiting representative of the Mauritian Labour Officecommented a history of chagos and the chagossians 21 on the generally “patriarchal” labour relations between management and labour in Chagos, “dating back to what I imagine would be the slave days.” He continued, “[b]y this I do not imply any oppression but rather a system of benevolent rule with privileges and no rights” (Meyer 1949, 1). The most significant post-emancipation change likely came in the quality of labour relations. The years following emancipation in Mauritius were marked by the rapid departure of enslaved Africans from the Mauritian sugar plantations (e.g., Scarr 1998; Teelock 1998). Unlike in Mauritius, demographic data from Chagos suggests that there was no such migration. To explain this lack of emigration from Chagos, one must again consider that the newly freed Africans, and the Indian indentured labourers who joined them, massively outnumbered the plantation management of mostly European descent, in a setting of enormous isolation. For management, this demographic imbalance and the lack of a militia or police force as in Mauritius and the Seychelles made the threat of an uncontrollable labour revolt real (several examples exist, including, as we shall see, the 1856 murder of an administrator). These facts, combined with the relatively comfortable work benefits and light workload increasingly enjoyed by Chagossians, suggest that despite the continuation of the plantation complex after emancipation, the general nature of labour relations probably improved significantly in favour of labourers, although exceptions of brutality and harsh treatment remained through to the mid-20th century. In general, however, it appears that Chagossians gradually struck what (for a plantation society) was a relatively good work bargain.

Indenture and the introduction of Indian labour

While some of those previously enslaved on sugar plantations in Mauritius appear to have immigrated to work on Diego Garcia and other Mauritian dependencies (Carter and d’Unienville 2001, 57), the major population change in the post-emancipation period came when plantation owners began importing indentured labourers from India (while Indians were arriving on a much larger scale to work the Mauritian sugar cane fields). The extent and rate at which Indian labour was introduced in Chagos is unclear. A visiting magistrate’s report from 1880 indicates there were about 10 Indians in all of Chagos, a figure almost certainly too low (according to sources like Ackroyd 1880, 11). Some, on 22 david vine the other hand, claim a figure of 40 percent Indian descent by the 1960s (Botte 1980; Walker 1986). Regardless of the precise figures, which are likely somewhere in the middle, it is clear that Indians began living and working in Chagos on a permanent basis around the time of emancipation. Just one example is found in an 1861 census that recorded a household featuring a domestic servant born in Madras working for a woman from France (Büehmüller and Büehmüller 1861). There is also evidence that some, including Mauritian Governor Higginson, believed Indian labour was being introduced illegally into Chagos and the other dependencies (Labouchere 1857a). The 1856 murder of an administrator in Six Iles, Mr. Hugon, supports the charge. Four Indians were eventually captured and tried for Hugon’s murder. In their trial, the four claimed that they had been kidnapped from Cochin and made to work in Six Iles against their will. Though a visiting police magistrate from Mauritius doubted the story in 1880 (Ackroyd 1880, 8), historian Bulpin supports it, insisting that labour was recruited to Six Iles by Captain Alexander Gerard and Captain Romain Rodriguez, “who kidnapped them by the simple means of employing casual labourers to load their ship in the East [Indies], and on the last day simply sailing away with these unfortunates still on board” (Bulpin 1958, 314). An 1859 commission investigating the killing found that “most of the [Chagos] island estates were well run according to the standards of the day,” but on Six Iles, “the labourers were set to drudgery with no reply to any complaints except the liberal use of the lash” (Ibid.). Manager Hugon was “particularly hated” (Ibid.). He was known to use what was reported as his belt (Ibid.) or a 4 foot long by 1½ inch wide length of rope (Labouchere 1857b) to inflict ‘treatment’ on his labourers (Bulpin 1958, 314). Apparently, when Hugon went to inspect workers on Lubine Island in August 1856, he struck his “headsman … and was immediately attacked and killed by the labourers” (Labouchere 1857b). A knife-wielding man apparently cut Hugon’s throat with such force that he almost completely severed his own hand (Bulpin 1958, 314). In the aftermath, the workers seized control of a ship, only to be captured and tried for the murder (Labouchere 1957b). Two were convicted but received only “eighteen months for manslaughter” which was, given the racial attitudes at the time, “a caustic judgment on the management of the Atoll” (Scott 1976 [1961], 263). a history of chagos and the chagossians 23

A growing ‘sense of proprietorship’: Life in the second half of the 19th century

The murder of Hugon and the working conditions leading to his death seem to have been an exception rather than the norm after emancipation. By the middle of the 19th century, Bulpin says Diego Garcia and Peros Banhos “were prosperous estates” (1958, 28). In 1865, the colonial government in Mauritius ended the jouissance system and most of the Franco-Mauritian plantation owners purchased their land outright from the government. Wages for labourers around 1860 were the equivalent of 10 shillings a month, a dollop of rum, and a “twist of tobacco if times were good.” Rations, which were treated as part of wages, totalled 11–14 pounds a week of what was usually rice (Ibid., 314). Two decades later, the wage structure on Diego Garcia revealed a detailed labour hierarchy in increasingly complicated island societies: Wages were 16 shillings a month for ordinary male coconut labourers and 12 a month for women. Some women working in domestic or super- visory jobs received more. As Scott explains, “Millmen were paid eighteen and twenty shillings a month and were on a slightly higher level than rat-catchers, stablemen, gardeners, maize planters, toddy-makers and pig- and fowl-keepers … The next grade comprised the blacksmiths, carpenters and assistant carpenters, coopers, and junior overseers, who drew between twenty and thirty-two shillings monthly” (1976 [1961], 162). In addition to rations, ripe coconuts were freely available upon request. Management often paid bonuses in the form of tobacco, rum, toddy (fermented coconut milk) and, for some, coconut oil. Anyone could use boats and nets for fishing. Many labourers still kept gardens and raised animals. Laws issued for the Lesser Dependencies in 1877 (and strengthened in 1904) established regulations for working conditions on the islands and the provision of basic services. Work on Sundays “was strictly limited” and management was required to provide housing of minimum set dimensions, adequate provisions in a company store, a hospital infir- mary, and a jail for short incarcerations (Scott 1976 [1961], 160–161). Soon after the passage of these laws, the manager at East Point “introduced the system of allowing labourers to build their own [wood-framed, thatched-roof] houses, if they so opted, the management providing all the materials.” The system proved a success, creating “quite superior dwellings and a sense of proprietorship” (Scott 1976 [1961], 162–165). It continued, according to Chagossians and others, until the expulsion. 24 david vine

To provide labourers with protection from any continuation of slavery-like conditions, the 1877 laws also required labourers to work under three-year renewable contracts. Oral contracts seem to have always been the norm, however, for people born on the islands. Scott notes that, “in the later years of the 19th century, the number of labourers in the islands under oral contracts (which were not applicable to imported labour) came to exceed the number under written contracts (which applied to resident as well as imported labour)” (1976 [1961], 23–24). By 1880, the population of Chagos as a whole had risen to approximately 760. The Salomon group experienced the largest population increase, becoming one of the three primary settlements in Chagos. As during slavery, the disproportion of men to women was, for the time being, still significant (Ackroyd 1880, 11).

Table 2: Chagos Population, 1880. Chagos Archipelago “Approximate Population,” 1880 Men Women Children Total Diego Garcia 227 86 87 400 Peros Banhos 80 25 45 150 Salomon 56 20 24 100 Eagle Islands 40 10 10 60 Six Iles 26 12 12 50 CHAGOS TOTAL, 1880: 760 [Source: Ackroyd 1880, 12.]

Work was still conducted on a task basis. Labour started early in the morning, around sunrise, and continued until a worker finished a task, generally until 2 pm or later, although sometimes it was as early as 11 am if a labourer worked quickly. Men generally picked and husked 500–550 coconuts a day, leaving the small nut within the coconut. Women generally broke these nuts and removed the flesh from 1,200–1,500 coconuts a day. Others worked cutting grass, collecting palm fronds, and running the oil mill (Scott 1976 [1961], 163–164). Turning coconuts into oil began once the nuts had been collected, husked, and their flesh removed. The flesh of the coconut was dried in the sun, producing copra. Workers next crushed the copra in an oil mill, generally at the centre of each plantation. Donkeys turned a large crank a history of chagos and the chagossians 25 to crush the copra, yielding oil and leftover solids known as poonac, which became livestock feed for export and local use (Ackroyd 1880, 11; Scott 1976 [1961], 163–164). This process remained largely unchanged until the closing of the plantations. Drying was later accomplished with oven-heated, enclosed drying sheds, while most of the copra was transported to modern factories in Mauritius for more efficient processing. The donkey-powered island mills remained in order to produce small quantities of oil for local use. Although the harvesting and export of the coconut—in all its forms, even husks—dominated life in Chagos, several other economic activities were important to the islands. Honey, guano (bird manure), timber, ship building, pigs, salt fish, maize and some vegetable crops, wooden toys, model boats, and brooms and brushes made from coconut palms were all products developed for export and local use. Guano in particular became an increasingly important export for the Mauritian sugar cane fields in the 20th century, making up one-third of Diego’s exports by 1957 (Scott 1976 [1961], 253; Warner n.d.). The most significant departure from coconut exploitation came in 1882 when two companies established coaling stations on Diego Garcia in hope of creating major refuelling ports for steamer lines crossing the Indian Ocean. For an archipelago that was cut off from the rest of the world except for transport ships from Mauritius visiting two or three times per year, this was a potentially transformative change. The companies leased two of the three islets at the entrance to Diego Garcia’s lagoon for the stations. They imported Somali, Mauritian, Chinese, English, Greek, and Italian labourers, skilled tradesworkers, and artisans to set up the operations (Edis 2004 [1993], 49). However, the imported labour proved to be an ongoing problem for the peace of the islands, leading to a small revolt by the newcomers (put down when the manager at Pointe de l’Est brandished a revolver) and the creation of a government police post at Mini-Mini in 1885 (Edis 2004 [1993], 49). Passengers on the steamships were also troublesome. Eventually, they were barred from disembarking while ships took on coal to prevent the introduction of disease and other troubles, including the “promiscuous plundering of coconuts” (Scott 1976 [1961], 174). In 1888, the coaling stations closed due to financial failure (see Ibid., 169–178; Dupont 1883, 2–5). As a result, Diego Garcia “revert[ed] to its one stable industry, the production of coconut oil” (Scott 1976 [1961], 178). 26 david vine

Growing villages in the Indian Ocean: Chagos in the 20th century

By the turn of the 20th century, society in Chagos appears to have been well established. Chagos Creole, a language related to varieties in Mauritius and the Seychelles and based on a predominantly French vocabulary and Bantu grammar and structure, emerged among the islanders (Papen 1978; Holm 1989, 403–404). People born in Chagos became collectively known by the Creole name Ilois (or Ilwa).9 Again, conditions varied to some extent from island to island. The “Mauritius Almanac for 1915” describes Diego Garcia as the most important Oil Island, with 1913 coconut oil exports totalling 344,197 litres and total island exports reaching Rs 60,257. Diego’s population in 1911 was 517 (315 male, 202 female). There were six villages and several other isolated houses as well as two hospital infirmaries (Walter 1914, A52). Peros Banhos, with its 27 islands encircling a large lagoon, was inhabited by people primarily born in Peros Banhos and “priding themselves on being natives of Peros Banhos” (Scott 1976 [1961], 282; Rousset 1939, 13–14). From his ethnographic work in the 1980s, anthropologist Iain Walker describes how in the 20th century, the group’s capital, Ile du Coin, developed into “a neat little village arranged around a semicircular village green, roads radiating outwards into the ‘suburbs’ ” (1993, 571). Scott writes, “Most of the residents work on coconut extraction … and all may, if they please, go monthly to the Ile du Coin for shopping and a dance” (1976 [1961], 283). Scott’s detailed description of Ile du Coin is helpful and evocative: The residential quarter in the village consisted of reasonably large cottages of palm matting on timber frames, with thatched roofs supported on massive, white-painted palm trunks. There was one broad main road, pleasantly broken by large shady trees, with cottages on either side. … The people of Ile du Coin were exceptionally proud of their homes. The gardens usually contained an arrangement of flower-beds and a vegetable patch, almost always planted with pumpkins and loofahs trained over rough trellis-work, with a few tomato plants and some greens. [1976 (1961), 285.]

9 It is unclear when this name first developed, but the Catholic priest Father Dussercle used the term as early as his report from a 1933–1934 mission (1934, 9). Madeley says that the term “has been used since the nineteenth century” (1985, n. 5). Although he provides no evidence to support this claim, it seems likely that Madeley is correct and that the term was in use well before Dussercle’s arrival, probably dating to the 19th century. a history of chagos and the chagossians 27

As 19th century census records show, the expansion of settlement and economic exploitation of the Salomon (also ‘Salamon’) group developed relatively late compared with that of the other Chagos groups. Until ownership in Chagos was consolidated under one company in 1934, there was effectively no coordination between Salomon and the Diego and Peros groups, which until that point were owned by separate companies. Salomon’s population remained relatively small, with only 160 people reported in the group’s 11 islands in 1913. Unlike the other islands, Salomon had a large timber industry for export and for Chagos’s well-known boat building industry based there. As in Peros Banhos, five or six of the islands supported permanent villages, with people typically visiting the ‘model village’ in the Boddam Island capital once a month for their pay, shopping, and relaxation (Scott 1976 [1961], 271; Walker 1993, 572). Along the northwest side of the Great Chagos Bank, Trois Frères and Ile d’Aigle were settled shortly after the granting of a concession for Trois Frères in 1813. The difficulty of navigating in the dangerous waters and winds of the area seems to have limited their settlement (Scott 1976 [1961], 265). Trois Frères was permanently inhabited for a short period in the 19th century and then only until 1935. Ile d’Aigle “must have come to be regarded by its inhabitants,” says Scott, “as a real home,” with a “carefully tended” cemetery and evocatively named places like Love Apple Crossing, Ceylon Square, and Frigates’ Pool (Ibid., 266–67). In 1932, the successful island was inexplicably closed by its owners, only to be reopened unsuccessfully in each of the next two years. The owners of the islands transferred the inhabitants to Six Iles. Six Iles (also known as Egmont Islands, and which actually includes a seventh unnamed island) had a more troubled history than Eagle. After the awarding of a jouissance in 1808, Six Iles experienced periods of poor management, brief abandonment during the mid-19th century, and the killing of the manager Hugon. After 1861, Six Iles went from being “little more than a labour camp” to, within ten years, a home to “families occupying the six large islands” (Scott 1976 [1961], 264). Temporary labour continued to arrive in the islands during times of prosperity and the islands seem to have been thriving by the 1930s. A rapid and somewhat mysterious decline followed.10 In 1935, the islands

10 Dussercle described it as having become, at this period, a “little Babylon,” in which the inhabitants “lived in an exceedingly Bohemian manner,” and the copra was left to rot (Scott 1976 [1961], 264). I have been unable to find additional details about Dussercle’s salacious description. 28 david vine were closed and its inhabitants, along with those of Ile d’Aigle and perhaps Trois Frères, were transferred to Diego Garcia, Peros Banhos, Salomon, and, in smaller numbers, to Mauritius (see Ibid., 260–68; Walker 1993, 572; Dalais 1935, 1–2).

Growing global connections: Chagos before the expulsion

By the mid-20th century, Chagos had moved from being relatively isolated to having increasing connections with Mauritius, other islands in the Indian Ocean, and the rest of the world. In 1941, the islands changed hands when a single company, Diego Ltd., consolidated ownership of the islands, controlling Chagos and the Agalega Islands, as well as the transport line serving the islands and a coconut oil processing plant in Mauritius (Scott 1956, 2; Lucie-Smith 1959, 1–2). During World War II, Diego Garcia became a small landing strip for Royal Air Force reconnaissance aircraft and a base for a small contin- gent of Indian Army troops. After the war, the troops went home, leaving behind a wrecked Catalina seaplane that became a favorite playground for children (Edis 2004 [1993]). By the 1960s, steam ships from Mauritius and the Seychelles were stopping in Chagos four or more times a year. Copra and coconut oil exports were sold in Mauritius and the Seychelles and through them in Europe, South Africa, India, and Israel. Wireless communications at local meteorological stations connected the main islands with Mauritius and the Seychelles. Short wave radios allowed reception of broadcasts from at least as far as the Seychelles and Sri Lanka (Todd 1969; Dalais 1935, 18). The Mauritian colonial government began showing increasing interest in the welfare of Chagos’s inhabitants and its economy. Specialists sent by the government investigated health and agricultural conditions in particular. With the help of their reports and suggestions, the government established crèches in each island group, schools, and a regular garbage and refuse removal system reported to be better than that in rural Mauritius (Lavoipierre 1953, 5; Darlow 1953; Scott 1956, 7). The architecture of island life remained similar; Chagossians’ houses were generally laid out in rows along roads leading to a village green and the administrative centre of each plantation. Surrounding the green there were workshops, small oil mills, drying sheds for the copra, artisan workshops, company offices, recreation grounds, a cemetery, and a a history of chagos and the chagossians 29 church or chapel (in each of the three main settlements after the introduction of Catholicism in the late 19th century). Small dirt roads traversed the main islands and there were a handful of motorbikes, trucks, jeeps, and tractors. Water came from wells and rain catchment tanks. Everyone in Chagos who wanted to work had a job on the plantations and pensions upon retirement.11 The vast majority of Chagossians still worked as labourers harvesting and processing coconuts into copra and coconut oil. A few male labourers rose to become foremen and commandeurs, organizing the labourers and delivering work instructions from the management (a few women were also commandeurs). Other men became artisans working as blacksmiths, bakers, carpenters, masons, mechanics, and in other specialized positions. On each main island, a male administrator or manager seen as ‘white’ or as a light-skinned Creole still represented the companies that owned the islands. The companies also employed several other people of European, Indian, Chinese, or some mixed descent, who were considered ‘staff.’ Like the administrator and unlike most labourers, staff members generally worked for a matter of years before returning to their permanent homes in Mauritius or the Seychelles. Staff positions included accountants, assistant managers, clerks, engineers, nurses, midwives, and teachers. A few people from the labourer class worked privately as domestic and childcare workers for members of the staff. Wages for labourers remained small and were generally credited to a worker’s account on a monthly basis. Male labourers earned more than two hundred percent of female labourers’ wages. Artisans, foremen, and overseers (almost all male) earned as much as six hundred percent of what female labourers earned and those in staff positions earned considerably more. Workers received rations of food that included rice or flour, coconut oil, salt, lentils, fish, wine, and occasionally vegetables and pork (Todd 1969). In addition to this base salary, labourers often worked overtime, paid in cash. Most still opted to build their own houses with construction materials provided as part of their work benefits. Staff members, and some artisans, foremen, and commandeurs received

11 The following description of working and living conditions comes from many sources including interviews and conversations with Chagossians and other plantation employees. See also, Scott 1976 [1961]; Walker 1986, 1993; the reports of John R. Todd; and a series of magistrate reports on Chagos dating to the 19th century. 30 david vine

additional benefits including larger houses and better housing materials (Scott 1976 [1961]). Work benefits for labourers also included firewood, government crèches and schools, pensions, regular vacations—promne—with free passage to Mauritius, burial services, health care, and medicines. After the day’s work was completed, Chagossians would often work overtime, tend to their gardens and animals, fish, or hunt for other seafood, including red snapper, tuna, and other fish, crab, prawns, crayfish, lobster, octopus, sea cucumber, and turtles. Fish in particular was an important part of Chagossians’ diets, as were coconuts. Workers often shared their catch with neighbours or sold it, sometimes with surplus crops and animals, to the plantation company for cash. The plantations operated company stores where workers bought clothing, tools, and other household items. After the end of a half-day of work on Saturdays, Chagossians generally gathered in each island group for a sega that would last into the early morning hours. Although the long-standing popular institution, featuring singing, playing, and dancing to sega music, is found on islands throughout the south-west Indian Ocean, Chagos and most other islands had their own distinctive sega traditions. In Chagos, segas were an occasion for entire island communities to gather. On Saturday nights, everyone met around a bonfire in a clearing. Under the moon and stars, drummers on the goat-hide-covered ravanne would start tapping out a slow, rhythmic beat. Others would begin singing, dancing and joining in on accordions, triangles and other percussion and string instruments. For those who sang, the sega allowed islanders to sing traditional songs or their own originals, which were often improvised. Most segas followed a call-and-response pattern with soloists singing verses supported by dancers, musicians and onlookers who joined in on a chorus, providing frequent shouts, whistles and outbursts of encouragement. In Chagos, segas were filled with themes of love, jealousy, separation, and loss (see Jeffery 2007). Much as in the blues and other musical traditions, the sega was an important mode of expression and a way to share hardships and gain support from the community.

“French coastal villages”

When, after World War II, Scott compared Diego Garcia’s capital East Point to a French coastal village, he described the view as follows: “The architecture, the touches of old-fashioned ostentation in the château and a history of chagos and the chagossians 31 its relation to the church; the disposition of trees and flowering shrubs across the ample green; the neighbourly way in which white-washed stores, factories and workshops, shingled and thatched cottages, cluster round the green; the lamp standards along the roads and the parked motor-lorries: all contribute towards giving the village this quality” (1976 [1961], 242). Clearly charmed by the islands, Scott explained that “[t]he association of East Point with a synthesis of small French villages, visited or seen on canvas, was strengthened by the warm welcome of the islanders” (Ibid.). “Funny little places! Indeed they are. But how lovely!” Scott’s predecessor and governor, Sir Hilary Blood, remarked, “[c]oco- nut palms against the bluest of skies … emerald-green, purple, orange, all the rich colours of the world, follow each other across the warm sea,” glowed Sir Hilary. “Its beauty is infinite” (Blood 1957, 522).

A warning

In 1962, the islands again changed hands, purchased by a conglomerate, Chagos-Agalega Ltd. The company included both Seychellois and Mauritian ownership, under the major Mauritian corporation, Rogers and Co., Ltd., and the Seychellois holding company Moulinie & Co., led by businessperson Paul Moulinie. Around the same time, Chagossians saw the introduction of a more flexible labour supply revolving around single male labourers from the Seychelles (Scott 1976 [1961], 181) as well as the “drift” of permanent inhabitants from Chagos to Mauritius, drawn by the allure of Mauritius’ “pavements and shop-windows, the cinemas and football matches, the diversity of food and occupation” (Ibid.). While Scott compared the movement to the migration of people in Great Britain from villages to cities after World War I, he emphasized, “it is still only a drift” (1976 [1961], 184, 24). Scott ends his 1961 book with a sympathetic if paternalistic and colonialist description of the Chagossians (and the people of the other Lesser Dependencies).12 In it, one hears a foreboding warning from Scott who, as Governor of Mauritius, may well have known about developing Anglo-American plans to realize French Lieutenant La Fontaine’s original vision for Diego Garcia.

12 Scott meant his description to apply also to the people of the other Lesser Dependencies like Agalega. 32 david vine

It must also be recognized, however, that ignorance of the way of life of the islanders might open the way to attempts to jerk them too rapidly into more highly organized forms of society, before they are ready. They have never been hurried. Their environment has probably inoculated them with an intolerance towards hurry. … This is far from being a plea to make the Lesser Dependencies a kind of nature reserve for the preservation of the anachronistic. It is, however, very definitely a plea for full understanding of the islanders’ unique condition, in order to ensure that all that is wholesome and expansive in the island societies is preserved. [Scott 1976 (1961), 293.]

The base and the expulsion

In the late 1950s, two centuries after La Fontaine’s survey, the US Navy identified Diego Garcia as a prime base location for deploying US military forces into the Indian Ocean and surrounding regions, from southern Africa to the Persian Gulf and Southeast Asia. In 1960, the Navy initiated secret conversations with the British Government about creating a base on the island. US officials proposed that the British Government detach the atoll and the rest of Chagos from colonial Mauritius as well as three island groups from colonial Seychelles to create a new colony that would provide locations for the creation of military bases in the Indian Ocean (Bezboruah 1977, 58; Bandjunis 2001, 1–3; Palmer 1992, 95; Ryan 1984, 133). The two governments settled on a plan to create a new colony solely for military use (despite United Nations declarations against the dismantling of colonies during decolonisation). They would call Britain’s last created colony the British Indian Ocean Territory (BIOT). During secret 1964 talks in London, State Department representatives insisted on an additional condition: the United States must have “exclusive control” of the islands “without local inhabitants” (US Embassy London 1964, 1–2). British officials agreed to carry out the necessary removals. The British began by pressuring Mauritian representatives during independence negotiations in 1965 to give up the islands of Chagos (part of colonial Mauritius since before the start of British rule in 1814) in exchange for Mauritian independence (see Marimootoo 1997; chapter by Jocelyn Chan Low in this book). The decision to detach the islands for the BIOT was not announced publicly. On 8 November 1965, the British Government invoked an archaic royal prerogative of the Queen to pass laws without Parliamentary a history of chagos and the chagossians 33 approval, quietly creating the BIOT, complete with its own colonial flag, crest, stamps, and official administrator. More than a month after the fact, the UN General Assembly passed Resolution 2066 noting its “deep concern” over actions taken by Great Britain “to detach certain islands from the Territory of Mauritius for the purpose of establishing a military base.” Citing the UN prohibition on disturbing the territorial integrity of non-self governing territories, the General Assembly asked Britain “to take no action which would dismember the Territory of Mauritius and violate its territorial integrity” (United Nations 1965). The resolution made no mention of the Chagossians, and the General Assembly has never again taken up the matter. The governments finalized the deal with a 30 December 1966 exchange of notes, effectively creating a treaty but circumventing congressional and parliamentary oversight. A separate secret agreement provided for $14 million in undisclosed US payments to deport the Chagossians and give the United States access to Diego Garcia for a 50-year term and the possibility of a 20-year extension (United Kingdom 1966; FRUS 2000, 97; Kitchen 1965, 1–3; “British Indian Ocean Territory” 1966, 2). With the financial and diplomatic details assured, the British government proceeded to purchase all of Chagos from Chagos-Agalega Ltd. for £660,000, and then sign a contract with Paul Moulinie’s firm Moulinie & Co. to manage the plantations on the government’s behalf. British officials soon began the removal process. On the government’s orders, beginning in 1968, islanders leaving Chagos for vacations or medical treatment on the island of Mauritius were barred from returning to Chagos and left about 2,000 kilometres from their homes. Since the creation of the BIOT in 1965, the British had restricted the quantity of supplies going to the island and, since the sale of the islands, the ability of Moulinie & Co. to make basic capital repairs. This meant that conditions in the islands steadily deteriorated (see Todd 1969) and, by the turn of the decade, more Chagossians were leaving as food, medicines, and other basic supplies dwindled. All the while, UK officials settled on a policy of, as one wrote, “maintaining the fiction” to the international community that the Chagossians were transient contract workers with no connection to the islands (Aust 1970). British and US officials meanwhile acknowledged in secret communications that Chagossians could trace their heritage in Chagos back several generations (e.g., Todd 1969; US Congress, House, 1975, 41, 79). Any question about the islanders being transients was well settled by 34 david vine the British Divisional Court in its November 2000 ruling (Queen v. Secretary of State ex parte Bancoult 2000): “[t]hey were an indigenous people,” the court found, “[t]hey were born there, as were one or both of their parents, in many cases one or more of their grandparents, in some cases (it is said) one or more of their great-grandparents. Some may perhaps have traced an earlier indigenous ancestry” (Queen v. Secretary of State ex parte Bancoult 2000, para. 1). Still, in 1971, as the US Navy began construction work on Diego Garcia and ordered the British to complete the removals, the official narrative was that Chagossians were transients. When some naval personnel expressed concern about the deportations, the Navy’s highest- ranking officer, Admiral Elmo Zumwalt, had a three-word response: “Absolutely must go” (Cochrane 1971). And so, British agents and US soldiers began by herding the Chagossians’ pet dogs into sealed copra sheds where they gassed and burned them in front of their owners (see Vine 2009; Moulinie 1999). Through the rest of 1971, British agents forced the islanders to board overcrowded cargo ships, emptying Diego Garcia completely. Some were deported to Mauritius and the Seychelles; others were sent to Peros Banhos and Salomon. By May 1973, those remaining in Peros and Salomon had been rounded up and left on the docks in Mauritius and the Seychelles. The expulsion was complete (see Vine 2009).

The ‘footprint of freedom’

“Welcome to the Footprint of Freedom,” says the sign on Diego Garcia. Today, at any given time, 3,000–5,000 US troops and civilian support staff live on the island. Since the expulsion, Diego Garcia has grown into what many consider the most important US military installation outside the United States. While the island is far from other landmasses, it lies 6,000 nautical miles closer to the Persian Gulf than the East Coast of the United States and within strategic distance from Africa and the Middle East to South Asia and Russia, Southeast Asia and China. Originally, the Pentagon sold Diego Garcia to Congress as an “austere” communications facility. As its planners had always envisioned (Vine 2009, 96, 103, 121), however, it soon expanded dramatically. It was pressed into service almost immediately as a base for reconnaissance planes in the 1973 Israeli-Arab war. In the years that followed, the base played a central role in the first large-scale thrust of US military a history of chagos and the chagossians 35 strength into the Middle East. After the Iranian revolution and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979, Presidents Carter and Reagan developed a “Rapid Deployment Force” (RDF) at bases in the region to respond to future threats to US and western oil supplies. As a main hub for the RDF, Diego Garcia saw the “most dramatic build-up of any location since the Vietnam War” (GlobalSecurity.org 2006). Subsequently, the RDF transformed into the US Central Command (CENTCOM), which came to lead three wars in Iraq and Afghanistan directly related to securing US and western oil supplies and maintaining the regional and global dominance of the United States (see e.g., Johnson 2004; Harvey 2003; Klare 2004; Smith 2005). Diego Garcia played a critical role in each war. During the first Gulf War, 18 prepositioned ships, loaded with weaponry and supplies to outfit thousands of marines mass- ing in Saudi Arabia, were sent from Diego Garcia’s lagoon, which also served as a launch pad for long-range bombers attacking Iraqi forces (Desch 1993, 152–53). Following the 11 September 2001 attacks on the United States, the base has assumed even more importance in the eyes of military officials. Within weeks of 11 September, the Pentagon added 2,000 Air Force personnel at a new 30-acre housing facility called “Camp Justice.” In the 2001 war, B-1, B-2, and B-52 bomber flights originating in Diego Garcia dropped more ordnance on Afghanistan than from any other base (GlobalSecurity.org 2006). Leading up to the invasion of Iraq, weaponry and supplies prepositioned in the lagoon were again among the first to arrive at staging areas near Iraq’s borders. Bombers from the island ultimately helped launch the Bush administration’s war, which has resulted in the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Iraqis and thousands of US troops (see e.g., National Public Radio 2010). Since not long after the Bush administration declared a ‘war on terror,’ many suspected the island was a clandestine CIA ‘black site’ for high- profile detainees—the base has long been off limits to reporters, the Red Cross, and all other international observers, and is far more secretive than Guantánamo Bay. For more than six years, US and UK officials adamantly denied the allegations. In 2008, British Foreign Secretary David Miliband announced that “[c]ontrary to earlier explicit assurances that Diego Garcia has not been used for rendition flights, recent US investigations have now revealed two occasions, both in 2002, when this had in fact occurred” (Democracy Now 2008). A representative for Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice said Rice called Miliband to express regret over the “administrative error.” 36 david vine

Within days, however, UN special investigator Manfred Novak announced new evidence that others had been imprisoned on the island (United Press International 2008). Just months later, the British human rights group Reprieve and the Spanish newspaper El País reported that the United States may have held large numbers of detainees on secret prison ships in Diego Garcia’s lagoon or in its surrounding waters. Later, Time and Guardian articles indicated that as many as 10 detainees were held on or around the island from 2002 until as late as 2006 (Reprieve 2008, 2009, 2; Hollander 2008, Campbell and Norton-Taylor 2008; Sullivan 2008, A16; Cobain and Norton-Taylor 2007).

Displacement after displacement

More than two centuries ago, the first ancestors of today’s Chagossians— people like Ernestine Jacques, Joseph and Pauline Pona, and Lindor Courtois—were brought against their will to Diego Garcia and the other islands of the Chagos archipelago. Over time and despite the traumas of slavery and indenture, these enslaved individuals and the indentured and free labourers who followed them created a new and distinct society in Chagos, only to have it uprooted once more. Indeed, the Chagossians are a people twice displaced—once as enslaved and indentured labourers taken to work in Chagos by parts of the French and British empires, and once expelled from Chagos to Mauritius and the Seychelles at the behest of a US empire. As we will see in later chapters, despite the impoverishment caused by the expulsion, Chagossians have struggled to rebuild their lives and campaigned for the right to return to their homeland. “Our ancestors were slaves on those islands,” Chagossians wrote in a 1975 petition to the British and US governments, “but we know that we are the heirs of those islands” (Saminaden, Vencatassen, and Ramdass 1975). Nearly four decades later, Chagossians are saying much the same thing, as they are still barred from returning to their home. “We are reclaiming our rights, our rights like every other human being who lives on the Earth has rights,” Louis Olivier Bancoult, president of the Chagos Refugees Group, told me in a 2004 interview, “I was born on that land. My umbilical cord is buried on that land. I have a right to live on that land. It cannot be that a foreigner profits from all my wealth, profits from my sea, profits from my beaches, profits from my coconuts, profits from it all, while I’m left with nothing.” Clement Siatous: Chagossian Artist in Exile

His name is Clement Siatous. He has lived in exile from his home in the Chagos archipelago for over forty years. Born on the island of Peros Banhos 17 February 1947, he and his mother, along with his brother and sister, moved to Diego Garcia when he was eleven years old. In 1965, when his mother fell ill, the family left their home in Diego Garcia to receive care for Clement’s mother in Mauritius. The family was never allowed to return to Diego Garcia; their homeland had been turned into a military base. Back in Peros Banhos, Clement enjoyed playing with his friends. He loved making things with his hands. He made kites for himself and his friends which they flew in the warm island breeze. He made kites out of any material he could find: often old newspapers. He also found he had a natural talent for sketching. Clement’s fondest memories are of studying and sketching the nature of Diego Garcia. On Sundays, when the Chagossian community would gather, he and his family enjoyed fish and breadfruit. On these occasions he would help prepare coffee and clean fish. Recalling these rich memories, Clement says, “I had a wonderful childhood.“I remember my father singing. He wrote his own songs and told us stories, just like our ancestors, who were born on Peros Banhos as well, did before.” Self taught, only having completed primary education and some general night courses, Clement now finds his strength and inspiration in his memories of nature and life in Chagos: “I draw from memory every detail that I can recall of the beauty which I miss.” He describes his artis- tic style as “self imagination.” Then he remarks, with sparkling eyes surrounded by age lines of time, “When I am painting, I think of my mother working in the plantation. Often I am sad. But Chagos inspires me to think of nature and living colours.” His third floor studio lies in an old section of Mauritian capital, Port Louis, and opens onto a narrow street which captures a block of sun- light. Outside of his studio full of canvases and paint, another room is alive with sewing machines, scraps of materials and hats which he has been working on to bring in extra money. He looks around, contemplating 38 clement siatous his paintings, the scenes of plantation life, and says, “I regret that my mother is not alive to see my work.” He lost his father early on, and his mother died in Mauritius in 1973. “We faced hard years,” he mentions. His family, children and grandchildren have all settled in the UK and France. “I would like to be in the UK, close to my family,” he says. “When I can raise the money, I will go there.” He also looks forward to going back to Peros Banhos someday: “I want to go visit and commemorate my ancestors and put flowers on their graves. My mother taught me to do this when I was a boy, and I have never forgotten it.” Meanwhile, he will teach art to the younger generations. “I want to give back to the Chagossian community and I want to make people around the world understand more of Chagos through my work. It is a place. Chagos exists. We islanders should be together and we should respect each other.” Clement paints with the fire of the memory of a world that still “exists.” Everyday, through his art, he shares the light of living in Chagos: home and hope still burning.

By Valerie van Haltern clement siatous 39 Illustration 1. Painting by Clement Siatous, Memories of Chagos of Memories Siatous, Clement by 1. Painting Illustration

“Native Ilois of Chagos”: Excerpts from the Narratives of Dussercle (1933–36)

Vinesh Y. Hookoomsing

Many studies of Chagos, and Diego Garcia in particular, abound with details of the islands’ marine wildlife, terrestrial fauna and flora, hydrog- raphy and geomorphology, wind and rainfall patterns, and yearly temperatures. Very few accounts directly concern the people who were born on the islands or who had been living there for generations. As a result, we know very little about who the first Ilois were and how they lived. Early descriptions of two British colonial administrators, Scott and Edis, as well as some official reports and oral narratives of Chagossians in Mauritius and the Seychelles, have allowed researchers to reconstruct glimpses into the Chagossians’ past (Vine, this volume chapter 1). However, these snapshots usually portray the Chagos archipelago in idealised terms, as a lost paradise. One important written narrative, seldom referred to presumably because it is in French and out of print,1 is that of a French Catholic priest, Roger Dussercle, who was posted to Mauritius in 1927. From 1933 onward, he regularly toured Chagos and Agalega to carry out missionary work, and during each of his short stays, took extensive notes on the life and people in the various Chagos islands. He published four volumes on Chagos between 1934 and 1937, and one on Agalega in 1949, before he left Mauritius in that same year. Dussercle’s perspective was that of a colonial Christian missionary; his narrative is thus strongly coloured by his evangelical work. but he was also a keen observer of human and social behaviour, and his writing is infused with a genuine sense of empathy with his “primitive subjects.” It also bears the imprint of his poetic experience of the primeval nature and atmosphere of the distant unspoilt islands.

1 Two of the five volumes written by Dussercle have recently been reprinted— Agalega— published originally in 1949, reprinted in 2006; and—L’Ile d’Aigle. Naufrage du Diego—published in 1936, reprinted in 2007. 42 vinesh y. hookoomsing

Illustration 2. rev. Roger Dussercle native ilois of chagos 43

Stripped of its zealous overtones and philosophical ramblings, reminiscent of the 18th century Enlightenment context, his portrayal of the people and the land brings forth the centrality of the human and social life within the natural ecology of Chagos. His narrative of Chagos, contained within two volumes, opens with a detailed map of the itinerary of his voyage on the 3-mast Diego, starting from Port-Louis, Mauritius on 10 November 1933 en route to Peros Banhos (an atoll in the Chagos islands), where he landed on 25 November. The return trip from Diego Garcia on 28 December was disrupted by a cyclone on the 1st and 2nd of January, finally reaching Port Louis on January, 10. Written in the mode of a personal diary, his first glimpse of the islands in the misty morning gives way later in the afternoon to an idyllic vision typical of earlier impressions recorded by travellers:2 Ce n’est vers 4 heures que nous nous engageons dans la passe. Les brisants, à fleur d’eau, entourent de petites crêtes neigeuses et bouillonnantes les îles de l’archipel qui semblent de jolies émeraudes enchâssées dans la mer. Le coup d’œil est charmant; et si les esprits, rêveurs, imaginent parfois ce que pourrait être une Ile du Bonheur, je crois qu’ils n’auraient qu’à se fixer sur ce groupe d’îles qui apparaît réellement enchanteur. … (Dussercle 1934, 35).3 A boat propelled by the regular beat of the rows and the powerful rhythm of the rowers’ song gently makes its way through the ripples to the Diego. Dussercle’s first encounter with Chagos and its people is thus a çanté zavirons, a rowing song in Creole. The Ilois rowing songs, writes Dussercle, have a distinctive cachet: they smell of sea and tar, of coconut trees and dried copra, of life and work, of feelings and emotions. In short, they are the real authentic songs of the Islands, of Chagos (Dussercle 1937, 51). An example of a çanté zavirons, collected during his second mission to Chagos, is reproduced below with the text and musical transcription by Dussercle:

2 see for example Vincent W. Ryan, the first Bishop of British Mauritius: “these emerald gems of the sea present the appearance of trees growing out of the water” (Ryan 1864, 4). 3 Translation: It is only around 4 o’clock that we enter the pass. The breakers at water level form small white crests of bubbling froth round the islands which look like emer- alds beautifully incrusted in the sea. The view is really charming, so much so that people with imaginative minds dreaming of the Island of Happiness just have to settle on these enchanting islands. 44 vinesh y. hookoomsing

Illustration 3. Text and Musical Transcription of a Çanté Zavirons ‘Innocement’

The beat and rhythm of çanté zavirons vary considerably as they follow the rowing movements. So does their content. Innocemment is about a child whose father throws away the child’s food because of his mother. Dussercle quotes another rowing song, which refers to a woman who is angry because there is no money left in the house: païsa pas éna, Virzinie va dispiter. The word païsa (money) is of Indian origin, and is part of Mauritian Creole vocabulary. Its presence in a Chagos song would indicate a Mauritian influence or simply reflect traces of Indian popular practices in the islands. A young girl, Julie, participated in a ceremonial walk on fire, which is part of aH indu-Tamil religious ritual organized by an Ilois sorcerer (Dussercle 1935, 26, 46). In an obvious attempt to convey his displeasure, Dussercle writes her French Christian name the way it is native ilois of chagos 45 pronounced in Creole because he views the latter as a debased form of French. Wearing amulets of Indian/Muslim origin, like the tabiz, is a common practice: though it is not acceptable to the priest. Several other Indian words, such as ghoon, which refers to a Muslim festival, gooly (a popular game),4 are also recorded in Dussercle’s accounts, thus indicating either some degree of Indian presence on the islands or latent influence through Mauritius. Thus the man who burned down the workers’ camp behind the hospital is referred to by Dussercle as a faille lascar, a “nasty Muslim,” apparently the only one of his kind on the islands (Dussercle 1935, 104). Furthermore, the Manager’s cook on l’Ile d’Aigle bears a Tamil name, Veerapin. Native Chagossians are generally considered to be of predominantly Malagasy and African descent. It is assumed that those of Indian origin are the outcome of post-emancipation recruitment of labour from India to Mauritius, and from there to Chagos (cf. Chapter 1). But the absence of labour disruption, along with the small size of plantations and the nature of the work, meant that there was no great demand for additional or alternative workforce in the oil islands; as a result, no significant Indian settlements were established. A first-hand account of Indians in Chagos is that of the English Missionary, Reverend Ryan, who was posted to Mauritius in 1855. Four years later he went on a “visitation tour to Seychelles and Chagos islands,” on board the gunboat Lynx, together with the two commissioners, H. Berkeley and J. Caldwell, sent on mission by colonial authorities in Mauritius. They were to report on prevailing conditions on the dependencies (Chagos in particular) following the killing of a plantation manager. On 15 June 1859, Ryan (1864, 140) notes in his diary: “[t]his morning early, Diego Garcia was on our port bow.” The excerpt is followed by a brief account of his meeting with the managers of the following estates: Minni Minni, Pointe Maria Ann (sic) and South-East Point. In the afternoon, Ryan writes, “I went among the people and spoke a good deal with them. One of the slaves captured in the ‘Lily’5 was there, catechised by Mr. Banks, and he remembered a good part of the Belief and the Lord’s Prayer in English.”

4 an Indian game which used to be popular in Mauritius and Rodrigues. Dussercle compares it to a similar game in his native Normandy (Dussercle 1936, 17). 5 reference is made here to the HMS brig Lily which saved some 265 captive Africans, many of whom were young children, from the wreck of a Portuguese ship engaged in illegal slave trading and brought them to Mauritius. For more details, see Carter et al. 2003. 46 vinesh y. hookoomsing

Ryan’s diary notes on his visit to the South-East Point estate the following day refer to his meeting with the ‘Malabars’ (‘Indians’ in the French colonial usage) he found there: We met near the habitation an old Bombay Malabar who had been for thirteen years palefrenier in Port Louis, and who would rejoice in a teacher. It was very touching to see his countenance as he called out to me after we parted, entreating me to send him someone who could show them the right way. There are more Malabars here than in any of the other islands. I spoke to several of them in Creole, chiefly Madrassees. One of them broke into downright laughter when I spoke of the folly of idolatry; describing the piece of wood, part to burn, part carved into the figure of a man, and then worshipped. It was very touching to hear one say “My father and mother never taught me the right way, and at Mauritius, during nine years, no one ever taught me” (Ryan 1864, 141). Several details in Ryan’s narrative seem to indicate that the Indians he encountered had already undergone some process of creolization in Mauritius; namely their knowledge of the Creole language, Christiani sation, and adaptation to island life and society. His reference to Indians as ‘Malabars’ and ‘Madrassees’ could thus imply an older connection with Isle de France (the French colonial name for Mauritius). Isle de France comprised a small number of Indian slaves and artisans brought from South India to work on the island. Some of them may have opted for contracts in the Chagos islands. Whatever the socio-historical circumstances of the arrival of Indian labourers in the coconut plantations, it is generally accepted that the Chagossian workmen, as Ryan himself describes them, are “nearly all of African descent” (Ryan 1864,131). Almost a century later, Dussercle describes the Chagossian labourers as “blacks” (‘tous des noirs’). He then makes an important distinction between the natives (‘enfants des îles’) descended from former Malagasy slaves (they most likely came via Mauritius, although some might have come directly from Madagascar), who represented sixty percent of the islanders (‘Ilois’)6 and the remaining forty percent, who were nearly all of Mauritian Creole origin. This latter group represented an open-ended spectrum of ‘créoles, créoles indiens, etc.,’ reflecting the great diversity of the group born out of inter-ethnic contacts. The native Ilois population speaks basically the same Creole as that in Mauritius, a ‘patois’ dating back to the French colonial period. Dussercle underlines

6 Dussercle also refers to them as “Indigènes.” native ilois of chagos 47 the fact that the Indian Ocean islands to which he refers have all maintained the use of the French language in spite of British occupation, and that the inhabitants are all Roman Catholics:7 a point which makes the legal need to observe public holidays for ‘pagan’ festivals absurd in the outer islands (Dussercle 1936, 44). These components of language and religion, linked with cultural rites and practices, would thus constitute the core of a shared identity among the Indian Ocean Creole islands whilst allowing for the development of differences specific to their respective socio-ecological contexts. Dussercle also observes that, “[a]ny reef point, pathway, or corner of a coconut plantation bears a name, its own particular name, transmitted by ancestral tradition.”8 Such an observation can indeed be extrapolated and applied to other domains, thereby illustrating the process of native rootedness; with excerpts from his own richly informed narrative referring to place naming, aspects of island culture, social and religious practices can thus be inferred.

Place names

Authoritative maps of the various islands abound with place names established by the authorities and/or the administrators. To these ‘official’ names, Dussercle has occasionally added some ‘indigenous’ names, fixed by local usage. In one case at least, that of Ile d’Aigle, he not only locates the places with their respective names written on the map but also adds comments and, where possible, explanations of their origin in the text. The place names’ orthography is French but the language is Creole, as illustrated by certain features of vocabulary, spelling, pronun- ciation, and grammar. The following examples demonstrate this point:

1) Cimetière Grand dimoune refers to the cemetery for adults (grandes personnes) as opposed to Cimetière Zenfants, for children (enfants). 2) Pâté means a large coral mass that is part of the reef, and Pâté Paloi is named after an old man; Papa Eloi (Paloi by contraction) is the person who used to sit there and fish for octopus.

7 he confirms having baptized the last pagan remaining on the islands in June 1935, “with the exception of an old protestant woman living in Diego Garcia,” (Dussercle 1936, 17). 8 “Chaque pointe récif (sic), chaque sentier, chaque coin de cocoterie porte son nom particulier transmis par la tradition des anciens” (Ibid., 27–28). 48 vinesh y. hookoomsing

3) Lamare Colo (La Mare Colo in French) is named after a man who was found dead in that marshland. 4) Grand la mare (in the text, Grand lamare, in French La Grande Mare) reflects Creole morpho-syntax. 5) Dalmajee, a coconut plantation, bears the name of an individual who was killed a long time ago by a labourer. It is worth noting that it is the only example so far of a place name of Indian origin. 6) Pointe dans le Sud, is pronounced Pointe dannsi, like Pointe d’Annecy, explains Dussercle jokingly by referring to the name of a French locality. On the same pattern, vent du sud has given the Indian Ocean Creole word, vannsi.

“Culture des Iles”

Creole island cultures have, since the formation of the societies that have produced them, evoked a mixture of condescending curiosity and exotic fascination within outside observers.9 Dussercle’s narrative of his passage to Chagos, while not being totally immune from the usual clichés and prejudices of his time, bears the stamp of commitment to his mission as a priest and also pinpoints his genuine interest, as a learned person, in the social and cultural life of the islanders. An accomplished musician hailing from a coastal town in France, his first experience of the island world was, as mentioned earlier, the sound and rhythm of a rowing song, a çanté zavirons. Dussercle published four volumes on Chagos in the 1930s and one on Agalega in 1949. Archipel des Chagos (2 volumes, 1934 and 1935) broadly describes the islands’ ecosystems and inhabitants, the society in which people lived and worked and the typically Chagossian variety of Creole island culture they had developed. L’Ile d’Aigle (1936) is an account of the shipwreck near Diego and the subsequent rescue of all passengers, including Dussercle himself. The last volume of his Chagos quartet bears the title, Dans les “Ziles La-Haut” (“In the Islands Up There”) which is a glimpse of Chagos from the perspective of Agalega people living in the lower south-western islands, so far away yet so near in terms of their common destiny as oil islands, of their similar social organization and paternalistic power relations resting on two father-figures: the administrator

9 see: Hookoomsing 2000, 2001, 2009. native ilois of chagos 49

Illustration 4. map Ile d’Aigle 50 vinesh y. hookoomsing and the priest. A typical example of migration within the oil islands is well-illustrated in the text of a Chagos song transcribed by Dussercle; the song was composed by a lonely Ilois whose Agalegan wife had left him and whose children were living with their grand-mother in Agalega: Mo tout sél, Mo zenfant Galega … Aiôh! mo papa! Aiôh! mo maman! Comment mo léker fair’mal. Comment mo léker saigner … Seignèr, Fair’mo zenfants rétourn’ dans mo lacase!10 (Dussercle 1935, 37–38) Later his children boarded the ship Diego in Mauritius, and landed in Diego Garcia. When the priest brought him the good news, the man went wild with happiness: Mo ti conné, zott ti pour rétourner. Ça méme qui dipi huit zours, mo zoreille ti tinter tinter. Alà zott fin’ vini. Ah! grand merci, mo bon Dié!11 The lament song of the lonelyIlois offers a fitting introduction to the link between real life experiences and creative, emotional expressions in the context of Creole island culture. The following story is also a testament to this connection. On Tuesday 2 October 1934, the reverend priest is on his early morning missionary tour. He has to perform religious marriage ceremonies for four couples living in sin, give communion and extreme unction to a poor dying child, and finally continue on with his home visits. When he reaches the hut of the lonely Ilois (described above), the latter brings out his African bobre—a monochord instrument—from under the roof ad starts singing. At this point in his narrative, Dussercle the priest momentarily forgets his missionary work and Dussercle the musician takes over: a four-page, erudite description of the bobre follows, based on the notes of the 19th century German linguist, Adolphe Dietrich, on the Creole languages and cultures of the Mascarene islands (Dietrich 1891, 216–177).

10 Translation: I’m a lonely man, my children are in Agalega, oh! Papa, oh! Mama, see how my heart suffers, how my heart bleeds …, oh Lord, bring me back my children home! 11 Translation: I knew they would be back. That’s why the last eight days, bells kept ringing in my ears. And now they’ve come. Oh! Thanks to you, my good Lord. native ilois of chagos 51

Dussercle’s last volume on Chagos contains a final forty-page chapter on the songs, dances and musical instruments of the islands, which he presents to the reader as a compendium of his previous notes on the theme (Dussercle 1937, 137–176). It starts with a detailed presentation of the traditional drum, tambour or ravanne, completed by a musical partition of its rhythm and tempo. Defined as the first authentically indigenous instrument, the tambour-ravanne is an integral component of the sega dance and music. Then comes the bobre with its accessories, all vividly illustrated and described. These instruments form part of the core indigenous musical folk tradition of the Creole islands in the Indian Ocean. While bobre did not survive in the sugar islands, it flourished in the oil islands and the Seychelles. In addition to this core group of indigenous instruments, there are some others which, as Dussercle points out, were imported: the accordion (cordéon) and to a lesser extent the harmonica (misik la guèle, literally ‘mouth music’). The use of thecordéon in sega music and dance has produced a complementary melody with an ‘imported’ touch. The distinctiveness of the cordéon is further marked by the fact that it accompanies the Creole varieties of European dances such as the valse, polka or mazurka, all designated by the generic term, dansés français. The sega-tambour indigenous to the islands is, according to St. Elme Leduc (quoted by Dussercle), a blend of Mozambican and Malagasy sega, with inputs from Seychellois sega (Ibid., 149–151). The reference to the Seychelles reminds us of the island’s close historical and cultural links with Chagos. This is further illustrated in the story of the hare, called “Soungoula,” and the tortoise, which is included in Dussercle’s example of çanté-zistoires (that is, stories containing songs) (Ibid., 103– 105). Soungoula the hare remains the most popular figure in Sey chellois folklore until today. This influence has travelled to Chagos, though not to Mauritius; the hare in the Mauritian version, found in Baissac’s folklore, is only known by its generic name, “Compère Iéve” (Baissac 1880, 2–15). The “Chants et Danses des Iles” chapter ends with an example of a death ritual song (çanté lamort), entitled “Aniwawaoh.” The song is part of the ancestral rites performed during eight days for the departure of the spirit from the dead body. On the eighth and final day of the ceremony, all of the flowers, candles and ritual remains are deposited at the foot of a tree called Aniwawaoh, and the death song bearing the same name is sung for the last time by the men. Dussercle has transcribed the words and music of this mysterious song: 52 vinesh y. hookoomsing

Illustration 5. Text and Musical Transcription of Death Song ‘Aniwawaoh’

The only Creole words found in the ritual death song are:M amzelle la line atoupéré, meaning literally, “Miss Moon is going to sleep”; this means, according to Dussercle, that the sun is on the verge of rising (1937, 106–108). “Dieu merci,” writes the relieved priest, that those eccentricities from la Grande Terre—which generally refers to Africa but could also mean Madagascar—have now disappeared. The Aniwawaoh tree still stands on Peros Banhos, though in name only: not in spirit; an altar has now been erected under its shade for the procession of the Holy Sacrament.

The priest and the administrator

The A‘ niwawaoh’ cult of the dead is lengthily described (Dussercle 1937, 92–108) as an inherited expression of wild, ancestral African and native ilois of chagos 53

Malagasy funeral rites. It was immediately assumed that such ‘native’ practices had to be uprooted and replaced by proper Christian death ceremonies, performed in church. In this noble, civilizing enterprise, the priest relied on the administrator and his family and on the company’s staff to pursue the work of the missionary. While there were always churches or chapels on the oil islands, there were never any resident priests. In between the priests’ visits, which were generally short and irregular, many of the fundamental duties of keeping the islanders within the folds of Christianity were entrusted with the administrators. Celebrating marriage was among these duties, albeit a most challenging task, as co-habitation was generally the rule. To make matters more complicated—from a Christian point of view—the early islanders were confronted with a dearth of female partners and had developed a “system of polyandry by negotiation … under which the husband selected a number of friends as sleeping partners in the marital enterprise and there was a gentleman’s agreement as to which of the partners was to be at home at any given time” (Scott 1961, 239). Auguste Leduc, the greatest among the early administrators of Agalega, was the first to describe how co-habitation functioned, and he gave it his blessing: “La morale publique n’en est nullement blessée, puisque ce sont des conventions faites et observées religieusement. Tous les enfants sont légitimes ou légitimés parce qu’ils prennent le nom du mari.”12 Dussercle is full of praise for Leduc’s achievement and abundantly reproduces the latter’s historical account of Agalega in his own volume. Nevertheless he strongly disapproves of Leduc’s acceptance of such a blatantly “un- Christian” practice which, “Dieu merci,” no longer prevails. That said, cohabitation in the oil islands remained Dussercle’s greatest worry, aggravated by the “evil” influence of Seychellois contractual workers known for their loose morality. The Ilois themselves had no qualms about cohabiting and thought of it as a pre-marriage trial period which was not bound by time. Administrators for their part were hesi- tant about celebrating marriage, which was considered a sacred act to be performed only by the priest. Dussercle was also aware that part of the problem lies with the moral and religious standing of the administrator. The latter was indeed the key figure to whom the general as well

12 (Quoted from Dussercle 1949, 161). Translation: “There is no harm done at all to public morality since these agreements are religiously made and observed. All the children born within this system are legitimate or legitimized by the fact that they bear the name of the husband.” 54 vinesh y. hookoomsing as the day to day management of the islands was delegated by the plantation owner. When the need was felt to extend the application of laws and regulations in force in Mauritius to the oil islands, important figures from the government sector emerged gradually, such as the Police and Stipendiary Magistrates. Like the priest, they did not reside on the islands but were required from time to time to visit each Dependency and to report to the Governor in Mauritius on general conditions (Scott 1961, 159). Provision for the appointment of Civil Status Officers was also made, though in actual practice the CSO’s function of performing the legal formalities related to birth, marriage and death was assigned to the island administrator with a token salary attached to the assignment. On the issue of marriage, Scott reports that “All the magistrates repro- bated the disrespect for the institution of marriage which they found among the islanders themselves” (Ibid., 161). By the turn of the 20th century, the administrative arrangements were reviewed in the light of the magistrates’ reports, such as the need for every island to be visited at least once a year. However, the foundations upon which the administration of the islands rested, were “those which were evolved during the nineteenth century” (Ibid., 181), and which later gave rise to a system developed in situ: “indigenous and spontaneous in its emergence” and unique in many ways. Scott con- cludes: “It would probably be completely unsuited to any other part of the world; and it is equally improbable that a system better fitted to the whole character of the Lesser Dependencies could replace it there” (Ibid., 182). In the same vein, Dussercle, on his last trip to the oil islands, reminds us in the introduction to his narrative that, since 1932, the year of his first mission, the priest’s visit had become an annual feature and resulted in considerable spiritual progress on the islands. Significantly, he was accompanied during that last trip in 1936 by the Bishop of Port- Louis, Monseigneur Leen. The narrative itself ends with a Thanksgiving mass, followed by their departure. The final chapter is devoted to a study of the islanders’ songs and dances. When all has been said, Dussercle later explains that he makes no mention of lullabies, nursery rhymes or domestic songs for the simple reason that any sega or çantés zavirons easily lends itself to the familiar flow of constant humming while the daily household work is being done. The music of the islands blends with the rhythms of the sea breeze and palm leaves to become a prayer accompanying the priest as he takes leave of his native Ilois. native ilois of chagos 55

Scott, who was governor of Mauritius and of all its dependencies, was familiar with the works of “Father Dussercle, a fearless missionary to the islands, tireless sailor, poetaster, and inveterate anecdotist” (1961, 265). The first schools in the Lesser Dependencies opened during the decade of Scott’s governorship. His narrative of the islands, of its people and their ‘unique condition’ follow very closely the thread and spirit of Dussercle’s writings. His postscript, ending with an earnest plea “to ensure that all that is wholesome and expansive in the island societies is preserved,” bears a foreboding sense of apprehension of monstrous things to come.

End note

Dussercle’s last trip to Chagos islands was on a steamboat, a change that signalled the end of the wind and sail era. The year before, he embarked as usual on the Diego. Little did he know that the familiar inter-island sailboat was on its last voyage. In the night of 20 June 1935, the Diego was wrecked on the terrible reefs of Ile d’Aigle. The passengers and the crew were miraculously saved thanks to an Ilois, one among a crowd of fishermen watching ashore, accustomed to the dangers of the sea but not to the fury of thirty feet high storming waves. Heroic Arthur Talate received a medal from the colonial authorities for his brave and coura- geous act.13 A year later, during a second medal awarding ceremony, this time on the islands, he modestly explained: Mo fine maziné qui a plis vaut mié ène dimoune mort qui trente dimoune. Mo’nn’ sayé, mo fine réïssi; mo oussi mo fine çappe mo la vie, grand merci Bon Dié … (Dussercle 1937, 87).14 Steam replaced sails and wireless telegraphy reached the islands.15 Boddam Island was the first to be equipped with a WT receiver, which turned out to be very helpful in terms of providing news after theDiego ’s wreck in 1935. A WT emitter soon followed. The traditional camp houses, covered with palm leaves, were being rebuilt, à l’européenne,

13 The story of the wreck of the Diego forms the core of L’Ile d’Aigle (Dussercle 1936). 14 Translation: I thought it would be preferable that one person died rather than thirty persons. I tried, I succeeded; I also saved my live, God be blessed. … 15 for more information on the introduction of telegraphy in the 1930s in the Chagos, see the articles by Paul Caboche in Chagos News, the periodical newsletter of the Chagos Conservation Trust, London (2004, 2005). 56 vinesh y. hookoomsing with new wood shingle roofing (Ibid., 70–74). Dussercle’s portrayal of the tranquil, unspoilt Ilois life in Chagos was being ruffled by modernity and technology. It was shattered by the outbreak of the Second World War. According to Ashley Jackson’s authoritative study of Mauritius and the Indian Ocean during the Second World War, it was then that the Americans first visited Diego Garcia and assessed its potential (Jackson 2001, 14). From then on, the course of events leading to the arbitrary removal and appropriation of Chagos, the lease and conversion of Diego Garcia into a formidable military base, and the deportation of the native people of Chagos is now well-known. Arthur Talate was not among them. He had come to Mauritius in the early 1960s. Some time after his arrival, he died unknown, and was buried in the cemetery of Bois Marchand: where exactly, nobody knows.16 What happened to his medals, nobody knows, not even his daughter, Aurelie Lisette Talate: “the islands were closed in no time, we picked and packed some basic things and left the rest behind …” On 30 March 2006, forty years after the beginning of the eviction of the Chagos people from their native archipelago, and six years after a UK High Court judgement which recognized and re-established their right of return to their homeland, a group of about 104 Chagossians embarked on a historic four-day visit to their home islands.17 The group comprised 96 Chagossian natives, among whom 8 were less than five years of age and another was only a three-month year old baby at the time of eviction. The remaining 8 were born outside Chagos to Chagossian parents. The British government, in agreement with the US government, accepted to fund and organize the visit jointly with the Mauritian government, on humanitarian grounds, namely that the Chagossians should be allowed to visit and clean up the family tombs and houses, chapels, churches, and other memorial sites left behind at the time of their forced removal. Of the native-born Chagossians who were evicted between 1966 and 1973, less than 750 are still alive. Their hope of being re-settled in

16 arthur Talate (also spelt ‘Tallat’) was honoured with a biographical entry written by Raymond dl’Unienville in the Dictionary of Mauritian Biography, No. 57, July 2005, pp. 2018–19. 17 its historic significance was also expressed through the display of Chagossian unity by Olivier Bancoult and Fernand Mandarin, leader of the minority Chagos Social Committee. See cover illustration of Thierry Ollivry (2008). native ilois of chagos 57 the homeland within their lifetime has been seriously affected by the recent Law Lords’ ruling in favour of the UK government appeal, which denies them the right of return. The Chagos Refugees Group is con- scious of the cruel fact that elder generations of native-born Chagossians are fast disappearing; as a result, a major channel in the transmission of history, culture, traditions, and other intangible aspects of the Chagossian people’s heritage and resources is in danger of being irretrievably lost. On its own initiative, a Chagos Solidarity Trust Fund chaired by the former President of the Republic of Mauritius, Cassam Uteem, has been recently created. One of the objectives of the Trust Fund is precisely the preservation and promotion of the heritage and culture of Chagossian people. 58 vinesh y. hookoomsing oyage of the Diego, 1934 the Diego, of oyage llustration 6. I llustration v Atman Ramchalaon: Seeking the Facts

Atman Ramchalaon was born in Triolet, Mauritius. One of his childhood friends was born in Chagos. “He told me that he used to fish with his grandpa and that they caught fish which tasted like meat,”R amchalaon relates. “I told him that if I would make it to the film academy, I would make my first documentary on Chagos. The Chagos islands are part of Mauritius but we know so little about them.” Ramchalaon studied at a film academy in Paris and California and later moved to Amsterdam, the Netherlands, where he received funding to make a documentary on Diego Garcia, which was broadcast in the Netherlands, UK, Belgium, Mauritius, India, and the US. For the production of the documentary, Ramchalaon spoke with a Chagossian man who was born in the Salomon islands and worked in the copra industry from the age of fifteen. Later the man worked in a small hospital, and then became a doorman at a cinema in Mahé, the Seychelles. In Chagos, he used to sail with his father from island to island, and knew the whole region. For that reason, a secret Anglo- American team asked him in 1965/66 to join them in a survey to determine whether Diego Garcia would be suitable for military purposes. He went with them and took care of their materials while they measured the depth of the lagoons. This took place during the time of the Cold war.A s Ramchalaon explains, “He never expected that the Americans would come one day and expel the islanders. Most touching, I found that before departure, the team went to the cemetery where his father was buried as well. So they knew generations of people had lived on the islands. However, the British and Americans agreed that they would declare that there were only some contract labourers there.” Ramchalaon goes on to argue that “[t]he Chagossian women expected that Diego Garcia could be shared between them and the military. We don’t disturb them, they don’t disturb us, they said. They were used to live next to the military, as during World War II Indian troupes and the British Royal Air Force were on Diego Garcia to fight German and Japanese submarines. However, the Americans said they did not want any meddlers and they intimidated the people into leaving the islands. In this way, we also lost a unique society: Chagos was, besides Megha laya in India, the only region in the world with a matriarchal society. Women were economically very important and had many relationships. 60 atman ramchalaon

We could have learnt a lot from this society when it comes to all kind of gender issues.” “The Chagossians were discriminated not only by the British and Americans, but also by Mauritius itself, which did not protect its own people. Chagossian women were even beaten when they demonstrated in Port Louis,” Ramchalaon describes. “They areM auritians and remain Mauritians. The detachment of Chagos was illegal. The Seychelles also got back their islands. Negotiations have not brought anything, so why doesn’t Mauritius go to the International Court of Justice in The Hague?” According to Ramchalaon, the problem was the division among political parties in Mauritius regarding the excision of the Chagos islands before independence was granted to Mauritius. “The British made use of that division.” In the 1970s, Ramchalaon began to study the available documents to find out what exactly happened: I“ also asked politicians for interviews, but according to the Official Secrets Act, they are not allowed to speak. Also, the BBC is afraid to say something wrong.” Recently, he has made another request in the US to acquire more documents, insisting that “[i]t is difficult to get the documents. Everything happened in secret.” One of the things Ramchalaon wants to discover is whether the CIA gave financial support to the Labour government and its coalition partner, the right-wing social democrats in Mauritius, to gain a victory over the MMM party, during the general elections in the eighties. In the meantime, the documentary about Chagos by John Pilger, ‘Stealing a Nation’, was broadcast, and Ramchalaon remains enthusiastic about it. One hundred and forty years ago, Ramchalaon’s parents came from Northern India to Mauritius. He explains, “They worked inM auritius as contract labourers, which in practice was quite close to slavery, but people felt responsible to take care of their contract labourers in a way, and contract labourers had the right to return when the contract ended. However, no one took care of the Chagossians, and they have not been allowed to return. If the Chagossians had been Muslims or Hindus, this would not have happened.”

By Marry Kooy The Making of the Chagos Affair: Myths and Reality

Jocelyn Chan Low

The making of the Chagos issue is still a major controversy in both contemporary Mauritian historiography and political discourse. Was there a ‘deal’ in 1965 between the British authorities and the Mauritius Labour Party and allies on independence against the excision of Chagos? Or was the Mauritian Premier, Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam blackmailed into accepting partitioning and an incomplete decolonisation of Mauritian territory? This chapter explores in depth the relationship between the decolonisation of Mauritius and setting up of the BIOT through the detachment of the Chagos archipelago from Mauritius (and the Seychelles) during the Cold War. Making use of declassified materials now available at the Public Records Office in the UK, it focuses on the motivations and strategies of various protagonists—the US and British authorities as well as political elites of Mauritius.

Controversy over the Excision of Chagos

On 12 March 1968 Mauritius acceded to independence within the Commonwealth under a constitution that had been deliberately manipulated to avoid embarrassment to the British government of having to declare the Ilois (islanders), citizens of the BIOT since 1965, apatrides (i.e lacking a formally recognized nationality).1 For the Mauritian political class, grappling with ethnic tensions that flared up in deadly inter- ethnic rioting, living in a country deep in the throes of an acute crisis of underdevelopment, the Diego Garcia affair and fate of theIlois was matter of detail. However, the excision of Chagos was and still is a matter of controversy in both Mauritian political discourse and historiography; the main

1 For the purpose of citizenship the Mauritius constitution exceptionally ignores the Order in Council of November 1965. 62 jocelyn chan low reason being that the Constitutional Conference in 1965, which would decide the ultimate constitutional status of Mauritius, coincided with the final decision to detach the islands. To what extent were the two issues inextricably woven or kept apart, as Anthony Greenwood, the British Secretary of State for Colonies, would have the House of Commons believe at the time? Sir John Rennie, the British governor, reported on 11 November 1965 that there was a widespread perception in Mauritius that a deal had been struck on the excision of Chagos against independence (CO 1036/1253: Rennie to Secretary of State, 15 November 1965). This was precisely the stand of the Parti Mauricien Social Démocrate (PMSD) at the time. The party resigned from the coalition government in November 1965, ostensibly to protest against the decision on Chagos. Jules Koenig and Gaëtan Duval, the leaders of the PMSD, maintained they were not against the use of Diego Garcia for the defence of the West, but rather that the terms of the cession were too disadvantageous to Mauritius. Gaëtan Duval, in his public speeches at the time, as well as in his autobiography, and before the Select Committee on the excision of Chagos maintained that there was a close connection between premier Ramgoolam’s decision to ‘sell Diego’ and the outcome of the Constitutional Conference in favour of general elections and not a referendum to decide on independence (Select Committee 2003, 14). Given the strong opposition to independence in Mauritius, it was a foregone conclusion that in a country facing socio-economic distress the majority of the Mauritian population would have opted for association with Great Britain and the British passport it entailed if a referendum was held to decide on that single issue. Hence according to Duval: Les Anglais sans se prononcer catégoriquement, penchaient ou faisaient semblant de pencher pour la thèse du PMSD et on pouvait espérer, à un certain moment que cette proposition était acceptée. C’est alors que Diego vint sur le tapis (Duval 1976, 91).2 According to Duval on 23 September 1965, while the Mauritius Constitutional Conference was discussing the proposition for a referendum, the Chairman suspended the proceedings and invited the Mauritian delegates to meet him and offer their views on the future of the Chagos

2 Translation: The British seemed to be in favour of the proposals of the PMSD though they did not state it openly and at one point it was expected that these proposals would be accepted. It was then that Diego came into the picture. the making of the chagos affair 63 archipelago. The PMSD refused to attend, feeling they had no mandate to consider any excision of part of the Mauritian territory. The meeting was attended by delegates from other parties (the Mauritius Labour Party, the Independent Forward Block and the Muslim Action Committee) and official nominees. As Duval elaborates: Ramgoolam posa une question préalable aux Anglais: soit ils refusaient le référendum, ou Ramgoolam refusait de négocier la vente de Diego Garcia. Les Anglais acceptèrent le ‘truce’ et firent soudainement volte face au cours des discussions constitutionelles, disant qu’il n’était pas d’usage dans le Commonwealth (ce qui était faux) (Ibid., 92).3 The controversy over excision took a new turn with the emergence of a Marxist-inspired revolutionary party, the Mouvement Militant Mauricien (MMM), in 1969. The new left saw itself pitted against the forces of imperialism and neo-colonialism, and advocated for a real decolonisation of the country (Oodiah 1989, 13). According to the leftist perspective, independence had been programmed since 1947 and Ramgoolam, ‘l’homme des anglais,’ was being groomed to safeguard British interests. The Chagos affair was seen both as means to unmask the neo-colonial political leadership and question the nationalist cre- dentials of the ‘father of the nation.’ The excision of Chagos has always been a source of embarrassment for the leadership of a Mauritius Labour Party that could claim to be the main architect of independence but always closely aligned with Great Britain. The leaders of the party would thus either maintain that they were unaware of the true designs of Great Britain or that they had no alternative given the divisions among the Mauritian delegation. It was Chagos or independence but Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam refused the terms ‘blackmail’ or ‘deal’ (Select Committee 2003, 10). Significantly, if Sir Veerasamy Ringadoo, an influential labour party leader at the time, apologized publicly in December 1998 to the Chagossian community for the sufferings they had endured as a result of a decision for which they were not consulted, he insisted that the leadership of the Mauritius Labour Party had no choice. Another party stal- wart, Sir Satcam Boolell, later wrote that the non-settlement of the

3 Translation: Ramgoolam put the issue to the British: either they refused the referendum or he would negociate on the sale of Diego Garcia. The British agreed to the ‘truce’ and suddenly reversed their position during the Constitutional talks, arguing that the referendum was not used in the Commonwealth (which was false). 64 jocelyn chan low

Chagos issue “could have prompted the British government to send us packing and return to the negotiating table not until we had reached a measure of agreement among ourselves on independence” (Boolell 1996, 27). This would have created instability and delayed independence while “the British would not have waited to proceed with their plan of excision” (Ibid.). In 1982, the Mouvement Militant Mauricien/Parti Socialiste Mauricien (PMSD) government set up a select committee chaired by the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Jean Claude de l’Estrac, to investigate the circumstances of excision. It concluded that the majority of delegates supporting independence had been blackmailed into ceding Chagos against independence, which adds further to the illegality of the action. The select committee also underlined the non-availability in Mauritius of relevant documents (Select Committee 2003, 20). Since then many important records have been declassified at the Public Records Office which shed new light on the Chagos affair and its link with processes leading to Mauritius’ independence.

Independence in the Making

Declassified records since mid-2000 show that the independence of Mauritius was very slow in the making from the perspective of colonial authorities (Chan Low 2002b). Throughout the 1950s, for the Colonial Office, Mauritius was part of a group of smaller territories that could never aspire to independence (Morgan 1979–1980, 34). Besides, in the case of Mauritius, authorities noted a total absence of any nationalist movement calling for independence (CO 1036/331: Scott to Macpherson, 6 February 1958). In the wake of the Suez crisis in 1957, when defence reviews led to a shift from conventional to nuclear defence, an audit of the empire was made and confidential reports drafted as to the future constitutional development of each colony. This is often seen as prelude to the wind of change and acceleration of British decolonisation. Significantly, in the case of Mauritius, it was felt that though withdrawal would save Britain some £675,000, the colonial link had to be maintained, not only because Mauritius and dependencies provided facilities of communication in the Indian Ocean and were also of interest in connection with technical, naval and air installations, but mainly because “withdrawal would lead to violent upheaval” (CO 1036/331: Future constitutional development of colonies, CO print, May 1957). For the the making of the chagos affair 65 democratisation of political structures in the territory had led to a rapid ethnicisation of politics in a multi-ethnic society, and at the time, the island was in the throes of a deep, structural economic crisis. The monocrop economy could no longer absorb the rapid demographic growth caused mainly by the eradication of malaria. The population of the island rose from 419,185 in 1944 to 681,619 in 1962 and 850,968 in 1972 (Chan Low 2002a). The Franco-Mauritian oligarchy that had held political and economic hegemony over the island for more than a century felt threatened by the political mobilization of the Indian and Creole masses, a process sparked by the rising Indo-Mauritian and Creole intelligentsia behind the Mauritius Labour Party and Independent Forward Block. Their political instrument, the PMSD would henceforth exacerbate the fears of Hindu hegemony (the Hindu population making up about 50 percent of the population) winning over the Creole and Muslim minorities against further democratisation of politics and decolonisation (Chan Low 2007, 49–64). Reports reveal that the Colonial Office was notably anxious that the inter-ethnic situation on the island might further degenerate, and the example of Cyprus was often cited (CO 1036/516:R eport by M. Profumo on his visit to Mauritius, 17–23 June 1957, n.d.). Any inter-ethnic rioting, during which the local police force would be totally inadequate (Ibid.), would not only jeopardise the value of Mauritius on the air route to Australia, but also potentially lead to massive disinvestment, thereby reducing the island rapidly to a tropical slum. The British troops might have to intervene to restore law and order in the context of diplomatic complications, with France and India siding with rival protagonists of French or Indian origins4 (CO 1036/331: Scott to Macpherson, 8 February 1958). This explains the decision to support moderates of the Mauritius Labour Party around Ramgoolam (CO 1036/623: Deverell to Macleod, 8 January 1960) and the rather slow constitutional advance. The wind of change would blow very timidly on the island. However, it was Ramgoolam himself who from 1959 onwards, under the influence of Chedi Jagan, Prime Minister ofG uyana and aware of the weakening pro-empire faction within the British conservative party, started the campaign Mauritian independence—an independence which

4 The Franco Mauritian always claimed their French descent. 66 jocelyn chan low the British had for long considered unthinkable, not only because of the deep ethnic divisions on the island but also due to the small size and lack of resources available on a ‘small, isolated rock in the Indian Ocean’ at a time of the Cold War. However, following the visit of colonial official, A.R. Thomas to Mauritius, prior to the general elections in 1963, the Colonial Office began to review its position. In a memo on the Mauritius Constitution dated April 1963, A.R. Thomas argued that the arguments in favour of granting independence to Mauritius were irrefutable. However, even if a rapid withdrawal would have been advantageous to Britain by reason of the severe economic crisis and rapid population growth, the threat of inter-ethnic rioting meant that British authorities stretch independence as long as possible in order to allow Mauritius to become accustomed to Mauritian governance themselves, under a more advanced constitution (PRO CO 1036/1082: Note on Mauritius Constitution, A.R. Thomas, April 1963). As from 1963, British policy pertaining to the independence of Mauritius would revolve around 3 axes:

(i) Mauritius would become sooner or later independent (ii) given the smallness of the territory Mauritius would inevitably be associated with an Eastern African Block (iii) The ethnic minorities would finally reconcile themselves to the idea of independence of Mauritius (PRO C01034: Cabinet, Mauritius Constitutional Development, April 1965).

However, subsequent events would prove that British policy was based on the wrong premises; this was not only because schemes for developing an Eastern African block ran into too many obstacles, but also mainly because of the growing inter-ethnic tensions within Mauritius itself. The elections of 1963 and the arrival of Gaëtan Duval, a self proclaimed King Creole on the scene, in a PMSD resolutely anti-independence, combined with the emergence of the All Mauritius Hindu Congress, a radical Hindu nationalist group, severely conflicted with the British policy of leading Mauritius to independence in a climate of social appeasement. Hence the unwillingness of British authorities to accelerate the constitutional process, despite the pressure of Ramgoolam, who was being egged on by some African heads of state, made Ramgoolam perceive the very prospect of independence with complete dejection in early 1964. the making of the chagos affair 67

However, the coming to office of the British Labour Party in Great Britain, after their victory at the general elections of October 1964, led to the reopening of the dossier of Mauritius’ constitutional development. At first, the new Secretary of State for Colonies, Anthony Greenwood seemed well disposed towards Ramgoolam and consequently a new Constitutional Conference was scheduled for September 1965. However, declassified documents of the PublicR ecords Office reveal that the anti- independence demonstration held in the wake of Greenwood’s visit to Mauritius in March 1965, as well as the inter-ethnic violence between Hindus and Creoles that flared up in theS outh and North of the country (cf. Chan Low 2007), necessitating the despatch of British troops from Aden to maintain public order on the island, had a profound impact on the Secretary of State and the Colonial Office. The sources reveal that the Secretary of State became convinced that independence could not be granted to Mauritius in the immediate future. Indeed, on 15 April1965, during a meeting at the Colonial Office, “theS ecretary of State expressed the view that he did not think that it would be practicable for Mauritius to move to independence in the near future” (PRO CO 1036/1084: Notes of Meeting on 15 April 1965, Colonial Office). In a memo to the British Cabinet, it was underlined that “confusion and lasting damage could be caused if we were now to persist with the previous policy of edging Mauritius to independence at an early date” (PRO CO 1036/1084: Cabinet. Mauritius Constitutional Development, Note by the Secretary of State for Colonies, April 1965). If Mauritius became independent under a regime with a strong Hindu preponderance, an attempt at a coup d’état by some Creole elements, perhaps close to Gaëtan Duval, could be expected. British troops would then have to intervene to protect the regime, nullifying the notion of independence itself. As to the Constitutional Conference scheduled for September 1965, Anthony Greenwood stated that “my own opinion is that independence is not desirable for Mauritius in the near future. If at the conference I was able to make this clear without producing immediate deadlock, and an impossible situation in Mauritius, I should wish to do so” (Ibid.). Following inter-ethnic rioting between Hindus and Creoles, the Secretary of State expressed preference for a compromise in order to formulate an “association with Great Britain as the long term objective of the constitutional evolution of Mauritius” (PRO CO1036/1084: Defence and Overseas Committee: Mauritius Constitutional Devel opment. Note by the Secretary of State for Colonies, May 1965). How ever, the authorities were well aware of the danger of prolonging of 68 jocelyn chan low uncertainty over Mauritius’ final constitutional status R (P O CO 1036/1084: British Information Service to Colonial Office, 10 April 1965). They hoped that an agreement would be reached among the main parties, all of which wanted to keep in, one way or the other, close ties with Great Britain (PRO CO 1036/1370: Note on Mauritius. Enclosure. Terrell to Kersley 8 June 1965). Yet on 24 September 1965, at the closing of the Constitutional Conference, the Secretary of State declared officially that “it was right that Mauritius should be independent and take her place among the foreign states of the world” (PRO CO 1036/1/67. MCC. Record of Meeting held at 10.30 am on 24 September 1969). After necessary electoral reforms, general elections would be held, and if the new assembly voted by simple majority for independence, Mauritius would become a sovereign state after six months of internal autonomy. It was expected that all these procedures could be completed by the end of 1966! How to explain this drastic shift in the evaluation of Mauritius’ pre- paredness for independence? According to Anthony Greenwood, the British decision for independence was the logical result of a discussion held at Lancaster House in September 1965, where authorities explained that “[w]e conceded because the overwhelming majority of the delegates at the Constitutional Conference came down in favour of it and because the decision seemed to me in any case to be the right one” (PRO CO 1036/1253: Greenwood to Rennie, 15 December 1965). Yet as Trafford Smith underlined on 14 February 1968, “the conference outcome was not unanimous but a decision by Anthony Greenwood in favour of the majority parties” (PRO CO 32/268: Ministries on file: Trafford Smith to Terms, 14 February 1967). Indeed on 11 November 1965, the British governor, Sir John Rennie reported that there was a strong conviction in Mauritius that a deal had been struck between the British government and Mauritius Labour Party wherein Mauritius would be granted independence in exchange for the excision of Chagos from the main island. The deal is said to have been arranged when the Mauritian Premier Ramgoolam met the UK Prime Minister Harold Wilson (PRO CO1036/ 1253: Rennie to Secretary of State, 11 November 1965).

The genesis of the affair

An analysis of the declassified material confirms that theI B OT was set up as an initiative of the United States (US), for the American armed the making of the chagos affair 69 forces lacked a port of support or a military base between the Mediterranean and the Pacific. The idea of using some of these ‘oil islands,’ which were at the time part of the British Empire, goes back at least to 1962 (PRO FCO 32/484/1: Chronology of events leading to establishment of BIOT, C.C.P. Heathcote Smith, 13 December 1968). Emerging hostilities between India and China clearly demonstrated the necessity of having such facilities in the Indian Ocean available to the US, and the imminent withdrawal of the British from Aden reinforced this conviction. The matter was raised in October 1962 by US Secretary, R. Macnamara, in the course of a conversation with the British Minister of Defence. But it was only in 1963 that the American proposals began to take definitive shape.R ight at the outset, the US insisted not only that these islands be placed under the direct control of Great Britain (and hence their excision from Mauritius and the Seychelles) but also that all inhabitants had to be removed from the islands to guard against political pressure and ensure the security of maximum utilisation. The British authorities welcomed the American proposal as the ‘Chagos Affair’ occurred during a time at which Britain was shifting its defence policy from conventional to nuclear after the debacle ofS uez. As noted by M. Carver, ex-Chief of Staff of the British forces, in July 1956 the Defence and Overseas Policy Committee decided to review the British defence strategy (Carver 1992, 43–44). The shift to nuclear defence, more costly but in line with NATO’s policy, put budgetary equi- librium at the heart of the preoccupations of the British cabinet. Hence a wind of change would blow over the British Empire, bringing in its wake: ‘decolonisation’ (Porter and Stockwell 1989, 36). But why create a new colony in the Indian Ocean at a time when the British seemed bent on getting rid of the remaining dust of an empire? In general, for Britain, this was a means to reduce the costs of British participation in the defence of Western interests. A joint memo of the Foreign Office (FO), Colonial Office (CO) and Ministry of Defence (MOD) dated 23 April 1964 underlined that “the cost of defence arrangement in the Far East was out of proportions to the British State investment and trade in the area. Our efforts were deployed less in defence of British interests than in support of the United States, the Commonwealth and the free world. By persuading the United States to associate themselves with Britain, by using existing strategic facilities or developing new ones in place where there were no anti-colonialist bias or better still no inhabitant, our burden might be reduced. United States initiative in the Indian Ocean should be welcome” (PRO FCO 32/484/1: Chronology 70 jocelyn chan low of events leading to establishment of BIOT, C.C.P. Heathcote Smith, 13 December 1968). Moreover, Britain was engaged in a defence review of its positions East of Suez, and at the Defence and Overseas Policy Committee of 12 April 1965, the Ministry of Defence emphasized that the new military facilities being envisaged were essential, as the facilities at Gan in Maldives or Aden would not always remain at the disposal of the British. If the defence review recommended the withdrawal from positions East of Suez, an American presence would facilitate matters (PRO CAB 148/18 DOP C65/68, 12 April 1965). Finally, the British hoped and expected that the Anglo-American cooperation would be extended to the construction of a military airfield on the island ofA ldabra at the cost of £18 million (PRO FCO 32/484/1: Chronology of events leading to establishment of BIOT, C.C.P. Heathcote Smith, 13 December 1968.) The Royal Air Force/Ministry of Defence Engineering had already carried out a joint survey of Aldabra in 1964 (Ibid.) The idea of using Aldabra as a staging base had been proposed during the time when political instability in the Middle East and East Africa threatened ‘over- flying rights’ while the independence of the Maldives, scheduled for 1965, made the facilities at Gan useless. On 27 February 1964, official talks began in London between representatives of the State Department and British government. An agreement was finally reached wherein a joint survey of some of the islands would be carried out in order to evaluate their potential for providing defence needs, and to determine the feasibility of relocating inhabitants and related necessary administrative arrangements. In addition, the cost of constructing and maintaining the facilities for joint utilisation by the US and Great Britain would have to be borne by the US. Finally, Britain would provide land and security of tenure by detaching islands and placing them under direct British administration. The UK would also be responsible for payments to Mauritius and the Seychelles, and to labourers and displaced inhabitants (Ibid.). Ramgoolam was informed of the matter on 29 June 1964 by the British governor. According to Heathcote Smith, “Mauritius governor on instruction consults? Premier and finds him favourably disposed to provision of facilities but with reservation as to detachment” (PRO FCO 32/484/1: Chronology of events leading to establishment of BIOT, C.C.P. Heathcote Smith, 13 December 1968). Ramgoolam expressed preference for long term lease and rights to benefit from any minerals which might be found, having no objection to the survey (Ibid.). On 13 July 1964, the making of the chagos affair 71

Sir John Rennie did inform the Mauritian Council of Ministers of the survey, though made no reference to the detachment of the islands. The report of the survey conducted from mid July to midA ugust 1964 by a joint US/UK team in the Chagos archipelago, Agalega, Desroches, Coëtivy, and Farquhar island, was signed by Robert Newton. It included, inter alia:

■ That there were no insurmountable obstacles to the ‘removal, resettlement and redeployment of the civil population of any island required for military purpose’ (PRO CO 1036/1332: Report by R. Newton, 23 September, 1964). ■ That these islands were much more oriented socially towards the Seychelles than Mauritius.

Indeed the lease of these islands had been brought back by the ‘Chagos— Agalega Company,’ to which Paul Moulinie was a principal shareholder. The latter was also a member of theE xecutive Council of the Seychelles. Many Mauritians living at the time in Diego Garcia complained about what they considered as the growing “Seychelloisation” of the island. According to Robert Newton, the greatest part of the labour force at Diego Garcia was indeed made up of Seychellois. It is noteworthy that Robert Newton paid very little attention to the Chagossians, the population born in the islands, whom he estimated to comprise around one hundred individuals (Ibid.). However, he emphasised the need for strict administrative controls over these islands which had been “misman- aged” in the past and recommended that administrative control be transferred to a commissioner falling under the jurisdiction of the governor of the Seychelles. After the submission of the report, the US would exert constant pressure on the British authorities for the detachment of these islands. At the time, the US authorities stressed the urgent need for setting up communication facilities as well as ‘austere naval facilities’ at Diego Garcia (PRO FCO 32/484/1: Chronology of events leading to establishment of BIOT, C.C.P. Heathcote Smith, 13 December 1968). For the British Ministry of Defence and the Foreign Office, detaching these islands from Mauritius and the Seychelles would not pose any legal problem whatsoever. Excision could be carried out through an amendment to Section 90 of the 1964 Mauritius Constitution made reference to these islands by name and afterwards by a modification of the Mauritian Constitutional Order of 1957 (PRO CO 1036/133: Trafford Smith to Anderson, 13 July 1965). Subsequently, a new territory would 72 jocelyn chan low be created by an Order in Council—a piece of legislation formally made in the name of the Queen by the Privy Council—along the model of the British Antarctica Territory of 1962 (Ibid.). Declassified documents further reveal that, throughout the negotiations, the British insisted on their inalienable right to detach these islands from Mauritius and the Seychelles as a preliminary to their merger with the BIOT, without having to pay any compensation whatsoever to Mauritius and the Seychelles. Many arguments were put forward to justify their stance. Firstly, the great distance between Mauritius and the Chagos archipelago; secondly, weak administrative links, low participation of these islands in the Mauritian economy; and finally, the absence of ‘ethnic links’ and, above all, a redefinition of the notion of ‘dependency’ itself. In an important document dated 20 December 1968, Branley of the Colonial Office stated that those who claimed the excision of Chagos from Mauritius to be an act of dismemberment of a colonial territory showed complete disregard for the history and colonial practice of Great Britain and France. Had France not detached Juan de Nova and Tromelin as a prelude to granting independence to Madagascar? For Branley, these small territories, which were placed under the tutelage of a larger colony having the means of an efficient administration, did not really become part and parcel of the latter. Indeed many of these territories changed administrative tutelage over time for convenience sake. Citing examples, Branley mentioned the cases of Sierra Leone, the Gold Coast, Bechua naland, the Maldives, and some islands of the Carribean. In the case of the Indian Ocean, he cited Aldabra and Providence, which were detached in 1908, and Coëtivy and Farquhar, detached in 1921 from Mauritius and subsequently reattached to the Seychelles (PRO FCO 34/482: Branley to Jerrom, 20 December 1968). The absence of substantive links, according to Branley, was evidenced by the fact that administrative control was limited to an occasional visit by a magistrate from 1845 and by the fact that the laws of the colony could not be applied to these small territories in the absence of any special proclamation to that effect (Ibid.). Hence, when Harold Wilson insisted on 23 September 1965 that Great Britain was ready to go forward with a unilateral excision of Chagos without the approval of the Mauritian government, he was far from bluffing. Indeed, the matter was raised at a meeting of the Defence and Overseas Policy Committee on 30 August 1965 (PRO CAB 148/18 DOP 37th Meeting, 30 August 1965), and again on 16 September 1965 without the making of the chagos affair 73 any formal decision being reached; the British ministers present had been reassured by the Secretary of State that Anthony Greenwood, the colonial official, would solve the matter amicably with the Mauritian delegation before 23 September 1965. It is true that at the time of decolonisation both the UN and the Commonwealth had passed resolutions strongly condemning any attempt at dismemberment of a colonial territory before its accession to independence. Furthermore, colonial practices were scrutinised at the UN’s Committee of 24, hence the more flexible attitude of the Colonial Office and itsS ecretary of State, Anthony Greenwood. The latter maintained throughout that it was out of question to proceed with the creation of the BIOT without the agreement of the Mauritius and Seychellois governments (CO 1036/1333: Notes of Meeting at Treasury, 19 September 1965). Indeed in the case of Mauritius, the documents reveal that the Colonial Office feared that detaching Chagos would make an already precarious socio-political situation more unsettled, hence the extreme precautions to not “rock the boat” through the ‘Chagos Affair.’ For example, the idea of a joint survey in 1963 was postponed because of general elections scheduled in Mauritius for that year (PRO FCO 32/484/1: Chronology of events leading to establishment of BIOT, C.C.P. Heathcote Smith, 13 December 1968.) For the Colonial Office,A merican pressure for the detachment of the Chagos archipelago came at the wrong time. The coming to office of the 1964 British Labour Party in Great Britain had the consequence of reopening the dossier on re-developing the constitution of Mauritius, and at the same time; simultaneously, American proposals regarding the BIOT were being finalised.

‘Blackmail, Deal and Independence’

Paradoxically, records at the Public Records Office reveal that, at first, the Colonial Office wished to keep the issues of constitutional development and the detachment of Chagos completely separate (PRO CAB/48/18, 12 April 1965). For the Colonial Office, the priority was to reach a compromise on the final status of Mauritius among the various protagonists. But raising the issue of detachment of Chagos could lead to the failure of the Constitutional Conference, each protagonist using it as a lever for bargaining. Worse, the Colonial Office feared that it might lead to the break up of the coalition government, whose formation in early 1964 had been so laborious as to necessitate the direct intervention 74 jocelyn chan low of the Secretary of State for Colonies (Ibid.). This explains why, right from the outset, the Colonial Office was strongly against any amalgam between the Constitutional Conference scheduled for September 1965 and the debate on the excision of the Chagos archipelago (PRO CAB/48/18, 12 April 1965). This was despite the fact that the Ministry of Defence and Foreign Office wanted to raise the matter at the Constitutional Conference itself in order to benefit from the divisions within the Mauritian delegation (PRO CO 1036/1084: TraffordS mith to Poynton, 3 May 1965). Meanwhile, on 12 April 1965 the British Cabinet approved the American proposals but came out in favour of an American contribution to the cost of detaching the islands – which included the cost of resettlement for inhabitants and buying back the lease from the proprie- tors (Ibid.). On 24 June 1965, after several talks, the US government finally decided to contribute up to half of the cost of detaching the islands. However, in order to bypass Congress, it was agreed that this contribution would be effected secretly, through a trade off on the order of a £14 million contribution from the British contribution to the research and development programme of the Polaris Missiles (PRO FCO 32/484/1: Chronology of events leading to establishment of BIOT, C.C.P. Heathcote Smith, 13 December 1968). Subsequently the British authorities tried to obtain the agreement of the Mauritian and Seychellois governments. Already at a meeting of the Defence and Overseas Policy Committee held on 2 June 1965, it was felt that tactically it would be more appropriate to negotiate with the Mauritian government well before the opening of the Constitutional Conference i.e. before the adverse party had consolidated its position (PRO CAB/48/18 DOP 28th Meeting, 2 June 1965). While the Seychelles government responded favourably, on 3 July the Mauritius Council of Ministers positioned itself against the detachment of Chagos though in favour of a long term lease. The Ministers insisted on guarantees concerning fishing, oil and mineral rights, meteorological, navigation and air facilities, as well as a higher quota for Mauritian sugar on the US market. The compensation of £3 million was regarded as grossly inadequate. In addition, the Mauritian Ministers called for a defence treaty with Great Britain that would cover both internal and external security (PRO FCO 32/484/1: Chronology of Events, op. cit.). Ramgoolam had been badly shaken by the January 1964 coup d’état in Zanzibar and by the mutinies in Tanzania, Uganda and Kenya (PRO FCO 32/317: Rennie to Galworthy, 5 January 1968). He feared an the making of the chagos affair 75 attempted coup d’état by elements close to the Parti Mauricien Social Démocrate (PMSD) as independence drew near. This explains why he was desperately looking for a defence treaty that would allow British troops to intervene in Mauritius even without consulting the Mauritian government (PRO CO1036/1150: Trafford Smith to Rennie, 17 August 1965). His allies at the Muslim Committee of Action (led by R. Mohamed) and the Independent Forward Block of S. Bissoondoyal were likewise in favour of maintaining British military obligations in internal matters in Mauritius. For the Colonial Office, a defence treaty covering internal security would be a major guarantee for the ethnic minorities and as such could greatly help advance talks at the Constitutional Conference. But the Ministry of Defence and Foreign Office were resolutely hostile to any new responsibilities that would not only constitute an unaccepta- ble innovation in British foreign policy but might also involve British soldiers in inter-ethnic conflicts in Mauritius. However, the Colonial Office would spare no efforts to have such a treaty accepted by their colleagues at the Ministry of Defence and Foreign Office as a trade off for the excision of Chagos. At a meeting of the Defence and Overseas Policy Committee held on 30 August 1965, Harold Wilson finally agreed that Great Britain was sympathetic to such a defence treaty with Mauritius (PRO CAB 148/18 DOP, 37th Meeting, 30 August 1965). A joint Memorandum was drawn between the Ministry Of Defence and Foreign Office on 26A ugust 1965 holding that such a treaty could be considered if it was the price to pay for the detachment of Chagos (PRO CAB 148/22 COPD (65): Memo by Secretaries of State for Defence and Foreign Affairs, 26 August 1965). At the same meeting, the Secretary of State for the Foreign Office, Michael Stewart, stated that though it would be preferable that detachment be carried out with the full agreement of the Mauritian government, if this proved impossible, the alternative would be to proceed unilaterally through an Order in Council. According to him, such a pro- cedure was perfectly legal as these islands had been attached to Mauritius purely for administrative convenience and there were no historical link between the islands, situated some 1800 kilometres (1118 miles) away from each other. However, Anthony Greenwood expressed his opposition to such proceedings which, according to him, could only lead to the failure of the Constitutional Conference. The Conference opened on 7 September 1965 at Lancaster House. The agenda comprised safeguards to the rights of ethnic minorities 76 jocelyn chan low

(an appropriate electoral system, constitutional guarantees, the Muslim Personal Law, the future of the confessional schools) and addressed:

■ The final status of Mauritius (Independence or Free Association) ■ The type of popular consultation to decide the matter (the Parti Mauricien Social Démocrate called for a referendum while the Mauritius Labour Party and the Independent Forward Block were in favour of general elections.)

Officially, the Colonial Office would act as a broker but at the same time work for a compromise without excluding any alternative. For his part, Anthony Greenwood did not want to jeopardise the success of the conference by forcing the issue Chagos. However, on 16 September 1965, his colleagues at the Defence and Overseas Policy Committee reminded him firmly of the urgent need to reach a satisfactory solution to the Chagos issue, both in the interest of British Defence and in order to maintain good relations with the US. The agreement on Chagos was to be reached at the latest before the end of the Constitutional Conference, which was expected to take place on the 21st September (PRO CAB 48/18 DOP, 39th Meeting, 16 September 1965). The Defence and Overseas Policy Committee decided to wait until then before making any decision on the unilateral detachment of Chagos through an Order in Council. Time was pressing, as official Anglo-American discussions were scheduled for the 23–24 September. Yet neither the issue of detachment nor the Constitutional Conference were moving forward smoothly. At Lancaster House, as no consensus could be reached on electoral reforms, it was finally decided to leave matters to an independent commission whose report would be ratified by the various parties after discussions. But the Parti Mauricien Social Démocrate resolutely maintained both its opposition to independence and its demand for a referendum to decide on a formula of free association with Great Britain. Finally, the PMSD decided to walk out of the conference on 23 September 1965 in protest of the British refusal to consider its proposal of a referendum. As to the dossier of detachment, the 15 September meeting between the Mauritian ministers and the representative at the American embassy had clearly demonstrated the insurmountable obstacles to any commercial concessions or facilities related to immigration from the US (PRO CO 1036/1255: Note of a meeting held at the Embassy of the USA, London 11.30 am on 15 September 1965). the making of the chagos affair 77

However, at a meeting held at the Colonial Office on 20 September 1965, Ramgoolam and the Mauritian ministers reaffirmed their proposal for commercial concessions from the US; alternatively, they maintained the proposal of a 99 year lease at a rate of £7 million yearly for the first 20 years and £2 million subsequently. As CCP Heathcote noted, “at that meeting Ramgoolam said firmly that Mauritian government was not interested in excision and would stand out for 99 years lease” (PRO FCO 32/484/1: Chronology of events leading to establishment of BIOT, C.C.P. Heathcote Smith, 13 December 1968). Yet three days later, on the 23 September at a meeting held at 2.30 pm, S. Ramgoolam and the Mauritian ministers (with the exception of the PMSD, absent) agreed to the offer of £3 million as compensation for the detachment of Chagos (PRO 1036/1253: Record of a Meeting held in Lancaster House at 2.30 pm on Thursday 23 September 1965). It is true that among the conditions which were attached (following arduous negotiations by Ramgoolam and Mohamed with the Colonial Office over the notes of meeting) there remained the possibility of the retrocession of Chagos to Mauritius in the event that Britain and the US no longer had need of the islands (though the initiative would only come from Britain). There were also assurances for “oil, fishing and mineral rights, as well as air and navigation rights” (Ibid.). Moreover, Britain pledged itself to help in the discussion with the Americans over commercial concessions and agreed to favourably consider a defence treaty covering internal security in the event Mauritius opted for independence (Ibid.). According to Sir John Rennie, if Ramgoolam finally surrendered Diego Garcia it was because he had become convinced (or the British had manoeuvred brilliantly to make him convinced) that if he proved conciliatory on this issue the British government would finally decide in favour of Mauritius’ independence at the close of the Constitutional Conference (PRO FCO 32/317: Rennie to Galworthy, 5 January 1968). The plenary sessions that had been held without interruption from 7 to 21 September stopped convening. The agenda had been covered for the essentials, yet the British kept the suspense as to the issue of the conference until 24 September. On the morning of 23 September, S. Ramgoolam met Harold Wilson at Downing Street. The British Prime Minister, after deploring that the Mauritians were raising the stakes too high, stated that “there was a number of possibilities: the Premier (Ramgoolam) and his colleagues could return to Mauritius either with 78 jocelyn chan low independence or without it. On the Defence part, Diego Garcia could either be detached by Order in Council or with the agreement of the Premier and his colleagues. The best of all might be independence and detachment by agreement, although he could not of course commit the colonial secretary at the point” (PRO CO 1036/253: Record of Conversation between Prime Minister and the Premier of Mauritius Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam at 10, Downing Street at 10.00 on Thursday 23 September 1965). Ramgoolam understood perfectly what was at stake: “Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam said that he was convinced that the question of Diego Garcia was a matter of detail. There was no difficulty in principle” (Ibid). At 11.15, Sir John Rennie sent a ‘top secret’ telegram to Tom Vickers, the Officer in charge in Mauritius, announcing that in all probability the conference would come out in favour of independence after the next general elections if the population so wished. The Colonial Office expected a reply as to probable reactions in Mauritius to such an outcome and the repercussions on internal security (PRO CO 1036/1084: Rennie for OAG, 23 September 1965). During a meeting held at 2.30 pm the same day, the Mauritian ministers, in absence of representatives of the Parti Mauricien Social Démocrate, gave their agreement to detach Chagos from Mauritius, later reiterating their decision at the meeting of the Defence and Overseas Policy Committees held at 4.00 pm. Anthony Greenwood communi- cated the good news to his colleagues of the cabinet and announced that he proposed to end the Constitutional Conference the next day; he chose to do so in a statement indicating that it was the wish of Great Britain that Mauritius become independent within the Commonwealth but that a defence treaty would be signed with the new state covering internal defence. The British Cabinet expressed its total satisfaction with the accomplishments of the Secretary of State (PRO CAB/48/6 DOP (65), 40th Meeting, Thursday 23 September 1965), and on the next day, at 10.30 am, Anthony Greenwood announced the British decision to the Mauritian delegation (in absence of PMSD delegates). A direct referendum on independence was ruled out though Mauritians were invited to decide upon independence at the next general elections. After the Mauritian Council of Ministers (presided by a British Governor) had formally agreed to the detachment of Chagos on 5 November 1965, the BIOT was created by an Order in Council on 8 November 1965. A few days later, on 11 November 1965, Sir John Rennie reported to the Colonial Office the strong conviction in Mauritius about a deal for independence in exchange for Diego Garcia (PRO CO1036/1253: the making of the chagos affair 79

Rennie to Secretary of State, 11 November 1965). This was confirmed later by the Colonial Office itself.I n early 1967, the Foreign Office started new negotiations over British entry in the European Common Market. This would have been disastrous for the marketing of Mauritian Sugar (as the Commonwealth Sugar Agreement would have to be abandoned as one of the conditions of entry) and the Minister of State for Colonies enquired at the Colonial Office whether Britain could take back the promise of independence. In a ‘Minute on File,’ T. Z. Terry stressed that this was impossible: “I am told that it was a cabinet decision that this undertaking should be given and that in addition, Her Majesty’s decision to come out publicly in favour of independence for Mauritius was part of the deal between our present Prime Minister and the Premier of Mauritius regarding the detachment of certain Mauritian dependencies for BIOT” (PRO CO 1036/268: Minute on file: Terry to Fairclough, 14 February 1967).

Conclusion

A study of the records pertaining to the making of the Chagos affair reveals the close links between the British decision to publicly declare itself in favour of the independence of multi-ethnic Mauritius— bedevilled by inter-ethnic tensions aggravated by an acute crisis of underdevelopment—and the excision of the Chagos archipelago. The British authorities skilfully and deceitfully manoeuvred to blackmail Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam—heading a divided Mauritian delegation and with allies lukewarm in their support for independence—into accepting the illegal dismemberment of Mauritian territory prior to independence. These documents also reveal that the Chagossians were never consulted. Indeed, at the time, they did not even have the right to vote, as the outer islands (including Rodrigues) were left out by the delimitation of electoral boundaries from the 1959 and 1963 general elections. The outer islands having been so neglected and removed from mainstream politics, it is not surprising that their fate was considered a matter of detail by both the British authorities and the Mauritian political elites of the time. Independence, the special relationship between UK and US (within the context of the Cold War), and the defence of Western interests were deemed high stakes that could override the basic human rights of a minority group: the Chagossians. In the game that was being played, who would care for a small, neglected and politically deprived population?

Charlesia Alexis: The Struggle of the Chagossian Women

Charlesia Alexis still clearly remembers the day, more than three decades ago, when she was approached by three other Chagossian women— including her sister-in-law, Lisette Talate—who encouraged her to get involved in campaigning for Chagossians’ rights. The women took strategic advice from high-profile Mauritian sympathisers (such as the Mauritian Militant Movement politicians, Paul Bérenger and Kader Bhayat, and the pro-Creole Fraternal Organisation leaders, Sylvio Michel and Elie Michel) and decided to work together. “Then we started our struggle,” explains Charlesia. At first, the group organised demonstrations on the streets. Later, teams of Chagossian women held a series of four hunger strikes in Cassis, Terre Rouge and twice in Jardin de la Compagnie in Port Louis. Their efforts eventually resulted in negotiations with the Mauritian government and the UK government, culminating in compensation deals in 1978 and 1982. “We were just women; there were no men at all in those days,” Charlesia mentions. Why not? “When we did demonstrations, the police beat the men … so we decided to use a majority of women and a minority of men.” The Chagossians’ struggle was also supported by Mauritian members of the radical Women’s Liberation Movement, who joined in the demonstrations. “The government doesn’t care about us,” the protesters chanted, “Send us back to Diego Garcia!” In 1981, a demonstration in support of the Chagossian women on hunger strike in Jardin de la Compagnie erupted into violence between protesters and police, during which Charlesia was injured. Later that day, the police arrested four Chagossian women (including Charlesia) in addition to two female Mauritian supporters (Lindsey Collen and Ragini Kistnasawmy from the Women’s Liberation Movement). When the case came to court, the women were supported by Kader Bhayat. The subsequent negotiations between the Chagossian representatives, the Mauritian government and the UK government resulted in the 1982 compensation deal, in which the UK government contributed £4 million and the Mauritian government contributed land worth £1 million on which to build houses. However, Charlesia recalls that the Mauritian 82 charlesia alexis government decided to retain the money for another year in order to earn interest—which was not passed on to the islanders—thus delaying the construction of houses until the mid-1980s. Totting up their financial income from the two compensation pack- ages, Charlesia suggests that “it’s not a compensation for Chagossians … it’s not even a British person’s pay for one month.” With hindsight, she realises that “we’re a small people. We have no arms to make war with the British government, nor with the Mauritian government. We didn’t know if the money was a lot, or if it was a little. Me, I say that the Mauritian government and the British government looked after their own interests.” As a result, in 1983, Charlesia, Lisette Talate and Olivier Bancoult formed the Chagos Refugees Group, which continues to campaign for adequate compensation and the right to return to Chagos. Charlesia, now a great-grandmother living in Crawley (West Sussex), still believes that “the Ilois problem isn’t going away; the British government must recognise our suffering” and “give us something.”

By Laura Jeffery Sorrow, Sadness, and Impoverishment: The Lives of Chagossians in Mauritius

Laura Jeffery and David Vine

In this chapter we detail the challenging social, economic and political conditions that confronted the displaced islanders upon their arrival in Mauritius, the main site of exile.1 Many Chagossians describe being treated as a people apart, feeling excluded from mainstream life and never feeling ‘at home’ in Mauritius. Part of this sense of exclusion stems from the history surrounding the founding of Mauritius: the bargain in which the ‘father of the nation,’ Seewoosagur Ramgoolam, gave up the Chagos archipelago in exchange for independence (see Chan Low, this volume). As one young man of Chagossian parentage explained to Jeffery, M“ auritius got independence because it sold my mother’s land.” Many Chagossians therefore feel ambivalent about Mauritian nation- hood, which was won at the expense of the excision of Chagos from Mauritius, the uprooting of the Chagos islanders from Chagos, and their relocation to Mauritius and the Seychelles. Offering insights into the effects of displacement on those displaced, Elizabeth Colson (1989) has described how home and a familiar environment can offer a refuge that is often central to people’s sense of self and identity. Destroying that home or removing people from their home is then likely to precipitate material and psychological suffering such as disorientation and insecurity (Ibid.). While there is no automatic cor- relation between loss of home and psychological or emotional disorder amongst displaced people (see Malkki 1995a, 1995b), many Chagossians have reported suffering from homesickness and alienation as a result of their forced displacement from Chagos and relocation to Mauritius. Many have also described feelings of shame in exile deriving from material poverty, experiences of discrimination, the fragmentation of Chagossian community life that came with the dispersal of the community between and within Mauritius and the Seychelles, and subsequently,

1 Vine’s following chapter shows that many of these problems also confronted Chagossians in Seychelles. 84 laura jeffery & david vine the loss of some forms of cultural expression and self-identification. As a result, many Chagos islanders and their descendants were either raised with little sense of Chagossian history and culture or felt the need to conceal their Chagossian identity in the face of ethnic discrimination and negative stereotyping.2 According to Thayder Scudder, being moved against one’s will is to suffer a “terrible defeat,” since “it is hard to imagine a more dramatic way to illustrate impotence than to forcibly eject people from a preferred habitat against their will” (Scudder 1973, 51). Colson likewise suggests that forced displacement leads to increased dependence and an awareness amongst displaced people of this increased dependence. Forced displacement, she notes, is a clear demonstration to a group of people that they have lost control over their own destiny and are powerless (Colson 1971; Colson 1989). Grappling with these issues, some Chagossians have asked why the displacement was allowed to take place, why Chagossians were victimised, and why they cannot live in their native land. Others have internalised blame for the displacement, ques- tioning how they could have allowed themselves to be uprooted, and asking why they did not resist and protest more vigorously to prevent it from happening. Michael Cernea has demonstrated that “the core content of unmiti- gated forced displacement is economic and social uprooting” (Cernea 1997, 1572). His model shows how displacement is likely to result in “massive loss and destruction of assets, including loss of life; unemployment, sudden drop in welfare and standards of living; prolonged uprooting, alienation and social disarticulation; cultural and identity loss; severe long-term stress and psychological effects; political disempowerment,” and other damage (Cernea 2004, 13). It is thus clear that displaced Chagos islanders suffered as a direct result of their forced uprooting from the Chagos archipelago. Displaced islanders lost their land, houses and other property, as well as their jobs and access to shared resources such as the sea, coconut palms and other edible flora, beaches, and ancestral graveyards. Social networks, village ties and cultural practices of sharing and socialising (such as the weekly

2 many of Jeffery’s interviewees reported that this situation started to change in light of the sense of self-worth that members of the community derived from Olivier Bancoult’s successful judicial review in the London Divisional Court in 2000 and the awarding of UK citizenship in 2002 (see Jeffery 2006a, 49). sorrow, sadness, and impoverishment 85 sega dancing parties) were ruptured through the dispersal of the community in exile. Islanders’ mental and physical health suffered from the stressful and traumatic experiences of displacement, relocation and ongoing dislocation from a society where they and their ancestors had lived and worked for generations. By 1975 alone, there had been at least eleven suicides amongst the Chagossian community, as well as other deaths by miscarriage or exposure and susceptibility to diseases that were uncommon in Chagos, such as influenza and diphtheria (Comité Ilois Organisation Fraternelle n.d., 2–3; Madeley 1985, 5–6; Walker 1986, 14). Displaced Chagos islanders tend to describe their lives in exile in terms of sagrin, tristes and mizer: sorrow, sadness and impoverishment. Social scientists, journalists, human rights researchers, and government officials have similarly documented how the islanders were marginalised and impoverished by their forced displacement, later suffering an array of economic, social, cultural, physical, and psychological harm (e.g. Siophe 1975; Prosser 1976; Botte 1980; Sylva 1981; Madeley 1985; Dræbel 1997; Anyangwe 2001; Vine et al. 2005; Vine 2009). These findings are not surprising, as evidenced in the work of scholars such as Cernea, Colson, and Scudder. Forced displacement of human pop ulations is a widespread global phenomenon, with approximately 31.7 million people currently classified as refugees as a result of events as disparate as large-scale infrastructural projects, environmental disas- ters, and warfare.3 Research aggregating findings from hundreds of cases of forced displacement worldwide has shown that, in the absence of adequate preventative measures, forced displacement is likely to result in chronic impoverishment in exile (Cernea 2000, 12). In this chapter, we show how the displacement and lack of a resettlement programme combined with demographic constraints, economic challenges and ethnic tensions in Mauritius (before and after independence in 1968) contributed to and shaped the marginalisation of Chagossians. In our analysis, we focus on poor housing, unemployment and underemployment, ethnic discrimination, and socio-psychological marginalisation. First, Chagos islanders in Mauritius suffered from overcrowded living conditions in poor quality houses, living in disadvantaged neighbourhoods with associated educational and social problems. Second, they were marginalised economically by the

3 http://www.unhcr.org/basics.html 86 laura jeffery & david vine

obsolescence of their skills in Mauritius, where they experienced high rates of unemployment, underemployment, and low wages. Third, they were marginalised socially as the targets of ethnic stereotypes and discrimination. Despite these and other hardships, however, Chagossians—like other displaced peoples—have not been passive in the face of forced displacement and hardship. Ever since the first Chagos islanders were stranded in Mauritius when prevented from returning to Chagos, the islanders have protested against their exile and impoverishment. As we detail in the conclusion to this chapter, Chagossians have campaigned—via petitions, demonstrations, hunger strikes, and legal action—for the right to return to their homeland and proper compensation for their suffering.

Economy and Ethnicity in Colonial and Postcolonial Mauritius

To understand the Chagossians’ experiences in Mauritius, we first introduce the historical and contemporary Mauritian context. Like many of the islands in the western Indian Ocean—including Réunion, the Seychelles, and the Chagos archipelago—Mauritius was by all accounts uninhabited prior to European colonial expansion in the region from the 16th century onwards (Allen 1999, 9; Barnwell and Toussaint 1949, 1–2). Portuguese traders used Mauritius as a stopping place between the Cape and India from 1511 onwards, but did not establish a permanent settlement (Barnwell and Toussaint 1949, 3; Toussaint 1966, 110). The Dutch East India Company (VOC) used Mauritius as a stopping place between Europe and East Asia from 1598 onwards and claimed the island in 1638 (naming it after the ruling princeM aurice van Nassau). They introduced sugar cane, finding the crop resilient and well suited to the rainy and windy climate (Barnwell and Toussaint 1949, 32–33; Benedict 1965, 10; Simmons 1982, 7–8). However, they abandoned Mauritius in 1710 due to the difficulties of maintaining the small settlement (Allen 1999, 9; Barnwell and Toussaint 1949, 34–37). The French soon colonised Mauritius (which they renamed Ile de France) in 1715 and established a permanent settlement on the island in 1721, experimenting with coffee, cotton, indigo, and spices (Allen 1999, 9; Barnwell and Toussaint 1949, 41, 43; Toussaint 1966, 272). The British captured Mauritius in 1810 during the Napoleonic wars and, realising the military significance of its natural harbours, acquired permanent sorrow, sadness, and impoverishment 87 control of the island and its dependencies (including the Seychelles and Chagos, but not Réunion, which remained French territory) in the 1814 Treaty of Paris (Allen 1999, 11; Barnwell and Toussaint 1949, 123, 125; Benedict 1965, 13). The British again favoured sugarcane, and by the 1830s, sugar accounted for 85 percent of the value of exports from Mauritius (Allen 1999, 11–12, 28; Barnwell and Toussaint 1949, 55, 131, chapter XIV; Carter 1995, 13–14; Simmons 1982, 8). French colonial administrators and plantation owners initially populated Mauritius and its dependencies with enslaved labourers from West Africa, but the French and their British successors later depended on enslaved people from coastal East Africa and Madagascar. During the period 1670–1848 as a whole, approximately 53 percent of the enslaved labourers brought by European colonists into Mauritius were from East Africa, 39.9 percent were from Madagascar, 6.8 percent were from South Asia, and 0.3 percent were from West Africa (Allen 2004, 37). Britain abolished its slave trade in 1807 and emancipated enslaved people in Mauritius in 1835, compensating slave owners financially and replacing slavery with an apprenticeship scheme entitling former slave owners to continued labour for a maximum of six years (Barnwell and Toussaint 1949, chapter XV; Vaughan 2005, chapter 10). When this unpopular scheme was abandoned after only four years, many ex-apprentices rejected the employment contracts offered by their former owners, and left the plantations for towns and coastal areas, where most turned to non-agricultural manual labour or fishing (Allen 1999, 15–16; Carter 1995, 19; Vaughan 2005, 267). In the years before emancipation, British colonists started to recruit indentured labour from British India. Plantation owners supported indenture as a way to keep labour costs low following emancipation, arguing that indentured labourers would work for lower wages and for longer hours than apprentices or ex-apprentices and could be more easily dismissed after the harvest season (Carter 1995, 16–17). During the 1840s the rate of immigration from India increased dramatically such that Indian immigrants comprised one-third of the population of Mauritius by 1846 and two-thirds by 1871 (Allen 1999, 17; Benedict 1965, 17; Carter 1995, 271).4 Having largely replaced African labourers

4 european contractors recruited smaller numbers of labourers in China from 1860 onwards, and by 1952, 3 percent of the Mauritian population was of Chinese descent (Central Statistics Office 2003a, 15–16; Ly-Tio-Fane Pineo 1985, 22–24). 88 laura jeffery & david vine on the sugarcane plantations, Indian labourers began to gain an economic foothold in Mauritius with the help of two colonial land reforms in the 19th century that allowed them to leave the plantations and buy small plots of farmland beginning around 1875. Freed from indenture and aided by transnational capital flows brought by Indian traders and merchants, many small landholding Indians established themselves as lower middle class planters, which became a stepping stone to other entrepreneurial activities and increased Indo-Mauritian economic and political prominence in Mauritius (see e.g., Teelock 2001, 294–304). European colonial administrators and plantation owners in Mauritius thus created a population with diverse ancestral origins and a society in which ancestral, ethnic, religious and class affiliations became central to political and economic life. The term ‘Creole,’ which originally referred to all those who had been born in the colony, gradually came to refer only to those of African or mixed ancestry (Benedict 1965, 14; Vaughan 2005, 2–3, 272). In this chapter, we use ‘Creole’ in its wider sense of mixed ancestry, and we specify ‘Afro-Creole’ when referring particularly to darker-skinned Creoles of primarily African ancestry (cf. Boswell 2006, 46–47; Eisenlohr 2006, 282 n.56). In 1962 and 1972, when census enumerators were instructed to ask respondents to assign themselves to a particular ‘community,’ the categories offered were H ‘ indu’ and ‘Muslim’ (both of Indian origin), ‘Sino-Mauritian’ (of Chinese origin), and the residual ‘General Population’ (all others, that is, ‘Creoles’ and ‘Franco-Mauritians’). These censuses reported that theM auritian population comprised approximately 50 percent Hindus, 16 percent Muslim, 31 percent General Population, and 3 percent Sino-Mauritians (Central Statistics Office 2003a, 16).5 Accounts of the late colonial period in Mauritius have indicated that decolonisation was highly controversial and that ethnic and religious affiliations played a large part in political affiliations (Benedict 1965,

5 In the 1983 census, the practice of classifying respondents according to ethnic or religious affiliation was discontinued in the hope of reducing ethnic conflict (Dinan 2002, 81), although the census continued to record citizens’ names, religious background, and ‘ancestral language.’ At the turn of the century, the Central Statistics Office extrapolated from these data to estimate that the Mauritian population had remained fairly constant, comprising 66 percent Indo-Mauritians (Hindus and Muslims forming approximately 52 percent and 14 percent of the total population respectively), 31 percent General Population (Creoles and Franco-Mauritians forming approximately 29 percent and 2 percent of the total population respectively), and 3 percent Sino- Mauritians (Central Statistics office 2000, 2; see also Eriksen 1998, 183). sorrow, sadness, and impoverishment 89

60–67; Simmons 1982; see Chan Low, this volume). In 1965, the debate about independence sparked riots between Creoles and Hindus (Simmons 1982, 161–163). Following negotiations with the UK government, general elections were held in 1967 and won by an Indo-Mauritian dominated pro-independence coalition, which paved the way for independence in 1968; however, 44 percent of the electorate had voted for an anti-independence coalition comprised of Franco-Mauritian planters, urban Creoles and Sino-Mauritians (Eriksen 1998, 10, 151–152). In 1968, major inter-ethnic rioting broke out in the north of Port Louis between Creoles and Muslims (many of whom had campaigned together for the same political candidates before the election) over control of the constituency and growing unemployment, resulting in over 25 deaths, hundreds injured, thousands fleeing their homes, and the declaration of a state of emergency (Selvon 2001, 394; Eriksen 1998, 151–152; Simmons 1982, 186–188). After 1968, however, there was no major inter-ethnic violence for the next 30 years.6 By the end of the colonial period, employment patterns reflected an ethnic and religious division of labour that has continued since independence (Benedict 1965, 25–28). Franco-Mauritians still own most of the large plantations and sugarcane factories, Sino-Mauritians are over- represented in business, Hindus are over-represented in politics, Hindus and Muslims are over-represented in agriculture, and Creoles are over- represented in non-agricultural manual labour (Eriksen 1998, 64, 110, 118; Mauritius Research Council 1999, 30; Salverda 2004; Simmons 1982, 10–11). “At the bottom of the socio-economic scale,” noted the Mauritius Research Council, are “Hindu plantations workers, Muslims working in petty jobs within the informal sector, and Black Creole factory workers, dockers, and fishermen” (Mauritius Research Council 1999, 30). After independence, successive Mauritian governments sought to transform the Mauritian economy. Since the 18th century, the Mauritian

6 In February 1999, however, there were four days of inter-ethnic violence across Mauritius, sparked by the suspicious death in custody of Kaya, a popular Afro-Creole seggae (Kreol-language sega music crossed with reggae) singer, who had been arrested for use of marijuana following his participation in an event campaigning for the legalisa- tion of marijuana. Seeing the incident in ethnic terms and blaming Kaya’s death on the Hindu-dominated police force, Creoles attacked police stations and Hindus retaliated by burning houses owned by Creoles. The riots resulted in the deaths of at least four civil- ians and one police officer, over one hundred people injured, the loss of fifty homes, and the imposition of a state of emergency (Carroll and Carroll 2000, 139; see also Chateau 2000). 90 laura jeffery & david vine economy had been dominated by sugarcane production, and by the 20th century, Mauritius was the epitome of a mono-crop economy, dependent on the fluctuations of the sugar market and the decisions of British colonial rulers. With one of the highest population growth rates in the world and unemployment running at over 20 percent, Mauritius at independence was considered by British experts to be a Malthusian disaster in the making that would soon lack the resources to feed and support its population (Bowman 1991, 112–113). Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, however, successive post-independence Mauritian governments diversified the Mauritian economy by developing the textiles industry (which quickly became and remains today the single largest employer and exporter), tea and tobacco for export, large-scale fishing, tourism, and offshore finance (Benedict 1965, 5–7; Bowman 1991, 122–137; Eriksen 1998, 19; Central Statistics Office 2003b; Bunwaree- Ramharai et al. 1997). Unemployment fell sharply during the late 1980s, and by the early 1990s Mauritius was being hailed as the African post- colonial multiethnic political and economic success story (see Bowman 1991, 137–140; Eriksen 1998, 13). Contrary to this conventional narrative, however, and despite the significant decreases in unemployment as a result of the growth in the textiles and tourist industries in particular, unemployment and underemployment have remained problems. For many of the poorest Mauritians, and especially Afro-Creoles, securing stable employment has proved difficult (Lau Thi Keng 1997). Even at the height of employment growth in Mauritius, in 1986, more than 30 percent of the labour force was working in the informal sector (Lamusse 2001, 41). In the late 1990s, the Mauritian economy slowed and unemployment rose annually from 5.1 percent in 1995 to over 10 percent in the early 2000s, falling again to 8.5 percent in 2007 (Central Statistics Office 2003a; Central Statistics Office 2008). Recent attempts to continue the diversification process have focussed on the development of a cyber city (Tolnay 2007).

Housing, Education, and Employment

These particular social, economic, and political difficulties in Mauritius had negative impacts on Chagossians’ arrival in Mauritius during the 1960s and early 1970s by creating several barriers to their accommodation, employment, and social integration. By the time of arrival in sorrow, sadness, and impoverishment 91

Mauritius, the country in general and the capital Port Louis in particular were suffering from a severe shortage of housing as a result of high pop ulation growth and devastating impacts (especially on the poor) of recent cyclones, notably cyclone Carol in 1960 (Titmuss and Abel-Smith 1968, 7).7 Most Chagos islanders were thus homeless upon arrival in Mauritius, and had to seek accommodation, for which they had to pay, a situation unlike that in Chagos. Chagossian families who had left Chagos to visit Mauritius in the early or mid-1960s (not knowing until later that they would be unable to return) often stayed with their extended families and other acquaintances who lived in the already crowded neighbourhoods of Port Louis and neighbouring environs: Cassis near the docks, Petite Rivière to the south-west and Roche Bois to the north-east of the city. Others had no one to accommodate them in Mauritius and sought cheap accommodation in disadvantaged neighbourhoods. In May 1973, the last 125 Chagossians to be deported from Peros Banhos on the cargo ship Nordvær refused to disembark on the quayside in Port Louis, demanding that they be returned to the Chagos archipelago or be offered compensation and housing. Eventually, after almost a week on board, the Mauritian government offered accommodation in the Dockers’ Flats in Baie du Tombeau or in government housing in Cité la Cure, two disadvantaged neighbourhoods to the north of Port Louis (Le Mauricien 1973; L’Express 1973). Chagossian families recall the unsanitary and dilapidated state of the accommodation, much of which lacked running water and glass in the windows. With no resettlement programmes in place, nor any immediate compensation or assistance in finding employment, all sources agree that they faced severe socio-economic difficulties throughout the subsequent decades. In a report for the UK government, Russell Prosser noted in 1976 that housing was the main problem for relocated Chagossians who were, as he noted, “living in deplorable conditions” (Prosser 1976, 6).

7 Cyclones Alix and Carol struck in 1960, and cyclone Jenny struck in 1962. According to the Mauritius Meteorological Services (http://metservice.intnet.mu/wcygen.htm), Carol is still the most damaging cyclone on record. Cyclone Carol decimated crops, killed 42 people, and destroyed 40,000 houses, leaving thousands homeless. As a result of the destruction caused by cyclone Carol, the Central Housing Association set up the Cyclone Housing Scheme, which built 14,000 subsidised houses (of which 6,000 were on urban housing estates) between 1961 and 1970. Cyclone Gervaise destroyed 13,000 houses in 1975, and the government commissioned another 10,000 subsidised homes built between 1975 and 1980. 92 laura jeffery & david vine

A Mauritian social worker, Françoise Botte, wrote in 1980 that unemployment and underemployment, lack of understanding of money, under-education, and housing problems had led to alcoholism, gambling, prostitution, and stealing (Botte 1980, chapter 9). A 1981 report by Hervé Sylva likewise concluded that the main problems for Chagossians were poor housing and unemployment, and indicated that poverty had given rise to problems such as alcoholism, gambling and crime (Sylva 1981). In a 1985 report for Minority Rights Group, the investigative journalist John Madeley described the Chagossians as living in “abject poverty” and noted that housing and unemployment remained major problems (Madeley 1985, 3, 10–11). Iain Walker devoted one chapter of his 1986 anthropological report on the Chagossians in Mauritius to a discussion of unemployment, underemployment and poor housing (Walker 1986, chapter 3). This precarious economic situation in Mauritius prior to the mid-1970s (Bowman 1991, 112–113) had particular implications for Chagossians’ attempts to enter the Mauritian labour market. Docu mentary evidence shows that British government officials predicted that the islanders would have difficulties integrating into the Mauritian economy because of the already high levels of unemployment and because of the Chagossians’ lack of experience in the sugar industry. For example, in 1969, the high commissioner to Mauritius, Arthur Wooller, sent a telegram to inform the UK Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) that the Mauritian government was reluctant to accept the Chagos islanders because Mauritius already faced 20 percent unemployment, and the influx of 250 Chagossian families would increase pressure on social services. He suggested that the Chagos islanders would be faced with the “near impossibility of finding suitable employment” because they were trained only in the copra industry, which was absent in Mauritius.8 A letter to the FCO from the BIOT commissioner, Hugh Norman Walker, reinforced this viewpoint. While coloured by its racialised view of the islanders, the letter reflects some of the difficulties they faced: It is important when dealing with the problem of the Ilois [islanders] from Chagos to appreciate what type of people they are. They are extremely unsophisticated, illiterate, untrainable and unsuitable for any work other

8 Quoted in Chagos Islanders v Attorney General and Her Majesty’s British Indian Ocean Territory Commissioner [2004]. London: High Court of Justice, Queens Bench Division. CO/3775/98: Appendix paragraph 221. sorrow, sadness, and impoverishment 93

than the simplest labour tasks on a copra plantation. This is not altogether surprising as they have spent all their lives on remote islands.9 Chagossians likewise criticised the British authorities for sending them to Mauritius at a time of acute job shortages, which compounded their existing problems such as their lack of experience in the sugar industry and effective networks that could be mobilised in search for employment (Botte 1980; Sylva 1981; Walker 1986). Chagossians also found themselves at a disadvantage in the education system. In contrast to the relatively high levels of education in Mauritius, almost all islanders who were adults when they left Chagos were not literate (given the late introduction of education in Chagos). In 1975, only two percent of Chagossian adults could read “a little” (Siophe 1975, 115–116). Most of those who left Chagos as children had only limited exposure to formal education given the closure of some of the islands’ schools as early as 1967 and the interruption and curtailment of schooling caused by the displacement. Upon arrival in Mauritius, some children were not admitted to schools; others had to go to work to support their families, and by 1975, 27 percent of school-age Chagossian children were not in school (Siophe 1975, 118–119). Most of those who successfully completed primary school did not go on to secondary school, both due to the cost (secondary schooling did not become free in Mauritius until 1976) and the fact that sending children to work instead provided additional financial support for the family. Those Chagossian children who did attend school inM auritius found themselves structurally disadvantaged in other ways. Living for the most part in the poorest areas around Port Louis, they attended schools which struggled to recruit and retain good teachers and had difficult learning environments (Dræbel 1997, Bunwaree 1998). Many of those who attended school said they experienced discrimination and verbal abuse from teachers and classmates. In turn, as a result of their limited educational background, Chagossian jobseekers generally found themselves in competition with Mauritians who were likely to have received better quality and more formal education (see Bunwaree 1998). In addition, some of the skills Chagossians brought with them from Chagos were rendered economically useless in Mauritius. For example,

9 Quoted in Chagos Islanders v Attorney General and Her Majesty’s British Indian Ocean Territory Commissioner [2004]. London: High Court of Justice, Queens Bench Division. CO/3775/98: Appendix paragraph 312. 94 laura jeffery & david vine marine carpentry and boat building were of little commercial use where wood-based boat construction had become largely obsolete. Chagossians’ fishing skills were relatively more usable, and fishing has remained an important source of employment for Chagossians. Unsurprisingly, given their general lack of formal education and the obsolescence of their skills in Mauritius as well as the ethnic discrimination they faced (discussed below), many Chagossians described having significant difficulties finding employment. Shortly after arrival in Mauritius, almost half depended in whole or in part on income not derived from work: public welfare, family and friends, loans from moneylenders, and other sources (Vine et al. 2005, 114). A series of surveys likewise indicates that the Chagossian community has suffered disproportionately from chronic underemployment and unemployment, with a significant proportion of Chagossian men and women remaining underemployed and unemployed, respectively, to this day (Siophe 1975; Botte 1980; Sylva 1981; Vine et al. 2005, 116–119; Jeffery 2006a, 50–53). Thus at a time when the Mauritian economy was expanding and diversifying, Chagossians found themselves structurally disadvantaged in ways that inhibited them from benefiting from the wider macroeconomic prosperity. Conventional and idealised impressions of the economic boom in Mauritius—such as the claim that Mauritius achieved full employment by the late 1980s—overlook these structural disparities that have prevented certain sectors of the population from benefiting fully. This chapter shows that even when the Mauritian economy took off, Chagossians remained disadvantaged in the Mauritian job market due to their lack of formal education and absence of demand for their skills.

Double Discrimination

However, the structural marginalisation encountered by Chagossians in Mauritius was a result not only of lack of education and skills, but also due to complex, pre-existing ethnic stratification in Mauritius and Chagossians’ lack of effective local networks that could otherwise be mobilised in the search for employment. As we have seen, Mauritius has a long history of ethnic classification and stratification dating back to the introduction of enslaved African peoples in the colony. On arrival in Mauritius, Chagossians were slotted into the ethnic hierarchy as a marginalised subset of the already marginalised Afro-Creole category, and sorrow, sadness, and impoverishment 95 faced discrimination in a stratified society of limited socio-economic mobility (see Boswell 2006, 46–47; Eriksen 1998, 51). Chagossians thus report suffering from overlapping forms of discrimination—against Afro-Creoles in general and against Chagossians in particular—which created significant barriers to their economic advancement and social inclusion. When times were particularly hard, Chagossians observed that Mauritian employers (like employers elsewhere) had a general preference for hiring local experienced workers rather than outsiders with whom they had no connections. During his research among Chagossians in Mauritius in the mid-1980s, Walker noted that many of those Chagossians who managed to gain employment on arrival in Mauritius were later disadvantaged by “last in, first out” policies implemented by Mauritian employers during economic downturns (Walker 1986, 33). When talking about their problems in obtaining employment, Chagossians likewise described to us two main forms of discrimination: firstly, employers’ preference for employing members of their own family, ethnic or religious group, and secondly, discrimination against applicants of African descent in general and against Chagossians in particular. Like other Afro-Creoles in Mauritius, Chagossians routinely described the archetypal employer in Mauritius as a member of the Hindu majority who would discriminate in favour of Hindu interests. Following independence, Hindu-Mauritians controlled many sectors of Mauritian society, including government, the civil service, and public sector employment. Many Afro-Creoles (Chagossians and Mauritians alike) reported that if a Hindu and a non-Hindu applied for the same job, a Hindu employer would give the job to the Hindu even if the non-Hindu was better qualified (see also Eriksen 1998, 62–67; Mauritius Research Council 1999, 10, 60). Chagossian interviewees told Jeffery that they believed it to be ‘normal’ or ‘natural’ for employers to discriminate in favour of employing members of their own ‘community,’ ethnic, or religious group. Additionally, employers were seen by Chagossians as discriminatory towards members of other communities, for whom they held negative stereotypes stemming from a history of slavery, racial categorisation, and ethnic discrimination. In particular Chagossians reported that some Mauritians of Indian, Chinese, or European descent unevenly stereotype and discriminate against people of primarily African descent. Eriksen has suggested that many non-Creoles stereotype Creoles as 96 laura jeffery & david vine

“lazy, careless,” and “merry” (Eriksen 1998, 54), and Boswell has reported that non-Creoles perceive darker-skinned Creoles as “lazy, atavistic and present-oriented” (Boswell 2002, 2). According to Dev Virahsawmy, co- founder of the Mauritian Militant Movement—a left-wing political party established in 1969 to oppose the ethnic, religious, and caste-based political parties that had triumphed en route to independence—Mauritius is characterised by institutional racism up to government level, and many Indo-Mauritians see Afro-Creoles as inherently less employable than other ethnic groups (see also Asgarally 1997). Concurring with this analysis, many Afro-Creoles (Chagossians and Mauritians alike) recount that stereotyping and discrimination make it difficult for them to find jobs and force them to accept employment below their training or ability, meaning they are less likely to be promoted up the hierarchy and pay scale.10 Most Chagossians are of primarily African descent (or mixed African, South Asian and European descent) and as such they are physiognomi- cally indistinguishable from Mauritian Afro-Creoles. The problem for Chagossians on arrival in Mauritius was that, as one of Jeffery’s interviewees put it, “we are too dark, our hair is short-short.” In the ethno- religious hierarchy of Mauritians, Chagossians are generally thought to occupy a subset of Afro-Creoles known as ti-kreol (literally, ‘small Creole’), who tend to be the most marginalised, having low-status and low-paid jobs (Eriksen 1986, 59; cf. Boswell 2006, 46–47). Discrimination against Afro-Creoles in general was thus compounded by discrimination specifically against Chagossians—who were identifi- able by their accents, dress and place of birth listed on identification cards. During the early years in Mauritius, the collective name Ilois (islanders) became a strong insult, reflecting assumptions that Chagossians were uncivilised and uneducated. As a retired Chagossian woman explained to Jeffery: It was difficult when we came here to look for work. Why? [Mauritians said:] “TheIlois [islanders] don’t know how to read. Don’t pay attention to them. They’re savages.” That’s not easy. When we came to Mauritius we came to a foreign country. How to adapt? We’re humans too, so instead of treating us in that way, they could have welcomed us, but instead they were

10 for an interesting comparison of the emergence of stereotypical, racialised discourses about peoples of African and Indian descent in Trinidad, another island nation with strikingly similar historical and demographic conditions, see Munasinghe 2001. sorrow, sadness, and impoverishment 97

mostly bad. … They said “theIlois have left their islands and come to take all the work here.” For getting work it was the same: when they knew that you are Ilois it was difficult, and they wouldn’t give you work except as a housemaid. So many people were mistreated. Dogs are treated better in Mauritius than we are. Several researchers have supported these claims of discrimination, showing how Chagossians suffered discrimination in their searches for employment and in the low salaries they received (Botte 1980, 38–39; Walker 1986, 21–22; Dræbel 1997, 36). In a recent survey of more than 320 Chagossians led by Vine, half of respondents from the first generation and one-third of respondents from the second generation reported suffering job or other discrimination as a Chagossian; nearly two-thirds of respondents from the first generation and almost half of the second generation reported that they had been a victim of verbal abuse (Vine et al. 2005, 125). A Chagossian woman in her early forties recalled that when a group of Chagossians were moved into the Dockers’ Flats in Baie du Tombeau in 1973, a local Mauritian resident exclaimed that “the Zulus are coming to Mauritius to eat us!” She went on to tell Jeffery that “we were treated very inhumanely, we weren’t treated like humans. They [Mauritians] mistreated Chagossians” (see Jeffery 2006a). Characterisations of the Chagossians as (foreign) Zulus highlights the fact that discrimination stemmed both from their stigmatised African origins and from their outsider status. The 190 Chagossian workers sampled in Jeffery’s survey of Chagossian- headed households in and around Port Louis were over-represented at the bottom end of the employment spectrum, with the vast majority in low-wage, low-status and/or insecure jobs, and very small percentage (compared to national averages) in the service industries and the skilled professions (Jeffery 2006a, 52–53). In this sample, Chagossian men worked in the largest numbers as construction workers, followed by lorry helpers, fishermen, dock workers, carpenters and factory workers, while women worked in the largest numbers as factory workers, followed by housemaids, shop helpers and cleaners. Thus Chagossians are now often employed in archetypal urban Afro-Creole working class jobs. As such, we can see how their disadvantages in terms of education and skills were likely compounded by their ethnic and geographic alignment with an already marginalised sector of Mauritian society and the double discrimination they faced as both Afro-Creoles and Chagossians. 98 laura jeffery & david vine

Chagossian Struggles for Compensation and the Right to Return

A tradition of protest first began among the Chagossians in 1968 as soon as the first islanders were prevented from returning to Chagos and left stranded in Mauritius. In 1971, when the administrator of the BIOT announced that Diego Garcia would be closed and all its inhabitants displaced, islanders protested against being made to leave their “own country” (Todd 1971). In 1973, as we have seen, the last Chagossians to arrive in Mauritius refused to disembark until the Mauritian government offered assistance. In 1975, Chagos islanders petitioned the UK and US governments, citing the failed promise made by British officials in Chagos that the islanders would receive compensation and resettlement assistance on arrival in Mauritius. The petition detailed “at least 40 persons” who had “died through sorrow, poverty and lack of food and care” in exile, and asked the UK government to urge the Mauritian government to provide land, housing, and jobs, or else return them to their islands (Saminaden, Vencatassen, and Ramdass 1975). This petition, along with numerous subsequent pleas to the governments of the UK, the USA, Mauritius, and the Seychelles, went unheeded. Women have played a central role in the mobilisation of the Chagossian community. In 1978, the islanders finally received some compensation after Chagossian women protested continuously for several months around Port Louis. The money came from £650,000 theU K government paid the Mauritian government in 1972 to compensate the displaced islanders, but which had not yet been distributed. Eligible Chagossians received cash payments of Rs7,590 (approximately £650 at the time) for adults and between Rs1,000 and Rs1,500 for children aged 18 and under (de l’Estrac 1983, 3–5; Madeley 1985, 7). Many families (including all of the Chagossians in the Seychelles) received no money. Even for those who received the payments, the money proved “hopelessly inadequate” (Madeley 1985, 7). It paid off some debts incurred since their arrival but generally was insufficient to purchase land or a house or to significantly improve one’s life. Six months later, a group of eight Chagossian women started a three- week hunger strike to protest their conditions. After living with their families under tarpaulin sheets for two months—following the destruction of their rented shacks in a cyclone and their eviction by the Mauritian government from emergency accommodation—the protes- tors distributed flyers reading: G “ ive us a house; if not, return us to sorrow, sadness, and impoverishment 99 our country, Diego” (Le Mauricien 1978). Later that year, four Chagossians were jailed for resisting the police when Mauritian authorities tore down their shacks (Madeley 1985, 7). Both protests yielded few concrete results but added to mounting awareness of the Chagossians’ plight and mobilised political support from the left-wing Mauritian Militant Movement (MMM), which had advocated on behalf of the islanders after their initial arrival in Mauritius. In 1979, with the assistance of the MMM, a group of Chagossians engaged a British lawyer, Bernard Sheridan, to negotiate with the UK government for additional compensation. Sheridan was already suing the UK government on behalf of Michel Vincatassin, a Chagossian man who charged that he had been forcibly removed from his ancestral homeland. British officials reportedly offered to pay an additional £1.25 million if Vincatassin would drop his case and Chagossian recipients would sign deeds “in full and final settlement,” waiving “all our claims and rights (if any) of whatsoever nature to return to the British Indian Ocean Territory” (Ibid., 6, 8, 15). Sheridan visited Mauritius to offer the deal of money in exchange for renunciation forms. Initially some impoverished Chagossians, who were not literate and did not know English, signed or thumb-printed these English-language forms. When other Chagossian leaders and MMM activists heard the terms of the deal, they halted the process, and Sheridan returned to the UK. A support group of Chagossians and Mauritians (many MMM members) wrote to Sheridan that the Chagossians who had signed or thumb- printed the forms had done so without “alternative legal advice” and “as a mere formality” to obtain the compensation rather than out of agreement with the conditions (see Madeley 1985, 8). No money was disbursed. Soon after, Chagossians demonstrated in the streets of Port Louis again, launching more hunger strikes and their largest protests yet in 1980 and 1981. Led again by women who repeatedly faced police intimidation, violence, and arrest, hundreds of Chagossians marched to the British High Commission, protested in front of government offices, and slept on the pavement in the Mauritian capital. Chagossians again demanded the right to return to Chagos as well as immediate compensation, decent housing, and jobs. A broad coalition of Mauritian political groups—including Lalit (a Trotskyite subgroup of the MMM that eventually separated from the MMM in 1982)—supported the Chagossians under the rallying cry of “Rann Nu Diego!” (“Give Us Back Diego!”), which united the Chagossian struggle with the desire of some Mauritians 100 laura jeffery & david vine to return Chagos to Mauritian sovereignty and to close the military base in Diego Garcia (Le Mauricien 1981; Lalit 2002, 113–117; Vine and Jeffery 2009). After an eighteen-day hunger strike and violent clashes that included the arrest of eight women activists—six Chagossians and two members of Lalit—the Mauritian prime minister, Seewoosagur Ramgoolam, left for London to meet the British prime minister, Margaret Thatcher. The two governments agreed to hold talks with Chagossian representatives. After two rounds of negotiations, theU K government agreed to provide £4 million in compensation, with the Mauritian government contributing land it valued at £1 million. In exchange, Chagossians were required to sign or thumbprint renunciation forms to protect the UK government from further claims for compensation or the right to return (Madeley 1985, Appendix 2). Many Chagossians have subsequently disputed the legality of these forms and their knowledge of their contents, which were again written in English. Money totalling around Rs55,000 (less than £4,000 at the time) for each adult, including land plots and houses, was distributed slowly between 1982 and 1985 (Madeley 1985, 10–11). Over one hundred Chagossian-headed households moved to Pointe aux Sables and Baie du Tombeau to live in the purpose-built housing estates called Cités Ilois or to build on land in the allocated Morcellements Ilois. Living conditions improved for many Chagossians after they received compensation, in particular for those who received houses or land (rather than money alone), but much of the money was again used to pay off debts and purchase consumption items in an increasingly materialistic Mauritian society. Chagossian families continued to suffer from disproportionately low rates of unemployment and underemployment, poverty, and poor housing. Recent data suggests that the Chagossian community has continued to remain poor relative to others in Mauritius (Anyanywe 2001; Dræbel 1997; Vine et al. 2005). In the wake of the 1982 compensation agreement, many Chagossians felt that their interests had not been well represented by some of their Mauritian spokespeople. Prominent Chagossian leaders and former hunger strikers Charlesia Alexis and Aurélie Lisette Talate, along with Olivier Bancoult (the eighteen-year-old son of Rita Elysée, another Chagossian leader), soon created the first solely Chagossian support organisation, the Chagos Refugees Group (CRG). The CRG pressed for the right to return and additional compensation throughout the 1980s sorrow, sadness, and impoverishment 101 and 1990s but made little progress, gradually losing support within the community due to lack of results. Another Chagossian organisation, the Chagossian Social Committee (CSC), established in the mid-1990s by Fernand Mandarin and his Mauritian barrister Hervé Lassemillante, eventually took on a leadership role. The CSC considered lodging a case for compensation in the British courts, but concluded that this would acknowledge UK sovereignty over Chagos, thus damaging the Mauritian government’s claim to the islands. The CSC instead pursued out-of-court negotiations with the UK, US and Mauritian governments for compensation and the right to return. The CSC popularised the collective nounChagossian (to indicate their link to the particular territory of the Chagos archipelago) rather than Ilois (a generic term meaning islander, which had become increasingly derogatory), and gained recognition for Chagossians as an indigenous people before the UN in 1997. However, the CSC’s negotiations made little other tangible progress towards compensation and the right of return. In the late 1990s the British legal team Sheridans approached the CRG, and in 2000 they won a judicial review establishing that the depopulation of Chagos had been unlawful, after which the CRG again became the dominant Chagossian group. Since 2000, the Chagossian struggle has experienced mixed fortunes. On the downside, the islanders lost a compensation case against the UK government in 2003 (see Allen, this volume). In 2004, the UK government effectively overruled the 2000D ivisional Court decision by impos- ing a new immigration ordinance preventing Chagossians from entering Chagos. After Chagossian groups won two unanimous victories over- turning the new immigration ordinance in the Divisional Court in 2006 and the Court of Appeal in 2007, the UK government won its final appeal in Britain’s highest court, the House of Lords, in 2008, reinstating the ban and quashing the islanders’ right of return (see Allen, this volume). On the upside, Chagossians and their second-generation descendants were awarded full UK citizenship in 2002, since when over one thousand people have migrated to the UK (see Jeffery, this volume). Several Chagossian groups have persuaded the UK government to organise trips to Chagos since 2000 (see Johannessen, this volume) and are gaining increasing awareness and political support for their cause, leaving them hopeful about the prospects of an upcoming case in the European Court of Human Rights that will effectively appeal the House of Lords ruling against the right of return (see Tong, this volume). 102 laura jeffery & david vine

Conclusion: Marginalisation and Mobilisation in Mauritius

In this chapter, we have shown how Chagossians have suffered from many of the socio-economic and socio-psychological effects commonly found among victims of forced displacement. We have shown how the general effects of displacement were compounded by the particular conditions that confronted them in Mauritius. First, as explained at the outset, many Chagossians have felt excluded from Mauritian nation- hood, which they perceive to have come at the expense of their own dispossession and disempowerment. Second, at the time of the displacement, Mauritius was experiencing high population growth, severe housing shortages, and high unemployment, all of which hampered Chagossians in their search for houses, jobs, and other resources. Third, coming from the coconut plantations in Chagos, Chagossians lacked formal education, relevant skills, and contacts in the sugarcane industry, which dominated the Mauritian economy at the time. Fourth, in an economy dominated by Mauritians of European and Asian descent, Chagossians also experienced racial stereotyping and ethnic discrimination against Afro-Creoles in general and Chagossians in particular, which served to further hamper their socio-economic advancement. In other words, local structural features—including geopolitical changes, demographic constraints, economic challenges, ethnic discrimination, and social stratification—exacerbated, perpetuated, and compounded the socio-economic and socio-psychological consequences of forced displacement. In response to their forcible uprooting and hardships they have faced in exile, however, Chagos islanders in Mauritius have mobilised to campaign for adequate compensation and the right to return to Chagos. While their 2008 defeat in the House of Lords was a profound disappointment, their struggle for justice and better lives continues. Bernadette Dugasse: Born in Diego Garcia December 1956

Bernadette Dugasse is a Chagossian, born in Diego Garcia in 1956 to Seychellois parents who moved to this island for work. Bernadette herself was not deported as part of the expulsion process—she moved to the Seychelles in 1958—however, she encountered many of the difficulties other Chagossians faced in the Seychelles and witnessed the experience of those deported after 1971. Today she is vice chair of the Chagos Committee (Seychelles), which represents Chagossians in the Seychelles.

Bernadette recalls some late memories of Chagos: “Life was as in paradise, they used to tell us. Food was plentiful and everybody on the island was uncle, aunty, grandma, and grandpa. It was very difficult to know who is really your relative. I remember the day my mother’s adopted parents arrived in Seychelles in 1972 on one of the last boatloads of Chagossians. This was a very sad day. When they arrived, they didn’t bring anything with them—only a suitcase of clothes. I still remember it to this day. It was around five o’clock in the afternoon, and we all sat together and cried. We cried for the loss of Diego and for the way we were treated as well. The next day they went to town to seeM r. Paul Moulinie, who used to run the plantations in Chagos, and when they returned home they were more sad because Mr. Moulinie no longer had money for them. During the night, after dinner, they told us how they were refused medicines and food, and how their pet dogs were gassed in the calorifer copra sheds. It was a British man, Mr. John Todd, who gave the orders to gas our pet dogs and now, today, British people are talking about protection for their pet dogs. When Chagossians were deported to Seychelles, they had nowhere to live. Some were forced to live in houses built on stilts. Some lived with other families. Some were placed in jail cells to live for weeks. The misery and the suffering was unbearable. Some Chagossian children were able to go to school, while some were not accepted. The Seychellois children fought with the Chagossian children. We were treated like aliens, like we didn’t belong anywhere. Many Seychellois men left their Chagossian wives with small children; these women didn’t know where 104 bernadette dugasse to go because they didn’t have family in the Seychelles. Why do our Seychellois in-laws hate us? I remember one Chagossian whose in-laws sent her away because she was having problems with her husband and she was pregnant. She slept in a ditch with old galvanized sheets over her. It was very horrible to live and grow up in this kind of life. Young Chagossian girls were raped because they begged for food or money. Every morning before I left the house for school, my mother told me never to ask men for money or anything because she was scared of me being raped. It was better to go look under fruit trees to eat mangoes scavenged by rats than to ask for anything from anybody. From an early age in the Seychelles, I always thought, why do Seychellois people call the Chagossians, “Anara,” a word meaning that we were the lowest of the low, like outsiders and savages? Why do they call us “Ilwa” [literally, islander, but pronounced derisively], saying the word as if we are below them? I heard Chagossian women saying that their Seychellois husbands or companions loved them when they were in Chagos, but when in Seychelles, they were treated like slaves. There were rapes, and sometimes their husbands or companions forced them to sleep with someone else to have money for food. Now as I am writing this, it is as if I am rewinding a cassette of my past. Why should our life be so cruel? What have we done to deserve this? Are we not children of God as well?” Chagossians Twice Forgotten: Exile in the Seychelles

David Vine

In September 1971, two months after the opening of the Seychelles International Airport, cargo ships began arriving in the Seychelles packed not with tourists but with people forcibly removed from the Chagos archipelago. For the next nineteen months, cargo ships left more than two hundred Chagossians on the docks of the Seychelles’ largest island, Mahé. During the deportations, British agents gave the people the ‘choice’ to go to Mauritius or the Seychelles. With no choice to remain in their homeland, most of the Chagossians decided to go to Mauritius, where some had kin connections or other social ties. A smaller group, composed mostly of Chagossian women and their children travelling with Seychelles-born men who had worked in Chagos, decided to go to the Seychelles. To the extent that there has been any attention paid to the islanders’ exile—which was systematically hidden from the world by the US and UK governments—most studies have focused on the group in Mauritius. Those in the Seychelles have been almost completely ignored. This then is the first significant account focused specifically on the experience of Chagossians in the Seychelles. It is part of a larger body of more than eight years of research and writing about the Chagossians, including more than a month of ethnographic and quantitative survey research conducted over three visits to the Seychelles between 2002 and 2004.1

1 Some of the material in this paper draws upon Vine 2009 and Vine, Sokolowski, and Harvey 2005. Thank you to the following individuals and groups who helped conceive, plan, and execute research contributing to the chapter: Chagos Committee (Seychelles), Janette Alexis, Bernadette Dugasse, Jean-Claude Mahoune, Julienne Barra, the Seychelles National Heritage Museum, Gabriel Isaac, Patrick Nanty, Chagos Refugees Group, Kamarad de Resers, Olivier Bancoult, Lisette Aurélie Talate, Philip Harvey, S. Wojciech Sokolowski, Shirley Lindenbaum, and Satinder Ragobur. Thanks especially to Liam Campling for encouraging me to write the first draft of this chapter, and to Sandra Evers and Marry Kooy for their comments and assistance in making significant revisions. Methodological note: In addition to the relatively brief period of research conducted in the Seychelles, this chapter and the analysis herein are hampered by the extreme lack of social science research about a country that is one of the least populous in the world. 106 david vine

Juliette Bernard2 was one of the last Chagossian women deported to the Seychelles around 1973. Juliette was born in Peros Banhos in 1944 and gave birth to five children in Chagos. One night, with lightening illuminating the sky, her husband, a Seychellois who had come to Chagos to work as a labourer, told Juliette they had to board a boat to leave Peros Banhos. Juliette only had time to gather her children and a few of their belongings. As she and her family steamed away from Chagos, Juliette left behind her house and most of her possessions, her land and property, the place of her birth and her children’s birth, and the place where many of her ancestors were buried. Like other Chagossians, Juliette’s family counted five generations in Chagos.3 In addition to her and her children, Juliette’s parents were also born in Peros Banhos. Two of Juliette’s grandparents were born in Peros Banhos. Two of Juliette’s great-grandparents worked and created homes in Chagos. Soon after Juliette and her children arrived in the Seychelles, Juliette’s husband left her for a Seychellois woman. Juliette and her children were forced to move from place to place. From neighbourhood to neighbourhood, Belvedere to Les Mamelles to Anse aux Pins to English River, they lived wherever someone would let them make a small home. Claude Bernard, Juliette’s youngest child, remembers their 4 metre by 4 metre room at Belvedere, with its straw walls and tin roof. They used the toilet at the home of the woman who owned the land. They bathed in the river and carried drinking water from the river on their heads. Juliette supported the family on 20 Seychelles Rupees a day (about $3.60 at the time). “It was not nice, you see?” said Claude of those first years in the Seychelles. “You came to a place. You don’t know anyone. You see. And where will you go? You don’t know where you will go. Left? Right? Front? Back? Up? You don’t know.” According to statistics maintained by Chagossian groups, Juliette is now one of about 550 Chagossians who were exiled to the Seychelles or born there since the expulsion (representing about one-tenth of the group’s estimated total population of approximately 5,569) (Sheridans

2 All the names used for Chagossians living today are pseudonyms, except when an individual explicitly requested the use of her real name. 3 As Juliette’s case shows, Chagos-born islanders often intermarried with Mauritians and to a lesser extent Seychellois who migrated to Chagos and settled there, gradually becoming part of the Chagossian community. chagossians twice forgotten 107

Solicitors 2003).4 When they arrived between 1971 and 1973, Chagos sians found themselves in a country that was still a British colony, described as “a rundown plantation” (Benedict and Benedict 1982, 161). Gaining its independence in 1976, the Seychelles soon became an unusual one-party socialist state that had ties to the Soviet Union but was home to a US radar station; that had a population of only around 60,000 but forged a relatively powerful international voice by playing the two Cold War powers off one another; that offered its citizens an impressive array of social welfare benefits but restricted freedom of speech and demanded loyalty to the state; and that transformed from an impoverished scattering of islands into a major high-end international tourist destination that has made the country the wealthiest per capita in sub- Saharan Africa. Exiled in the Seychelles, Chagossians have, like other displaced groups and like those in Mauritius, found themselves impoverished—economically, socially, psychologically, physically—relative to their old lives, to their Seychellois neighbours, and to people in the UK with whom most share citizenship.5 While some Chagossians have struggled to enjoy some economic success in the Seychelles, benefiting from the country’s post-independence macroeconomic growth and improvements to public education and other social services, as a group they remain among the poorest of the poor. Most Chagossians have simultaneously experienced profound feelings of loss and grief over the exile while feeling alienated and excluded from life in the Seychelles. To understand how Chagossians came to arrive in the Seychelles and what their lives have been like ever since, we must return briefly to the histories of Chagos and the Seychelles and the relationship between the island societies.

4 These figures are based on the number of Chagossians registering for UK litigation in 2003. I updated the statistics during research in Mauritius and Seychelles in 2004, using the names of Chagossians registering with the Chagos Refugees Group and the Chagos Committee (Seychelles) but not counted in the court submission. The total figure also includes an estimate of the total second and third generation Chagossians born in exile, not all of whom are represented in the court figures. 5 Most Chagossians in Seychelles, like those in Mauritius, have long had British citizenship. Until 2004, this was a kind of second class citizenship afforded to citizens of the British remaining UK colonies, or as they are now called, “Overseas Territories.” A change to UK citizenship law in 2004 gave the Chagossians and other UK Overseas Territories citizens full British citizenship, including the right to live in Britain. 108 david vine

Connections between Chagos and the Seychelles

From the earliest days of settlement in Chagos, connections were maintained with the Seychelles archipelago as both island societies were governed as dependencies of France and then Britain. Although links to Mauritius were more prominent, also because it was the transfer point for most of the enslaved Africans brought to Chagos, some enslaved people may have arrived directly from the Seychelles. The islands in Chagos and some of the small outer islands in the Seychelles (which were worked by a few hundred enslaved labourers on coconut and fishing plantations) were also connected as part of an ongoing illegal Indian Ocean slave trade after the trade’s abolition by the British (Scott 1976 [1961], 112, 119). Over time, Seychellois labourers played an increasingly important role in the development of society in Chagos. Particularly towards the mid-1950s, larger numbers of outside labourers began arriving, most of whom were single Seychellois men. For years, smaller numbers had been coming regularly to Chagos on three-year contracts. Some settled permanently in Chagos after marrying or living with a locally born partner. Others lived largely as outsiders in a society based around Chagos’ permanent inhabitants. In the Salomon islands, for example, the Seychellois were to some extent a ‘stranger community’; Robert Scott explains,“[t]he Salomon Islanders are preponderantly native to the group, not generally receptive of strangers from other islands, but absorbing them in the community if, on trial, they show themselves able to adopt its characteristics” (1976 [1961], 274). Janette Alexis, a Chagossian woman exiled to the Seychelles, remembered when she was a child in Diego Garcia and the Seychellois started arriving. At first they were not well received, she mentioned; rumours cir- cled that the Seychellois were “killers,” even “cannibals.” However, over time, when the rumours proved unfounded, relations with the Seychellois improved. Many developed identities centred around life in Chagos, marrying or partnering with Chagossians, often raising children born in Chagos who were later considered Chagossians.6 Some Seychellois may have settled permanently in Chagos had it not been for the eviction—as was the case for Juliette Bernard and her Seychellois husband.

6 Generally, Chagossians considered and consider anyone born in Chagos to be a Chagossian. The children of Seychellois parents born outside Seychelles did not become Seychelles citizens as we shall see later in the chapter. chagossians twice forgotten 109

The Expulsion

As described in previous chapters, in November 1965, Britain formally established the British Indian Ocean Territory (BIOT) as a new colony by separating Chagos from Mauritius and the Aldabra, Desroches, and Farquhar island groups from the Seychelles. The creation of Britain’s last colony was in direct violation of UN declarations prohibiting the division of colonies during the decolonisation process (United Nations 1960, 1965). Nonetheless, British officials established a colonial authority for the BIOT, led from Mahé by Governor of the Seychelles, Sir Bruce Greatbatch, and BIOT Administrator, John R. Todd. Not long after signing the 1966 US-UK exchange of notes for Diego Garcia, British officials moved to purchase the BIOT islands, almost all of which had been privately owned since their 18th century settlement. In 1962, the Seychellois firm Moulinie & Co. had joined with major Mauritian conglomerate Rogers and Co., Ltd. to buy the plantations in Chagos from a prior owner. Under the direction of prominent Seychellois businessman, Paul Moulinie, the combined firm, known as Chagos- Agalega Ltd., began a major effort to increase the efficiency of the archipelago’s copra processing and to develop its full economic potential. These plans were stymied when British officials pressured Chagos- Agalega to sell Chagos for £660,000.7 The next month the British Government leased the islands back to the company to continue running the islands on its behalf. At the end of 1967, however, Chagos- Agalega terminated its lease, concerned about the islands’ future. One half of the company, Paul Moulinie’s firm Moulinie & Co., then began managing the islands for an eight percent management fee. In addition to his ownership share in Chagos-Agalega, Paul Moulinie personally received an additional £200,000 for the sale of Farquhar.8 As part of its management agreement, Moulinie & Co. also agreed to serve as the United Kingdom’s agent in Chagos and to prevent the entry of anyone without BIOT consent.9 Until this point, Chagossians could,

7 The British Government also acquired the islands of Desroches from Paul Moulinie (the primary owner in Chagos) and Farquhar (Aldabra was already Crown territory belonging to the Queen). 8 André Delhomme received £153,200 for the purchase of Desroches (UK Government, 1967). 9 The contract also established the number of workers allowed on the islands, working hours, and wages. 110 david vine as they had been accustomed since emancipation, leave Chagos for regular vacations or medical treatment in Mauritius and return to Chagos as they wished. In 1968,10 the BIOT administration ordered Chagos- Agalega to prevent all Chagossians from returning. One by one, Chagossians appearing at the steamship company in Mauritius for return passage were turned away and told, “Your island has been sold.”11 This is what happened to Juliette Bernard’s mother and Juliette’s oldest son, Martin, only two years old, who had left Peros Banhos in 1966 for a stay in Mauritius with his grandmother. When they tried to return home as planned in 1968, they were told that the islands were closed. They were left to fend for themselves, alone, and without the rest of their family still in Peros Banhos. With all travel and communications connections to Chagos severed, Madame Bernard and Martin couldn’t even tell the rest of their family what had befallen them. Back in Chagos, BIOT and Moulinie & Co. gradually reduced services on the islands, making only basic maintenance repairs to keep the plantations running. With food and medicines running low, more Chagossians began leaving for Mauritius, hoping to return when conditions improved. Some report being tricked or coerced into leaving. When the remaining islanders were deported from Diego Garcia in 1971, British agents said they could move to Peros Banhos or Salomon or go directly to the Seychelles or Mauritius. Several hundred decided to go to Peros and Salomon in the hope of staying in Chagos. When one of the last boats leaving Diego Garcia arrived in the Seychelles in late 1971, some of the Chagossians were housed for two to three weeks in a new prison near the Seychelles capital, Victoria. High-ranking Moulinie & Co. staff stayed in hotels. London’s Sunday Times quoted one of the Chagossians, Marie Vencatassen, who slept in the prison: “We were vaccinated and went through customs. … We asked for Mr. Paul Moulinie … and we walked about one and a half miles to his office. He tried to get us somewhere to stay but he couldn’t, and he told us the only place that was empty was the prison. We slept in cells on prisoners’ mattresses. The prisoners served us food. It was bad. The doors were locked at nine o’clock” (Sunday Times 1975). By the end of 1972, BIOT closed Salomon, deporting Chagossians again to Peros Banhos, where food stocks and other supplies were being

10 Some may have been prevented from returning prior to this date. 11 See also Mauritius Ministry of Social Security, letter, July 19, 1968, PRO: FCO 31/13. chagossians twice forgotten 111 exhausted or running low. In April and May 1973, Moulinie & Co. staff, still acting as agents of the British government, herded the final mal- nourished inhabitants of Peros Banhos onto cargo ships and left them in the Seychelles and Mauritius. Most with ties in Mauritius went there. A group of mostly Chagossian women and their children went with their Seychellois partners to the Seychelles (still a British colony until 1976). Some were forced to choose between staying with parents and other family and staying with a partner. Frequently, families were divided between the two countries. Juliette Bernard remembers only having time to gather her children and a few personal belongings from her house before she and other Chagossians were loaded on board like the piles of copra that travelled next to them in the cargo holds. “Fer mal … Fer mal,” she said. We suffered. We suffered.

Life in Exile: Chagossians in the Seychelles

Upon arrival in the Seychelles, this last group of deportees again received no resettlement assistance. Juliette Bernard’s experience was common: after her Seychellois husband left her, she and her children moved from place to place, staying in whatever shack or lean-to they could find. Things finally seemed to get better, however, when Juliette moved in with another Seychellois man. Soon though he was drinking and beat- ing her, Juliette said. Eventually, the man broke Juliette’s nose and both of her arms. Unlike Chagossians in Mauritius, who gained Mauritian citizenship under its first constitution, those in the Seychelles had no citizenship and thus little ability to demand protections or rights from the local government. Although they were unaware of it, most Chagossians were actually British colonial citizens at this point, a fact that British officials hid from them until some Chagossians in Mauritius realized their status in the early 1980s. “You see,” Juliette’s son Claude explained to me of their situation in the 1970s, “[w]e cannot do nothing because we don’t have a place to stay. You see, you have to accept this. You know, [if not] we will be left on the street.” Juliette’s experience of being separated from her mother and her oldest son, Martin, who were still stranded in Mauritius, was also common. In addition to being divided by some 2,000 km (1,243 miles) of ocean between Mauritius and the Seychelles, Chagossians were further 112 david vine dispersed within Mauritius and the Seychelles, severely rupturing social networks and village ties that had previously connected the islanders. Chagossians deported to the Seychelles were even more isolated than those in Mauritius, who generally settled where they had some social ties, usually near other Chagossians around the Mauritian capital, Port Louis. Most in the Seychelles followed their Seychellois partners and dispersed around the main island of Mahé. Most scrambled to find relatives or anyone who would give them a place to sleep. Many were forced to move into already overcrowded homes or to squat illegally on other people’s land. Some families lived anba lakaz, or underneath another family’s house. At least one family lived in a vacant cowshed, slowly transforming it into a formal house over many years. In Chagos, Chagossians enjoyed lives that, while not luxurious, fea- tured almost guaranteed, near universal employment, regular salaries paid in cash and food, good housing, education for children, pensions for retirees, regular vacations, and basic health care (see Vine, this volume). In the Seychelles, as in Mauritius, Chagossians arrived with no jobs, no housing, and often with little money. They arrived in a pre- independence colony that had little economic output to speak of and unemployment rates nearing 30 percent (Benedict and Benedict 1982, 161; UK Pacific & Indian Ocean Department 1969). And they arrived, for the most part, with few employable skills other than those specific to the production of copra. Though copra had been the main export in the Seychelles since the 1840s, copra production in the archipelago was diminishing rapidly in the period when Chagossian islanders began to arrive: overall agricultural employment declined 10 percent from 1971 to 1977, by which point just 2.8 percent of households were earning their primary income from farming (Franda 1982, 16, 81, 84–5). They also arrived with low levels of education. Schools in Chagos only opened in the 1950s and began shutting down around 1967. Although no data exists for literacy among Chagossians in the Seychelles, a post- expulsion survey in Mauritius is likely representative of the entire population. In contrast to relatively high levels of education in Mauritius, almost all Chagossians who were adults at the time of eviction were illiterate (US Congress 1975, 115–6). In Chagos, low levels of formal education and illiteracy did not impact upon the accessibility of a vast majority of jobs; in the Seychelles (as in Mauritius) the lack of formal education and literacy increasingly created barriers to securing employment and achieving upward job mobility. Most of the new employment created in the Seychelles since the 1970s chagossians twice forgotten 113

(i.e., in a rapidly growing tourist sector described below) has demanded at least some educational background. With little work available, few skills or the literacy needed for those jobs that were available, and few of the connections critical to finding work in such a small country, most Chagossians in the Seychelles quickly fell into poverty. Like those who ended up in Mauritius (see Jeffery and Vine, this volume)—and like most peoples displaced against their will and not properly resettled (Cernea 1997, 1569)—theirs was, as we shall see below, a fate of severe and multi-dimensional impoverishment. While most in the Seychelles were poor in economic terms at this time, the Chagossians’ impoverishment left them among the poorest and extended beyond the economic to the profound social, psychological, physical, and cultural dimensions of losing one’s homeland.

No Resettlement Assistance

Lisette Volfrin recalled her early years in the Seychelles when her father had trouble finding work and the family was often short on money and food. She remembered walking to school from their home, a converted shack on a relative’s land, with neighbours throwing rotten apricots fallen from the trees at her and her siblings. She remembered neighbours spitting on them and taunting: Our neighbours were very mean and cruel, she said, They would say that we had not been vaccinated and would make them sick.12 This was a common insult aimed at the islanders. If they had not previously been vaccinated, they were vaccinated upon arrival at customs in the Seychelles. Ironically, the opposite was more likely to be true: evidence shows that living in exile has made many Chagossians sick (Madeley 1985, 5–6; Walker 1986; Dræbel 1997; Vine, Sokolowski, and Harvey 2005, 201–224). There was however one nice man, Lisette recalled, who broke into a school and stole food for the family. She was not proud of having to eat stolen food, but she felt she had little choice. Most days, she and her siblings would wake up with no food to eat. They would leave for school early in the morning to steal mangoes and other fruit that had dropped

12 The quotations rendered here in italics are near exact word-for-word quotations. Because I recorded this interview by hand, however, at times I was unable to be sure that I captured a quotation precisely as spoken. For this reason I do not use quotation marks. 114 david vine from their neighbours’ trees before anyone was on the street to catch them. Sometimes her siblings were so desperate they ate rotten food. Lisette explained that she has never felt at home in the Seychelles. She wonders why Chagossians, unlike other peoples, cannot live in their homeland. Lisette’s experience and the difficulties of Juliette’s family were not unusual among Chagossians. Many others struggled to feed, clothe, and house themselves and to find enough money to support their families. The colonial government that was in power when the islanders arrived was led by Governor Bruce Greatbatch, who was also Commissioner of the BIOT; he offered no resettlement assistance to the islanders. Upon independence in 1976, the Seychelles government led by President James Mancham secured the return of its islands formerly ceded to the BIOT—Aldabra, Farquhar, and Desroches—but extended no assistance to the Chagossians. The same remained true after 1977’s coup brought President France-Albert René to power. While René’s Seychelles People United Party ([SPUP], later the Seychelles People’s Progressive Front [SPPF] and now the Parti Lepep [People’s Party]), critiqued the expulsion in its party newspaper in 1971 (The People 1971), promoted solidarity with the peoples of Africa, and frequently criticized the US military base in Diego Garcia during its fifteen years of rule (Scarr 1999, 181), the party offered no help to the islanders as a group.

Foreigners in a Foreign Land

During the period of one-party socialist rule (which ended in 1992), demonstrating loyalty to the SPPF and President René was critical to securing jobs, housing, land, and other benefits in a tiny nation that now numbers just over 80,000 people (Scarr 1999, 199). In this context, Chagossians were at a distinct disadvantage as outsiders and non- citizens. Unlike in Mauritius, where Chagossians gained Mauritian citizenship upon its independence, those in the Seychelles were not granted automatic citizenship. Many lived in the country for decades as non- citizens and eventually had to buy their citizenship for considerable sums, often running into the hundreds of Seychelles Rupees. In the context of one-party rule, Chagossians widely reported being discriminated against as ‘foreigners’ and denied access to jobs, housing, schooling, and other opportunities. They explained how some children struggled to enrol in school in the Seychelles because they lacked birth chagossians twice forgotten 115 certificates or Seychellois citizenship or because they were told they were too old for their grade. Among those who entered school, many told of experiencing discrimination and verbal abuse from teachers and classmates. If children managed to finish primary school without having dropped out for work, family or academic reasons, most could not afford secondary school, which only became technically ‘free’ in the Seychelles in 1981 (though compulsory book, uniform, exam, transportation, and other fees still make school far from free). Others described experiencing employment and housing discrimination, languishing on waiting lists for years after repeated petitions to the government and René. Even in recent years, after most have acquired Seychellois citizenship and a decade since the return to a multi-party democracy (in which René’s party has retained the presidency and control of government), Chagossians described being the victims of government discrimination. (Chagossians are not alone in feeling that they have faced discrimination by the state; some poor Seychellois and opposition party members that I spoke with also reported discrimination.) When I spoke to Juliette Bertrand’s son Claude in 2003, he said he had been applying for government housing since 1998. A 31 year old, who worked as a mechanic and lived with his Seychellois father, Claude said he wrote letters to former president René and pleaded with him about his application. Housing officials, Claude said, told him that the government has to serve Seychellois families first. “I say, ‘Why?’ I’m in a school. I’m studying. I’m helping the Seychelles,” Claude recounted. “But why am I not entitled. Why do they help the Seychellois first?” Asked why he thought the government helps Seychellois first, Claude replied, “Because they look on my identity card.” For Chagossians and others born outside the Seychelles like Claude, the identification number on one’s national identity card is different than for those born in the Seychelles. In everyone’s identification number, the third set of digits indicates one’s place of birth. Most Seychellois have a ‘1’ indicating that a person was born in Victoria; ‘2’ means you’re from South Mahé; ‘3’ or ‘4’ mean you are from Praslin, La Digue, or one of the smaller islands. For Claude and almost all the Chagossians, the number is a ‘5’ or ‘6,’ indicating that its holder was, respectively, born outside the Seychelles or someone who was naturalized. In an instant the number tells anyone that a Chagossian was not born in the Seychelles, that a Chagossian is a foreigner. Many islanders likewise described suffering abuse and discrimination from ordinary people in the Seychelles. Among those who went to 116 david vine school, for example, many say they were mocked for their poverty when they came barefoot and couldn’t afford shoes. Others recounted how some of their neighbours yelled at them, “Go back to the islands!” Others said that they were called Sovaz!—‘savage’—or Bet!—‘stupid.’ Many heard what is often considered to be the most painful curse: Anara! a difficult-to-translate word suggesting that Chagossians have no identity, that they are uncivilized, soulless pagans, and that as a people, Chagossians are the lowest of the low. Some of the verbal abuse that many Chagossians report having suffered conveys the strong feeling among several Chagossians of being treated as outsiders and foreigners in the Seychelles, not just by the state, but by their neighbours as well. As one said in explaining the treatment they have received, Nu pa ti Seselwa—“We were not Seychellois.” Discrimination is generally difficult to prove conclusively. In the absence of a more detailed study, however, there is a range of evidence that supports Chagossians’ claims. In 2002 and 2003, working with academics in the United States and researchers at the Seychelles National Heritage Museum, I coordinated the first ever survey of Chagossians in the Seychelles to document the effect of the expulsion on their lives. Among other findings in a 91-question survey of 64 Chagossians (representing more than 10 percent of all Chagossians living in the Seychelles), almost two-thirds of Chagossians born in Chagos reported facing verbal abuse in the Seychelles; almost half said that they have experienced job or other forms of discrimination (Vine, Sokolowski, and Harvey 2005). In Seychellois society more generally, Franda (1982) writes that discrimination is prevalent against those with the darkest skin, shaping a country where high social and economic status remains closely linked to lightly pigmented skin and European ancestry. Similarly, Chagossians in the Seychelles and Mauritius alike have been discriminated against by being barred from civilian jobs on the Diego Garcia military base while Mauritians, Filipinos, and others were employed (Bowman and Lefebvre 1985, n.28; Gupte 1982, A5; 60 Minutes 2003). Given this evidence and the pattern of reporting experiences of discrimination in Seychelles, Chagossians have likely suffered from overlapping forms of discrimination; their discrimination has likely emerged from their their lack of citizenship and ‘foreigner’ status as Chagossians; from their class; from their darkly pigmented skin; and (for some) from their political alle- giances with the opposition in a state dominated by a single party. chagossians twice forgotten 117

Exclusion and Marginalization

The widespread perception of discrimination also reflects pervasive feelings of alienation and exclusion among Chagossians living in the Seychelles. Again, for many, these feelings are tied to the ways in which the expulsion created ambiguity around Chagossians’ citizenship status and related senses of belonging. Janette Alexis described having a photograph of the Queen of England on the wall of her family’s home in Diego Garcia but being confused about the family’s nationality once in the Seychelles. Were they British? Were they Mauritian? She and other Chagossians were left asking, “What are we?” They became a people without a country, without a homeland. As noted in the chapter discussing the experiences of Chagossians in Mauritius (Jeffery and Vine, this volume), anthropologist Elizabeth Colson has described how home and a familiar environment generally provide a refuge that is crucial to people’s sense of self and identity. Destroying people’s homes and taking away familiar environments often result in the likelihood that people suffer, both materially and psychologically, and feel increasingly disoriented and insecure (Colson 1989). While such psychological suffering is by no means an automatic consequence of displacement (Malkki 1995a, Malkkib), most Chagossians have suffered painful feelings of homelessness and alienation. For more than thirty years, they have been living as refugees in the Seychelles, not fully accepted into Seychellois society and prevented from going back to Chagos. Janette related that she sometimes thinks about what life would be like if they had not been evicted from Chagos: Maybe Diego would be like the Seychelles is now, she said, referring to the ways in which the Seychelles has developed economically since she arrived in 1972.13 I would be more at ease there, Janette continued, I’ve never felt comfortable here in the Seychelles. We are treated as foreigners in the Seychelles, she explained, and in the Seychelles they don’t like foreigners. We have always been treated as foreigners here. These sorts of feelings of discrimination, abuse, and exclusion led many Chagossians to attempt to hide their identity. One woman was so

13 She is not far off in her estimate; the base on Diego Garcia resembles, if not the Seychelles, a small town in the United States. 118 david vine afraid to reveal her identity that she waited until after marrying her Seychellois husband to tell him that she was born in Diego Garcia. Some stressed too that they have been prevented from full cultural expression, and thus self-identification, living under a state that has emphasized the development and expression of a single national identity. This has made many feel forced to adapt to a singular Seychellois culture, especially in terms of styles of dance, music, and cuisine. Many likewise described hiding their identity by concealing their accents and changing their linguistic practices shortly after arrival. While their Chagos Creole is related to and mutually intelligible with Mauritian Creole and Seselwa (Seychellois Creole), Chagos Creole is distinguishable from the others in some of its vocabulary, in its pronun- ciation of words, and in the accent of its speakers. People told me of trying consciously to change their accent. One Chagossian man explained that Chagossians cannot express themselves as they would like. They have to change their language and their accent. As he put it, Chagossians have to think twice every time they start to speak. For years after being deported from Chagos to the Seychelles, Janette Alexis said she hid her identity for fear of being once again deported, this time by the government in a one-party state where she was a non- citizen. For years she felt ashamed to identify herself as a Chagossian in school when teachers asked where she was born. While an active Chagossian protest movement was growing in Mauritius, she and others in the Seychelles felt powerless to argue for their rights in a nation where dissent was dangerous and opponents of the state could not voice their opposition publicly (Scarr 1999, 198). In the late 1990s (after the start of a multi-party democracy), Janette finally decided that she was no longer going to hide. She called this her “coming out.” Although Janette did not intend to compare her experience to that of non-heterosexuals in heterosexist societies, the parallels are strong. Like many who do not conform to heterosexual norms, Janette experienced discrimination, stigmatization, and fear, giving her good reason to keep her identity secret.

Struggling Forward

Following the opening of its international airport in 1971, the Seychelles experienced an explosion of its previously tiny tourism industry. This growth led to a massive expansion of the country’s economy, which has chagossians twice forgotten 119 made it more economically prosperous on a per capita basis than any other African nation (Fukuda-Parr 2004). Fuelled by tourist revenues, Cold War income from both the Soviet Union and the United States, and later from fishing and other industries, the post-coup SPPF government pursued a broad programme to improve living standards. The government expanded access to education and free health care—helping raise literacy rates above 90 percent and life expectancy over 72 years— boosted per capita GDP above $18,000 a year (in purchasing power parity terms), and generally succeeded in making human development indicators the best in Africa (see e.g., Ibid.; United Nations Development Program 2008; Rosalie and Campling n.d.). Chagossians clearly benefitted from this economic growth and from many of the improvements to education and health care. As a group, however, they have not fully shared in this macroeconomic prosperity. The findings of our 2002/2003 survey of Chagossians in the Seychelles showed that the standard of living of Chagossians in the Seychelles is in many respects consistently lower than that enjoyed by most other Seychellois: Chagossian monthly median per capita income was €119 (SR714) (Vine, Sokolowski, and Harvey 2005).14 Compare this to 2003 statistics from the Seychelles government showing average national monthly earnings of €690 (SR3,576) (Statistics and Database Adminis tration Section 2003). Although ‘average earnings’ is a slightly different measure than our median income measure, the significant gap between the figures is indicative. Compare as well, median monthly income figures for the Chagossians highest earners, the first generation, which stood at €341, or less than half the national earnings average (Vine, Sokolowski, and Harvey 2005). Likewise, among Chagossians, we con- servatively estimate a 2002 unemployment rate of around 13 percent (Ibid.),15 while the official national rate was 7.1 percent (Statistics and Database Administration Section 2003). In terms of housing quality, almost 40 percent of Chagossians lived in homes built not of concrete or brick but primarily of metal, wood, or some combination of metal, wood, and concrete. By contrast, only 21 percent of Seychellois households lived at the time in homes made of

14 The survey figures reflect the correction of errors in previously reported figures. 15 The figure may be as high as 26.6 percent, which represents the percentage of Chagossians not working at the time of the survey (none surveyed were disabled or retired). 120 david vine metal or wood, with the rest in homes of concrete or brick. Over 10 percent of Chagossian households lacked flush toilets. The rate was 6 percent for Seychellois households (Vine, Sokolowski, and Harvey 2005; Statistics and Database Administration Section 2003). Health statistics among Chagossians show that over 70 percent of Chagossians reported needing more health care and, perhaps even more troubling, around half reported the need for more psychological health services in particular. While no Chagossians reported receiving any treatment for substance abuse, 16.7 percent of our second-generation sample said they needed help or treatment for substance abuse (also a problem among non-Chagossians). Given that responses to survey questions about illegal substance use are renowned for under-reporting actual use, the rate of Chagossians in need of substance abuse treatment is likely much higher. Adult illiteracy among Chagossians shows a similar trend as health statistics, with an illiteracy rate of almost 15 percent compared to a national rate of only 8.1 percent (Vine, Sokolowski, and Harvey 2005; Fukuda-Parr 2004, 139).16 Complicating this picture further, statistics from our survey of Chagossians in Mauritius reveal that they are generally living in even more difficult conditions: average monthly income is well under half that of Chagossians living in the Seychelles. Around 40 percent of households lacks a flush toilet. One-quarter and one-fifth of first and second generation respondents respectively reported needing substance abuse treatment. And among the generation born and raised in Mauritius, illiteracy is as high as 41 percent, with 55 percent having never attended secondary school. Accounting for the higher standard of living found among Chagossians in the Seychelles compared to those in Mauritius is complex. Some of the difference is surely attributable to higher standards of living generally enjoyed in the Seychelles, where per capita GDP (accounting for purchasing power parity) is roughly $7,500 higher than in Mauritius (Fukuda-Parr 2004, 139–140). Some is attributable to a better and more equitable education system (cf. Shillington 2009; Rosalie and Campling n.d.; Bunwaree 1998) and relatively lower levels of discrimination in an ethnically more homogeneous society where most have at least some recent African and European ancestry (Franda 1982).

16 Adult illiteracy for Chagossians is for those 16 and older; for the Seychelles the rate is for those 15 and older. chagossians twice forgotten 121

At the same time, the difference also appears to be related to significant demographic differences between the Chagossians in the two countries. In Mauritius, first-generation Chagossians (i.e., born in Chagos) are spread across a range of ages, from those born just prior to the expulsion to those now in their 80s. In the Seychelles by contrast, a disproportionate number of first-generation Chagossians were born just prior to the expulsion and arrived as young children. Usually these natifs, as they are known, came to the Seychelles with a Seychellois father who had been working in Chagos and a Chagossian (or in fewer cases Seychellois) mother.17 Many of these Chagossians were thus raised almost entirely in the Seychelles and experienced less disruption to their lives than those expelled at older ages. Many of these Chagossians are also likely to have thus benefited from educational improvements and opportunities for social and employment mobility in the Seychelles—at least relative to their Chagossian counterparts in Mauritius. Although during their early years in the Seychelles, most faced the kinds of economic and social difficulties described previously, a good number have struggled through years of challenges to rise into jobs with government ministries, the police and the armed forces, local district administration offices, and parastatal and other government entities. By contrast, only a rare few in Mauritius hold government jobs or similarly stable professional or para-professional employment. The relative homogeneity of the population in the Seychelles, where almost all are of some mixed African and European ancestry and where there is only a small population of Indian ancestry, is also likely to have assisted in this relative integration, whereas Chagossians in Mauritius found themselves as part of a stigmatized Afro-Mauritian minority (see Jeffery and Vine, this volume). Still, not all in the Seychelles have achieved such economic stability. Some in the first and second generations face living conditions similar to those found among the poorest Chagossians in Mauritius. These islanders continue to face serious unemployment and underemployment, occupying low-paying, often temporary jobs as stevedores, informal vendors, domestic servants, and general labourers. They live in some of the worst housing in the Seychelles, still squatting on family members’ lands, overcrowded in small, flimsy shacks and lacking basic

17 Again, Chagossians generally consider individuals born in Chagos to be Chagossians regardless of parents’ places of birth. 122 david vine housing amenities. Many are concentrated in some of the poorest areas of the Seychelles, living in ‘Red Districts’ in Anse aux Pins, Les Mamelles, and English River, which are known for pockets of illegal drug trafficking and high crime rates. The different economic outcomes across the two nations require further comparative study. In even raising such a question, however, one must keep in mind that any relative material comfort that some may have found in the Seychelles in no way negates the broader experience of expulsion and exile and other forms of social, cultural, and psychological suffering. Just as any material success achieved by some Japanese- Americans since the United States interned them during World War II does not erase the experience of being forced into concentration camps, the Chagossians’ economic status in no way erases the pain of their removal from Chagos.

Activism, the Airport, and an Uncertain Future

On one of the last boatloads to Mauritius, a group of Chagossians refused to disembark unless they were returned to Chagos or provided with resettlement assistance. This sparked a pattern of protest among Chagossians in Mauritius, with petitions and pleas to the UK, US, and Mauritian governments, mass protests, and hunger strikes that rallied Mauritian and international support. Until recently, Chagossians in the Seychelles have been unable to organize politically like the larger group in Mauritius. As a result of the Mauritian activism, in 1978 and again between 1982 and 1985, many but not all Chagossians in Mauritius received modest financial and land compensation from the British government. Chagossians living in the Seychelles received none of this or any other compensation (it seems that only a few were able to travel to Mauritius after 1982 to register for and receive some compensation). Others in the Seychelles tried unsuccessfully to petition for compensation but were turned down. After some earlier advocacy attempts, Chagossians in the Seychelles finally organized a committee to register the community’s members in 1980. The group soon disbanded when compensation was not forthcoming. In 1997, after a visit by leaders of the Chagos Social Committee (the group then representing most Chagossians in Mauritius), Chagossians in the Seychelles, including Janette, formed the Chagos Social Committee chagossians twice forgotten 123

(Seychelles). The members created the CSC, as it was known, to advocate for the welfare of the people of Chagos, including their right to claim British citizenship, their right to return to Chagos, and their right to compensation (the CSC recently changed its name to Chagos Committee (Seychelles)). Beginning in 1999, the CSC joined with the Chagos Refugees Group (CRG) in suing the UK Government. This led to the historic 2000 British Divisional Court victory that ruled their expulsion illegal under British law. Since that time, the CSC and CRG, now representing most Chagossians, have launched new lawsuits in US and UK courts demanding the right to return to all of Chagos, and compensation for their removal and for rebuilding their societies (see Allen; and Jeffery and Vine, this volume). One of the victories won by the CSC and CRG has been the right, gained in May 2002, for most Chagossians to claim full British citizenship and passports as a result of their connection to the BIOT. In recent years, especially as economic conditions have worsened in the Sey chelles prior to and following the devaluation of its currency in 2008, perhaps as many as two hundred or more have bought their passports and left the Seychelles in search of work and better lives in Britain. The opportunities presented by the passport to live and work in the United Kingdom were obvious, although it appears that many may also have underestimated the difficulties of British life. At the same time, the chance to have British citizenship, to have a British passport, has had even more significance: Chagossians may still be exiled and they may remain foreigners in Britain, but for once they are privileged foreigners with the elite international cachet of being “British,” of having the right to call one another, only half-jokingly, “Mr. Englishman” and “Mrs. Englishwoman.” Those who have saved money for the passports and airfare and attempted to move to England have had mixed success (see Jeffery, this volume.) Because of their generally superior English-language skills (after the local Creole languages, English is the second spoken language in the Seychelles, while French is in Mauritius) and higher levels of education, Chagossians from the Seychelles, on the whole, seem to be more securely settled than their Mauritian counterparts. However, while most have found work and housing, they also describe long workdays, experiences of racism, high costs of living, and low wages primarily in the service sector. While this new migration is still unfolding, it has both reunited some Chagossians previously separated between Mauritius and 124 david vine the Seychelles, and divided others between Europe and the Indian Ocean.18 Perhaps as their planes took off from the Seychelles International Airport, bound for London, some considered the history behind those flights. When Britain was planning the creation of the BIOT by separating Aldabra, Desroches, and Farquhar from the Seychelles and Chagos from Mauritius, UK and US officials realized that they would have to offer a self-described ‘bribe’ to the Seychellois and Mauritian governments in exchange for the islands and keeping silent about the deal (US Embassy London 1965). Mauritius received £3 million as part of its independence negotiations in 1965. The Seychelles won the construction of its first international airport. Without the airport, the economic growth experienced by the Seychelles in the years since the expulsion— little shared by many Chagossians—would hardly have been possible. Now Chagossians fly from the Seychelles, hoping to find better lives in the country that exiled them. Most wait to return to Chagos,19 where thousands of non-Chagossians currently live and work on a base created by the United States, the country that ordered their exile.

18 Interestingly, but not surprisingly, given almost four decades of separation, many in England who lived previously in the Seychelles do not live in the same areas where there are major concentrations of Chagossians who came from Mauritius. 19 Among those we surveyed in the Seychelles, almost 90 percent wished to return to Chagos to live or to visit. Unpublished results of 2002/2003 “Questionnaire with Chagossians.” Allen Vincatassin: Negotiating Life in Mauritius and the UK

One of the last born in Diego Garcia, Allen Vincatassin was less than a year old in the winter of 1970 when the islanders of Diego Garcia were told the copra plantation was being closed down and they would have to leave Chagos. “My mother had moved to Diego Garcia from the Seychelles and she was considered non-permanent. She had to return to the Seychelles.” Sent with a group to Mauritius, Allen grew up with his father, his grandmother and his grandfather, Michel Vincatassin who was the chef commandeur (chief supervisor) of the copra plantation. In Mauritius, his grandparents became labourers and worked long hours. “Chagossians faced great hardships, disappointment and preju- dice. In school, I was looked down upon by my teachers and classmates who considered Chagossians second class citizens from a distant country.” Allen found strength studying the Bible and reading stories. Jesus Christ and Moses became his role models. In 1975, Michel Vincatassin sued Her Majesty’s government for having been forced to leave his homeland and advocated for his right to return. This brought world attention to the plight of the Chagos islanders. Eventually, this suit led to the UK government paying some compensation to the islanders in 1982. “But my grandfather was forced, under pressure of protests and hunger strikes, by the community and by Mauritian politicians, to drop his case before the High Court before his case was settled. The British government waited for my grandfather to withdraw his case in order to disburse the money,” Allen explains. When the Mauritian government wanted the Ilois Trust Fund Board to renounce their right of return and accept, in full, a final settlement of all claims, Simon Vincatassin and Francois Louis, Michel’s sons, resigned from the board. “Our family received death threats. My grandfather asked for police protection.” In 2001, Allen, who was then studying at a Bible Training Centre, established the Diego Garcia Island Council with his fellow compatri- ots. “We decided to fight for the rights of the Diego Garcians who were the first islanders sent into exile. A year later, I moved to the UK. About twenty of us who had also arrived in the UK campaigned for human rights. In 2004, our group lost a case, but residency time required 126 allen vincatassin for welfare benefit entitlements changed from six months to one and a half months, and the government was ordered to pay an allowance to all individuals in the job-seeking group, about £3,000. This was more than Chagossians received in the 1982 compensation.” In December 2007, the group established the Diego Garcian Society (DGS). The DGS campaigned for the right to visit Diego Garcia. The Foreign Office and Overseas Territories Ministers backed the proposal and, in November 2008, the dream of going home for a visit became a reality. “During the visit, I was able to locate my grandfather’s house where I lived as a baby. I would like to see Diego Garcians and all Chagossians benefit from their natural resources in the Chagos archipelago. For the time being, I will continue to live in the UK as I believe Chagossians have opportunities for a better future here. We have now proposed that third generation Chagossians receive British Citizenship.” Second generation Chagossians from Mauritius can qualify for British citizenship. Allen’s two brothers, who were born in Mauritius, have settled in the UK as well. “Three of my brothers and one sister cannot join us. They live in the Seychelles and are not entitled to British Citizenship.”

By Ariel van Haltern Responsibility and Redress: The Chagossian Litigation in the English Courts

Stephen Allen

For many, the Chagossian litigation in the English courts highlights a travesty of social justice aggravated by the fact that the policy of deraci- nation was pursued by successive UK governments against a background of UN-inspired decolonisation and by the current government’s unwillingness to correct the situation. Surely the actions of the UK government could not possibly have the colour of lawful authority? This chapter examines the legal challenges brought against the UK government in the English courts to establish legal responsibility and redress for the expulsion and/or exclusion of the Chagossian people from the British Indian Ocean Territory (BIOT) to Mauritius and the Seychelles. In particular, it investigates the public law proceedings—the Bancoult litigation—which challenged the validity of the legislation denying the Chagossians right of abode in the outer Chagos islands.1 The chapter also discusses attempts made to secure compensation for a number of private law wrongs perpetrated by the UK government in connection with the process of exiling Chagossian people (the Chagos Islanders case).2 The Chagossian litigation invites normative analysis from a number of different legal perspectives, not least that of public international law. The international angle is considered by Maureen Tong in her chapter (this volume) and in several publications by the present author (see e.g. Allen 2007; 2008). The current chapter has a nar- rower, technical aim of analysing the legal issues in the above-mentioned cases and considering their legal ramifications for Chagossians and for English law in general.

1 R (Bancoult) v Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs [2001] 1 QB 1067 (‘Bancoult 1’); R (Bancoult) v Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs (‘Bancoult 2’)[2006] EWHC 1038 (Divisional Court); [2008] QB 365 (Court of Appeal); [2008] 3 WLR 955 (House of Lords). 2 Chagos Islanders v Attorney General and H.M. BIOT Commissioner [2003] EWHC QB 2222 (High Court); [2004] EWCA Civ. 997 (Court of Appeal). 128 stephen allen

Background

As described in previous chapters, in 1965, the UK government enacted the BIOT Order in Council,3 which excised the Chagos islands in the middle of the Indian Ocean from the British colony of Mauritius to constitute the BIOT.4 In a 1966 treaty, the UK government made Diego Garcia available to the US government for defence purposes.5 Although the US government only required the use of one island, it was agreed that the entire Chagos archipelago would be cleared of its inhabitants.6 Consequently, between 1968 and 1973, the UK government covertly exiled the Chagossian people from the BIOT. This process was purportedly authorised by the BIOT Commissioner. Acting in his capacity as BIOT’s colonial (subordinate) legislature, he enacted the Immigration Ordinance 1971. Section 4 of the Ordinance provided that no person was allowed to enter the BIOT or remain in the territory without a permit. Although many Chagossians had been removed by this time, the Ordinance ensured that they would be prevented from returning to the BIOT. The evacuation of Diego Garcia was completed in October 1971 and the outer Islands were emptied by May 1973. The displaced population were transported to Mauritius and the Seychelles where many of them became chronically impoverished (Jeffery and Vine, this volume). The displaced population also included those Chagossians who were temporarily outside the BIOT during the process of exile and were subsequently prevented from returning. In 1972, the UK government agreed to pay the Mauritian government £650,000 in order to cover the costs of resettling the displaced Chagossians. However, while this sum was paid to the Mauritian government, it was not distributed to the Chagossians. By 1977, the lack of an official resettlement programme produced spiralling Chagossian debts, which led to demands, especially from Chagossian women, for the distribution of government funds. The fund was distributed between

3 s.I. 1965/1920. This Order also excised the islands of Aldabra, Desroches and Farquhar from the colony of the Seychelles and included them within the new colonial unit. BIOT came into existence on 8 November 1965. 4 The Treaty of Paris 1814 ceded Mauritius and its Lesser Dependencies (including the Chagos islands) to the UK. 5 Exchange of Notes between the UK and US Governments, 30 December 1966 at http://www.fco.gov.uk/resources/en/pdf/pdf17/fco_ts01-00_us_construct_biot 6 in a confidential agreed minute, theU K government undertook this ‘administrative measure’ under para. 2(a), ibid.. responsibility and redress 129

595 families in 1978. However, rampant inflation in the interim period meant that the value of an already meagre sum was substantially reduced. The displaced Chagossians received paltry cash payments that did little to alleviate their suffering (see Jeffery and Vine, this volume; Mauritius Legislative Assembly 1981). In 1975, Michel Vincatassin, a Chagossian who had been forced to leave Diego Garcia in 1971, began a private law action against the UK government for a number of private law wrongs (intimidation, false imprisonment and assault) committed against him during exile. In response,the UK and Mauritian governments agreed in 1982 to establish a Trust Fund to assist in the resettlement of the Chagossian community in Mauritius (see Jeffery and Vine, this volume).7 In exchange, recipients were required to renounce all their claims against the UK government.8 In 1997, it was discovered that any exiled person born in the Chagos islands was in fact a British Dependent Territories citizen, a decree granted under the British Nationality Act 1981. Richard Gifford, Bancoult’s solicitor, discovered this status as a result of research into the archives available at the Public Records Office in London (see Gifford 2004). It was further discovered that, at the time of their exile, Chagossians were already citizens of the UK and its Colonies under the British Nationality Act 1948. It was therefore open to any such person to institute public law proceedings against the decision to deny him/her the right of abode in the BIOT.

A Note on English Law

Public law is concerned with the exercise and control of governmental power within a domestic legal system. In contrast, private law is concerned with the operation of rights and obligations created by private individuals within that legal system (the State can also be a legal person for this purpose). The UK does not have a written constitution. Constitutional law originates in the common law, a series of principles and rules made by judges when deciding cases which form the basis of

7 under the Mauritian Ilois Trust Fund Act 1982. 8 The 1982 Agreement between the UK and Mauritian governments provided that compensation in full and final settlement would be paid for “all acts, matters and things done by or pursuant to the BIOT Order 1965, including the closure of the plantations in the Chagos Archipelago, the departure and removal of those living or working there, the termination of their contracts, their transfer to and their resettlement in Mauritius …” (Madeley 1982, 10). 130 stephen allen

English law. However, Parliament is the supreme legislative body and common law has been superseded by Acts of Parliament (statutes) which constitute primary legislation (or via secondary legislation authorised by statute) in many areas, since this cardinal principle was established.9 As Lord Hoffmann, one of the members of the Judicial Committee of the House of Lords, stated in R (Pro-Life Association) v BBC: In a society based upon the rule of law and the separation of powers, it is necessary to decide which branch of government has in any particular instance the decision-making power and what the legal limits of that power are. That is a question of law and must therefore be decided by the courts. This means that the courts themselves often have to decide the limits of their own decision-making power. That is inevitable. But it does not mean that their allocation of decision-making power to the other branches of government is a matter of courtesy or deference. The principles upon which decision-making powers are allocated are principles of law. The courts are the independent branch of government and the legislative and executive are, directly and indirectly, respectively, the elected branches of government. Independence makes the courts more suited to deciding some kinds of questions and being elected makes the legislature and the executive more suited to deciding others.10 Despite the constitutional shift in favour of Parliament, the Crown retains considerable discretionary powers (prerogative powers) notably in the areas of defence, foreign affairs and colonial governance. The UK government exercises prerogative powers on behalf of the Crown. In this regard, it legislates by enacting Orders in Council, which constitute primary legislation. Although prerogative powers can be curtailed by Parliament, if express provision is made in a statute, they remain otherwise intact. However, as the Bancoult litigation demonstrates the precise scope of prerogative powers remains contested. A colonial entity is usually constituted by an Order in Council which, among other things, empowers a colonial legislature to enact subordinate laws for the colony. While it is well-established that subordinate legislation is susceptible to judicial oversight, until very recently, English courts have refused to accept jurisdiction to review the exercise of prerogative powers in general.11

9 The supremacy ofP arliament was a product of the constitutional settlement agreed in the aftermath of the G‘ lorious Revolution’ of 1688. 10 [2004] 1 AC 185 at [75–76]. 11 This was established by the House of Lords in Council of Civil Service Unions v Minister for the Civil Service [1985] AC 374. responsibility and redress 131

Bancoult 1

Olivier Bancoult was born in 1964 on the Chagos island of Peros Banhos. In 1968, he visited Mauritius with his family for medical reasons. They were subsequently excluded from the BIOT and denied re-entry into the Chagos archipelago. Several years later, in Bancoult 1, he challenged the decision to banish the Chagossians from the BIOT. Under section 11 of the 1965 BIOT Order in Council, the BIOT Commissioner was empowered to legislate for BIOT’s ‘peace, order and good government,’ a standard legislative formulation used for the purpose of authorising wide discretionary powers of colonial governance. However, in the Divisional Court’s view, the Commissioner’s legislative authority did not extend to the removal of the population from Chagos for unrelated reasons. It acknowledged that while a colonial legislature has exclusive authority to determine the factual requirements of ‘peace, order and good government,’ such authority was not unlimited.12 Accordingly, as an outcome of Bancoult 1, the Court held that section 4 of the Ordinance was ultra vires (it was beyond the Commissioner’s power to legislate in such a manner) and it quashed that provision. In response to the Divisional Court’s decision in Bancoult 1 the Secretary of State made the following public statement on 3 November 2000: I have decided to accept the Court’s ruling and the Government will not be appealing. The work we are doing on the feasibility of resettling the Ilois [Chagossians] now takes on a new importance. We started the feasibility work a year ago and are now well underway with phase two of the study. Furthermore, we will put in place a new Immigration Ordinance which will allow the Ilois to return to the outer islands while observing our Treaty obligations …13 The 1971O rdinance was repealed and replaced by the BIOT Immigration Ordinance 2000, a piece of subordinate legislation, which allowed Chagossians to return to the BIOT (except for Diego Garcia) without permits. Specifically, section 4 of the 2000 Immigration Ordinance provided: No person shall enter the Territory, or, being present in the Territory, shall remain there, unless he is in possession of a permit …

12 Bancoult 1, at [55]. 13 3 November 2000, quoted in Bancoult 2 (DC) at [8]. 132 stephen allen

3) Except in respect of his entry into, or remaining in Diego Garcia, this section does not apply to any person who— (a) is, under the British Nationality Act 1981, … a British Dependent Territories citizen and; (b) is such a citizen by virtue of his connection with the Territory; and it also does not apply to the spouse or to the dependent child, under the age of 18 years, of such a person. Bancoult had won, or so it appeared.

The Chagos Islanders Case

English public law judgments do not attract awards of financial compensation. Accordingly, the Bancoult 1 decision did not result in compensation for the violations against Chagossian people by the UK government during the process of exile, or for the protracted denial of their right of live in the BIOT. Arguably, the need to secure such compensation became urgent after the right of abode was recognised, as resettling the outer Islands was sure to be a costly exercise which might not attract public funding as a matter of course. In an effort to secure compensation, Chagossian representatives instituted private law proceedings—Chagos Islanders v Attorney General and H.M. BIOT Commissioner—against the government in 2002. The main causes of action were (i) misfeasance in public office (the improper performance of a lawful act); (ii) unlawful exile; and (iii) deceit (fraud). The case was heard in the High Court by Ouseley J in 2003. At the outset, Ouseley J drew a distinction between a public law challenge concerning the validity of legislation, and a claim for compensation after a final settlement had been reached (a reference tothe compensation package agreed between Chagossian representatives and the UK and Mauritian governments and administered under the Mauritian Ilois Trust Fund Act 1982). Consequently, Ouseley J held that the above causes of action were unavailable to the vast majority of Chagossians because they had accepted the compensation offered to them in 1982 and they ‘signed’ forms renouncing their private law entitlements in this respect.14 In any event, Ouseley J decided the case in the defendants’ favour.

14 This point was upheld on appeal, Chagos Islanders case (CA) at [16]. However, Chagossian representatives argue that the process of effecting renunciation was flawed and the consent of affected Chagossians was compromised as a result. responsibility and redress 133

The claimants appealed against this decision by taking the case to the Court of Appeal, which is responsible for hearing appeals from the High Court in the English legal system. However, the Court of Appeal decided to uphold Ouseley’s J verdict. In particular, the Court of Appeal decided that the claim of misfeasance could not succeed because there was no evidence that ministers (or their civil servants) knew that the 1971 Immigration Ordinance was illegal at the time it was made. In fact, it was widely believed that the authority to legislate for the ‘peace, order and good government’ of a colony was unlimited until the contrary was held in Bancoult 1.15 The deceit claim failed for the same reason.16 Further, the Court of Appeal ruled that the claim of unlawful exile was a public law claim unknown to English private law; thus, it was not actionable in the present proceedings. Finally, the Court of Appeal upheld Ouseley’s J ruling that the action was ‘time-barred.’ The Limitation Act 1980 established a code of time limits beyond which private law claims cannot be commenced in the English courts. For this purpose, time does not start to run until the cause of action arises, or the basis for the cause of action comes to light. Once the prescribed time limit has elapsed, a claimant is barred from instituting proceedings. Temporal restrictions on the instituting of civil claims are common in municipal legal systems as they promote certainty and prevent claimants from ‘sitting’ on their rights. In the present case, the Court of Appeal observed that events which formed the basis of the case occurred in the 1960s and 1970s but that the private law action was only brought forth in 2002.17 Even it was accepted that time should not begin to run at the moment of exile on grounds of unconscionability (unfairness) or as a result of some unspecified disability (incapacity), the 1975 Vincatassin proceedings compromised this view. The proceedings resulted in the disclosure of documents concerning the removal of the Chagossians from the BIOT by the UK government, indicating that, from 1978 until the establishment of the Ilois Trust Fund in 1982, a series of offers to settle Chagossians’ claims with the benefit of legal advice had been made. Against this background, the Court of Appeal decided that any attempt to prevent time from running faced “insuperable difficulties after 1983 at the very latest.”18 Accordingly, it

15 ibid., at [28]. 16 However, the Court of Appeal reserved its position on the question of whether the UK government had deceived the United Nations, ibid., at [36–37]. 17 ibid., at [43]. 18 ibid., at [48]. 134 stephen allen held that the conclusion that these proceedings had been brought out of time was irresistible. The failure of the private law action highlights the inability of English private law to deliver social justice to Chagossian people. The refusal of the High Court and Court of Appeal to circumvent the provisions of the Limitation Act 1980 for equitable reasons occasioned technical defeat. Second, the application of the ordinary standard civil law rules of evidence was problematic given the oral culture that had flourished on the Chagos islands. These difficulties were exacerbated by the transfor- mation of personal experiences of involuntary displacement into standardised collective accounts during the years of exile (see Jeffery 2006b, 228). The recalling of group narratives, which had not been personally experienced by Chagossians who were called as witnesses at trial, under- mined the probative value of their testimonies (Ibid.). Finally, the claims of deceit and misfeasance in public office required proof that government decision-makers and representatives knew that their actions were illegal. Such claims carried heavy evidential burdens, which the claimants failed to discharge. The appeal judges appreciated the limited utility of this process of adjudication for the Chagossians, as Sedley LJ observed in the Court of Appeal: “It may not be too late to make return possible, but such an outcome is a function of economic resources and political will, not of adjudication.”19 Such an observation suggests that claimants’ faith in English law was misplaced. The collective nature of litigation certainly dimin- ished the cogency of some claims on several accounts. For instance, the Court of Appeal noted that the decision to make the claim for unlawful exile rather than ‘trespass to the person’ (physical interference), which is a claim well-established in English private law, was probably driven by a desire to avoid dividing the claimant group; while a limited group of Chagossians were physically forced out of the BIOT, a larger group may have been prompted to leave due to policy decisions which closed down the Islands before such coercion was used (or they had been excluded from the BIOT after having left voluntarily).20 Second, as noted above, while standardised collective accounts were particularly useful in mar- shalling external political support for the Chagossian cause, they were ill-suited to the task of proving claims in a court of law (Jeffery 2006b,

19 Chagos Islanders case (CA) at [54]. 20 ibid., at [25]. responsibility and redress 135

239–240). Accordingly, the political resonance of the Chagossians’ narrative conflicted with the articulation of their legal claims, a conflict which arguably brings into question their strategy of using litigation as the primary means of advancing their political cause. Finally, in the absence of necessary political will to establish a unique legal process for effecting ‘transitional justice,’21 the legal processes of ordinary courts were quite simply incapable of dealing with the substance behind the claimants’ action, especially in the light of the compensation package agreed upon in 1982.

Bancoult 2: Withdrawing the Public Law Right of Abode

The UK government’s acceptance of the Chagossian right of abode recognised in Bancoult 1 was short-lived. A preliminary feasibility study (Phase 2A) on the question of permanent resettlement was published by the UK government on 20 June 2000; the second phase of the feasibility study (Phase 2B) was published on 10 July 2002.22 In a written statement on 15 June 2004, the Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs stated: … anything other than short-term resettlement on a purely subsistence basis would be highly precarious and would involve expensive underwriting by the UK Government for an open-ended period—probably permanently. Accordingly, the Government considers that there would be no purpose in commissioning any further study into the feasibility of resettlement; and that it would be impossible for the Government to promote or even permit resettlement to take place. We have therefore decided to legislate to prevent it.23

21 on the nature and scope of transitional justice see Teitel 2003. 22 Bancoult 2 (DC) at [84]. On 10 March 2000, the BIOT Commissioner appointed independent consultants to investigate the feasibility of resettlement. The extent to which they were working independently has been questioned by Richard Gifford, Bancoult’s solicitor. Further, there is some controversy regarding the content of the 2002 report. The UK government did not disclose the full contents of the draft report; it subsequently claimed that all copies were destroyed. See the transcript of the evidence of Richard Gifford to the Parliamentary Foreign Affairs Committee Inquiry into Good Governance in British Overseas Territories, 23 January 2008 at http://www.publications .parliament.uk/pa/cm200708/cmselect/cmfaff/c147-ii/c14702.htm.I n addition, Stephen Akester, one of the consultants involved in the feasibility study, has recently confirmed that the conclusion that the outer Chagos islands were suitable for resettlement was omitted from the 2002 report for political reasons (see Philp and Kennedy 2010). 23 ibid., at [93]. 136 stephen allen

In a policy reversal the government enacted the BIOT Constitution Order in Council 2004 and the BIOT Immigration Order in Council 2004 (the latter repealed the Immigration Ordinance 2000). Together they ensured that full immigration controls over BIOT territory were reinstated and that the displaced Chagossians had no right of abode in the BIOT. In particular, Section 9 of the Constitution Order 2004 provided:

(1) Whereas the Territory was constituted and is set aside to be available for the defence purposes of the Government of the United Kingdom and the Government of the United States of America, no person has the right of abode in the Territory. (2) Accordingly, no person is entitled to enter or be present in the Ter- ritory except as authorised by or under this Order or any other law for the time being in force in the Territory.

In a Parliamentary debate on 7 July 2004, the government claimed that the reintroduction of such measures was justified in order to honour the UK’s treaty obligations.24 Further, the US government vouched for the ongoing strategic value of its military base in Diego Garcia in the ‘Global War on Terrorism.’25 Accordingly, the UK government claimed that resettlement of the outer Chagos islands would compromise the base’s security since it would increase the risk of terrorist infiltration and attack. In 2008, via R (Bancoult) v Secretary of State for Foreign and Com monwealth Affairs (‘Bancoult 2’) the claimant sought an order that the 2004 Orders were ultra vires (beyond the lawful powers of the Sovereign in Council). A material difference between Bancoult 1 and Bancoult 2 was that the former concerned a challenge to subordinate legislation whereas, in the latter, the validity of primary legislation was being disputed: the claimant was challenging the legitimate scope of the Crown’s prerogative power of colonial governance. Accordingly, Bancoult 2 had profound constitutional implications. Both the Divisional Court and the Court of Appeal held that the 2004 Orders were ultra vires. However, the Secretary of State appealed to the Judicial Committee of the House of Lords, which was at that time the highest appellate court

24 ibid., at [94]. 25 ibid., at [96]. responsibility and redress 137 within the jurisdiction. By a majority decision (3/2), it allowed the appeal.

Bancoult 2: The House of Lords’ Judgment

Constitutional Review and Fundamental Rights The Appellant, that is the Secretary of State, claimed that: (i) the Queen in Council’s power to legislate for a ceded colony (a colony acquired derivatively by treaty) is an expression of sovereign legislative authority; (ii) alternatively, the Queen in Council could legislate without restraint in the absence of authority to the contrary; and (iii) the decision to enact the 2004 Orders was a legislative act and thus not subject to review. While he accepted that Orders in Council rank as primary legislation, Lord Hoffmann observed that, as they qualify as executive acts, they do not possess the representative quality which characterises the legislative sovereignty of the Queen in Parliament. Given that prerogative powers have not enjoyed immunity from judicial review as a matter of principle, at least since Council of Civil Service Unions v Minister for the Civil Service,26 Lord Hoffmann saw “no reason why prerogative legislation should not be subject to review.”27 The House of Lords unanimously endorsed this position. The Appellant submitted that the legislative formulation ‘peace, order and good government’ did not apply to the Queen in Council’s constituent powers in ceded colonies because it retains full legislative power in such territories.28 In any event, the Appellant claimed that this formulation could not limit the Queen in Council’s legislative authority. Lord Hoffmann observed that the legislative formulation has never been applied to non-self-governing territories. Accordingly, in his view, as the UK and its dependent territories constitute an “undivided realm,” the Queen in Council is entitled to give primacy to UK interests when legis- lating for a dependent territory.29 Further, the majority decided that, as the formulation was “apt to authorize the utmost discretion of enactment,” it could not limit the Queen in Council’s power to legislate in the

26 Above n 13. 27 Bancoult 2 (HL) at [35]. 28 in this respect, Lord Hoffmann relied upon Halsbury’s Laws of England (2003) vol 6 at [823], quoted ibid., at [31]. 29 ibid., at [716], quoted, ibid., at [47]. 138 stephen allen colonial context.30 However, Lord Mance and Lord Bingham preferred to restrict their Opinions to the question of whether the common law implied any substantive limitations upon this power.31 The Respondent claimed that the right of abode had been established in the common law since Magna Carta (Chapter 29 provides: “No free- man shall be taken or imprisoned … or exiled … but by lawful judgment of his peers, or by the law of the land”). As the Court of Appeal recognised that this right was “one of the most fundamental liberties known to human beings,”32 Bancoult argued that an Order in Council could not interfere with it. However, Lord Hoffmann held that: “the right of abode is a creature of the law. The law gives it and the law may take it away.”33 In his view, section 9 of the Constitution Order clearly abrogated any right of abode in the BIOT. Lord Rodger and Lord Carswell reached the same conclusion. However, they were prepared to accept that Magna Carta was applicable and that it was arguable that the right of abode in a conquered or ceded colony was a fundamental principle of English law.34 In this regard, they paid particular attention to Lord Mansfield’s CJ sixth proposition in Campbell v Hall—that a Sovereign’s legislative powers in conquered (or ceded) colony were subordinate to those held by a Sovereign in Parliament and that the former “cannot make any new change contrary to fundamental principles.”35 Nevertheless, they were concerned that the ‘unspecified nature’ of such fundamental principles could severely restrict a Sovereign in Council’s legislative powers.36 For them, this problem was solved by sections 2 and 3 of the Colonial Laws Validity Act 1865, which provided that no colonial law could be void (invalid) because it was repugnant to (inconsistent with) English law unless it contravened the provisions of an Act of Parliament applicable to the colony in question.37 The 1865 Act had the effect of removing

30 Riel v The Queen (1885) 10 App Cas 675, 678, Lord Halsbury LC, quoted by Lord Rodger at [108]. 31 ibid., at [145] and [70]. 32 Bancoult 2 (CA), Sedley LJ at [71]; adopted by Sir Anthony Clarke MR at [123]. 33 Bancoult 2 (HL) at [45]. 34 ibid., at [86] and [89]. 35 (1774) 1 Cowp 204, 209. That case concerned a challenge to the validity of a duty imposed on goods exported from Grenada by virtue of the Crown’s prerogative power of colonial governance. Lord Mansfield CJ made six general propositions concerning the law applicable to British colonies. Considerable weight has been attached to these propositions ever since. 36 Bancoult 2 (HL) at [91]. 37 ibid., at [78]. responsibility and redress 139

“a fetter to repugnancy to some vague, unspecified law of natural justice.”38 Accordingly, in their view, the 2004 Orders could not be challenged on the basis of a claim that the Respondent held a fundamental right of abode in the BIOT. In contrast, Lord Bingham and Lord Mance considered the right of abode to be fundamental. They brushed aside “the ancient and formal niceties” that prevented English law from being applied in ceded colonies as a matter of course.39 Lord Bingham was more concerned about the contrast between the Appellant’s view of the entitlement belonging to the inhabitants of this non-self-governing territory and the right of abode held by British citizens in the UK.40 Drawing upon Lord Mansfield’s CJ second proposition in Campbell v Hall—the inhabitants of a conquered or ceded territory are entitled to the Sovereign’s protection and to be universally considered as subjects—Lord Mance held that “every British citizen has a right to enter or remain in the constitutional unit to which his or her citizenship relates.”41 Further, he noted that, since 1965, the Respondent’s right was only exercisable in the BIOT. Evidence of the ongoing nature of this right was gleaned from section 4(3) of the Immigration Ordinance 2000, which provided that a British Dependent Territories citizen was exempt from any applicable immigration controls by virtue of his/her connection with the BIOT (with the exception of Diego Garcia). On the question of whether the Queen in Council could abrogate this right, the minority looked for guidance from the prerogative’s “previous mode of exercise.”42 The enacting of a constitution “with the aim of depopulating a habitable territory” was antithetical to the Queen in Council’s constituent power, which was “intended to enable the proper governance of the territory, at least among other things for the benefit of the people inhabiting it.”43 In the circumstances, the minority found the

38 Lord Rodger, Bancoult 2 (HL) at [101], relying upon Liyanage v The Queen [1967] AC 259, at 284. Lord Hoffmann at [40] and Lord Mance at [142] rejected the application of the 1865 Act on the ground that the 2004 Orders were not colonial laws. 39 tomkins 2001, 579, quoted by Lord Rodger, ibid., at [80]. The laws of a ceded territory remain in force until English law is specifically extended to it, Campbell v Hall, above n 41, at 209, Lord Mansfield CJ. However, English law is applicable in settled colonies from the moment of acquisition. 40 Bancoult 2 (HL), at [70]. 41 ibid., at [154]. 42 Lord Mance, ibid., at [149] relying upon Burmah Oil Co v Lord Advocate [1965] AC 75, 101, Lord Reid. 43 ibid. 140 stephen allen absence of a precedent for section 9 of the Constitution Order to be dispositive.44 The House of Lords’ decision inBancoult 2 provides powerful authority for the proposition that Orders in Council are amenable to judicial review. Nevertheless, the position of the majority casts some doubt on the practical significance that should be attached to this finding. Lord Hoffmann observed thatO rders in Council lack the representative quality of Acts of Parliament (as the latter are made by Members of Parliament, the directly elected representatives of the British people, whereas the former are enacted by the Sovereign in Council, in practice by the government which is only indirectly elected under the British Constitution). As a result, Lord Hoffmann concluded that Orders in Council are subject to review. Nevertheless, he interpreted the Constitutional Order 2004 in the same way as if it had been an Act of Parliament. But while it is axiomatic that an Act of Parliament may abrogate constitutional (or fundamental) common law rights through clear provision,45 it follows from the finding that Orders in Council are subject to judicial review that the position should not, prima facie (on the face of it), be the same for executive legislation. In Bancoult 2 it appears that much turned on the extent to which fundamental common law rights are entrenched within the British constitution. The concept of fundamental principles has ebbed and flowed in English law. Campbell v Hall shows that their somewhat vague presence was felt during the 18th century. But “the wintry asperity of authority” denied their constitutional salience before the advent of modern judicial review.46 Nevertheless, there is undoubtedly growing judicial support for a narrow category of fundamental principles (Jowell et al. 2007, [5-036]-[5-040]; and [11-057]-[11-067]). In part, this is a reflection of the changing function of judicial review in a modern constitutional democracy (Jowell 2006, 562; Cohn 2007, 95). The courts are now more willing to play a pivotal role in the protection of constitutional values and, under the rule of law, it is for the courts to decide the limits of their own decision-making power.47 Further, this trend has arguably

44 ibid., at [157]. 45 see Hooper v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2005] 1 WLR 1681. 46 This observation was made by Laws LJ inBancoult 1, at [43] in reference to Liyanage, above n 44. In Bancoult 2 (CA), Sedley LJ noted that Lord Mansfield CJ may have been ahead of his time in his acceptance of such a category of principles, at [65]. 47 R (Pro-Life Association) v BBC, above n 13, at [75–76], Lord Hoffmann. responsibility and redress 141 been influenced by the concept of fundamental rights, which was introduced when the European Convention of Human Rights was incorpo- rated into English law by the Human Rights Act 1998.48 However, at present, it may well be that the constitutional status of many principles which possess a fundamental quality remains uncertain as a matter of judicial policy (see Lord Bingham 2007, 75–77). Bancoult 2 amounted to a clash of legal cultures (see Jowell et al. 2007, [1-027], and [1-015]-[1-036]; and Allan 2006, 671). Bancoult’s case was based upon a progressive interpretation of the concept of fundamental rights coupled with an established requirement that precedent be produced to authorise executive action which interferes with civil liberties (a culture of justification).49 The Appellant sought to advance the broadest possible interpretation of its ancient legislative authority in ceded colony, which empowered it to act unless authority to the contrary was produced (a culture of authority). The Law Lords were asked to articulate their standpoints on the principle of legality by reference to their positions on constitutional values, including the contemporary parameters of judicial review.50 The majority favoured a deferential approach to executive authority, noting that it was for Parliament, not the courts, to remedy any shortcomings in legislative processes concerning colonial governance. In contrast, the minority recognised the fundamental nature of the right of abode and accorded it constitutional significance.I t also supported a culture of justification where the executive seeks to curtail important human rights. It is suggested that the minority position was more in keeping with the normative direction of English public law on this issue (see Craig 2003, 92; Sedley 1994, 270; Laws 1995, 72).

Rationality The Appellant argued that the decision to enact the 2004O rders was not unlawful in substance (it was neither irrational nor unreasonable in the

48 see R (Jackson) v Attorney-General [2006] 1 AC 262, at [102], Lord Steyn. 49 For instance, in Entick v Carrington Lord Camden CJ stated: “If it is law it will be found in our books, If it is not found there it is not law,” (1765) 19 State Trials 1030, 1036. 50 The House of Lords was confronted by a similar situation (albeit in relation to the sovereignty of Parliament) in R (Jackson) v Attorney-General, above n 56. For a discussion of the competing judicial perspectives raised in that context see Lakin 2008, 731–734. 142 stephen allen circumstances). The test of whether a decision of a public body was made irrationally was propounded by Lord Diplock in the Council of Civil Service Unions v Minister for the Civil Service (that the decision was, “so outrageous in its defiance of logic or of accepted moral standards that no sensible person who had applied his mind to the question could have arrived at it”).51 The government claimed that the IOTB was constituted for defence purposes and, assessed by reference to the Wednesbury standard of review (that the public body’s decision “was so unreasonable that no reasonable decision-maker could have come to it”),52 a reasonable Sovereign in Council could have reached the conclusion the Orders should have been made. The Respondent contended that where fundamental rights are threatened a high degree of scrutiny is required and compelling justification for the abrogation of such rights must be shown.53 However, the majority doubted whether the 2004 Orders had a ‘profoundly intrusive effect’ on the right of abode at the time they were made. Lord Hoffmann observed that the Chagossians had not attempted to exercise the right of abode between 2000 and 2004 and that they were unable to resettle in the absence of government sponsorship. For Lord Hoffmann, the underlying theme of the litigation was funding.54 In his view, it was an attempt to put political pressure on the government to provide public funding for the BIOT’s resettlement. While the government was not under a legal obligation to provide such financial support under English law, the right of abode was “purely symbolic” without it. It was, therefore, “a right to protest in a particular way and not as a right to … live in one’s homeland.”55 Lord Rodger agreed that the decision to enact the Orders “should be judged against the circumstances at the time it was taken.”56 He added that the 2002 Feasibility Study showed that resettlement costs would be “prohibitive” and US concerns regarding the security of the military base in Diego Garcia in the event of the resettlement were relevant to the decision, concluding “[i]n the absence of relevant legal criteria, judges are not well placed to second-guess the balance struck by ministers on

51 Above n 13, at 410. 52 Associated Provincial Picture Houses v Wednesbury Corp [1948] 1 KB 223, at 229–230, Lord Greene MR. 53 R v Ministry of Defence, ex p Smith [1996] QB 517, at 554, Lord Bingham MR. 54 Bancoult 2 (HL), above n 3, at [55]. 55 ibid., at [53]. 56 ibid., at [110]. responsibility and redress 143 such a matter.”57 Consequently, the 2004 Orders could not be said to be irrational. In contrast, Lord Mance decided that the case required the application of a heightened standard of review. He noted that the prospect of resettlement was not considered to be a security threat when the Secretary of State made his statement; there was no evidence that the security risks had materially changed between 2000 and 2004; insufficient weight had been attached to Chagossian interests; and the cost of resettlement, the principal ground for denying the right of abode, was “unconvincing” given that the government was not under a legal obligation to fund resettlement.58 The minority adopted Sedley’s LJ observation in the Court of Appeal that the logistics of resettlement were not in issue.59 Moreover, they were of the view that the inability of a person to exercise a legal right should not serve as a reason for its withdrawing that right.60 Finally, the reason given by the government for: (i) the urgent need to enact the 2004 Orders; (ii) the decision not to publish them before their enactment; (iii) the decision not to submit them to the House of Commons’ Foreign Affairs Committee for scrutiny in accordance with standard practice; and (iv) the lack of consultation with Chagossian representatives on the withdrawal of the right of abode was a fear of “unauthorised” landings in the outer Chagos islands. The minority considered this reason to be without foundation given the US navy’s capacity to prevent such landings and the absence of any evidence to show that they were imminent. The orthodox position is that judicial restraint is required where foreign affairs, defence considerations or the expenditure of public resources are in issue. Accordingly, an irrationality challenge concerning these areas will typically be decided by reference to the standard of Wednesbury unreasonableness. However, as noted above, if a court found that a fundamental right was engaged then a higher standard of review would be applied. In such a case, it would be incumbent on the decision-maker to show that the decision was reasonable (Jowell 2007 et al., [1-107]). The minority endorsed this position. The majority were also prepared to accept that the right of abode would possess a fundamental quality for the purpose of a challenge based on Wednesbury unreasonableness if

57 ibid., at [114]. 58 ibid., at [168]. 59 Bancoult 2 (CA) at [71]. 60 Bancoult 2 (HL) at [72] and [172]. 144 stephen allen the Chagossians had been in occupation of the BIOT at the time the 2004 Orders were made. In other words, if the Chagossians had inhabited the BIOT in 2004 all the Law Lords would have agreed that the decision to withdraw the Chagossian right of abode must satisfy the heightened standard of judicial review in keeping with Bancoult’s assertion. However, in the majority’s view, the absence of a population meant that the ordinary standard of review was warranted and, on this basis, a Wednesbury unreasonableness challenge was bound to be unsuccessful. The particular circumstances affecting a policy decision are undeniably important and it is not for the courts to substitute their own views for those of the body charged with the task of making public decisions. Nevertheless, the courts are still under a duty to scrutinise the quality of the reasoning behind such decisions (Ibid., [11-015]-[11-016]). In Bancoult 2, the courts were confronted with a situation where the decision to enact the 2004 Orders was made: (i) without consulting the Chagossians; (ii) without materially taking their interests into account; and (iii) without the checks and balances of legislative scrutiny and political debate. Moreover, the Appellant could not provide a justification for overriding these standard decision-making requirements. Even the majority acknowledged that the concerns expressed by the US regarding the security implications posed by resettlement were “exaggerated.”61 Further, while the majority were prepared to attach considerable weight to the fact that the Chagossians did not inhabit the BIOT in 2004, it appears that no weight was attached to the reason why they were no longer in occupation. Their involuntarily displacement by the UK government should not be used as a reason for the withdrawal of their right of abode by a successive government. In the absence of precedent, it was entirely appropriate for the courts to consider the legality of the Appellant’s decision to legislate by reference to a heightened standard of review. While considering the rationality of the decision, Lord Hoffmann noted that: The Secretary of State is surely entitled to take into account that once a vanguard of Chagossians establishes itself on the islands in poor and

61 Bancoult 2 (HL), Lord Carswell at [132]. responsibility and redress 145

barren conditions of life, there may be a claim that the United Kingdom is subject to a sacred trust under article 73 of the United Nations Charter.62 Article 73 of the UN Charter provides:

Members of the United Nations which have or assume responsibilities for the administration of territories whose peoples have not yet attained a full measure of self-government recognize the principle that the interests of the inhabitants of these territories are para- mount, and accept as a sacred trust the obligation to promote to the utmost, within the system of international peace and security established by the present Charter, the well-being of the inhabitants of these territories, and to this end:

(a) to ensure, with due respect for the culture of the peoples concerned, their political, economic, social and educational advancement, their just treatment, and their protection against abuses;

(b) to develop self-government, to take due account of the political aspirations of the peoples, and to assist them in the progressive development of their free political institutions, according to the particular circumstances of each territory and its peoples and their varying stages of advancement; …

(e) to transmit regularly to the Secretary-General for information purposes, subject to such limitations as security and constitutional considerations may require, statistical and other information of a technical nature relation to the economic, social, and educational conditions in the territories for which they are respectively responsible …

Lord Hoffmann’s observation would have been unremarkable if the BIOT had never been inhabited. However, it is now well known that the BIOT was populated by the Chagossians from the end of the 18th century until 1973 (see previous chapters; Madeley 1982; Gifford 2004). In 1965, the UK government quietly disregarded its Charter obligations when it incorrectly reported to the UN Special Committee on

62 ibid., at [55]. 146 stephen allen

Decolonisation that BIOT’s occupants were only transient inhabitants rather than a permanent population and that, therefore, the BIOT could not be said to be a non-self-governing territory for the purposes of the UN Charter.63 Under article 73 of the UN Charter, States are under a legal obligation to foster self-government for peoples belonging to non-self-governing territories, an obligation that has become a component of the right to self-determination in customary international law (see Declaration Principles International Law 1970; Simma 2002, 1094; Allen 2007; 2008). This obligation arose in 1965, when the IOTB was created.64 But while article 73 does not impose an obligation enforceable against the UK government in the English courts, Lord Hoffmann connected it to the existence of a public law right of abode. Thus, while he ostensibly claimed that the right of abode was merely symbolic, Lord Hoffmann understood the substantial financial commitments that could follow from its recognition. Moreover, while this (ongoing) international legal obligation may not have been binding on the UK government as a matter of English law, it should have been given weight when determining the rationality of the decision to withdraw the right of abode. In particular, the existence of such a long-standing obligation casts doubt on the cor- rectness of the decision to take 2004 as the critical moment for assessing the validity of the Orders. For the reasons discussed above, it is very doubtful that the decision to enact section 9 of the Constitutional Order was a reasonable one.

Legitimate Expectations A legitimate expectation has been defined as: “an expectation … founded on a reasonable assumption which is capable of being protected in public law. It enables a citizen to challenge a decision which deprives him of an expectation founded on a reasonable basis that his claim would be dealt with in a particular way.”65 Legitimate expectations can take a

63 see the Foreign Office documents referred to inBancoult 1, at [16–23]; and Bancoult 2 (DC) at [28–34]. 64 The Respondent claimed that the Chagossian people possessed the right of self- determination by virtue of customary international law. The House of Lords did not consider this argument relevant to the appeal on the basis that international law does not form part of English law. However, Lord Mance, at [142], left open the question of whether international law was relevant to Queen in Council’s power to legislate for a territory such as BIOT. 65 Behluli v Secretary of State for the Home Department [1998] Imm AR 207, per Beldam LJ at 415. responsibility and redress 147 number of different forms.66 Typically, they arise in the context of procedural fairness (e.g. a public body should not change a published policy without first consulting those persons who would be affected by that change). However, they can also manifest a substantive dimension beyond any requirement that public bodies act in ways that are procedurally fair. In cases where a claimant is alleging that a substantive legitimate expectation has been breached, he or she is claiming an entitlement to a particular outcome rather than ensure that a particular process has been followed by the public body in question. The Bancoult litigation gave rise to both procedural and substantive legitimate expectations. First, the UK government had changed its published policy of permit- ting the Chagossians to return to the outer Chagos islands without consulting them (thus giving rise to a claim that the decision was procedurally unfair). Second, by refusing to allow the Chagossians to resettle the outer Islands, the UK government was depriving them of a substantive benefit, the entitlement to re-establish themselves in their ancestral homeland. The Respondent argued that theS ecretary of State’s statement created an expectation of a substantive benefit and that the 2004 Orders, which frustrated this expectation without good reason, were therefore an abuse of power.67 However, the majority decided that a substantive legitimate expectation had not been created on the facts as the Secretary of State’s statement did not constitute a “clear, unambiguous assurance devoid of relevant qualification.”68 Although the statement and the decision to enact the Immigration Ordinance 2000 may have created the impression that the Chagossians would be able to return, Lord Hoffmann believed that the statement could not be construed as a promise that any entitlement to return would persist, especially against the background of the Feasibility Study. In any event, Lord Hoffmann decided that there had been a sufficient change of circumstances between 2000 and 2004 to justify a change of policy in this “macro-political field.”69 Both Lord Bingham and Lord Mance focussed on the way the representation would have been interpreted by the Chagossians. According to

66 see R v Devon County Council ex p Baker [1995] 1 All ER 73, per Simon Brown LJ at 88–89. 67 Relying upon R v North and East Devon Health Authority, ex p Coughlan [2001] QB 213. 68 R v Inland Revenue Commissioners, ex p MFK Underwriting Agents Ltd [1990] 1 WLR 1545 at 1569, Bingham LJ, quoted in Bancoult 2 (HL) at [60]. 69 R v Secretary of State for Education and Employment, ex p Begbie [2000] 1 WLR 1115, at 1131, Laws LJ, quoted at [60]. 148 stephen allen

Lord Bingham, the Chagossians: “were clearly intended to think, and did, that for the foreseeable future their right to return was assured.”70 For Lord Mance: “The press release should be construed according to the ordinary meaning that would be attached to it by those, principally, the Chagossians and their supporters, to whom it was directed.”71 They held that: (i) the statement amounted to a promise that the government would not challenge the decision in Bancoult 1; (ii) this promise which was strengthened by the decision to enact the 2000 Immigration Ordinance; and (iii) the decision to conduct the Feasibility Study was concerned with the question of government funding for resettlement it did not constitute conditional recognition of the right of abode. Lord Mance indicated that, in cases involving claims of legitimate expectations, “the underlying principle [is] a requirement of good administration, by which public bodies ought to deal straightforwardly and consistently with the public.”72 While departures from public promises were permissible where an assessment of relevant factors indicated that the requirements of fairness could be overridden in the public interest,73 in Lord Mance’s view, the Secretary of State’s “statement and conduct were intended and understood to resolve the long-standing controversy regarding the Chagossian right [of abode], and that it would be and in the circumstances was maladministration to go back on that resolution without any consultation and without a strong cause, which has not been shown.”74 Accordingly, the minority decided to dismiss the appeal for a lack of vires (power); alternatively, they held that section 9 of the Constitution Order was unlawful by reference to the ordinary principles of judicial review. A legitimate expectation is induced by a representation made by a public body regarding a certain course of action. However, the appeal in Bancoult 2 raised questions about the scope of such an expectation. Lord Hoffmann focussed on an objective construction of the Secretary of State’s statement of 3 November 2000 while Lord Bingham and Lord Mance considered it from the Respondent’s perspective. In the minority’s view, the statement amounted to a clear promise that the right would continue to exist for the foreseeable future. It is suggested that this

70 ibid., at [83]. 71 ibid., at [174]. 72 ibid., at [181–182], drawing upon R (Nadarajah and Abdi) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2005] EWCA Civ 1363, at [67–68], Laws LJ. 73 Relying upon ex p Coughlan, above n 69 at [57]. 74 Bancoult 2 (HL) at [185]. responsibility and redress 149 approach is the correct one. The courts should examine whether the expectation was reasonably induced by the representation rather than analysing the representation’s abstract meaning: neither a representation nor an expectation can be considered in isolation, their meaning is relational. Bancoult 2 also highlighted the difficulties affecting the concept of substantive legitimate expectations (Jowell 2000, 671, Moffett 2008, 219). In particular, it tested the scope of the Court of Appeal’s decision in the case of Coughlan. In that case the assurance was unqualified (a home for life in a residential care home); it had “the character of a contract,”75 was directed at a few individuals and involved a small financial cost. In Bancoult 2, the statement was a general press release. Any recognition for a right of abode in the BIOT seemed to depend on foreign policy and defence considerations. The statement was directed at several thousand Chagossians and, as a matter of international law, it could require considerable public funding. Nonetheless, a representation need not be quasi-contractual in nature if the class of persons affected is a limited one.76 And although the Chagossian community constitutes a much larger class than the affected group inCoughlan , it is still relatively small in public law terms. If it is accepted that the Secretary of State’s statement amounted to a promise, the central issue should have been whether there were any overriding considerations, which had arisen between 2000 and 2004, that would have allowed the Secretary of State to resile from that promise. In the case of Coughlan, Lord Woolf MR stated that the court would decide for itself whether any overriding considerations justified the withdrawal of a substantive benefit.77 However, the court in the case of Begbie indicated that the Wednesbury unreasonableness test (noted above) is the most appropriate standard of review where a change of policy is made on the basis of macro-political considerations and that decision had ample resource implications affecting a substantial section of the public.78 As Laws LJ explained in Begbie: The more the decision challenged lies in … the macro-political field, the less intrusive will be the court’s supervision. More than this: in that field,

75 Coughlan, above n 70, at [59], Lord Woolf MR. 76 see Begbie, above n 71, at 1131, Laws LJ. 77 Coughlan, above n 70, at [57]. 78 Begbie, above n 71, at 1131, Laws LJ. See De Smith, above n 53, at [12-047]- [12-053]; (Moffett 2008, 225); and R (Bibi) v Newham London Borough Council [2002] 1 WLR 237. 150 stephen allen

true abuse of power is less likely to be found, since within it changes of policy, fuelled by broad conceptions of the public interest, may more readily be accepted as taking precedence over the interests of groups which enjoyed expectations generated by an earlier policy.79 At first blush, it would appear that the decision to enact the 2004 Orders was based on macro-political considerations. However, a closer inspection of the facts leads to a different conclusion. First, the UK’s existing treaty obligations were not in issue in Bancoult 2 because the US government had only requested the use of a single island, Diego Garcia, for defence purposes.80 Second, US objections were only made in response to the present litigation.81 Third, as the UK government was not under an obligation to fund the cost of resettlement under English law, the decision had very limited cost implications. Finally, as the UK government’s international legal obligations to the BIOT had not changed between 2000 and 2004 (its obligations to this non- self-governing territory had remained the same since it was created in 1965, as discussed above) any responsibility to fund resettlement under international law could not have been used to justify a change of government policy (as the government was already subject to this responsibility) (see Allen 2008). While the UK government was entitled to take the US government’s ‘exaggerated’ security concerns into account when reviewing its policy, it is far from clear that these concerns alone justified a policy reversal or gave the decision to enact the 2004 Orders its macro- political quality. In the circumstances, it is suggested that the Wednesbury standard was not the correct standard by which to review the legality of this decision. Had the House of Lords chosen to follow the more appropriate standard outlined by Lord Woolf in Coughlan, it would have been difficult for it to conclude that a change of policy was warranted on the evidence produced.

Conclusion

The House of Lords’ 2008 decision to review primary legislation enacted by the Sovereign in Council under its prerogative powers was a profound

79 see Begbie, above n 71, at 1131, Laws LJ. 80 While, under the 1966 Exchange of Notes, the US government was entitled to require that other islands within BIOT be made available for defence purpose, it has never sought to exercise this right, see Lord Bingham at [72(2)]. 81 Bancoult 2 (HL) Lord Mance at [163]. responsibility and redress 151 constitutional moment. Notwithstanding this development, Bancoult 2 demonstrates the continuing uncertainty surrounding the status of fundamental rights within English law. While the majority was reluctant to engage on this constitutional issue, the willingness of the lower courts and the minority in the House of Lords to recognise the right of abode in the BIOT as a fundamental right is consistent with the normative direction of English public law on this issue. Regarding the application of the ordinary principles of judicial review (i.e. whether the decision to enact the 2004 Orders was not irrational/unreasonable or procedurally flawed), the majority’s temporal assessment of the Respondent’s right of abode in the BIOT conditioned its view of the reasonableness of the government’s decision to enact the Orders. In other words, by taking 2004 as the relevant date for assessing the government’s decision to enact the Orders the majority had a different view of whether theO rders were unreasonable from that of the minority, which considered 1965 to be the critical date for this purpose. By taking 2004 as the critical date for assessing the validity of the Orders the majority denied the right’s fundamental quality, thereby justifying a less intrusive standard of review (the Wednesbury unreasonableness test). Given the nature of the right; the history surrounding its protracted denial; the lack of compelling reasons for its withdrawal; and the UK government’s existing international legal obligations to this non-self-governing territory, the decision’s rationality should have been determined by reference to a heightened standard of review, which would surely have favoured the Respondent. In 2004 a petition was lodged at the European Court of Human Rights alleging a number of violations of the European Convention on Human Rights arising out of the Chagos Islanders case.82 It alleged breaches of article 3 (inhuman and degrading treatment); article 6 (absence of fair trial), article 8 (respect for family and private life); article 13 (lack of an effective national law remedy) and article 1 of Protocol 1 to the Convention (violation of property rights). However, the petition was deferred pending the final resolution of theBancoult litigation. The petition has been revived and revised in the light of the House of Lords’ decision in Bancoult 2. This combined European case will confront certain jurisdictional obstacles concerning the Convention’s application

82 Chagos Islander v UK, App. No. 35662/04. The statement of facts and questions in this case was drawn up by the Court’s Judge Rapporteur on 20 February 2009 ([2009] ECHR 410). 152 stephen allen to Overseas Territories.83 However, if these obstacles are overcome,84 it remains to be seen whether the European Court of Human Rights will adopt a more robust interpretation of the rule of law than the one preferred by the majority of the House of Lords in Bancoult 2. While the present chapter focussed on the technical legal issues raised by the English cases and their ramifications for the Chagossian cause of returning home, it is clear that the decision to challenge the UK government’s actions in the English courts has generated substantial political benefits for this cause. However, the ultimate verdicts in the cases may bring into question the strategic decision to resort to the courts to resolve what, fundamentally, is a political dispute. Although the wisdom of this strategy is the subject of legitimate inquiry, as the ECHR petition remains outstanding, it is too soon to embark upon such a process of reflection.

83 Article 56 of the Convention gives State parties the discretion to extend the Convention to its dependent territories. However, the UK has never formally extended its ratification to IOTB . 84 While the jurisdictional arguments are very technical, in essence, the UK government’s position is that the Convention only applies in the territorial space of Europe unless it has been expressly extended to Overseas Territories under article 56. However, the validity of this interpretation has been challenged by reference to the Convention’s preparatory materials, which are a legitimate source for the purpose of treaty interpretation (see Moor and Simpson 2005, 121). However, the European Court of Human Rights endorsed the UK government’s position in Quark Fishing Ltd v UK (2007) 44 EHRR SE4 (which concerned the application of the ECHR to another British Overseas Territory) at a preliminary stage of the case (without the benefit of the arguments advanced in Moor and Simpson’s article). Olivier Bancoult: Leading the Way Back to Chagos

On the cover of a book on Diego Garcia published recently in French,1 two men appear prominently with their hands joined and raised in what appears to be a show of unity and solidarity. Readers familiar with the Chagossian struggle will easily recognize the well-known figure on the right, Olivier Bancoult, leader of the Chagos Refugees Group. The photo from which the two figures have been detached was taken during the 2006 pilgrimage trip to Chagos, and appears inside the book with a legend presenting them as leaders of Chagos Associations. Not many people outside the Chagos community and their legal advisers, specialists and activists know much about Fernand Mandarin (the second man on the photo), and still less on the status of Chagossian leader bestowed on him. In sharp contrast, Olivier Bancoult stands out as the legitimate spokesman and historic leader of the Chagos people, recognized nationally and internationally. This, however, is a fairly recent development resulting from what is now known as the firstBancoult case and the historic judgment proclaimed in 2000 by the London High court of Justice in favour of the Chagossians. Olivier was still in his teenage years when he joined the Chagos Refugees Group (CRG) then being set up in the early 1980s by such prominent Chagos women leaders as Charlesia Alexis, Lisette Talate and Rita Bancoult, his mother. Being educated and literate in English, he was a great asset to the nascent organization whose very name was a declaration of territorial identity and political status. Young Olivier was thus among the first Chagos representatives elected to the I“ lois Trust Fund Board” created by the Mauritian government in view of implement- ing the 1982 agreement signed with Britain. This agreement stipulated that payment of the money demanded from the UK government, which the British recognized as “full and final compensation,” was conditional until Chagossians agreed to give up “all claims and rights (if any) whatsoever,” including the right to sue Britain and, specially, the right to return to the Chagos islands.

1 Thierry Ollivry, Diego Garcia. Enjeux stratégiques, diplomatiques et humanitaires. L’Harmattan, Paris. 2008. 154 olivier bancoult

The CRG responded by adopting a line of action based on the principle of their fundamental human rights, which included the right to seek legal redress for additional compensation, the right to return to their homeland and the right to claim British nationality as natives of the BIOT. It fell on Olivier Bancoult to give shape and substance to that line of action. That was the beginning of a long and difficult struggle which culminated in the breakthrough victory of 2000. While legal advice and support played a crucial role, CRG’s strategy and Bancoult’s resilience were decisive in the triumph of the Chagos people’s rights over the sovereign rights of the state, be it Mauritius or Britain. Olivier Bancoult has been acclaimed as a hero. Some see him as a vil- lain who has played into the hands of ‘la perfide Albion’ and under- mined Mauritius’ claim of sovereignty over the Chagos archipelago. To Mandarin, leader of a minority group of Chagossians, he is understand- ably a thorn in the flesh: Olivier, the global Chagossian, overshadowing Fernand, the elderly figure of the traditionalIlois who was proud to be a Mauritian, not a British subject. Forcibly deported from their homeland, the image that the Chagossians offer to the world is that of a diaspora people in the real sense, dispersed across continent and ocean, longing for a return to the idealized moth- erland under the leadership of a modern Moses. The Law Lords judgment abruptly reversed the tides and brought Olivier Bancoult back to the reality of politics and economics. That said, there has been significant progress since 2000. Britain acknowledges its duties and obligations towards the Chagossians of both first and second generations as British subjects; it has also opened discussions with Mauritius on the issue of sovereignty. Mauritius is now comfortable with the distinction between the rights of the Chagossians as a people and its own sovereignty rights on the Chagos islands; it envisages joint management of the Chagos archipelago by Mauritius and Britain, along the lines of the ‘co-gestion’ formula adopted by France and Mauritius for the island of Tromelin. The Chagossians for their part are satisfied that the 2006 pilgrimage has prepared the ground for the elders to visit the Chagos archipelago and pay their duties to the memory of the ancestors; they now look forward to a compromise which would not exclude the principle of resettlement in the habitable islands of Chagos other than Diego Garcia. Now that the existence of the military base is no longer an issue, the big unknown is the United States’ response to this new context—full of promises for the Chagossians. Olivier Bancoult was in Washington in olivier bancoult 155

October 2009, when the Nobel Peace prize award was announced. His appeal, as leader of the Chagos people, to President Obama was phrased in the language of statesmanship when he mentioned: This opportunity to be here in the United States to just try to have an open dialogue with the new administration of President Barack Obama … it’s very important that on this day I’ve learned that President Barack Obama has been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. And I think that he will use it in order to put an end to the problems faced by Chagossian community since … their removal from their birthplace.2

By Vinesh Y Hookoomsing

2 olivier Bancoult interviewed on 09 October 2009, on Democracy Now!, a U.S daily TV/radio news program hosted by Amy Goodman and Juan Gonzales. 156 olivier bancoult ource unknown ource light of Chagossians. S Chagossians. of light llustration 7. I llustration p Self-Determination in the Post-Colonial Era: Prospects for the Chagossians

Maureen Tong

Stephen Allen’s chapter (this volume) discusses in detail litigation brought by Chagossians before English courts between 2000 and 2008. These cases,Ex Parte Bancoult v the Queen Secretary of State Foreign and Commonwealth Office1 and Chagos Islanders and the Attorney General, Her Majesty’s British Indian Ocean Territory Commissioner,2 dealt with the right for Chagossians to return to their homeland. This chapter focuses on the status of Chagossians in international law and their right to self-determination. It will also discuss the status of the British Indian Ocean Territory (BIOT) in international law within the context of the contestation over the BIOT’s sovereignty from Mauritius. Chagossians will only be able to exercise their right to self-determination if they are able to return to their territory; this chapter therefore discusses Chagossians’ right to restitution, including their right to return to their homeland, and to receive adequate financial compensation (reparations) for their forcible removals. In his dissenting opinion on the matter of the Western Sahara at the International Court of Justice (ICJ) in 1975, Judge Dillard famously stated: “It is for the people to determine the destiny of a territory and not for the territory to determine the destiny of the people.” Lord Mance claimed in the Bancoult case at the House of Lords that: “[a] colony, whether conquered, ceded or settled, consists, first and foremost, of people living in a territory …” These statements are relevant with regard to the status of Chagossians in international law, given the approach taken by English that it is up to the Crown to decide how to govern colonized territories—even if this means permanently excluding entire populations in order to meet defence needs of the British Crown. This chapter will show that international law prohibits forcible transfer and exile of populations.

1 [2000] EWHC Admin 413 [2001] QB 1067; [2006] EWHC 1038 (Admin); [2007] EWCA Civ 498; and [2008] 3 WLR 955 (House of Lords). 2 [2003] EWHC 2222 (QB). 158 maureen tong

The Chagos archipelago is a non-self-governing territory.I t was however never placed on the United Nations’ (UN) list of non-self-governing territories, which would have allowed it to have undergone a process of decolonisation by the UN Special Committee of 24. This chapter will argue that the law of political decolonisation is nonetheless applicable to the Chagos matter. It will then consider what the prospects are for the decolonisation process and for Chagossians to exercise their right to self-determination.

The Power of the Sovereign to Exile the Chagossians for Defence Purposes

British officials advised the UK government in the 1960s that “there is nothing wrong in law or in principle to enacting an immigration law which enables the [BIOT] Commissioner to deport inhabitants of B io t.” 3 English courts support this view. For example, Justice Ouseley stated in the group litigation case of Chagos Islanders in 2003 (see Allen, this volume) that: “It is clear from Bancoult (1) that the defence needs of the UK, and its colonies as parts of the world which shares its security and defence interests, entitled the Sovereign to permit the creation of the US defence facilities and to evict the entire population of BIOT in order to advance their effec- tiveness in protecting the interests of the UK … I do not regard it as arguable that there could be no power at all, however it might be enacted or expressed, to remove the whole indigenous population of BIOT for defence purposes. It might not be necessary to do so; it might be disproportionate; whether it should be done is a matter of political judgement. But to say that it could not be done …, is to deny the essence of sovereignty and its essence in a Parliamentary democracy with powers over the Crown in right of its colonies and is to substitute for its rule, not of law but of judges. …4 The Court of Appeal stated that although the governance of each colonial territory “is in principle a discrete function of the Crown … the permanent exclusion of an entire population from its homeland for reasons unconnected to their collective well being cannot have that character and accordingly cannot be lawfully accomplished by use of the

3 Bancoult (1) at paragraph 16 4 Chagos Islanders, paragraph 267 self-determination in the post-colonial era 159 prerogative power of governance.”5 In turn, the House of Lords claimed that it was the competency of the executive branch of government to make policy decisions in relation to foreign and defence matters. While acknowledging that the manner in which Chagossians were removed from their territory, which left them living in deplorable conditions in Mauritius and the Seychelles, was not justifiable, the Law Lords decided however it was not necessary for them to reverse the political decision of 1968 that was based on defence and foreign policy considerations of the time. The minority judgement delivered by Lord Mance took a different approach. It followed that the right to enter and leave one’s homeland is a principle of international law and certainly a constitutional right that every British citizen enjoys. This right may only be removed by Parliament if there are compelling reasons for doing so. The minority judgement further states that the essence of the relationship between a citizen and the State is based on reciprocal duties of allegiance and protection. This duty of protection prohibits the State from removing and excluding its citizens from their homeland. Therefore the Queen did not have the power to enact Section 9 of the 2004 BIOT Constitution Order to exile Chagossians. Alternatively, if the Queen does have the power to enact the Order, the exercise of prerogative power to exile an entire population of Chagossians should be subject to judicial review, where it can be declared null and void. The minority judgement also stated that Section 9 went against the legitimate expectation held by Secretary of State, Robin Cook, on 3 November 2000, that the UK would not appeal the Bancoult (1) judgement and would take measures to allow Chagossians to return to their homeland. Lord Mance observed that introducing a constitution for a given territory with the specific aim of exiling the entire population of the territory is self-contradictory. He lamented that an issue as serious as taking away common law rights of Chagossian to live in their homeland was dealt with using an Order in Council, thereby excluding the participation of Parliament. He opined that the British government “treats BIOT and the prerogative power to make constitutional or other laws relating to BIOT as if they related to nothing more than the bare land … as if the people inhabiting BIOT were an insignificant inconvenience (a phrase

5 [2007] EWCA Civ 498 at paragraph 67 160 maureen tong which reflects the flavour of some of the government’s internal memo- randa in the 1960s), liable to be dispossessed [of] at will for any reason that might seem good to the executive in the interests of the UK.”6 The minority judgement said that the right of abode is of such fundamental nature that it cannot be taken away lightly. There is no precedent whereby the Crown has exercised royal prerogative to take away the right of abode. On the issue of whether the Queen could legislate as she wished for the Chagos archipelago, without the participation of the British Parliament, simply because the territory was acquired through a treaty of cession and not through conquest or occupation, the minority judgement stated that the distinction between ceded and conquered territories only relates to private law—not public law. This means that English settlers took with them the law of England when they settled in ceded colonies. The argument follows that the distinction between private and public law does not mean that if a citizen does not have property rights in a territory (as a matter of private law), they lose their public law of the right to live in their territory as citizens.

International Law Prohibits Expulsion, Deportation and Exile of Citizens

Article 9 of the Universal Declaration on Human Rights (UDHR) states: “No one shall be subjected to arbitrary arrest, detention or exile.” Furthermore, Article 19 of the International Law Commission’s Code of Crimes against Peace and Security of Mankind includes deportation or forcible transfer of a population as an example of systematic or mass violations of human rights. It states that systematic or mass violations of human rights include: “murder; torture; establishing or maintaining over persons a status of slavery; servitude or forced labour; persecu- tion; on social, political, racial, religious or cultural rights in a systematic manner or on a mass scale; deportation or forcible transfer of population.” The right to enter, leave or return to your own country or territory is protected by international law. For example, Article 13(2) of the UDHR states that “everyone has the right to leave any country including his

6 [2008] 3 WLR 955 (House of Lords) at paragraph 157. self-determination in the post-colonial era 161 own and to return to his country.” Article 12 of the 1996 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) provides everyone the right to enter and leave his or her own country. It states that anyone who is lawfully within the territory of a State has a right of movement within that territory. It also prohibits arbitrary deprivation of a person’s right to enter their own country. The UN Human Rights Committee (HRC) is responsible for monitoring the implementation of the ICCPR. After considering the UK reports in 2000 and 2006, the HRC concluded that denying Chagossian people the right to return to their territory was unlawful.7 The HRC implored the UK to consider compensating the Chagossians for the denial of their right to return. The European Convention on Human Rights also prohibits the exile of Chagossians and denial of their right to return. The Chagos matter is pending before the European Court of Human Rights and is due to be decided in 2010. It is hoped that the European Court will exercise jurisdiction in the matter. South Africa, a former British colony, recognizes the supremacy of the Constitution. This means that unlike in the UK, where there is no written Constitution and there is supremacy of Parliament, all three ‘arms’ of the South African government—namely the courts, Parliament and the executive, are compelled to uphold the fundamental rights and freedoms contained in the Constitution. This would have made it ‘unconstitutional’ for the Queen to forcibly exile the entire population of the Chagos archipelago.

The Law of Political Decolonisation

The three basic characteristics of colonial status of a territory are: (1) an overseas territory; (2) a separate geographic and political entity; and (3) foreign domination of its people (Alfredsson 1982, 299). Under the so-called ‘salt-water’ theory, a territory which is still under foreign rule should be separated by sea water from the metropolitan State. Principle IV of the Resolution 1541 (XV) defines a ‘non-self-governing territory’ as one that is geographically separate, with a population ethnically and/or culturally distinct from that of the metropolitan State

7 UN Doc CCPR/CO/73/UK/Add.1; CCPR/CO/73/UKOT/Add.1. dated 8 November 2001. 162 maureen tong administering it. The territory is usually geographically far away from the metropolitan State. Under customary international law, ‘occupation’ was one of the legal methods of acquiring sovereignty over a territory in order to turn it into a ‘colony.’8 Two elements were required to prove that there was effective ‘occupation’ of a territory: (1) the intention to acquire the territory; and (2) the display of sovereignty over the acquired territory. Customary international law recognizes that sovereignty over a territory could also be legally transferred from one colonizing State to another by way of a treaty of cession between two States, provided the State transferring the territory had authority to do so (Castellino 2000). One example is the Treaty of Paris in 1814, wherein France ceded the Chagos archipelago—which was at that time administered as part of the territory of Mauritius—to the UK. Another is the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713, in which Spain ceded sovereignty over Gibraltar to the UK. Prior to 1975, the concept of terra nullius (land belonging to no one) was used to justify acquisition of sovereignty over a State that was not yet subject to sovereignty of another colonial power. The people of the territory were considered ‘uncivilized’ because their political, legal and social systems were not similar to those in Europe. The ICJ considered this concept in its Advisory Opinion on Western Sahara to determine whether Western Sahara was terra nullius at the time of its colonization by Spain. The question arose when the UN General Assembly was consid ering the decolonisation process for the Western Sahara. TheI CJ decided that Western Sahara was not terra nullius at the time of its colonization by Spain, as it had civilized social, political and legal systems .The concept of terra nullius was discredited as being a ‘legal term of art.’ Courts in Australia and Canada have decided that the concept of terra nullius is racist because it disregarded the indigenous systems of land tenure simply because the people of the territories were presumed uncivilized.9

8 Western Sahara, Advisory Opinion, ICJ Reports 1975, page 12 at paragraph 79 and 80. 9 See Mabo v Queensland (no 2) [1992] 175 CLR 1 [Australia]; Western Australia v Commonwealth [1995] 128 ALR 12 [Australia]; Calder v The Queen [1973] 8 DLR [3rd ] 59 [Canada]; R v Sparrow [1990] 1 SCR 1075 [Canada]; and Delgamuukw v British Columbia [1997] 3 SCR 1010 [Canada]. self-determination in the post-colonial era 163

The Right to Self-Determination

The right to self-determination was developed through the UN Charter, resolutions of the UN General Assembly and jurisprudence from the ICJ. Article 2(1) of the UN Charter indicates that one of the purposes of the UN is to “develop friendly relations among nations based on the respect for the principles of equal rights and self-determination of peoples and to take other appropriate measures to strengthen universal peace.” Chapter XI of the UN Charter requires Member States of the UN that assume responsibility for the administration of territories whose people have not yet attained self-government to “accept as a sacred trust the obligation to promote to the utmost … the well-being of the inhabitants of the territories … and to develop self-government, (of the territories); to take due account of the political aspirations of the peoples; and to assist them in the progressive development of their free political institutions. …” Apart from the UN Charter, the UN General Assembly passed Resolution 1514 (XV) on 14 December 1960; Resolution 1541 (XV) on 15 December 1960; and Resolution 2625 (XXV) of 1970, all regarding the right of self-determination. Article 2 of Resolution 1514 (XV) Containing the Declaration on the Granting of Independence to Colonial Countries and Peoples provides that: “All peoples have the right to self- determination; by virtue of that right they freely determine their political status and freely pursue their economic, social and cultural development.”10 Article 5 of Resolution 1514(XV) obligates Member States of the UN to take ‘immediate steps’ to transfer, without any reservations or conditions, all power to the peoples of territories which have not yet attained independence. It prohibits the dismemberment of colonial territories prior to independence. Resolution 1541 (XV) on Principles which should Guide Members in Determining whether or not an Obligation exists to Transmit the Information called for Under Article 73e of the UN Charter provides for three options to non-self-governing peoples when they wish to exercise their right to self-determination, namely: (1) Emergence as a sovereign independent State; (2) free association with an independent State; or (3) integration with an independent State.

10 UN GAOR 1514 (XV) 164 maureen tong

Common Article 1 of the 1966 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR); and the 1966 International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR) states that ‘peoples’ have a right to self-determination. It says that ‘by virtue of that right they (shall) freely determine their political status and freely pursue their economic, social and cultural development.’ Common article 1 of the ICCPR and the ICESECR was adopted, almost verbatim by replacing ‘all peoples’ with ‘indigenous peoples’ in the recently adopted UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples to say that “indigenous peoples have a right to self-determination …” Chagossians are entitled to the right to self-determination in the context of decolonisation because they belong to a non-self-governing territory. They are also still under colonial rule. They may exercise their right by way of independent Statehood; integration with Mauritius or the UK; or becoming an associated State of Mauritius or the UK.

International Status of the BIOT / Chagos Archipelago

The Chagos archipelago was never placed on UN list of non-self- governing territories. The territory was initially regarded as part of Mauritius, which gained independence in 1968. There is some debate as to whether the Chagos archipelago is a separate political unit for purposes of decolonisation. The House of Lords noted that when the UK made a declaration in terms of Article 56 of the European Convention on Human Rights in 1953, it included Mauritius on the list of territories for which the UK was responsible for international relations. It held that this declaration was no longer valid after Mauritius gained independence in 1968. The UK never made a declaration to include the BIOT on the list for which it was responsible for international relations. The House of Lords noted that although the BIOT was part of Mauritius until 1965, the declaration made by the UK (in terms of Article 56) applies to a political entity and not to the land which may or may not have been part of the territory of Mauritius. The House of Lords therefore declared that the IOTB became a new and separate political entity in 1965. The European Convention was never extended to the BIOT. The European Court of Human Rights will decide in 2010 whether the European Convention on Human Rights is applicable to the Chagos matter. It will also decide on the right of Chagossians to return to their homeland. self-determination in the post-colonial era 165

The ICJ indicated in its Advisory Opinion in East Timor (Portugal v Australia)11 that the most important requirement before sovereignty over a territory could pass from one State to another is that the “free and genuine concern of the people concerned” must be ascertained. Neither Mauritius nor the UK secured the genuine consent of the people of the territory when excising Chagos from Mauritius. The Chagossians were neither consulted nor informed that their homeland was to have a different name and would host a US military base—for which they would be exiled and never allowed to return. The UN General Assembly passed Resolution 2357 (XXII) on 19 December 1967 regarding Diego Garcia. TheI CJ stated in its Advisory Opinion in the matter of Legal Status of South West Africa12 that only the UN General Assembly has the power to change the international status of a territory. States cannot unilaterally do so without the consent of the UN and the free and informed consent of the people of the territory. The UN General Assembly Resolution 2066 (XX) of 16 December 1965 prohibited the dismemberment of Mauritius to establish the US military base in Diego Garcia. The excision of the Chagos archipelago to establish the BIOT in 1965 contravened Resolution 1514 (XV), which prohibits the dismemberment of States prior to or during decolonisation. The UK should have developed self-government in Mauritius and the Chagos archipelago. Chagossians should have been allowed to freely choose whether to become indepen dent or become an integrated or associated State of the newly independent Mauritius or to become an integrated or associated State of the UK.

Contested Sovereignty over the Chagos Archipelago

Allen argues that while the UN General Assembly was initially opposed to the creation of the BIOT, and had adopted several resolutions to that effect, the fact no new UN resolution has been passed since 1967 suggests that the international community may have now come to accept UK sovereignty over the Chagos archipelago (Allen 2007: 455). TheN on-Aligned Movement passed a political declaration at its 1983 New Delhi Summit dealing with the claim by Mauritius of sovereignty over the Chagos archipelago. The declaration indicates that the Heads of State or Government “expressed, in particular, their full support for

11 East Timor (Portugal v Australia), Judgment, ICJ Reports 1995, page 90 12 International Status of South West Africa, ICJ Reports 1950, page 141–145 166 maureen tong

Mauritian sovereignty over the Chagos archipelago, including Diego Garcia, which was detached from the territory of Mauritius by the former colonial power in contravention of UN General Assembly resolutions.”13 In 1980 the Organization of African Unity (OAU), predecessor of the African Union (AU), passed the Resolution demanding that Diego Garcia be unconditionally returned to Mauritius. It stated that the US military base in Diego Garcia was a threat to peace in Africa.14 In 2001 the AU passed another resolution calling for the return of Diego Garcia to Mauritius in order to complete the process of decolonisation. It implored the international community to support the “legitimate claim of Mauritius and extend all assistance possible to it to secure the return of the Chagos archipelago to its jurisdiction, thereby enabling it to exercise its rightful sovereign responsibilities on the territory as its territory.”15 Mauritius continues to contest sovereignty over the Chagos archipelago. It says that it gave up sovereignty over the territory under duress at the time of negotiating its independence from the UK. The legality of the agreement to excise the Chagos archipelago to form the BIOT is in question. In 1983 Mauritius established the Select Committee on the Excision of the Chagos archipelago due to pressure from opposition political parties. The Select Committee considered whether Mauritian politicians had voluntarily ‘sold’ the Chagos archipelago to the UK at the time of the Mauritius Constitutional Conference at Lancaster House in London, in September 1965. The report of the Select Committee is not conclusive on the matter. Political scientists are likely to make a strong argument regarding the ‘balance of power’ between Mauritius and the UK at the time of the Lancaster House agreement, asserting that Mauritius may not have had the power to decline the excision of the territory (see Chan Low, this volume). What is apparent from report of the Select Committee is that Mauritius consented to the excision of the Chagos archipelago to form the BIOT. Mauritius received £3 million for considering to agree to the excision (see Vine, this volume). It is debatable whether sovereignty over a territory may ever be ‘sold.’

13 Report of the Select Committee on the Excision of the Chagos Archipelago, Mauritius Legislative Assembly Port Louis, Mauritius June 1983 Appendix P at page 63. 14 AHG/Res 99(XVII). 15 CM/Dec.26 (LXXIV) 2001. self-determination in the post-colonial era 167

The African Commission on Human and Peoples Rights (African Commission) paid a promotional visit to Mauritius in 2002.16 It recommended that the Government of Mauritius take steps to protect the rights of Chagossians living in Mauritius. The October 2008 combined second, third, fourth and fifth Period Report ofM auritius to the African Commission included a discussion on the Chagos archipelago under Article 20 of the African Charter dealing with self-determination.17 The approach taken by the Government of Mauritius in its submissions to the African Commission is similar to the one it has taken at the UN, arguing that the Chagos archipelago was part of its territory and was unlawfully excised at the time Mauritius was granted independence. The African Commission paid a promotional mission to the Seychelles in July 2008.18 It observed that Chagossians living in the Seychelles are facing social discrimination; they were finding it difficult to find employment in the public sector partly due to their identity documents, which reveal they are Chagossian. Unlike those living in Mauritius, Chagossians who live in the Seychelles did not automatically acquire Seychellois citizenship. They have to make an application for and pay for citizenship. While some have become naturalized Seychellois, the costs of applying for relevant documentation are prohibitive for some of them. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs was charged with conducting a study on the demographics and living conditions of Chagossians based in the Seychelles. The approach of the Seychellois government is that Chagossians should become integrated into mainstream Seychellois society, since some of them have at least one Seychellois family member. The African Commission recommended that the government of the Seychelles take measures to protect rights of Chagossians living in the Seychelles. In particular, the government should find ways to make it easier for them to acquire Seychellois citizenship. As indicated above, Mauritius enjoys the support of the OAU and its successor, AU, in its claim to sovereignty over the Chagos archipelago. The AU sees the Chagos matter as a case of unfinished business of decolonisation. It remains to be seen whether the AU will take a different view should the Chagossians seek to exercise their right to

16 www.achpr/englisg/mission_reports/mauritius/mission visited on 15 October 2008. 17 www.achpr.org/english/state_report/Mauritius visited on 5 December 2008. 18 www.achpr/englisg/mission_reports/seychelles/mission visited on 15 October 2008. 168 maureen tong self-determination against Mauritius. Mauritius contends that the UK promised that the BIOT would be returned to Mauritius once it is no longer required to safeguard the defence interests of the British and American governments.

Anticipated Objection by Mauritius to Chagossian Right of Self-Determination

Mauritius is highly likely to seriously contest any attempt to place the Chagos archipelago on the UN list of non-self-governing territories for the purposes of decolonisation, if this is intended to lead to independent statehood for the territory. Similar to Morocco (with regard to the Western Sahara), Mauritius is likely to support such a listing only to the extent that the decolonisation process would lead to Mauritius regaining sovereignty over Chagos. Morocco contests the right of Western Sahara to self-determination, arguing that Western Sahara has always been an integral part of Morocco. The Moroccan government therefore argues that exercise of the right should only result in the reintegration of Western Sahara into Morocco. The liberation movement, POLISARIO Front unilaterally declared the the Western Sahara the “Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic (SADR).” Morocco withdrew from the OAU after the OAU recognized the SADR as the legitimate government of the Western Sahara in 1980. To this day, Morocco is not a member of the AU while the SADR is one of its members. The UN recognizes the right of the people of Western Sahara to self- determination, which may lead to independence. In 1983 and 1984, the UN passed resolutions calling upon Morocco and the POLISARIO Front to negotiate a ceasefire and hold a referendum. This has yet to take place, despite the 1991 establishment of the UN Mission for the Referendum in Western Sahara (MINURSO), an independent body seeking to facilitate conduct of the referendum. Algeria has since denounced its claim to Western Sahara and now supports the right of the Saharawi people to self-determination, which may include independence. In the case of East Timor, Indonesia also contested the right of the East Timorese people to self-determination. The ICJ Advisory Opinion in the matter of Portugal v Australia (East Timor) stated that the free and informed consent of the East Timorese people must be established. The UN General Assembly passed several resolutions between 1975 and self-determination in the post-colonial era 169

1989 condemning the military occupation of East Timor by Indonesia after Portugal left. Indonesia ignored these resolutions and concluded a Treaty with Australia in 1989 in order to jointly explore and exploit resources in the territory. The UN Security Council passed Resolution 1246 in 1999 to establish the United Nations Mission in East Timor (UNMET) from 11 June 1999 to 31 August 1999 in order to conduct a referendum to establish whether the East Timorese people preferred special autonomy with Indonesia or whether they preferred independence. The majority voted in favour of independence but this was followed by violent opposition from some of the militia. The UN Security Council established the United Nations Transitional Administration in East Timor (UNTAET) through adoption of Resolu tion 1272 in 1999. UNTAET was given full legislative and executive authority, including the administration of justice, prior to elections to form a new government after independence on 30 August 2001 and the adoption of the first Constitution on 22M arch 2002. East Timor became independent on 20 May 2002, and joined the UN on 27 September 2002 under the name of Timor Leste. East Timor and Namibia are the only two examples where the UN took a very direct role in the decolonisation process by, among other things, taking over the administration of the territories until independence was achieved. However, the matter of East Timor took a relatively short time to be resolved while that of Western Sahara remains unresolved. World attention has shifted significantly away from self-determination since Namibia gained independence in 1990 and East Timor (Timor Lester) in 2002. There are currently only 16 territories that remain on the UN list of non-self-governing territories. The NU Special Committee of 24 (on decolonisation) is responsible for finalizing the cases of territories still on this list, and ensuring such territories exercise their right to self-determination.

Comparison between the BIOT, Falkland Islands and Gibraltar

Territories like Gibraltar and the Falklands Islands are on the UN list of non-self-governing territories despite a dispute over their sovereignty and whether inhabitants have the right to self-determination. These inhabitants are descendants of former colonial settlers. Like the BIOT, both territories are still British colonies. Sovereignty over both of them 170 maureen tong is contested by adjacent States who argue that their territorial integrity is violated by British sovereignty over the territories. The populations of these territories also claim the right to self- determination. The UK seems to support the view that these populations must be allowed to exercise such rights by way of continued British sovereignty over the territory but not independent Statehood. Although Gibraltar and the Falklands Islands have some similarities to the Chagos matter, the distinguishing factor is that Chagossians are not descendants of British settlers. Chagossians were brought to the territory as slaves. Their occupation of the Chagos archipelago precedes British colonization of the territory.

The Falkland Islands The way in which the UK approached the matter of theF alkland Islands, choosing to protect a population descended from British settlers, provides stark contrast to the manner in which the UK dealt with the population of Chagos, which was comprised mainly of former African slaves (Madely 1982). The population of the Falkland Islands numbers about 2000 people, a size similar to that of the Chagossian community at the time of their expulsion from the archipelago. Issues concerning the Falkland Islands and the Chagos archipelago were discussed by the UN during a joint session on 16 November 1965. The UK argued that although the people of the Falkland Islands wish for normal, friendly relations with Argentina, they did not wish to sever their connections with the UK. British officials argued that Argentina could not decide for the people of the Falkland Islands on the issue of sovereignty—nor could the UK, or even the UN. They argued that “it was for the people themselves to judge where their interests lie.” When the Chagos matter was discussed at the same session, the UK stated there was no dismemberment of the Chagos archipelago, but rather “administrative adjustments” handled under consultation with political leaders from Mauritius. In reality, the Chagos archipelago had already been excised and, together with other islands in Seychelles, culminated in the BIOT on 8 November 1965.

Gibraltar The main issue between Spain and the UK is whether the right to self- determination is applicable to Gibraltar. Spain argues that it is not applicable because the population of Gibraltar is not indigenous to the territory; they are descendants of British settlers and others who came self-determination in the post-colonial era 171 from abroad to work on the British military base on Gibraltar. While accepting that the interests of the population of Gibraltar must be protected upon termination of the territory’s colonial status, Spain contends that the exercise of the right to self-determination should not result in independent Statehood. Spain further argues that British sovereignty over Gibraltar constitutes a violation of Spanish territorial integrity. Spain interprets the Article X of the Treaty of Utrecht to mean that Spain has a right of pre-emption if independence were granted to the population of Gibraltar. Spain wishes to exercise this right and recover sovereignty over Gibraltar. The population ofG ibraltar insists that they do not want to fall under Spanish sovereignty. On 30 November 2006, inhabitants held a referendum which approved an amended Constitution for the territory. The purpose was to give the population “that degree of self-government which is compatible with British sovereignty of Gibraltar and with the fact that the UK remains fully responsible for Gibraltar’s external affairs.” On 24 December 2006 the Queen adopted the Gibraltar Constitution Order 2006 at the Buckingham Palace. Gibraltans now assert that Gibraltar is no longer a colony because the 2006 Constitution is an act of self-determination granting Gibraltar self-government. In concluding this section, we observe that the BIOT is a de facto colony of the UK, termed an Overseas Territory. It is a non-self-governing territory. As illustrated by the ICJ Advisory Opinion in the matter of Legal Status of South West Africa, the BIOT is also de jure a British colony until the matter is decided otherwise by the UN General Assembly. We will now consider the right of the Chagossians to self- determination.

The Status of Chagossians in International Law

International law gives ‘peoples’ who are still under colonial rule or foreign domination the right to self-determination. They may exercise it in the form of independent statehood, association with another state or retention of the status quo or political status. This chapter argues that Chagossians are a ‘people’ for purposes of international law as they are still under colonial rule by the UK. The 2007 UN Declaration on Indigenous Peoples has made it clear that indigenous peoples have a right of self-determination. Chagossians are entitled to the right of self- determination in the context of political decolonisation, which is a much 172 maureen tong stronger right compared to the right of indigenous peoples to self- determination in the form of autonomy and self-rule within an independent State. In Bancoult (1) Judge Laws made reference to Chagossians as ‘belongers’ of the Chagos archipelago. English courts did not deal with the rights of Chagossians as a ‘people’ in order to bypass international laws of self- determination. The Chagossians have stated that they do not challenge the role of the British Parliament or the executive to formulate policy on foreign or defence matters. They wish to coexist with and obtain employment on the military base in Diego Garcia. This is much like other communities which coexist with foreign military bases; for example, despite a frosty political relationship between the USA and Cuba, Cubans currently coexist with the US military base on Guantanamo Bay in Cuba. Chagossians did not choose to become Mauritian citizens. British officials secretly included a clause in the constitution ofM auritius at the time of independence to grant Mauritian citizenship to the people from the Chagos archipelago without their knowledge. Currently Mauritius does not exercise sovereignty over the Chagos archipelago, therefore the question of whether people of the Chagos archipelago are an indigenous people within Mauritius does not arise. The question arises however as to what their status would be in the event that Mauritius regains sovereignty over the Chagos archipelago.

Are Chagossians an Indigenous People of Mauritius or the BIOT?

Allen (2007) asserts that the status of being an ‘indigenous people’ would be beneficial to the Chagossians as it would allow them to access rights contained in the recently adopted UN Declaration on Indigenous Peoples, which include rights to claim restitution for loss of land and natural resources. This is in light of their unsuccessful bid to claim adequate financial compensation in the group litigation case of Chagos Islanders. Vine (2003) and Scott (1961, 23) assert that the Chagossian people are ‘indigenous’ to the Chagos archipelago. Rights of indigenous peoples apply to people living within independent States. TheI nternational Labour Organization (ILO) Convention 69 of 1989 on Tribal and Indigenous Peoples ‘defines’ indigenous people using both an objective and subjective criteria. The objective criterion allows indigenous people to self-identify themselves as indigenous self-determination in the post-colonial era 173 while the subjective criterion requires that they be accepted by others as indigenous people. Indigenous people are those who live within boundaries of independent States and whose social, cultural and economic conditions distinguish them from other sections of the national community. They may be regarded as indigenous on account of their descent from the populations which inhabited the country, or a geographic region to which the country belongs, either at the time of conquest or colonization or during the establishment of present state boundaries. Although they live in independent countries, indigenous people retain some or all of their own social, economic, cultural and political institutions. Chagossians self-identify themselves and have been accepted by the international movement of indigenous peoples as an indigenous people of the Chagos archipelago. They consider themselves ethnically different from the rest of the population of Mauritius. Mauritians regard Chagossians as people who come from somewhere else, namely the Chagos archipelago. Their forcible removal and social marginalization emphasizes their sense of being distinct from the rest of the population of Mauritius. The UN does not officially define indigenous people. In 1995 the UN Working Group on Indigenous Populations developed the following guidelines as who could be defined as ‘indigenous’: (a) Priority in time, with respect to the occupation and use of a specific territory; (b) The voluntary perpetuation of cultural distinctiveness, which may include the aspects of language, social organisation, religion and spiritual values, modes of production, laws and institutions; (c) Self-identification, as well as recognition by other groups, or by State authorities, as a distinct collectivity; and (d) an experience of subjugation, marginalisation, dispossession, exclusion or discrimination, whether or not these conditions persist.19 Article 3 of the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples provides that indigenous peoples have a right to self-determination. It says by virtue of that right they may freely determine their political status and freely pursue their economic, social and cultural development. Article 4 provides that indigenous people can exercise their right to self-determination by way of autonomy and self-government in matters relating to their internal and local affairs.

19 E./CN.4/Sub.2/AC.4/1996/2. Allen (2007, 469) proposes consolidated seven criteria based on these guidelines and others that have been proposed by different academics and indigenous rights activists. 174 maureen tong

Should Mauritius regain sovereignty of the Chagos archipelago, prospects of Chagossians becoming an indigenous people within independent Mauritius would be raised. Should Chagossians manage to successfully prove that they fit the ‘definition’ of indigenous people within Mauritius, they could claim rights to self-government and autonomy as per the provisions of Articles 4 and 5 of the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. In terms of Article 4, they could exercise the right to autonomy in relation to their internal and local affairs. Article 5 allows them the right to “maintain and strengthen their distinct political, legal, economic, social and cultural institutions, while retaining their right to participate fully, if they so choose, in the political, economic, social and cultural life of [Mauritius].” However, Chagossians are claiming to return to their homeland, which is still a British colony. Their right to self-determination is therefore discussed in the context of decolonisation, which is concerned with people of non-self-governing territories. The law of political decolonisation does not require the Chagossians to be an indigenous people of the Chagos archipelago in the sense of being ‘aboriginal’ to the territory. It is only concerned with whether the BIOT is a separate political unit and whether its people are under colonial rule. The decolonisation process would be in relation to the UK as the current colonial power.

What are the Prospects for the Chagossians?

Namibia was the last big country to attain independence. There are currently only 16 small territories left on the UN list of non-self-governing States.20 Most of these territories may soon achieve independence or exercise their right to free association, autonomy or retention of the status quo. Despite having the largest number of territories on the list still under administration, the UK and the US no longer participate in the sessions of the UN Special Committee of 24 on decolonisation. No States from Western Europe, and only one from Eastern Europe, participate in the UN sessions. Most of the African States do not participate on a regular basis.

20 The 10 non-self-governing territories administered by the United Kingdom are Pitcairn, Anguilla, Bermuda, British Virgin Islands, Cayman Islands, Falklands Islands, Gibraltar, Montserrat, St Helena, Turks and Caicos Islands; the three administered by the US are American Samoa, Guam and US Virgin Islands, New Zealand administers Tokelau and France administers New Caledonia. self-determination in the post-colonial era 175

Placing a new territory on the list of non-self-governing territories is a procedural matter riddled with many political hurdles. Members of the UN General Assembly would have to approve the addition. Some members of the Special Committee of 24 (Decolonisation) may not support placing a new territory on the list of non-self-governing territories due to their own internal political problems (for example, Russia with regard to the Chechnya question). Nevertheless, the Chagos issue would have to be brought before the UN General Assembly through the Special Committee of 24 (Decolonisa tion). The US and UK governments are likely to use their veto power at the Security Council to ensure that the matter does not get discussed at the UN. African States may however bring the matter up for discussion. So far the OAU and the AU have supported Mauritius in its claim of sovereignty over the Chagos archipelago. The issue could drag on for many years as is currently happening in the case of Western Sahara. Alternatively the UN could take a more direct role as it did in the matters of Namibia and East Timor. It is debatable whether the AU would support the quest by the Chagossians to exercise their right to self-determination against Mauritius. The Saharawi people only secured recognition of the SADR by the OAU and later the AU after engaging in an armed struggle involving the POLISARIO Front. The question is, how influential isM auritius in world affairs and how strongly would the AU perceive of Chagossians’ claims to self-determination against Mauritius? As indicated earlier, Chagossians have the option of independent Statehood, integration or association with an independent State.

Integration with a Former Colonial Power: The Case Study of Mayotte

Allen (2007: 441–482) provides an interesting case study of the island of Mayotte in the Indian Ocean, one of four islands that make up the Comoro archipelago. Mayotte is a comparative example of how the right to self-determination can be exercised in the form of integration with a colonial power, and with significant financial benefits.G iven Chagossians’ experience of chronic impoverishment, discrimination and marginalization in Mauritius, and in light of the complicity of Mauritius in the ‘sale’ of the Chagos archipelago to the UK to form the BIOT, it is con- ceivable that the Chagossians may, once they are allowed to return to 176 maureen tong their territory, choose to become an integrated or associated State of the UK. After their return to the islands, they may view the continued budgetary support to the BIOT, as is the case with other UK overseas territories like Gibraltar and the Falkland Islands, as compensation for their forcible removal and exile. France was the administering power for the entire Comoro archipelago until 1974, when Mayotte voted against independence. The other three islands in the archipelago voted in favour of independence. France recognized the Federal Islamic Republic of the Comoros, established in 1975. Mayotte voted for full integration with France on 8 February 1976 and became a collective territorial of France. This led to the UN General Assembly21 and the OAU22 to argue that Mayotte and the three other islands comprise the indivisible political unit of the Comoros archipelago for purposes of decolonisation. They protested that France violated the territorial integrity and sovereignty of this indivisible colonial unit. The people of Mayotte, called the Mahorias, responded that: (1) As the indigenous people of Mayotte, they are ethnically and culturally distinct from the inhabitants of the other islands in the Comorian archipelago; (2) the four islands of the archipelago had constituted a single colonial entity only for the administrative convenience of the colonial power, namely France; and (3) the results of the plebiscites represented the democratically expressed will of the Mahorais people amounting to the proper exercise of the right of self-determination. Chagossians may argue that their territory used to be a ‘dependency’ of Mauritius or was regarded as a single political unit with Mauritius purely for reasons of convenience to the colonial powers, France and the UK. The House of Lords decided that the IOTB became a new and separate political unit in 1965.

Restitution and Reparations

As indicated by Allen, the Chagos Islanders case decided that Chagossians could not bring a separate action in delict (torts) to claim for further financial compensation for their forcible removal and exile. Their case

21 gA Res. 31/4, 21 October 1976, A/RES/31/4. See Allen, 2008. 22 oAU Resolution on the Comorian Island of Mayotte, 3 July 1976, CM/Res. 496(XXVII). See Allen, 2008. self-determination in the post-colonial era 177 for restitution, in the form of the right to return and receive adequate financial compensation, is currently pending before the European Court. Although the right to property is protected in the international Bill of Rights, international law recognises the power of States to expropriate private property. This power cannot be exercised arbitrarily; hence a law ‘of general application’ needs to be in place to regulate its exercise. Expropriation can normally be implemented for ‘public purposes’ or in the ‘public interest,’ subject to the payment of compensation. Laws that were used to expropriate land in the Chagos archipelago for purposes of establishing the military base in Diego Garcia were deemed to be public in nature. Compensation was only paid to the private company that ran the plantations, and not to Chagossians themselves. In 1967 the British government passed two Ordinances through the BIOT Commissioner to compulsorily acquire ownership of the land within the BIOT, which was at that time owned by the Chagos-Agalega Company Limited. BIOT Ordinance No 1 of 1967 provided the BIOT Commissioner with the power to compulsorily acquire (expropriate) land for ‘public purposes.’ The ‘public purposes’ in this instance referred to the defence purposes of the UK and the Commonwealth or other foreign governments in agreement with the UK. The IOT B Ordinance No 2 of 1967 provided that “land acquired under this Ordinance may be used for the public purpose for which it was acquired or, if no longer required for the purpose for which it was acquired, then for any other purpose and the Crown shall have the absolute right to use, dispose of or transfer such land in any way which to it may seem fit.” The land was initially leased back to the Chagos-Agalega Company Limited on a six monthly basis. The lease continued for as long as it took the UK and US officials to receive approval from their political principals to proceed with the planned military base in Diego Garcia. Although financial compensation was paid to the Chagos-Agalega Company Limited, Chagossians were not given any financial compensation because they were deemed not to possess any property rights on the islands. The rule of restitutio in integrum is a rule of common law stating that a person who has unjustly taken something from another should return that person to the position they were in prior to the ‘taking.’ The concept of restitution is regarded as the primary remedy for violations of international law and gross violations of human rights. 178 maureen tong

In March 2008 the Chagos Refugees Group published a resettlement proposal for the Chagos archipelago entitled ‘Returning Home: A Proposal for the Resettlement of the Chagos Archipelago.23 The proposal envisages a phased resettlement process on the outlying islands of Peros Banhos and Salomon for half the population of Chagos since the other half only wishes for a right of temporary abode in order to visit relatives and tend to the graves of their ancestors. The former inhabitants of Diego Garcia have accepted being resettled on the outlying islands but hope to eventually return to Diego Garcia someday in the future. International law supports the right of Chagossians to return to their homeland. The UK is signatory to both the ICCPR and the ICESCR,24 which are applicable to the Chagossian people because the ICCPR and the ICESCR do not contain territorial clauses that limit their application to territories that are listed in the instruments of ratification. They apply to all individuals within the jurisdiction of the State that has ratified the conventions (Allen 2007, 441–482). While British colonial law may allow the Queen to exile Chagossians because they are nationals of a colony acquired through a treaty of cession, the UDHR is however applicable to the Chagos archipelago and its people. Chagossians could use their rights in terms of the ICCPR and the ICESCR to force the British government to allow them to return to their homeland, implement a resettlement programme and make funding available to the BIOT in order to ensure that, among others, their rights to housing, education, food, work, etc, are realized. TheReturning Home proposal estimates that the total cost of resettlement, excluding private sector tourism development, would be £25 million. This amount is divided into capital costs of £17.5 million and £7.5 million for technical assistance over a period of five years. The proposal suggests that the Chagos archipelago has the potential, with private sector investment, to generate substantial revenue and become the most self-sufficient of the UK overseas territories requiring financial support from the Department for International Development (DFID). A comparable case is that of the Falklands Islands, with a population of less than 3000 people, which has become self-sufficient after initial investment by

23 Chagos Refugees Group and Chagos Support Group UK, Returning Home: A Proposal for the Resettlement of the Chagos Islands, March 2008. The findings of the Derasine Report are published by David Vine (2006b). 24 Letter of the Director of General Legal Division, Office of Legal Affairs, 29 June 1976, C.N.193.1976. Treaties-6. self-determination in the post-colonial era 179 the UK government during the 1970s and after the 1982 Falklands War with Argentina regarding sovereignty over the territory.25 The fisheries industry now contributes 55 percent of the Gross Domestic Product (GDP) of the Falkland Islands. The 2008 Foreign Affairs Committee Report on Overseas Territories indicates that the UK government has provided £250 million in development assistance to Montserrat since the volcano hit the territory in 1995/1996. The UK continues to provide the territory of Montserrat with ongoing programme funding to the tune of £15 million per annum. The Derasine Report estimates that the UK Government distributes £25 million per annum for development projects in overseas territories. This means that the estimated cost of resettling the Chagos archipelago at £5 million per annum over five years is affordable to the UK government. The European Development Fund (EDF) could also be made available to fund the resettlement of Chagossian people because the BIOT is listed as one of the potential beneficiaries of the EDF.26

Conclusion

Allen (this volume) argues that litigation brought before English courts shows that the Chagos question is essentially a political question, and that perhaps the courts are not the right forum to address it. Indeed, restitution programmes require political will to adopt a special legislative dispensation coupled with provision of adequate resources. As indicated above, resettlement of the Chagos archipelago is feasible and affordable for the UK government. The right to restitution is recognized in international law and several former British colonies like Canada, Australia and New Zealand in the form of aboriginal title. The United States of America recognizes the rights of indigenous people (called ‘Indians’) as well as ‘treaty rights,’ which essentially stem from a recognition that indigenous people ‘were

25 See paragraph 19 of Ev 148, Foreign Affairs Committee Report, which indicates that in the last two decades the UK has spent billions of pounds in defending the Falklands Islands. 26 UK Foreign Affairs Committee Report (FCA) July 2008 at Ev 23, 108 and 147. The Foreign and Commonwealth Office stated that the FED is available to fund national development programmes in overseas territories with settled populations. This implies that the BIOT may not be funded through the EDF until the Chagossians are resettled there. The intention is to make funds available for their resettlement. 180 maureen tong there first.’ They are allowed compensation for loss of land and territory as well as some form of self-government within the United States. The post-apartheid South Africa government implements a restitution programme aimed at addressing violations of indigenous peoples’ rights to property and territory which occurred during apartheid. These are some examples the UK government could look to in deciding how to go about the matter. The UNHRC has already called on the UK to allow Chagossians to return to their homeland. This constitutes jurisprudence in favour of Chagossians. As demonstrated, however, States can choose to ignore decisions of relevant UN Committees. English courts are not suited for this though international law can provide a remedy in this regard. Should the European Court decide in favour of Chagossians, the UK government will be compelled to implement restitution in their favour. This means that it is still possible to use the judicial process to resolve a political matter. When considering restitution for expropriation of private property, the European Court decided that financial compensation must be paid by the State. The Court has developed a proportionality test whereby a fair balance must be struck between the general interest of the community (State) and the requirements of protection of individual fundamental rights. Financial compensation must be ‘fair.’27 The European Parliament has taken interest in the Chagos matter.F or example, on 25 March 2009 it adopted a resolution asking the UK to find a solution to the Chagos issue. The resolution implores the UK to find ways to allow Chagossians to return to their homeland. It seems therefore that pressure is building for the UK to find a political solution to the Chagos matter. In the event that Chagossians are allowed to return to their homeland, it would be up to them to decide how they wish to exercise their right of self-determination.

27 Katikaridis v Greece Series A No 690 European Court of Human Rights decided on 15 November 1996; Papachelas v Greece GC No 31423/96 CEDH/ECHR 1999-II decided on 25 March 1999; and Donnelly V UK No 34222/96 decided on 7 September 1999. Aurélie Marie-Lisette Talate: Young Again in Diego

Among the memorable scenes of the 2006 return to the Chagos islands is a frail old woman, landing on the shore of Peros Banhos; she throws herself on the sea-washed sand and embraces it with her whole body. After so many years of longing in exile, that moment must have been, for Marie-Lisette Talate (also known as Aurélie), a fusion of her home, land and sea. Lisette’s narrative of how she was forcibly removed from her homeland has been told and retold a number of times. It is her life story, which in essence was also that of the Chagossian people: recovered from a sudden crash, saved in different formats and spread across the worldwide web. When she appeared before the judge at the London High Court in October 2003, she tried to make him understand how although she was born in Diego Garcia, she could not remember when “because of her suffering.” While concluding that M“ rs Talate was not a credible or reliable witness, certainly on any matter of detail,” the judge writes: There was an element in her evidence of collective memory, that is, evidence which describes what happened to others, where she was absent, as if she had been present and which might be true. … The strength and depth of feeling for Diego Garcia and the emotions attached to her experiences are entirely genuine.”1 Thus, in a very real sense, her personal testimony bears the stamp of collective experience; her voice becomes the mouthpiece of a people, and herself the symbol of all the injustice done to the Chagossians as a people uprooted from their native land. Lisette was among the group of Chagossian women who stood up with Charlesia on the front line of the Ilois struggle—literally, the islanders—in the 1970s. Street demonstrations led to hunger strikes which culminated, with the active involvement of Mauritian organizations, in the 1981 London negotiations. The disappointing outcome of that

1 Quoted from the Chagos Islanders v. The Attorney General, Her Majesty’s British Indian Ocean territory Commissioner, [2003] EWHC 2222, § 169. High Court of Justice, London, 9 October 2003. 182 aurélie marie-lisette talate

episode was a turning point: it marked the end of the Ilois struggle, seen as an appendix of the Mauritian sovereignty claims on the Chagos islands, and the birth of the Chagos Refugees Group (CRG), which was ultimately invested with the legitimacy of a de facto Chagossian people’s organization. Lisette Aurélie Talate, Charlesia Alexis and young Olivier Bancoult were among the founding members of the CRG. At 68, Marie-Lisette Talate wears the ageless face of a struggle set to continue. As she re-embarks for the Chagos islands on the eve of the 2009 All Saints’ Day to perform, for the fist time since the exile, the sacred rite of laying flowers at the ancestors’ tombs instead of at the doorstep of the British High Commission, she retells her life story: that of her people, and adds a new vitality to the journey back: “At my age, if I could return to Diego for good, I would become young again.”2

By Vinesh Y. Hookoomsing

2 Quoted from l’Express online, http://www.lexpress.mu/story/7089, 27 October 2009. Cleaning for the Dead: The Chagossian Pilgrimage to their Homeland

Steffen F. Johannessen1

By sunset on 30 March 2006, the Mauritian vessel Mauritius Trochetia lifted anchor in Port Louis harbour to head for the Chagos archipelago about 2000 kilometres north-east of the Mauritian capital. Behind a security fence erected on the quay, around 800 relatives, friends, journalists and other supporters had crowded to bid farewell to a group of around one hundred Chagossian pilgrims waving excitedly from the deck of the ship. Around 40 years after having been expelled to make way for a US military base in the Indian Ocean, these white-dressed passengers had just embarked on their first communal journey to their ancestors’ graveyards, which had been left to deteriorate in the archipelago they call home. This chapter discusses the Chagos islanders’ first communal visit to the Chagos archipelago. From an anthropological perspective this journey provides an exceptional vantage point to explore important cultural dimensions of the Chagossian community and their political struggles for proper compensation and the right to repatriation. As the many controversies that crystallised in the run-up to the journey show, the Chagos archipelago is a centre of political disputes. These disputes extend the Chagossian agenda to include issues of sovereignty, international trade, as well as the presence of one of the United States’ largest overseas military bases on the island Diego Garcia. Therefore, only after years of negotiations, a compromise was reached between involved parties.

1 This chapter discusses some of the findings of my PhD project on the Chagossians, which is due to be submitted at the Martin-Luther-University Halle-Wittenberg in Germany. I wish to thank my PhD supervisors Prof. B. Schnepel,at the University’s department of Social Antropology and Prof. G. Schlee at the Max Planck Institute for Social Antropology in Halle/Saale. I am indebted to the Graduate School Cultures and Societies in Motion and the MPI for research funding and support. Many thanks to the editors and contributors to this volume and to Jutta Turner for making the great map. To Clement Siatous and Norbert Salomon, thank you for allowing me to use your pictures. A special thanks to all Chagossians, in particular the Tiatus family, and others who have aided in the process of research. 184 steffen f. johannessen

Among the conditions agreed upon was that no media or independent reporters should follow the passengers. For this reason, I was unable to conduct participant observation on the journey itself. However, on top of data gathered in altogether twelve months of anthropological fieldwork among Chagossians living in Mauritius, the Seychelles and the UK between 2004 and 2008, detailed interviews were undertaken immediately before and after the visit, in which Chagossian participants explained their experiences and commented on audiovisual documentation and photos taken during their journey. Against a backdrop of various political controversies that surfaced in the run-up to the visit, this chapter presents the central activities undertaken by the pilgrims in the course of the journey. Special attention will be paid to the considerable efforts Chagossians vested in cleaning and tending to abandoned cemeteries on the Chagos islands. I will argue that this activity relates to issues of remembering and forgetting—a most central problematic for the evicted Chagossians from both political and cultural perspectives. As I will show, a number of problems and characteristics which Chagossians associate with and ascribe to their ancestors resonate with their own politicised situation. I argue that the act of cleaning for the dead buried in Chagos was, on the one hand, a political means of voicing Chagossians’ own version of their silenced and contested history and, on the other, a way to communicate to their ancestors that, despite the long neglect of their graves, they were never forgotten.

The Chagos Archipelago as Site of Political Contest

Until the turn of the millennium, the Chagos archipelago escaped much public attention. Nevertheless, these tropical islands represent a centre of political disputes. The Chagossians’ first communal journey to these islands was therefore a highly sensitive matter both for the Chagossians and other parties concerned with the Chagos archipelago. To understand the context of this trip we first need to map the political landscape upon which Chagossian pilgrims eventually came to travel. In the following sections, central controversies surfacing prior to the Chagossians’ departure will be discussed. The Chagossian homeland is a site of central concern to the British, US and Mauritian governments and to a transnational, left-wing demilitarization movement: first, in 1965, the UK defends the status quo of cleaning for the dead 185

Illustration 8. Sketched Route of the Chagossian pilgrimage from Port Louis to Chagos, 2006 186 steffen f. johannessen current UK-US military establishments on the archipelago and holds de facto sovereignty over all Chagos islands, which in 1965 were together referred to as the British Indian Ocean Territory (BIOT): the British Empire’s last colony. Second, Mauritian authorities agree to the presence of US military personnel in Diego Garcia; however, they do not recognize the BIOT, and do claim that sovereignty to the Chagos archipel ago belongs to Mauritius and not the UK. Though as the example below will illustrate, Mauritius’ official position needs to be viewed in light of the state’s post-colonial export economy, which has long been heavily dependent on access to EU and US markets. Mauritian authorities have always disfavoured direct legal confrontation to bilateral negotiations with their former colonial power. Insisting on the return of the Chagos archipelago to Mauritian jurisdiction, and voicing concern in international forums over various human rights violations committed by the British due to their separation of Chagos from colonial Mauritius, which later involved the forced displacement of Chagossians to Mauritius, appears to be one of few means by which Mauritius can press for bilateral negotiations with their most central trading partners.2 Third, a transnational, left-wing demilitarization movement sympathises with Mauritius’ claim to retrocession, though opts for the full closure of the US military base presently in Diego Garcia. In light of these disputes, Chagossians’ first journey to their homeland clearly took place in a highly politicized context. Before I proceed to discuss how Chagossians actively re-framed and performed the journey to sway public representations of this event, in accordance with their own political agenda, I will briefly flesh out this complex political field by showing how political disputes between said external parties and Chagossians were expressed during the run-up to the visit. Spearheaded by Olivier Bancoult from the Chagos Refugees Group (CRG), Chagossians launched a late 1990s legal case against the UK government in British courts for their right to return to Chagos (see Allen, this volume). However, five months prior to the High Court’s ruling, US officials contacted British authorities to voice their concerns about these proceedings. Pointing to possible terrorist actions, the US objected, stating that resettling Chagos “would significantly degrade the strategic

2 Mauritian authorities dispute that the Chagos archipelago is being used in trade diplomacy with the UK and the US (Carey 2005). cleaning for the dead 187 importance” of the base (Newsom 2000). Nonetheless, when the British court ruled in favour of the Chagossians in November 2000, UK authorities announced that they accepted the judgement. Since they were now no longer prohibited from returning and residing in their homeland, Chagossians requested that the UK government assist them in arranging a visit to the Chagos. But there was a catch. On the eve of the ruling, the UK government issued an amended Immigration Ordinance that prohibited any entry to the militarised island of Diego Garcia.3 Therefore, when the British government later proposed to facilitate a visit for the Chagossians, which would exclude Diego Garcia, an island of central ancestral importance, the evicted inhabitants could not accept and declined on grounds of communal solidarity with those who had been born and brought up on the island. In the following period, Greenpeace activists and the Mauritian left- wing party, ‘Lalit’ offered to support the Chagossians by bringing them personally to Chagos on board the Japanese Peace Boat—an NGO car- rying out activities by means of a chartered passenger ship.4 When this idea was voiced in the World Social Forum (WSF) in Mumbai in January 2004, the proposal received wide support and was soon extended to include an entire Peace Flotilla. Joining a fleet of numerous vessels, Chagossians could journey to their homeland together with Lalit representatives and other supporting transnational left-wing organizations in the form of a grand demonstration against the US base and the BIOT establishment. If Chagossians were disallowed entry, invited journalists could report not only on how UK officials failed to obey the rulings of the British court, but also how the archipelago and Chagossian repatriation relate to western military aggression, neo-colonialism and human rights violations (Collen 2004). Despite this support, however, the CRG delegation representing Chagossians in Mumbai refused to sign a petition to close the US base in Diego Garcia. Many poor Chagossians see the US base in Diego Garcia as both the problem and the solution to their problems. Chagossians I spoke with during my fieldwork did not fail to understand that the US base was the main reason both for their expulsion from Chagos and subsequent

3 UK Parliament website: www.publications.parliament.uk/pa/cm200102/cmhansrd/ vo021022/text/21022w17.htm, last access: 15 January 2009. 4 official NGO Website: www.peaceboat.org/english/index.html, last access: 04 February 2009. 188 steffen f. johannessen denial of return. For this reason, many Chagossians personally oppose the US military presence in their homeland; however, many also conceded that they believed it “unrealistic” to close such a massive and highly strategic US military base. Others, however, see the US military establishment as a possibility for return. As the old settlements and entire infrastructure on the islands collapsed during the course of their absence, many Chagossians said that the US military establishment represents the sole source of housing and employment in their homeland. Chagossians’ willingness to accept the presence of the US base in the Chagos (but not vice versa) should, however, be seen in light of the fact that their objections and calls for compensation have since the late 1990s been channelled and mainstreamed within UK and US legal institutions. Hence, in Mumbai, CRG representatives feared that supporting a political manifestation contrary to the interests of the UK-US establishment would preclude actual legal proceedings. Therefore, in Mumbai, CRG leader Olivier Bancoult agreed only to manoeuvre within established laws, and lead Chagossians to the unrestricted islands: excluding Diego Garcia. While, Bancoult’s fears may not have been ungrounded, the UK government nevertheless did not recognize these political precautions. On 10 June 2004, the UK government overruled the 2000 Divisional Court judgement and reinserted a total ban on immigration to the whole of the BIOT. According the UK Secretary of State, the threat of an invasion was “the single most immediate stimulus” for the Government to issue the new orders.5 In Mauritius, this UK legislation coincided with a major economic crisis—something that came to have considerable effects on the possibilities for arranging a Chagossian journey to their homeland. An EU sugar reform was to cut prices on subsidised Mauritian exports by 36 percent at a time when the Mauritian textile sector was seriously threatened by outsourcing (Neveling 2006). While Mauritius’ garment industry accounted for over 90 percent of Mauritian exports to the US, crucial trade-arrangements for duty-free exports to the US under the African Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA) were being phased out.6 The Mauritian government, which was also facing general elections the following year, was therefore attempting to enter into bilateral

5 Bancoult v Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs (2008, para. 184). 6 See website: www.agoa.info cleaning for the dead 189 negotiations with the UK and the US. An official letter was drafted noti- fying the UK that separating the Chagos archipelago prior to Mauritius’ independence was contrary to international law, though made it clear that Mauritius did not oppose the US base. However, the Mauritian government received no response. Communication between the two governments remained absent until the UK suddenly issued the 2004 BIOT immigration orders. Outraged over the British disregard of Mauritius’ claims, Mauritian Prime Minister Paul Bérenger announced plans of taking Britain to the International Court of Justice (ICJ). Soon, however, it became clear that Commonwealth members like Mauritius were barred from taking Britain to The Hague. Furthermore, when threatening that Mauritius was prepared to leave the Commonwealth, UK authorities simply issued an ICJ reservation that included former Commonwealth members. They also amended a 1968 convention by which the UK officially recognized legal disputes after 1945 to only include disagreements occurring after 1975. When Mauritian authorities later found out that the UK had negotiated directly with Mauritius Shipping Corporation to lease a state owned vessel to facilitate the Chagos islanders with a visit to the archipelago that would include Diego Garcia, they suspected it to be another political move to preclude ICJ litigations and cancelled the lease altogether (Ingram 2004, see Rainer, L’Express 2005). In the face of the economic crisis, the Mauritian opposition criticized the government for demonstrating poor diplomatic skills. Accused of jeopardising the Mauritian economy for principles of sovereignty and national pride, the government failed to be re-elected in June 2005 (see L’Express 2 May 2005). The new Labour-headed government immediately revoked the ICJ plans and reconfirmed Mauritius’ commitments to the Commonwealth. Bilateral talks with the UK government were, however, not forthcoming until after 19 September 2005, when the new Prime Minister, Navin Ramgoolam reiterated the Chagos issue at the UN General Assembly. British representatives then requested a response, and by the end of November, the Mauritian Prime Minister met with his British homologue to discuss the two issues: the Mauritian economic crisis and allowing former inhabitants of Chagos to visit their ancestral homeland. During the meeting, the Mauritian Prime Minister pointed to the insufficiency of a proposed €40 million compensation to ACP sugar exporting countries and explained that costs of diversifying Mauritius’ post-colonial economy was estimated to €680 million for the next four to five years. Regarding the Chagossian visit, a compromise was drawn up in a 190 steffen f. johannessen

Memorandum of Understanding; it was agreed that expenses would be shared between the two governments, that both a British and Mauritian official would accompany the group, that the vessel Mauritius Trochetia would be reconsidered and put at disposal, and finally, except for a royal navy cameraman, that no media would be permitted to follow the voyagers to the archipelago. Officially arranged in cooperation between the two governments, the first communal return of the Chagossians to their homeland was defined as a “humanitarian visit” (Ramgoolam 2005, FCO 2006). As these controversies illustrate, the Chagossian homeland is a site of heated political disputes that concern actors well beyond the displaced Chagos community. The official political aims of these actors not only extend Chagossians’ own political agenda, but they are also mutually exclusive. Because of these conflicting political aims, there exists a political contest to monopolize meaning to Chagos in the sense of publicly defining what the archipelago does, and does not, represent. However, Chagossians are not passive spectators to this contest; they actively engage in voicing their own version of their past and homeland. As Chagossians expected that this historic journey to the Chagos archipelago would spark the attention of international media, it became important how the event would be exposed and thus socially remembered or forgotten. How Chagossians were to frame and perform their first communal journey to the Chagos archipelago therefore gained mounting importance.

What to Remember? The Politics of Incarceration

Parallel to long term and eventually unsuccessful legal proceedings in British and US courts (cf. Allen, this volume), Chagossians and a growing transnational network of supporters now seek to pressure governments involved in the dispute by exposing Chagossians’ history of displacement and suffering. However, due to external actors’ efforts to silence or monopolize different versions of Chagos history, Chagossians and their supporters not only struggle for public attention but also seek to counter these other voices. In this regard, of particular concern to Chagossians is a representation of Chagos and its inhabitants by the British Foreign Office in the 1960s, which depicts Chagos islanders as migrant contract workers instead of a settled population. Because their critique tends to spring from the colonial government’s early cleaning for the dead 191

representations of the islanders, and due to the fact that the UK government continues to respond to this critique in similar [colonial] ways, one may be justified in claiming that a (neo)colonial discourse is in the making. As I will show in the following, this discourse revolves around the relationship between Chagossians and the Chagos archipelago—a place to which the British government claimed that Chagossians did not belong, in the sense of being a settled ‘native’ population. Chagossian political claims are often framed by this discourse. As we shall see, it also came to influence the way Chagossians framed and performed their first journey to their homeland. However, when Chagossians and their supporters object to this colonial version of their past, they also unintentionally confirm central elements of colonial thought. It is certainly not my intention to question Chagossian legal claims. It has been convinc- ingly argued that Chagossians, according to legal and other official definitions, qualify as indigenous people (Vine 2003). Moreover, contrary to well-intended popular representations of the Chagossians that tend to presuppose a ‘natural’ interconnection between people, place and culture (cf. Gupta and Ferguson 1992), the final section of this chapter shows that Chagossians hold quite specific cultural beliefs regarding their relationship to their homeland, although certain aspects have taken on new importance in the context of their contemporary social and political circumstances. Official documents declassified since the late 1990s have revealed how British authorities in the 1960s and 70s aimed at silencing the Chagossian expulsions by representing Chagossians as migrant contract workers (Marimootoo 1997, Curtis 2003, Pilger 2006). In 1970, the Head of UK Foreign Office Pacific Dependent Territories Department wrote:

We would not wish it to become general knowledge that some of the inhabitants have lived on Diego Garcia for at least two generations and could, therefore, be regarded as ‘belongers.’ We shall therefore advise ministers … to say there is only a small number of contract labourers from the Seychelles and Mauritius engaged with work in the copra plantations on the island (cited in Curtis 2003, 422–3). British officials recognized that if Chagossians were regarded as a permanent or settled population, they could qualify for rights under United Nations Article 73 that would oblige the UK to promote their well-being and to assist them in developing self-government. According to declassified Foreign Office minutes from a 1966 meeting, “to recognise that 192 steffen f. johannessen there are permanent inhabitants will imply that there is a population whose democratic rights will have to be safeguarded” (cited in Curtis 2003, 421). Thus, to circumvent agreements drawn up in the UN Charter, and to escape related ethno-national objections, the UK sought to position their operation within a framework of economic relations. By representing the Chagos islanders as migrant contract workers instead of a settled population, the following mass cancelling of employment, eviction of the people from their homes, and shipment of all Chagos residents to Mauritius and the Seychelles without any further assistance could presumably go without much consideration.7 Chagossians and their network of supporters do not question the legal inequalities between ‘permanent inhabitants’ and migrant ‘contract labourers’ which opened the possibility for the UK government to proceed with the operation. Instead they emphasise that the UK government deliberately classified Chagos islanders in the wrong category: Chagossians were settled people, not migrants. Hence, in their efforts to re-qualify Chagossians for the UN rights that the Foreign office set out to circumvent, critics unintentionally also confirm these distinctions. By way of nationalist rhetoric and often due to the arguments espoused by officials at the Foreign Office, critics accuse British authorities for “stealing a nation” (Pilger 2006), charging that the UK government turned evictees into “unpeople” (Curtis 2003) and “non-people … merely. …—migrant workers and other transients” (BBC News, 3 November 2000). There is no doubt that these critics have contributed immensely to exposing Chagossian history and the illegalities committed to the Chagossians. However, a central element of these discourses is that when critics object (and rightly so) to the racist indifference of British Officials, the people who are depicted as subject to racism also tend to be exoticized as ‘natives.’ When voicing the plight of the Chagossians to international audiences, supporters often highlight that Chagossians are ‘natives’. What is more, Chagossians born in the archipelago regularly identify as ‘natives’ (natif). This concept, however, is heavily vested with Eurocentric, (neo)colonial ideas, and connotes today far more than people being born in a partic ular place. During colonial times ‘native’ was a general label ascribed to inhabitants of different non-European localities where Europeans

7 on the impoverishment of Chagossians in Mauritius, see Jeffery and Vine this volume. cleaning for the dead 193 occupied positions of political power. Such colonial imaginings of ‘others’ have since then also been carried on through western practices of representation. Western scholars have often neglected the political history of the non-European people they have studied (Wolf 1982). Instead, accounts of ‘natives’ from particular places and their ways of thinking have often been explained through, and thus linked with, their particular natural surroundings (Appadurai 1988). Analysed in relation to particularities of their local environments most typically “found in the specifics of flora, fauna, topology, settlement patterns, and the like; in a word, in the concreteness of place” (Ibid., 38), such representations have the tendency to incarcerate ‘natives’ to the presumably bounded places they inhabit. The interconnection between distinct places and their ‘native’ populations are popularly expressed through botanical metaphors including ‘roots,’ ‘mother-’/‘fatherlands,’ ‘genealogical trees’ etc. Taken together these metaphors form constituent parts of a wider sedentary ideology that presumes a bounded interconnection between people, place and culture—an ideology that tends to be taken for granted and accepted as ‘natural’ in the contemporary era of sovereign nation-states (Gupta and Ferguson 1992, Malkki 1992). Through colonialism and western practices of representation, ‘natives’ have been confined to places and times other than those who dominate or analyse and author their societies (Appadurai 1988; Fabian 2002), and have thus come to represent the ahistorical, unchanging, stagnating, physically immobile, and ecologi- cally determined counterparts to the self-understanding of presumably more dynamic and adaptable members of ‘developed’ Western societies. Thus, when western supporters identify Chagossians as ‘natives,’ and Chagossians even self-identify as ‘natives,’ this says a lot about the post- colonial context in which Chagossians—deprived of their livelihoods through colonialism—must frame their struggles to acquire a voice in western media. This is not to say that Chagossians do not feel attached to their homeland. However, opposing colonial representations by identifying as such, they conform to this sedentary ideology—an ideology which finds strong resonance among supporting western audiences. Though the flipside is that by identifying as ‘natives’ Chagossians also reproduce their own social stigma of being ‘backwards’ in the context of a Mauritian capitalist ideology of ‘development’ (cf. Escobar 1988). If ‘natives’ have been vested with ecological connotations and botanical metaphors through colonialism and western practices of representation, it is possible to understand why a ‘green’ discourse for or against Chagossian repatriation has developed into a contest to associate or 194 steffen f. johannessen

dissociate Chagossians with the environment of the Chagos archipelago. Today Chagossians and their supporters seek to associate the expelled population with the archipelago’s flora and fauna by invoking botanical metaphors of a population historically ‘rooted’ in and ‘adapted to’ Chagos. In support of arguments that Chagossians have been ‘uprooted’ from their ‘natal soil,’ efforts are made to expose remains of an earlier, distinct (and thus settled) Chagossian ‘culture’ (Johannessen 2010). For the same purpose, critics frequently quote colonial documents that show how British officials strategically sought to dissociate Chagossians from the islands’ environment. Among the more forceful is a 1966 exchange of notes between the UK Foreign Office Permanent Under-Secretary and a British Senior Official: “[t]he object of the exercise is to get some rocks which will remain ours. There will be no indigenous population except seagulls who have not yet got a Committee.”8 Confirming the metaphors, the Senior Official replied by invoking fictional characters renowned precisely for their ambivalent sense of belonging to their environment; he writes,“[u]nfortunately, along with the birds go some few Tarzans or Man Fridays whose origins are obscure and who are hopefully being wished on to Mauritius.” These excerpts, along with other quotes from Foreign Office officials at the time, serve to reveal attitudes of racist indifference towards ‘native’ Chagossians from the height of the colonial regime. By quoting these officials, critics show that dissociating Chagos sians from their environment was the primary intention of the UK government at the time. However, the ‘green’ arguments directed against the UK government have recently triggered a political backfire. In the course of Chagossian litigations, the UK government commissioned a feasibility study of the Chagos archipelago, later concluding that long-term resettlement was infeasible. It was suggested that global warming could cause natural haz- ards including seismic activity, flooding and a lack of freshwater, which might threaten life. It was even suggested that human settlement on the fragile atolls could accelerate global warming.9 Beyond the report’s highly controversial conclusions, of particular interest here is the sym- bolism embedded in the argument. Addressed somewhat in the exact green terminology, the report seemed to suggest that the archipelago was too fragile for people to belong to. If Chagossian soil would not

8 Cited in Pilger (2006, 38), italics in original. 9 UK Parliament Website: http://www.publications.parliament.uk/pa/cm200607/ cmselect/cmfaff/501/501we16.htm, last access: 10 March 2009. cleaning for the dead 195 erode into the sea altogether, the homeland could not nurture Chagossian roots for the lack of fresh water. In response, Chagossian supporters in the UK launched a PR-campaign with the paradigmatic name “Let Them Return” (italics original!). Supporters objected that the government’s report neglected the islands’ evicted inhabitants when determining the feasibility of their homeland. One of the outcomes of the campaign was an alternative resettlement report. Contrary to the government issued report, authors never entered the restricted territory but paid attention to the natives ‘belonging’ to it. In an extension to the ‘green’ discourse, this alternative report suggested that Chagossians could return to their homeland to act as conservationists and guardians of their own environment. Chagossians could then sustain themselves by controlled fishing, local manufacture of bio-diesel and ecotourism.10 On 1 April 2010, however, the UK government announced the creation of the world’s largest maritime reserve around the Chagos archipelago (exempting the military base area) (FCO 2010). By declaring Chagos a no-take protected area, a returning group of Chagossians will not be able to sustain themselves without breaking the law. Against this backdrop of political disputes over the Chagos archipelago and the ‘green’ (neo)colonial discourse within which Chagossians now position their struggle, it is possible to approach the questions of why evictees framed their voyage as a religious pilgrimage and how the journey was eventually performed.

From ‘Humanitarian visit’ to a Chagossian ‘Pilgrimage’

In view of the politics surrounding the Chagos archipelago outlined above, it appears to be no coincidence that British and Mauritian officials agreed to define the Chagossian voyage a ‘humanitarian visit’ and to ban all media from following the passengers to their homeland. This can be seen as another attempt at depoliticizing, de-historicizing and silencing the controversial Chagossian issue. Unsurprisingly, Chagossians were disappointed about the media-ban. Many also regretted how the issue of their homeland was re-politicized and seemingly turned into a debate over trade and sovereignty during the heated bilateral disputes that pre- ceded their journey. Expecting the journey to be well covered by international media, Chagossians hoped that reports would expose their

10 official NGO Website: www.letthemreturn.com (no longer available). 196 steffen f. johannessen story. After all, it was they who had struggled for forty years to see their homeland again. This matter toppled shortly before departure when the Mauritian Labour government invited Chagossians for a ‘get together’ at the Prime Minister’s Official Residence. During the meeting the Mauritian Prime Minister framed Chagossian history in a way that ran contrary to the opinion of most Chagossians. And when Mauritian officials then sought to influence the program for the day of their departure, Chagossians objected and took active steps to frame the journey in accordance with their own political claims. Many Chagossians dissociate with the Mauritian Labour party, particularly its former leader, Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam, who headed the Mauritian delegation during the London constitutional negotiations in the 1960s. Chagossians tend to regard Sir S. Ramgoolam—the so- called ‘father of the Mauritian nation’—a partner in crime, and accuse him and the Labour party of having sacrificed the Chagossians for Mauritius’ Independence. But at the time of the ‘get together,’ late Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam was not only the symbolic ‘father’ of the Mauritian nation; as it happens he was also the biological father of the current Mauritian Prime Minister. If the former was seriously involved in the processes that led to the Chagossian evictions, his son, Dr. Navin Ramgoolam, was now claiming credit for bringing the Chagossians back. In his speech during the ‘get together,’ he even claimed to know the history of the Chagos archipelago better than those who had been evicted because he had been born and brought up in a household where decisions leading to their expulsion had been discussed. In accordance with the state’s official stance on the sovereignty issue, he claimed that Chagossians and Mauritians alike were victims of the same colonial regime, and suggested that Chagossians should enter a political alliance with the government to fight for a Chagossian return to an archipelago under Mauritian jurisdiction. The Chagossian response came after the government sought to interfere with the program for the departure. Because of the media ban on the journey itself, the framing of the departure was of course particularly important. Interfering with this program was interpreted as an attempt by the government to capitalize politically on the Chagossian return. The suggested program involved Chagossians playing and dancing sega—their traditional dance, but also a musical genre appropriated by the government as a national tradition. During a CRG meeting, the leader of the organisation rhetorically asked the committee and the other Chagossians who were present: “Shall we dance for him [the Prime cleaning for the dead 197

Minister]? Perform for whom?” He concluded, “We are not going to play tam-tam for them [the government]. Decisions are taken over our heads. And journalists will be there. If we cannot have our own program, we will go directly on the boat. … There will be no political discussions—period.” Instead, the CRG took active steps to reframe the visit in accordance with the group’s political arguments and approached the Catholic Church to have the ‘humanitarian visit’ redefined as a religious pilgrimage. The Church consented and on 30 March 2006, a grand mass dedicated to the pilgrims was conducted in Cassis by the Bishop of Port Louis. After the ceremony, the pilgrims proceeded to the harbour and gathered in prayer before a Chagossian memorial erected on the quay where the evicted islanders landed in the 1960s and 70s. Before boarding the passenger ship, Mauritius Trochetia, and in order to be spiritually guided by an invited Catholic priest and a Pastor from the Community Evangelical Church in Mauritius, the uniformly white dressed passengers were blessed in the harbour. Moreover, no sega was performed on this occasion, although Chagossians often celebrate and also mark their political achievements by dancing the sega today. During colonial times, sega dances were common among the slaves exploited in the western Indian Ocean. Representatives of the church, however, sought to discontinue what they interpreted as a pagan and particularly promiscuous practice. As becomes evident when Chagossians, who often celebrateen route in rented busses, cease to perform sega when they pass Churches in Mauritius, these connotations still rest with the sega. Henceforth, framing the journey as a pilgrimage—a sacred journey defined by penance and sacrifice—gave little room for performing sega as the Mauritian government had suggested. Instead, Chagossians agreed that alcohol, which often is a central ingre- dient to sega events, was not to be taken along. “For the sake of the sym- bolism,” as one CRG member put it, the passengers were encouraged to dress in white. Another matter that served to underline the pilgrims’ strong commitment to the destination was the exclusion of increasing numbers of Chagos islanders who, since they were awarded full British citizenship in 2002, have migrated to the UK. Prior to the Chagossian departure, a very central issue had to be resolved: how to distribute Trochetia’s about 100 beds among Chagossians who wanted to participate? The Chagos Refugees Group, which had spearheaded negotiations with involved governments since the November 2000 ruling, decided that, as far as possible, one person per Chagossian family should be invited. And 198 steffen f. johannessen

Chagossian ‘natives’ (i.e. people who were born in Chagos) should be prioritized, if their health proved to be good enough for the trip. Priority would also be given Chagossians who according to the CRG had contributed to the struggle for repatriation. Based on these principles, though knowing also that the CRG represents the majority of Chagossians in Mauritius, the CRG reserved seventy-five places for their own members. Fifteen places were delegated to the Chagos Social Committee Seychelles—a Seychelles based Chagossian organization whose selected passengers would make their way to Port Louis prior to departure. After some objections, the remaining ten places were accepted by the Chagos sian Social Committee (CSC) –a rival Chagossian organization in Mauritius which also pursues Chagossian return and compensation but which chose to ally with the Mauritian government and the state’s claims to sovereignty. More serious disputes, however, broke out when it became clear that the Diego Garcia Island Council (DGIC), a UK based Chagossian organization assisting Chagossians in migrating to Britain, was excluded from the journey.11 After unsuccessfully requesting eighteen places from the CRG, the DGIC leader provoked considerable dismay by conveying a letter to the British Prime Minister which called for the journey to be cancelled if Chagossians in the UK, as British taxpayers, were excluded. To the DGIC leader, migration to the UK represents a physical movement from a “less developed-” to a “developed” country, and the decision to go to the UK represents a change of Chagossian attitude from being preoccupied with compensation and the past to an attitude of “looking forward.” Quoting Shakespeare to stress this Kierkegaardian dilemma in an interview I carried out with him in England in 2005, the DGIC leader recalled how three years earlier he had encouraged the first group of Chagossians to migrate from Mauritius to the UK: “It’s either a yes or a no—to be or not to be— … as we have the citizenship now it is better that we move forward, and not to stay backward.” To quite a few poor, illiterate and unskilled Chagossians in Mauritius who imagine few opportunities in England, UK migration has come to represent dissociation with, and forgetting about, what they call the real struggle. That is, the struggle for Chagossian repatriation—a struggle valorising a different route out of exile to a destination understood not to be ‘more’ but ‘less developed’ than Mauritius. Chagossians who go to the UK, according to an elderly

11 See Jeffery, this volume for an analysis of Chagossians in the UK. cleaning for the dead 199

Chagossian woman living in Mauritius, “forget about their real homeland and their real identity.” In a sense, Chagossians in the UK were dis- sociated from the project of being ‘natives’—a constituent anti-category to ‘development’ within the neoliberal ideology and world order within which Chagossians must compete for international aid and attention. On par with the impression that the DGIC had not recognized nor contributed to this ‘real’ struggle, the CRG leader regretted that the DGIC “wants to go first class” and refused to offer the UK-based organization the eigtheen places requested. A proper pilgrimage, of course, should not be undertaken “first class.” The significant rejection of DGIC’s requests must be taken into consideration when the leaders of the two rivalling Chagossian organisations in Mauritius underlined their role as pilgrims when they embarked Mauritius Trochetia.12 Hand in hand, they were proclaimed proper pilgrims equal before their sacred quest:“We bury our differences in Mauritius and go home as brothers.” No person present in Port Lois harbour that day, nor anyone reading about the departure in the newspapers, would be left with any doubts as to whether the Chagossian travellers were pilgrims—even though the Chagossian passengers were not travelling along an established pilgrimage route to a well recognised pilgrimage destination. If their destination was not recognised as a sacred site before the journey, the act of performing a pilgrimage made the destination sacred. All Chagossian passengers carried flowers to be laid down at a destination pronounced sacred—at least to their ethnic community: the graves of their ancestors. If the involved governments’ official declarations of the Chagossian journey as a ‘humanitarian visit’ was a way to dehistoricize and depoliti- cize the controversial Chagos issue, redefining the ‘humanitarian visit’ as a veritable Chagossian ‘pilgrimage’ was a Chagossian counter-move to cement their claims in history and thus re-possess the very same event. However, by framing and performing the journey as a ‘pilgrimage,’ the passengers could also re-claim a very particular Chagossian past. Central to any pilgrimage is not only the destination, but also the journey itself. As such, the pilgrimage was not only a ‘visit’ but also a statement about the very passage between Mauritius and Chagos.

12 In November 2008 and January 2010, Allen Vincatassin, the leader of the DGIC (the organisation later changed name to Diego Garcian Society) led groups of five Chagossians residing in the UK to the Chagos archipelago. 200 steffen f. johannessen

When the passengers on 30 March 2006 gathered before the memorial in Port Louis harbour that commemorates the very site where evictees landed four decades earlier, this site came to designate their symbolic point of departure for their return. A claim to historical repetition was thus understated: the voyage in 2006 would be a journey in the footsteps of the historical Chagossian evictions. However, the central political issue is not that the UK government shipped the Chagossians to Mauritius and the Seychelles along this route, but rather how this shipment was defined. The UK government speculated that UN laws were never violated if the evictions were represented as a return of migrant workers to Mauritius and the Seychelles. It is particularly this version of their past that Chagossians seek to contest. The question thus boils down to the direction of movement taking place along this historical path. If Chagossians now claimed to repeat their historical route, a ‘humanitarian visit’ would be contrary to their point. A ‘visit,’ indeed, is a movement away from home and back again. A ‘pilgrimage,’ however, is a movement in the opposite direction. It is a movement towards a destination which is the origin: “A pilgrimage is a return to a place” (Ho 2006, 7). As the CRG leader emphasised before departure: “Contrary to what people may think, this is not a pleasure trip. It is a pilgrimage—it’s a return to the sources.” Henceforth, performing a Chagossian pilgrimage was not only a means to reclaim the public event but also a way to re-write a colonial version of the past by redefining the direction of movement that was to take place along an historical route; in other words, Chagossians were returning in the opposite direction, namely to the ‘sources’ or origins of a permanent population: their ancestors’ graves. As pilgrims, Chagossians could object to a particular colonial version of their past and underscore their claims to qualify for UN rights issued to protect settled populations, which the British government set out to circumvent at the time of their evictions.

The Chagossians’ First Communal Return to the Chagos Archipelago

The journey to Chagos was completed in eleven days. In addition to the ship’s crew, the party of Chagossians was also accompanied by a British and Mauritian official, a priest and a pastor from Mauritius, a doctor, and a royal navy cameraman. In addition to the roughly hundred selected cleaning for the dead 201

Chagossians, a Chagossian nurse and stonemason responsible for commemoration plaques to be laid down on each main island also formed part of the communal visit group. Of the voyagers, ninety-six people were Chagossian ‘natives’ born in the archipelago. Four days would pass before the first landing on the northernmost atolls, and on the three succeeding days, passengers were to visit and explore the remains of the abandoned villages and their ancestors’ cemeteries on the respective island groups of Salomon, Peros Banhos and Diego Garcia. All nights were to be spent in the ship’s cabins. After another four days, the group would return to disembark in Port Louis harbour. Two days after departure, the archipelago’s easternmost islands appeared on the horizon. These islands, including Egmont Atoll, Eagle Island and Three Brothers, were settled in the first half of the 19th century, though the British transferred inhabitants to Salomon and Peros Banhos in 1935 for economic reasons (Scott 1961, 268). Throughout the pilgrimage, the Catholic priest conducted daily masses based on the Catholic Church’s liturgy, and the pastor elaborated on the meanings of the biblical content. However, as these islands appeared, the captain was asked to reduce the speed of the vessel and a separate mass was held on the rear deck of the vessel to commemorate Chagossians buried on those islands and those who died during the evictions forty years ago. Particular attention was given to the mother of one of the passengers who in reac- tion to the expulsions committed suicide by throwing herself overboard somewhere along the route to Mauritius. To honour the deceased, the ship’s horn was blown and passengers threw flowers overboard into the open sea. When approaching the Salomon islands, a Chagossian woman went up to the priest and the British official representative and explained in tears that that her mother was born on Three Brothers and that she and her son were born in the Salomon group. To confirm this she showed them the birth-certificate of her son which she had brought along to “show to the Americans” in Chagos. She did not master the English language, but after landing in Salomon she demonstrated this fact by holding the document up in front of a detachment of British Royal Marines who were commanded to guide, aid and monitor the Chagossians in the course of the event. Off the coast of the archipelago the ship was assisted by a British Fisheries patrol. Because the UK holds sovereignty to the Chagos and also issues fishing licences within its Exclusive Economic Zone, they, and not the US, are in charge of patrolling the waters around the restricted area. When arriving on the islands, activities took on a ritualized pattern; 202 steffen f. johannessen to have maximum time on the particular islands where people were born, people who were identified as ‘native’ to the different islands were the first to land and the last to leave. Stepping onto shore, people would kneel down to embrace or kiss the soil. They would then proceed to locate the local chapel where some participants had been baptized, received their first communion, married, or taken part in funeral masses. They would then domesticate the space within these deteriorated buildings by cutting trees and clearing the ground of vegetation which had been growing there freely during their absence. When this task was completed, mass was held in commemoration of the deceased. The pilgrims proceeded thereafter to the cemeteries. Also here the area was cleared and cleaned before communal prayers were performed for the deceased. Among what was left of the coral rock tombstones, people searched for the graves of deceased relatives and honoured them by cleaning, praying and laying down flowers they had brought from Mauritius. Flowers were also brought to the cemeteries for other Chagossians who were not able to take part in the visit. After these activities, some time was left to explore the islands. People searched for the ruins of their old houses and identified remains of buildings in the abandoned villages. Some went swimming, and some repeated the former plantation work of de-husking coconuts. De-husked coconuts were opened and consumed on the islands but also brought to Mauritius and the Seychelles as souvenirs. Everyone collected souvenirs. Bottles were filled with sand from the beaches; coconuts, coconut-crabs, shells, stones, and pieces of broken coral were brought along. Old tools and utensils which would have been used by family members before the evictions were collected to show friends, relatives and the media after the journey. Photos and films were also taken. Many photos depict the Chagos islands peaking out of the Indian Ocean horizon. Others show the islands’ deteriorating cemeteries and plantation buildings with Chagossians standing in front of them. The wells were often photographed, and so was the ‘paradise scenery’ of Chagos’ palm beaches. Among the photos taken by the above mentioned woman was her son’s birth-certificate placed on the sandy ground of the Salomon Islands. Pictures were also taken of a third communal ceremony held on all three destinations before the voyagers were heading back to the boat. In commemoration of the visit, stone monuments in the shape of open books were laid down on each of the three destinations with the following inscription: “In remembrance of our visit to the Chagos archipelago this … April 2006. (Name of island). Heartfelt thoughts to our cleaning for the dead 203 ilgrimage. ©Photo: Norbert Salomon Norbert ©Photo: ilgrimage. p hurch on Peros Banhos during the Banhos during Peros on hurch c bandoned bandoned a eremony in the eremony c eligious eligious Illustration 9. Illustration r 204 steffen f. johannessen beloved we have left behind here. In God we trust and hope.” The monuments were signed by ‘Chagossian community’ and acronyms of the three participating Chagossian organizations; the stonemason was responsible for inscribing in the open space the dates of different landings. Upon arrival at the military deep-water quay of Diego Garcia, security was sharpened. All cameras were confiscated and not redistributed until after visitors left the military area. Many were dissatisfied to find a large signboard erected at Point Marianne, one of the island’s main Chagossian settlements; the sign told the story of nine soldiers of the Indian Artillery and Mauritius Regiment who died while being stationed in Diego Garcia during World War 2, though it failed to mention that they were buried in a Chagossian cemetery. However, on the other side of the lagoon, many were pleased to find East Point village restored by the British Forces. Due to a conservation-fund initiated on the 25th anniversary of the BIOT establishment, East Point village had been preserved as a kind of museum; while inaccessible to the general public, it represents the old coconut plantations on the islands (cf. Edis 1993, 84). Because the old chapel and the cemetery had been conserved, conducting the religious ceremonies for the deceased did not require the extensive work of cleaning and clearing. Afterwards, a tree was jointly planted by the oldest and the youngest of the Chagossians. Before the group headed back to Mauritius, the Chagossian pilgrims met with a group of 48 people from Mauritius who were working as temporary contractors on the US base. These included three Chagossians, who since 2006 (and only after repeated objections to employment discrimination) were the first Chagos islanders to obtain (non-permanent) work on the US base. The pilgrims and the contractors had a joint dinner, and the latter group handed over a gift: aravanne —traditional goatskin covered drum that is used for the sega—decorated with the contours of the V-shaped Diego Garcia island. The Americans refer to this shape when they call their base in Diego Garcia the ‘footprint of freedom.’ Chagossians, however, name the island patt seval, which refers to the print of a horseshoe; however, since the November 2000 judgement, when CRG leader Olivier Bancoult walked out of the London High Court imitating Churchill’s V-sign for victory with his fingers, the contours of Diego Garcia have also become a loaded symbol for the Chagossian struggle. In the context of their ethno-political struggle for recognition, compensation and repatriation, it was therefore significant that this symbol decorated the key instrument for their central cultural expression—the Chagossian cleaning for the dead 205 sega. After eleven days Mauritius Trochetia returned to Port Louis harbour where the pilgrims were welcomed by relatives and supporters. Shortly after, the quite exhausted pilgrims were driven away to give interviews to the media.

Reclaiming a Place in the Landscape: Inscribing ‘Remembrance’ onto the Chagos Islands

Given that the pilgrims were granted only one day on each of the archipelago’s three main island-groups, their efforts put into cleaning and clearing was considerable. In the remainder of this chapter I will argue that cleaning for the ancestors was a matter of remembering, an issue of central importance both from political and cultural perspectives. What upset the Chagossian pilgrims most was how the old villages had deteriorated since their absence. Many reported feeling particularly disrespected by the UK government when they witnessed how their forefathers’ graves had been left to erode and were now lapsing into jungle and wilderness. An elderly Chagossian woman regretted how the very dense vegetation on Peros Banhos had prevented her from searching for her old house; she commented afterwards, “Dirt everywhere! … The cemeteries and the churches: Everything was over- grown! It was impossible to walk there. Coconuts on coconuts, donkeys in the Church! A coconut tree growing from the floor in the church! Only on Diego it was proper.” She was specifically referring to the restored East Point village in Diego Garcia. It is interesting to note that while claims to Chagossian belonging are deeply ‘rooted’ in ecological argumentation, it was actually the local vegetation that was consuming the old Chagossian settlements. However, distinguishing ‘dirt’ from what is ‘proper,’ the woman pointed out the importance of their own presence in the local environment—that, according to her, also needs people. The connection between the inhabitants and the local environment was also well reflected in the collection and use of souvenirs brought from the islands. Representing Chagossian soil, bottles were filled with sand. Photos documented the former inhabitants on their homeland posing in front of the remains of their old villages. However, souvenirs representing past cultural activity or the islands’ materiality itself were not only gathered for others to see and touch. Coconuts and crabs were also collected so that relatives in Mauritius and the Seychelles could even 206 steffen f. johannessen taste and consume the local environment. A most remarkable use of souvenirs was how Chagossian soil was applied in the burial of a Chagossian woman in the wake of the journey. Many evicted Chagossians express a wish to be buried in Chagos. During the 2008 conference leading up to this volume, Olivier Bancoult explained that a Chagossian who had been evicted from Salomon at the age of two had brought his elderly mother, who was unable to join the pilgrims, a bottle of sand as souvenir. She died shortly after. Serving as a strong symbol of territorial belonging and displacement, the sand from her birthplace was put inside the woman’s coffin before her body was lowered and buried in Mauritian soil. Speculating that the disappearance of the old settlements in Chagos had long been the intention of the UK government, many Chagossians made a connection between how the islands had been left to deteriorate and the wider social situation of the evictees. Regretting the deteriorating state of the islands, an elderly Chagossian man explained: “The British say we did not exist. They say ‘forget about the Chagossians.’ But they lie. We have cemeteries over there. My mother is buried over there. My father is buried over there, my grandfather also.” In a sense, the deteriorating state of their homeland served as a metaphor for the general condition of the Chagossian community: poor, disrespected and struggling to stand against external forces that wish to bury its historical existence. As the old settlements were eroding, the graves of their forefathers were disappearing; the last generation of Chagossian ‘natives’ was dying in exile; the Chagossians’ version of their contested past was somewhat fading or bleaching against a colonial counter-history which stated that there were never permanent inhabitants in the Chagos archipelago. In this context, efforts put into clearing and cleaning can be understood as a way of saving the most ‘authentic’ testimonies to Chagossian belonging. Graves can be particularly potent symbols for territorial claims. Named and dated, a gravestone is a commemorative monument that points to the body of a deceased person and marks its place of burial. If identified as kin, corpses buried in the soil of particular places (which transforms to form part of a territory’s soil through the process of decomposing) can contribute to the fusion of ideas about people and places belonging together. Such a man/ground connection also has a place in Christian funerary practices. According to Genesis (3:19), “By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust cleaning for the dead 207 you will return.” The evicted Chagossians often refer to the cemeteries in Chagos when stating their origin and even identify bodies of their ancestors buried there with their own ‘roots.’ In extension of this metaphor, Chagossians conceptualize their historical evictions as an ‘uprooting’ from their natal soil (ter natal). Symbolically therefore, the cemeteries in Chagos represent the materialization and a central physical evidence of Chagossian belonging. It is understandable, therefore, why the voyagers objected to their state of neglect, notwithstanding how the BIOT signpost failed to comment that the non-Chagossian soldiers buried in Diego Garcia were actually buried in Chagossian cemeteries. Central to understanding the efforts vested in cleaning and clearing are the three new monuments laid down on each of the main island groups. Despite the high percentage of illiteracy among ‘native’ Chagos sians, the memorials were shaped as open books. Chagossians were very content with the monuments and tended to interpret their shape as if indicating a kind of bookish documentation. As one Chagossian commented: “It’s a book. A book which says we were there.” Others even compared the form with the shape of the Bible. In either case, the form seemed to be understood as a claim to ‘truth’ or ‘historical fact,’ and as such, onto the ‘pages’ somewhere in the middle of these books, the Chagossian stonemason inscribed the exact historical date when the landings took place. By cleaning and clearing the old ceme teries, the voyagers could re-expose the most central testimonies to Chagossian belonging and thus reclaim their historical place in the local environment. But recovering the old cemeteries would not suffi- ciently convey the core political issue: the historical evictions and the struggle for repatriation. With the new monuments, however, the pilgrims could also inscribe post-eviction history onto the islands. Moreover, Chagossians could re-appropriate the archipelago by signing the monuments erected on the islands in the name of the evicted ‘Chagossian community.’ Beyond the truth-claims that these book- monuments were able to convey, the new memorials also referred to old cemeteries, that is, the ‘authentic’ local testimonies which the pilgrims had cleared and recovered. If these pre-eviction monuments were now deteriorating, the new monuments expressed their contemporary significance; as open books, the future of the Chagossian struggle was yet to be written. Thus Chagossians were able to re-inscribe Chagossian belonging into the islands’ landscape. In the face of the multiple political controversies 208 steffen f. johannessen over the Chagos archipelago, Chagossians could, on a destination made sacred through pilgrimage performance by cleaning their ancestors’ cemeteries and erecting new memorials, reclaim their islands and their own past. Though if this was a means to influence how the islands and their evicted inhabitants were to be remembered, the activities of tending the graves of their ancestors was also a matter of remembering, yet of a different dimension. After four decades of absence, Chagossians were returning to honour the memory of their ancestors.

Cleaning for the Dead

The journey’s religious framework was not arbitrary; along with spirit beliefs disregarded by the church as mere superstition, most Chagossians adhere to Catholicism. According to many Chagossians, the UK had not rid the archipelago of all inhabitants by 1973; the islands still hosted the spirits of their ancestors. Concluding masses in the local churches, cleaning the abandoned cemeteries and laying down flowers on their ancestors’ graves were also important ways of interacting with the dead. As such, the pilgrimage provided a longed for opportunity for descendants to restore filial duties towards the ancestors by communicating to the deceased that they had not been forgotten despite the neglect of graves and long absence. To better understand the meaning of this interaction, the social life of spirits needs to be addressed. Exploring how Chagossians, who inhabit the poorer quarters around Port Louis’ cemetery areas, perform funeral rituals may serve as introduction. When a person dies, the corpse is exposed at the house of the deceased. The body is then brought to the church for a final mass before the burial. In the following eight days, prayers are made at the house of the deceased and acquainted persons pay their respect by bringing small red flowers to the house. The funeral ritual reaches its climax on the evening of the eight day. Friends and relatives then gather at the house. An altar with a crucifix and two lit candles has been erected in a room inside. Behind the altar, a white cloth is hanging from the wall, and onto two crossed pieces of palm leaf the same red flowers have been attached. After repeated prayers, the ritual culminates precisely at midnight when a household member exits the house announcing ‘kass lafler,’ meaning ‘remove/ destroy the flowers.’ While close relatives only follow the proceedings, friends and in-laws rush to detach the flowers from the cloth and put them in plastic bags which are to be carried away from the house cleaning for the dead 209 as quickly as possible. The composite of flowers is held to comprise the spirit of the deceased, which through this ritual is to be thrown out of the house where it used to live. Very determined, two or three male non-members of the household exit the house with the bags of flowers. Aiming not to run nor be interrupted, they head for the closest street- junction where the bags will be emptied. The choice of a junction is crucial because it shall serve to confuse the spirit from finding the way back to the house. To form a barrier between the spirit and the way leading back to the house, the two candles from the altar are lit at the junction, and with urgency, the bags are emptied with the flowers left on the opposite side. The group then quickly returns to the house but should never look back. Doing so may frighten descendants should they see the personal spirit (nam) of the deceased. Although the nam, i.e. the spirit of the deceased person, cannot cross the constructed barrier, the ritual has opened a gateway between the earthly and spirit worlds, and can provoke spirits of other unknown deceased people (jab) to try to follow descendants back into the house. To make sure that no such spirit has followed, the men who have brought the flowers have to turn around and enter the gate of the yard backwards when they return to the house. As the funerary ritual shows, Chagossians have filial duties towards the deceased. The funeral ritual is a way of assisting the spirit in finding its way to the afterlife or Heaven by preventing it from remaining in the house in which it used to live. As for living people, it is considered ‘normal’ that any jab wants to go and live in a house and that the nam of a deceased person particularly wants to remain in or return to its own house. Therefore when a person dies, its nam is transported out and away from the house by the medium of flowers, and active steps are taken to prevent it from returning home. Because spirits of deceased people may attempt to return to where they used to live, it is important that the living do not forget the deceased. As an elderly Chagossian man explained: “Suppose I die. After they have done this [funerary ritual], I cannot come back here. I can perhaps come to Port Louis, but here people know that I am dead.” During my fieldwork, many Chagossians told me about encounters with spirits that would visit or occupy peoples’ houses. Quite a few also admitted that they feared spirits which, due to some unresolved business with the living, could have turned evil. Reasons for this shift could be that the spirits had been called upon by a longanis (unofficial local specialists in dealings with spirits) to cause people harm, or that they 210 steffen f. johannessen

(by execution or abortion) had died in ‘unnatural’ ways: they had been treated unjustly, like the slaves, or were neglected and forgotten by the living and thus precluded from receiving assistance in finding their proper way to Heaven. Due to the social presence of such spirits, when leaving the cemeteries after a funeral or having taken a shortcut to a neighbour’s house, some people dip their hands in the water-basins by the gate to throw water over their shoulders. This is called to ‘puss jab,’ which may be translated as ‘to scare/ push/ kick out spirits.’ Along with, for example, removing cemetery dirt from ones shoes before going home, this is only one among a number of ways to prevent spirits from following people to their houses. An elderly Chagossian woman informed me that if one does not throw water over the shoulder when leaving the cemetery “a jab may wait for you at the gate and pass behind you when you exit.” And if it follows you home, you may need to hire a longanis “to pull it out of the house and block it at the cemetery.” It seemed, however, that spirits haunting people’s houses were in most cases the spirits of deceased relatives that attempted to return to the places they used to live. A central point thus seems to be that Chagossians have a commitment to remember their ancestors and to assist them in finding their proper way to Heaven by preventing them from going home. However, this seems to be precisely the problem for the Chagos sians whose ancestors are buried in Chagos. It must be noted that many Chagossians agree with the church and regard such spirit-belief as mere superstition. Nonetheless, the funerary practices described above tend to be handled with considerable care, something which indicates that spirits can become more relevant in particular contexts. It should also be added that similar spirit-beliefs and funerary rituals are also practised among non-Chagossian Catholics inhabiting the same quarters on the outskirts of Port Louis. However, small islands near the historical settlements in both the Salomon and the Peros Banhos groups are named Ile Jab (Fr. ‘Diable’) which confirms that these practices are not exactly recent. Writings on the Chagossians suggest that these practices are of African, Malagasy and Tamil origin (Botte 1980, 12–14, Walker 1986, 16). Many Catholics who also inhabit these poorer quarters around Port Louis are also descendants of slaves who during colonial times were forcefully shipped to Mauritius from the same regions in Africa and Madagascar as those who were transported to Chagos. It is therefore interesting that comparable funerary practices also exist in Madagascar (cf. Evers 2002). cleaning for the dead 211

Illustration 10. Clement Siatous: “Peros Banhos Abandoned.” Painting of an abandoned building in Peros Banhos made by a Chagossian artist living in Mauritius.13

Because Mauritius was completely uninhabited prior to European colonization, all Mauritians can, and often do, claim to originate from other places. However, a central difference between Chagossians and their neighbours in Mauritius is that Chagossians arrived on Mauritius’ main island only recently, and are legally prevented from travelling to their homeland. In other words, very close relatives are buried in identi- fiable cemeteries from which Chagossians are physically separated and prevented from visiting. This has put evicted Chagossians in a particular situation; if spirits of the deceased want to escape the cemeteries and return to where they used to live, there are no descendants on the islands to prevent them from leaving the deteriorating graveyards and returning to live in the abandoned houses. For that reason, some Chagossians held that it was safe to go back to Chagos only because representatives of the church would accompany

13 See vignette in this volume for more information about the painter. To view more of his paintings visit http://chagosarchipelago.blogspot.com 212 steffen f. johannessen the pilgrims. Some even proposed it was outright dangerous and claimed that they would not join the pilgrims because of the spirits which, due to their long neglect, had turned angry or evil. After reluctantly having admitted that he did not want to join the pilgrims because of bad spirits, one Chagossian man explained the importance of these spirits by putting on a breathtaking performance; stiff, determined and with seemingly uncontrolled shaking, he slowly stumbled towards me with one arm raised and the other holding a strangling grip over his throat. With his eyes and his mouth wide open, and the tongue hanging out, he uttered a deep monotonous sound while shaking his head quickly from side to side. After half a minute he recognized how stunned I was by his act. He went on to explain with an excited voice: There are cemeteries over there, some of them dating back to the days of slavery. Many of them [Chagossians] came from Madagascar. There was voodoo—bringing dead people alive. There are many trees over there. Every tree guards a nam. Abandoned cemeteries and abandoned houses: A lot of jab. When there are no people there, the jab goes back to the abandoned houses. This is what I am afraid of. The trees grow wild. In a year they grow big and turn into wild/ brutal trees (pied brit). Many people who died before are buried there. Thenam can turn bad. Especially if they died in a non-natural way like by abortion or by accident. A tree is a guardian. Every tree hosts one spirit because they are alive. You should not talk about it, that’s very dangerous. Then thejab might come here in Mauritius. Since they closed the islands down there is a lot of jab over there. Open the islands again and the jab will go. The man was not unaware that the British and Americans now occupy and live in his homeland. By saying that there are “no people” there, he meant no relevant people. That is, no Chagossian descendants who remember the ancestors and can assist them in helping the ancestors find their way into Heaven. When the descendants are absent, the spirits may instead return to the abandoned houses and can, due to their neglect, even become bad. According to the Chagossian man, the spirits will only leave the abandoned houses when the islands are “opened.” That is, when their descendants permitted to return. A strong element of syncretism with Catholic beliefs is evident in regard to filial duties towards the ancestors. In many encounters with Chagossians during my fieldwork, the Christian concept of ‘souls’ was not always distinguished from the local concepts of nam and jab. On the annual Catholic celebration of All Souls Day, or tou-jab (i.e. Fr.: Toussaint) as some elderly Chagossians named it, Chagossians have repeatedly gathered in protest before the British High Commission in Port Louis to cleaning for the dead 213 voice their complaints that they are being prevented from fulfilling religious commitments to their ancestors buried in Chagos. Following All Saints Day, which commemorates the souls of those who have entered Heaven, All Souls Day is a day to honour the memory of deceased relatives who remain suffering in purgatory. By prayers and good duties, the living may actively contribute to the removal of sins from their souls, and thereby help them finally enter Heaven. This process normally involves tending the graves of the ancestors and laying down flowers in honour of their memory. As the graves of Chagossian forefathers remain beyond reach, Chagossians in Mauritius instead proceed from the British High Commissioner, who now arranges for flower to be brought to Chagos. Some Chagossians living in Mauritius go to the Chagossian memorial in the harbour to pray for the ancestors and to throw their flowers into the sea. The first communal return to Chagos therefore provided an opportunity for Chagossians to undertake filial duties towards their ancestors which, due to the enforced absence of the descendants, had long been neglected. An elderly Chagossian woman preparing to go to Chagos told me:

Here, when performing the mass for the dead, you bring your flowers. You bring them to the cemetery and put them on the tomb. … In Chagos, all jab have not had their mass in a long time. They will like it a lot.F or some time they have lived in their houses, but now they are able to say ‘thank you,’ now they are able to do us a great favour, a great favour because we have not forgotten them. They are also Chagossians just like us. When they lived they were like us. They could come and go like us, but they are dead, they have remained over there. They are able to give us a big prayer … like, to help the Chagossians get compensation and return. In the wake of the journey, many participants emphasised their relief of finally being able to clean and tend to their ancestors’ graves and place flowers in honour their memory. To convey such a message of remembrance to the ancestors of Chagossians who were not partaking in the journey, the pilgrims brought and placed flowers on graves in the cemeteries on their behalf. However, according to the woman cited above, by taking steps to restore long neglected filial duties towards the ancestors, the ancestors can do the living “a great favour”; this is because they will be thankful that the descendants have not forgotten them. The ancestors may even assist their Chagossian descendants in positive ways. In this instance, to achieve the central aims of their political organizations, acquiring fair compensation and the right to live on the homeland where their ancestors are buried. 214 steffen f. johannessen

This shows that political and cultural domains do intersect and that to sharply separate these domains would make little sense to many Chagossians. In line with the woman’s words that the spirits “are also Chagossians just like us,” many qualities ascribed to their ancestors relate to issues that are of central importance to the evicted descendants. For example, if trees are considered to be guardians of spirits that have ‘remained over there,’ the ancestors are also somewhat ‘rooted’ in Chagos. The physical separation of the Chagossians from their homeland is considered to be a central problem also for the ancestors. Just as the Chagossians’ political struggle concerns the right to return to a place they call “home,” a central feature of the ancestors’ spirits that the desire for descendants to return to live in their old houses. Moreover, remembrance is not only central to Chagossian ancestors; the forgetting and neglect, which both Chagossians and their ancestors have been subject to, has provoked anger and frustration on both parts. Preceding sections of this chapter has shown that the pilgrimage was in large part a way of objecting to a particular colonial representation of the Chagossians’ past—a representation that Chagossians rightly understand as an attempt by the UK government to “forget about the Chagossians.” The pilgrimage and the activities of cleaning for the dead was thus both a political statement to counter this forgetting and also a way to convey to their ancestors that, despite of the descendants’ absence and the neglect of their graves, they were never forgotten. This chapter has shown that the first communal return of the Chagos sians to their homeland took place in a highly politicized context. In the face of alternative political controversies, Chagossians actively redefined the ‘humanitarian visit’ to a pilgrimage to their ancestors’ cemeteries in Chagos in order to reclaim the event in accordance with their political claims. In extension of a (neo)colonial discourse about the relationship between Chagossians and their homeland, the pilgrims reclaimed a place in the local landscape by clearing the deteriorating cemeteries and erecting new memorials in Chagos. By doing this, they could reinforce their claim that Chagossians before the evictions were permanent inhabitants and not (merely) migrant workers employed in the Chagos archipelago (main argument of the UK officials). However, although the pilgrimage was a politicized event, the journey also had important religious and cultural dimensions. Contrary to popular representations of the Chagossians that tend to presuppose a ‘natural’ and bounded interconnection between ‘natives’ and their place of origin, this chapter has shown that Chagossians have quite elaborate cultural cleaning for the dead 215 understandings about their relation to their homeland. Because many Chagossians feel that they have filial duties to assist the spirits of their forefathers, their expulsion from the place the ancestors were buried has resulted in a cultural or religious dilemma. The pilgrimage provided a longed for opportunity for Chagossians to restore commitments towards their ancestors, which was simultaneously seen as something that could further their political cause. Hence, in the context of the displacement of Chagossians and their political struggles for compensation and the right to return, the cemeteries in Chagos have taken on new meanings and importance.

Perspectives of a UK Member of Parliament: “Chagos, Just Plain Injustice”

There was a sense of poetic justice in London in 2000 when the High Court handed down a just verdict. Before the court was a group of people who were demanding their right to return to their homes, from which they forcibly vacated thirty years ago; opposing them stood the British Crown. When the Court ruled that the Chagossian islanders had a right to return, jubilation was the order of the day. The islanders danced in the streets in front of the Royal Courts of Justice. This victory was a bit short lived; to understand the reason why, it is necessary to understand the powerful forces at work to prevent ordinary people, who grew copra and fished, from living on these pristine islands. The IndianO cean has always been extraordinarily important to colonial powers. As Britain, Portugal and France vied for influence and control of their empires in South Asia, they needed secure shipping routes from Europe, both to bunker ships and install naval bases. The Chagos islands, which included both the archipelago and Diego Garcia, were ideally placed and as a result eventually fell under British control. The population were descendants of slaves taken to the islands to work in fishing and copra production. Administered as part of the British colony of Mauritius, they were mysteriously removed from jurisdiction before Mauritius obtained its independence in 1968. This was a result of new power structures in the world. Britain, over- extended and facing economic difficulties, was withdrawing from the “East of Suez” and the USA was keen to use the strategic location offered by the island of Diego Garcia to install naval and air bases. A private deal between Prime Minister Harold Wilson and President Lyndon Johnson ceded the island to the USA for an initial 50 year lease. As if this piece of ‘realpolitique’ was not enough, with the USA gaining a place to fuel the Vietnam War and much later from which to bomb Afghanistan and Iraq, there was a further, secret clause. The USA insisted on the de-population of not only the island of Diego Garcia, where the military base was situated, but also from the entire archipelago of Chagos, and insisted that this should be done by Britain. 218 perspectives of a uk member of parliament

The cruelty, deception and brutality of the removal of the islanders is an appalling indictment of Britain. Literally dumped in Mauritius and the Seychelles, the islanders organised themselves and gained some, albeit minimal, compensation. But this was not their aim, which was and remains the right to return to the pristine and beautiful islands. Dedicated campaigning led by the redoubtable Olivier Bancoult along with the wonderful legal work of Richard Gifford finally got the case to the High Court. The poor islanders, who were living in poverty in Mauritius, finally won their day in Court: or had they? The deception of the British was not yet over. On European Election Day in 2004, two quaintly named “Orders in Council” were signed by the Queen. They essentially removed the Court decisions of 2000 and denied the islanders their right of return. An Order in Council is a medi- eval power that by-passes both Parliament and scrutiny. Not yet defeated, the islanders have fought back and won their case in the High Court and the Court of Appeal. However, Britain’s Supreme Court, at that time the judicial committee of the House of Lords, voted on a majority to reject their appeal. The case will now go to the European Court of Human Rights. The story of the Chagossians is one of fortitude and determination against overwhelming odds: a few thousand islanders who simply refuse to disappear and go away.

The islands, pristine and beautiful, are only inhabited by wealthy itinerant yachtsmen, with Diego Garcia acting as home to a huge US military base where virtually no Chagossians are even allowed to work. Justice demands their right to return to the islands. That justice will be a significant boost to indigenous peoples the world over demanding their rights. Arrogant private notes on Foreign Office documents and dishonour- able confidential agreements between Governments all, eventually, see the light of day.

By Jeremy Corbyn, Member of Parliament Chairman of Chagos Islands All-Party Parliamentary Group ‘A lost people’? Chagossian Onward Migration and Echoes of Marginalisation in Crawley

Laura Jeffery

Chagos islanders and their children can apply for UK citizenship under the British Overseas Territories Act of 2002. The response from the extended Chagossian community was typically pragmatic: Chagossians have faced considerable hardships in exile; most feel at best ambivalent about their host countries, Mauritius and the Seychelles, where they face marginalisation and exclusion from full national membership and par ticipation; and in any case many other Mauritians and Seychellois would likewise jump at an opportunity to migrate to Europe. In this context, it is not surprising that hundreds of Chagos islanders and their descend ants applied for UK passports and saved or borrowed sufficient funds to pay for their passage to the UK. During fifteen months of fieldwork in Mauritius in 2002–2004, the reasons given to me by prospective migrants from the extended Chagos sian community for wanting to emigrate from Mauritius fell into three main categories: firstly, what they viewed as a low-quality and inequita ble education system; secondly, high unemployment and unattractive employment opportunities, especially for those who felt structurally dis advantaged as a result of poor education and ethnic discrimination; and thirdly, the perceived chasm between low wages and high living costs.1 They imagined la vie en rose in the UK, anticipating that their families would benefit from a higher-quality and more equitable education system; the availability and accessibility of jobs and the presumed lower disparity between wages and costs of living. Thus they sought to escape long-term marginalisation and disadvantage in Mauritius and hoped to build a more productive and comfortable future for their fami lies in the UK. Chagossian organisations now based in the UK estimate that over one thousand people from the extended Chagossian community—displaced islanders and their spouses plus children and grandchildren born in exile—have migrated from Mauritius and the Seychelles to the

1 At the time, unemployment hovered around the ten percent mark nationally, see Mauritius Central Statistics Office website: www.gov.mu/portal/site/cso 220 laura jeffery

UK since 2002. To what extent has life in the UK lived up to the high expectations held by prospective migrants? How can the experiences of migrants from the extended Chagossian community now living in the UK be compared or contrasted with those of displaced Chagos island ers, who first arrived in Mauritius and the Seychelles in the late 1960s and early 1970s? And in what ways do migrants’ experiences of family separation, claims of ethnic discrimination, encounters with bureau cratic hurdles, and educational, employment and healthcare problems echo their earlier recollections of hardship and marginalisation in exile? This chapter outlines some of the barriers to eligibility for UK citizen ship, detailing Chagossian chain migration to Crawley in West Sussex. It also examines Chagossian migrants’ experiences of employment and education in Crawley, and offers some ethnographic accounts of mar ginalisation and belonging.

Uneven eligibility for UK citizenship

Chagossians exiled to Mauritius were granted Mauritian citizenship under the constitution when Mauritius became independent in 1968. Chagossians in the Seychelles, by contrast, were not automatically awarded Seychellois citizenship; they had to either live as non-citizens or pay for naturalisation. Chagos-born islanders in exile also became eligible for British Dependent Territory (BDT) citizenship under the British Nationality Act 1981. In theory, BDT citizenship entitled them to visit but not settle in the UK; in practice most Chagossians did not apply for BDT passports due to costs and lack of knowledge about their citi zenship rights. In 2002, however, the citizenship status of the Chagossians changed dramatically with the British Overseas Territories (BOT) Act.2 The BOT Act reclassified the fourteen former British Dependent Territories as British Overseas Territories and replaced BDT citizenship with full UK citizenship. Islanders born in Chagos who were previously eligible for BDT citizenship under the British Nationality Act 1981 thus had rights to full UK citizenship. According to the BOT Act, citizens of the British Overseas Territories can transmit the entitlement to UK citizenship to their children who are also born in a British Overseas Territory. However, this provision would

2 for Explanatory Notes on the BOT Act 2002, see the UK National Archives website: http://www.opsi.gov.uk/acts/acts2002/en/ukpgaen_20020008_en_1.htm ‘a lost people?’ 221 not have applied to the children born to Chagos islanders in exile, since they were born not in a British Overseas Territory but in the then inde pendent republics of Mauritius and the Seychelles. In response to this situation, the Chagos Refugees Group (CRG) staged a 19-day sit-in out side the British High Commission in the Mauritian capital Port Louis in November 2001 (Le Mauricien 2001). Their campaign was supported in the UK by the Labour MPs Tam Dalyell (who was then Father of the House) and Jeremy Corbyn, who repeatedly put the Chagossian case on the parliamentary agenda. They emphasised that the Chagossians’ resi dence outside of the Chagos archipelago was a result of their forcible displacement from that territory rather than choice. Accepting this logic, the UK government introduced a supplementary clause to provide for the transmission of UK citizenship to the children of Chagos islanders born in exile after 26 April 1969. There remain, however, three key prob lems in the clause that make for uneven eligibility. Firstly, the legislation provides for Chagos-born islanders and their children born in exile, but not for subsequent generations of descend ants born in exile. The UK government’s rationale was that extending eligibility to subsequent generations would privilege Chagossians vis-à- vis other British Overseas Territories citizens by descent, who could not pass their citizenship to future generations born outside of the British Overseas Territories.3 In 2008, the House of Commons Foreign Affairs Committee concluded that the islanders were not living within a British Overseas Territory “as a consequence of exile rather than their own choice” and recommended that citizenship “should be extended to third generation descendants of exiled Chagossians.”4 Similarly, in its briefing for a House of Lords Committee debate on the Borders, Citizenship and Immigration Bill in 2009, the Immigration Law Practitioners’ Association (ILPA, a professional association of lawyers and academics practising in immigration, asylum and nationality law) noted that the fact that “the children of Chagossians are born outside the UK or a qualifying terri tory is no fault of their own but the result of their enforced exile,” and concluded that “few can have as compelling a claim to British citizenship

3 house of Commons Standing Committee D, 6 December 2001 (pt 1), online at: http://www.publications.parliament.uk/pa/cm200102/cmstand/d/st011206/am/ 11206s04.htm 4 house of Commons Foreign Affairs Committee (2008) report on the Over seas territories: paragraph 74. Online at: http://www.publications.parliament.uk/pa/ cm200708/cmselect/cmfaff/147/147i.pdf 222 laura jeffery as those children.”5 Despite these high-level recommendations, however, the restriction remains in place. Secondly, the BOT Act of 2002 covers Chagos islanders’ children only if they were born in exile after 26 April 1969, which the UK government selected as the start date of the ‘policy of exclusion’ from the Chagos archipelago.6 Writing this start date into the 2002 legislation was a way to avoid awarding UK citizenship to the children of those islanders deemed by British officials to have left Chagos ‘voluntarily’ prior to the forced depopulation of the territory. This start date is highly contested; regardless of when the forced deportations actually began, the British Indian Ocean Territory was established in 1965, and ever since the mid- 1960s, islanders visiting Mauritius or the Seychelles were prevented from returning to Chagos. While Chagossians born in exile after 1969 are eligible for UK citizenship, as a result of the anomalous 1969 cut-off date, there are now numerous Chagossian families in which those sib lings born in exile prior to 1969 are ineligible for UK citizenship. The ILPA has recommended removing this cut-off date to “ensure that Chagos Islanders … born in exile before 26 April 1969 are British Citizens,” however, the restriction remains in place.7 Thirdly, according to the 1981 British Nationality Act, whereas an unmarried British woman can pass her citizenship to her children, an unmarried British man cannot pass his citizenship to his children born outside of marriage (unless the parents subsequently marry). The prob lem for the Chagossian community is that—in common with other matrifocal, post-slavery societies in the Indian Ocean and the Caribbean—the Chagos archipelago during colonialism was character ised by female-headed households, relatively unstable sexual relation ships and a low incidence of marriage (Botte 1980, 22–23; Walker 1986, 15–18). Although most of its inhabitants were nominally Roman Catholic, the Chagos archipelago did not have a permanent Catholic

5 immigration Law Practitioners’ Association briefings for the House of Lords Committee debate (2 March 2009) on the Borders Immigration and Citizenship Bill Part 2 (Citizenship): page 1, 8. Online at: http://www.ilpa.org.uk/briefings/BCI%20HL% 20Comm/ 09.02.23%20ILPA%20HL%20Comm%20Chagos.pdf 6 house of Commons Standing Committee D, 6 December 2001 (pt 1), online at: http://www.publications.parliament.uk/pa/cm200102/cmstand/d/st011206/am/ 11206s05.htm 7 immigration Law Practitioners’ Association briefings for the House of Lords Committee debate (2 March 2009) on the Borders Immigration and Citizenship Bill Part 2 (Citizenship): page 1. Online at: http://www.ilpa.org.uk/briefings/BCI%20HL% 20Comm/09.02.23%20ILPA%20HL%20Comm%20Chagos.pdf ‘a lost people?’ 223 priest during colonialism (1795 to 1973). An itinerant priest travelled around the outer islands of Mauritius to perform important ceremonies such as baptisms, christenings and weddings; in between these visits, administrators conducted the weekly Sunday services (Descroizilles and Mülnier 1999, 26; Dussercle 1934, 10; Dussercle 1935). Chagossians told me that islanders did not necessarily get married to their partners, both because they were not encouraged to do so by the British authorities, and because it was not expected that the union would be for life. Thus many Chagossians feel that the privileging of ‘legitimate’ children in UK citi zenship legislation discriminates against those for whom marriage was not promoted by the British authorities. In particular, this rule affects children born in exile to an unmarried Chagossian man and a non- Chagossian woman; these are relatively common unions as a result of frequent migrations amongst the dependencies of colonial Mauritius.

Strategies for Onward migration to the UK

Ongoing campaigns for amendments to the British Overseas Territories Act aside, at present the effect of these features—the ineligibility of third and subsequent generations, the 1969 cut-off date and the privileging of marriage—is that all extended Chagossian families thus comprise some individuals who are eligible for citizenship and others who are ineligible. Eligibility for UK citizenship (rather than, say, English-language skills or employability) is the key criterion used to determine who in a family will migrate first. Working-age Chagos islanders or their adult children therefore tend to migrate ahead of Mauritian or Seychellois spouses and subsequent generations of descendants. This explains why Chagossian onward migration is characterised by a relative numerical balance between male and female migrants. For many families, eligible women who were stay-at-home mothers and housewives in Mauritius or the Seychelles were the first in their families to emigrate, temporarily leav ing the rest of the family behind. Generally, prospective migrants save money, mobilise extended family networks, or borrow from money-lenders to raise the funds necessary to apply for UK citizenship and purchase an aeroplane ticket. Over one hundred initial migrants emigrated as part of a series of groups organised in Mauritius by the Diego Garcia Island Council (which sent three groups, totalling eighty-five people, between 2002 and 2004) or the Chagos Refugees Group (which sent two groups, totalling thirty people, in 2002 and 2003). On arrival at Gatwick Airport in 224 laura jeffery

September 2002, the firstDGI C group staged a spontaneous sit-in at the airport until the local West Sussex County Council social services deter mined that they were destitute and awarded them bed and breakfast accommodation in nearby Crawley, plus £30 per week for living expenses, for up to six months. During this time the migrants were expected to take English language courses or other training if necessary in order to improve their employability. Subsequent groups similarly remained in the arrival lounge at Gatwick Airport for periods of between two days and two weeks until receiving the same support. The majority of initial Chagossian migrants, however, did not migrate as part of an organised group. Rather, most individuals mobilised their own networks of extended family and friends in order to migrate alone, and did not accept the offer of support from social services.I nstead most initially shared rooms—or even beds in shifts—in houses rented by ear lier migrants from the extended Chagossian community. They sup ported themselves financially with the money they had brought or by relying on the hospitality of their hosts, and concentrated on establish ing themselves. The first step is to obtain a National Insurance (NI) number, which is required by all UK residents (citizens and non-citizens alike) to work legally in the UK; it is the system by which the UK government manages taxes, National Insurance pension contributions and certain state social security benefits.8 Other important tasks include setting up a bank account, finding employment and securing adequate accommodation. All of these can be long, drawn-out processes, especially when, in order to provide the proof of address required for a bank account, applicants need to be established long enough at an address to hold accounts and pay bills in their own names. Additionally, some applicants have evi dently received contradictory advice, such as being told by employers that they need an NI number in order to apply for jobs, and at the same time being told by the Jobcentre Plus (which deals with applications for NI numbers) that they should have a job lined up in order to qualify for an NI number. Not surprisingly, recent migrants often complain about these complex and contradictory bureaucratic processes. Many also told me that they resented their powerlessness and reliance on others during

8 see Directgov (www.direct.gov.uk) or Department for Work and Pensions (www .dwp.gov.uk). ‘a lost people?’ 225 this period, and in turn felt resented by their hosts or sponsors if they outstayed their welcome, failed to adequately contribute to the house hold or did not repay their debts. At the same time, many initial onward migrants are separated from their families who they have left behind. Family separations are central to the entire history of the Chagossians. Firstly, Chagos was populated via slavery, which routinely broke up family units by sending members to different territories. Secondly, during the settled colonial period, Chagossian fishermen could be posted to distant Chagos outer islands for up to several months at a time. Thirdly, the forcible displacement from Chagos resulted in the separation of many extended families and social networks split between Mauritius and the Seychelles or geograph ically dispersed within these countries. Now, as a result of uneven citi zenship eligibility, Chagossians migrate to the UK individually in the first instance, leaving behind family members who sometimes include spouses and young children. Confirming studies showing that separate family migrations are likely to have a detrimental effect on marriage and childrearing (e.g. Salazar Parreñas 2005; Toyota et al. 2007), spousal separation has resulted in several cases of marital breakdown, and very young children initially left behind by their parents have displayed trun cated progression through key developmental stages such as toilet- training and speech acquisition. After spending an indeterminate amount of time in the UK in order to satisfy the Habitual Residence Test, those deemed to have the right to reside in the UK (e.g. through citizenship or immigration status) become eligible for a range of benefits includingI ncome Support, income-based Jobseeker’s Allowance, Housing Benefits, Council Tax Benefits, Child Benefits, and Pension Credits.9 Within a year or two, most initial migrants have been able to find accommodation and employment and send adequate remittances back to Mauritius and the Seychelles. These remittances often go towards repaying debts or saving for aeroplane tickets, UK passports or short-term Settlement Visas for remaining close family members who aim to migrate to the UK. Most families then move out of shared accommodation into a family house, where they may take

9 eligibility for these particular benefits is reliant on Habitual Residency in the UK rather than on UK citizenship or on having made sufficient National Insurance contri butions in the past. For information on the Habitual Residence Test, see the Department for Work and Pensions website: www.dwp.gov.uk 226 laura jeffery in newly-arrived friends or relatives for a time as the chain migration continues. In many respects, these patterns resemble Chagossian experiences on arrival in Mauritius and the Seychelles in the late 1960s and early 1970s, when recent arrivals from Chagos had to rely upon the hospitality of extended family and friends around Port Louis. The key differences are that these onward migrants have chosen to emigrate, have bene fited considerably from the welfare state’s provision of housing and income, and retain the option of returning one day to Mauritius or the Seychelles.

Socioeconomic and Ethnic Diversity in Crawley

Chagossian migration from Mauritius to the UK has taken the form of a steady chain migration to Crawley in West Sussex. At the time of my fieldwork in 2006–2007, the vast majority of the extended Chagossian community from Mauritius still lived in Crawley, while smaller num bers lived elsewhere in West Sussex (particularly Haywards Heath), Surrey (particularly Horley), and Greater London (particularly East Croydon and Purley); others lived further afield, predominantly in Manchester.10 The 2001 census11 reported that Crawley had a population of almost 100,000. Considering the rate of immigration from Mauritius and the Seychelles since 2002, it is likely that the extended Chagossian community comprises around one percent of the town’s population. Given the predominance of Chagossians in Crawley, it is therefore help ful to outline the characteristics of Crawley as a site of immigration. Crawley was developed as one of the New Towns designed after the Second World War to disperse people and jobs from London (Cole 2004; Gwynne 1990). Located fifty kilometres south of London, en route to Brighton (in East Sussex), the West Sussex settlements of Crawley, Ifield, and Three Bridges were considered to be good sites for a New Town.

10 An estimated sixty people from Mauritius live in about thirteen households in Manchester. I have no reliable figures for the numbers who have settled in London and elsewhere. The extended Chagossian community fromS eychelles, who by and large have received more formal education and have had more experience with the English lan guage than those from Mauritius, have tended to settle in London boroughs rather than in Crawley, and have generally managed to get better paid and more highly skilled jobs (although not necessarily jobs of the same or similar status to those they left behind in Seychelles). 11 http://www.statist ics.gov.uk/census2001/census2001.asp ‘a lost people?’ 227

The area already had good road and rail links and was near the aero drome that was to become Gatwick Airport (although at that time there were no plans to expand the airport); additionally, the land was agricul turally poor, and water provision and sewage disposal opportunities were good (Gwynne 1990, 155). The plans were met with considerable resistance—both from locals who feared the loss of the area’s village atmosphere and from Londoners who said they would prefer to move to a more rural location—but nonetheless Crawley was designated a New Town in 1947 (see Ibid., 155). Commentators have reported tensions between ‘Old Crawley’ and the ‘New Towners,’ noting that central and local government employment, management, shop staff, and the volun tary sector are dominated by those whose families had moved to Crawley since the New Town’s development rather than those whose families had a prior connection to the area (Ibid., 161–162). Original plans were for a New Town of 20–40,000 people (Ibid., 155, 161–171), but Crawley’s population has grown steadily from 10,000 in 1951 to almost 100,000 in the 2001 census. When Crawley New Town was established, thirteen residential neighbourhoods—Bewbush, Broadfield,F urnace Green, Ifield,G ossops Green, Langley Green, Maidenbower, Northgate, Pound Hill, Southgate, Three Bridges, Tilgate, and West Green—were built up gradually in a radial pattern around the town centre. From the start there was an explicit policy to promote socio-economic diversity across the city through the provision of mixed housing stock in all areas: each neigh bourhood was to comprise 80 percent three-bedroom ‘manual standard’ houses, 15 percent four-bedroom ‘intermediate’ houses, and 5 percent five-bedroom ‘detached’ houses (Cole 2004, 95; Gwynne 1990, 157). Much Crawley housing was originally owned by the Council, but since 1980 most has been purchased by residents under the Right to Buy scheme.12 By the 2001 census, 69 percent of the population lived in owner-occupied properties, 23 percent in Council housing, 3 percent in housing associations, 3 percent in privately rented accommodation, and the remainder with friends or relatives or in property tied to employ ment (Crawley Together 2001, chapter 5). The Manor Royal industrial estate was opened near Gatwick Airport in 1950, and in 1952 the UK government decided that Gatwick rather than Stansted would be developed as London’s second airport after

12 for information on the scheme, see the Directgov website: www.direct.gov.uk 228 laura jeffery

Heathrow (Gwynne 1990, 160). When it reopened after expansion in 1958, Gatwick Airport employed 1,200 people; by 1967 it employed 5,200, and by 2004 the number had reached 25,000 (Cole 2004, 98, 111). Local jobs in the airport, the industrial estate and the town itself are predominantly low-skilled and low-waged, though unemployment rates in Crawley are consistently very low compared to national averages, sometimes representing the lowest unemployment levels in the UK (Gwynne 1990, 167, 171). UK government surveys on deprivation in the area in 1998, 2000, and 2004 have consistently reported that the most deprived wards in Crawley are Langley Green, Broadfield and Bewbush, although the 2000 survey also reports significant numbers of low-income households in South gate, Ifield and Furnace Green, and the 2004 survey further concluded that some areas in Bewbush, Broadfield and Southgate are in the lowest decile in West Sussex (Crawley Together 2001, chapter 4; Office of the Deputy Prime Minister 2004).13 The link between deprivation and poor health is confirmed by evidence that the lowest life expectancy and high est mortality rates are in Bewbush, Broadfield, Ifield, and Southgate, along with West Green (Crawley Together 2001, chapter 7). Disadvan taged areas typically have higher levels of crime than other areas (Craw ley Together 2001, chapter 6). Broadfield Parade shopping arcade has a particularly bad reputation locally for drug abuse and associated crime. According to the 2001 census, Crawley’s ‘ethnic minority’ population (i.e. all groups other than ‘white British,’ ‘white Irish,’ and ‘white other’) was 10.3 percent, which is the highest in West Sussex, where the county average is 2.9 percent; this is compared to a South East average of 4.4 percent and an England average of 7.9 percent (Crawley Together 2001, chapter 2; Southdown Housing Association 2006, 9–10). The vast majority of Crawley’s so-called ‘Black and Minority Ethnic’ (BME) resi dents are of South Asian origin, with those of Indian origin comprising 4.4 percent and those of Pakistani origin comprising 3 percent of the town’s total population (Southdown Housing Association 2006, 9). Crawley has a long history of immigration from South Asia, China, Uganda, West Africa, and the Caribbean, and more recently from

13 Crawley deprivation statistics: www.crawley.gov.uk/stellent/groups/public/ documents/report/int010685.pdf and www.westsussex.gov.uk/ccm/cms-service/stream/ asset/?asset_id=2240589 ‘a lost people?’ 229

Afghanistan since the war in 2001, from Mauritius and the Seychelles since the awarding of UK citizenship to Chagossians in 2002, and from Eastern Europe since the expansion of the European Union in 2004 and 2007. Southdown Housing Association, a not-for-profit organisation which provides advice and housing assistance for around one thousand vulnerable people across Sussex, reported that there has been a strong tendency for new arrivals in Crawley (particularly those from ethnic minorities) to settle in the deprived (and cheaper) neighbourhoods described above (Ibid., 13). According to the 2001 census, ethnic minor ity populations were most concentrated in Langley Green, Bewbush and Broadfield, where they comprised approximately 27.9 percent, 17.3 per cent and 15 percent of the neighbourhood population respectively.14 Migrants from the extended Chagossian community have followed this general trend; whilst they are scattered throughout Crawley, they are particularly concentrated in Bewbush, Broadfield and Langley Green, with significant but smaller numbers living in Northgate, Southgate, Ifield, Tilgate, and Furnace Green. Educational attainment levels of Crawley residents are lower than the County averages (Crawley Together 2001, chapter 9), but there is con siderable diversity within the town: while Maidenbower and Pound Hill score slightly above national averages, lack of qualifications is most acute in Bewbush, Tilgate and Broadfield.15 The two non-denominational secondary schools in Three Bridges and Maidenbower, alongside the Church of England secondary school in Gossops Green and the Catholic school on the Old Horsham Road (all of which sometimes achieve above the national average) consistently outperform the two community col leges in Ifield and Tilgate, which tend to score considerably below the national average. These latter schools often have what teachers consider to be more challenging pupil profiles, including significant numbers for whom English is not their first language. Crawley parliamentary constituency, created in 1983, has been politi cally mixed. The constituency elected Conservative members of parlia ment from 1983 until the Labour landslide in 1997, yet by 2005 Crawley’s Labour MP Laura Moffat retained her seat with a margin of just 37 votes,

14 Crawley demographic statistics: www.crawley.gov.uk/stellent/groups/public/ documents/report/int010668.pdf 15 Crawley education statistics: www.crawley.gov.uk/stellent/groups/public/ documents/report/int010671.pdf 230 laura jeffery and in 2010 the seat was won by the Conservative Henry Smith.16 There has been very limited but ineffectual activity by the anti-immigration British National Front, and the town has generally escaped the occasion ally explosive ethnic tensions that have sporadically plagued other eth nically diverse towns and cities in England. There are churches representing several Christian denominations (particularly Baptist and Church of England) in every neighbourhood, a Roman Catholic Church in the town centre, Sunni mosques in Langley Green and Broadfield, and Hindu and Tamil temples and a Sikh gurdwara in West Green. Crawley hit the national news headlines in 2004 when three young men who had attended local schools and the Langley Green mosque were among a group of eight UK-born men of Pakistani descent arrested, accused and eventually convicted of planning terrorist activities, spark ing a debate in the local press about the level of interaction between people of different ethnic backgrounds in the multicultural town (e.g. articles in the Crawley Observer on 2 May 2007). Crawley’s residential, occupational, educational, socio-economic, ethnic, and political diver sity has had particular implications for Chagossian arrivals there, as I will show in the final two main sections of this chapter.

Employment and Education in Crawley

Many migrants from the extended Chagossian community indicated that their own lack of English, poor reading and writing skills, and low education in general have put them at a relative disadvantage in their search for employment. At the same time, however, many were impressed with what they felt was a lack of ethnic discrimination in the UK com pared to their experiences seeking work in Mauritius. As Serge, a Chagos islander in his fifties, put it, “there is a system of meritocracy ineducation and work here. Nobody looks at your face before giving you work: if you

16 Crawley’s Conservative MP Henry Smith (elected in 2010), used his maiden speech in the House of Commons to declare his support for the Chagossians’ right of return to Chagos. Crawley’s previous Labour MP Laura Moffat (1997–2010) had supported the Crawley-based DGS (led by Allen Vincatassin), facilitating visits to the Chagos Archipelago by six islanders in 2008 and 2010. The other Crawley-based Chagossian organisation, the Chagos Island Community Association (led by Hengride Permal), has received considerable support from local branches of various trades unions and by the Workers Revolutionary Party. The Mauritius-based Chagos Refugees Group (led by Olivier Bancoult) has not yet established strong local connections in Crawley, but has much stronger links with national organisations and central government. ‘a lost people?’ 231 deserve it, you get it.”17 On the other hand, most of their employment opportunities have been in comparatively undesirable jobs dominated by recent migrants. Over half of working Chagossian migrants in Crawley found employment at Gatwick Airport, where the vast majority work for industrial cleaning companies, for aeroplane food production companies, or for fast-food and other commercial outlets in the termi nal buildings. Most other working Chagossians are based in and around Crawley town, where they work as cashiers or shelf stackers in supermarkets or department stores, warehouse assistants in the nearby Manor Royal industrial estate, cleaners or carers in care homes, cleaners or child minders in private homes, hairdressers in local Afro hair salons, security guards, freelance dressmakers, or painter-decorators. In 2006–2007, unskilled commercial cleaning and industrial labouring jobs paid around or just above the national minimum wage, £5.35–£7.07 per hour, resulting in a pre-tax weekly income of around £214–£282.80: around half of median national earnings (£447 per week in 2006, or £470 in the South East). This puts them in the lowest ten percent of earners nation ally, on par with sales occupations, the lowest paid full-time employ ment.18 Most Chagossians were cleaners, fishermen, dock labourers, or factory helpers in Mauritius, and tend to consider their new jobs to be equivalent to the unskilled manual jobs they held in Mauritius.19 On the whole, their general assessment is that they work harder but are paid better than in Mauritius, and this enables them to achieve a higher standard of living.20 Most prospective migrants in Mauritius expected education in the UK to be superior to that in Mauritius, thus delivering better future prospects for employment and higher earnings. English as an Additional Language (EAL) teachers in Crawley schools told me that many of their newly-arrived pupils from Mauritius (i.e. those with Chagossian grand/

17 in order to protect their identity, I have assigned forename pseudonyms to my research participants. 18 UK Office forN ational Statistics online service: www.statistics.gov.uk 19 for the small minority of Chagossians who have some qualifications, taking clean ing work in Gatwick has entailed a loss of status, at least in the first instance. Amongst my informants, for instance, a few young migrants experienced in IT, cabinet-making, nursery nursing, dressmaking or secretarial work were compelled initially to work as cleaners, and a few trained police initially worked in the security industry. A few years later, having settled in and improved their English, they are better equipped to seek work that is more commensurate with their previous training and experience. 20 for an exploration of Chagossians’ distinctions between standard of life and quality of life, see Jeffery 2010. 232 laura jeffery parentage) took some time to adapt to the differences in disciplinary regimes and styles of learning in the UK compared to Mauritius; how ever, compared to other pupils from abroad, most eventually settled in quite quickly and performed adequately in exams. One reason for this may be that the Mauritian education system is based on the English sys tem and Mauritian schools—in theory at least—function in English. This is likely to give pupils from Mauritius a relative advantage overE AL pupils from countries with completely different education systems and more limited exposure to the English language. A handful of children from relatively well-educated Chagossian families adapted extremely well to secondary schools in the UK and planned further education at college or university, although in practice this has only rarely come to fruition. Several of my informants told me, however, that education in the UK did not meet their high expectations; they had expected higher stand ards but found instead that learning was more self-directed, making outcomes more unpredictable. Local primary school teachers told me that interactive teaching methods tended either to open up Mauritian children’s imaginations or prompt them to challenge authority and reject learning. A similar problem arose in relation to secondary education. Thomas, a teenage boy of Chagossian parentage, suggested that “the level here is lower because there’s too much freedom, there’s no disci pline.” Luke and his two teenage children, Robbie and Sara, likewise complained about the lack of emphasis on discipline in UK schools compared to Mauritian schools: Luke: The education system here is worse than in Mauritius Sara: Over there, people learn more. Robbie: That’s because there you’re forced to learn, whereas here the stu dents talk back to the teachers. Luke: We are worried that the children aren’t learning anything here, because in Mauritius they had lots of homework, but here they just play on the computer. In Mauritius a child’s room might be full of books because of the quantity that you have to buy. Several other migrant parents from the extended Chagossian commu nity similarly complained about their children’s lack of educational materials and limited homework. In Mauritius, they told me, school children would have to come home from school and spend hours on their homework so as to not get into trouble at school the following day. Schoolchildren in Crawley, by contrast, either had far less homework or could get away with not doing their homework. Consequently, they had ‘a lost people?’ 233 far more leisure time, which parents feared was not necessarily well- spent, especially if parents were at work until later in the evening and could not monitor their children’s after-school activities. For their part, teachers at local schools in Crawley told me they were worried that the parents of many of their pupils from Mauritius were unable to provide much academic support since most had limited English, limited literacy, a general lack of books and other educational materials in the home, and a lack of knowledge about local educational services such as free library membership. Evidently one major problem has been high truancy rates, which are compounded by lack of commu nication between parents and the school. Teachers at several local schools told me that the parents of pupils from Mauritius overwhelm ingly did not attend parents’ evenings, which they suggested may be a result of a combination of the parents’ anti-social working hours, their lack of spoken English (which inhibits communication), and their rela tive lack of formal education (which may foster a sense of being unable to assist in their children’s education). Thomas Bennett Community College (TBCC) is a secondary school in Tilgate in which 23 pupils from Mauritius (i.e. with Chagossian grand/ parentage) were enrolled in the academic year 2006–2007. The EAL teacher at TBCC told me that these pupils—whose English language skills were often better than their parents’E nglish language skills—occa sionally accompanied their parents to appointments in order to trans late for them. However, some students played the system by using communication problems as an excuse for all of their (increasingly fre quent) absences. Many Chagossian adults, whose own education was limited, felt unable actively to support their children’s learning but nev ertheless wanted their children to do well in school. Parents often told me they were disappointed by their children’s lack of commitment to studying, especially considering the sacrifices that had been made to bring them to the UK.

Marginalisation and Belonging in Crawley

Compared to their almost uniformly negative descriptions of their ini tial reception in Mauritius, Chagossians reported a wide range of expe riences in relation to their reception in Crawley, ranging from discrimination to neighbourliness. Serge, a Chagos islander in his fifties, worked in the Port Louis docks before bringing his family to Crawley 234 laura jeffery and working as a cleaner at Gatwick Airport. Having been friends for five years, and having discussed contentious issues on numerous occa sions, one day I decided to pose Serge some direct questions. As this excerpt shows, he inverted my questions in order to foreground his own agenda: highlighting the comparison he saw between his mistreatment in Mauritius and his positive experiences in the UK.

LJ: Have you encountered racism here? Serge: Since I’ve come here I haven’t observed any racist situation. Everyone has welcomed me. On the contrary, it’s here that we learned to respect people. For example, when I’m waiting for the bus, if there’s someone behind me, then that person will let me get on the bus before they do. This is a civilised way of doing things. We weren’t treated like that in Mauritius because of our black skin. LJ: Are people here badly behaved? Serge: Badly behaved? You get that everywhere, particularly rude young people. I don’t worry about that. I haven’t had any problems with people at all yet. In Mauritius we were mistreated: people said we were islanders who didn’t even know how to wear shoes. By contrast, we don’t get that here. LJ: Have British people helped you? Serge: My neighbours … are very kind, they helped us get schools, helped us run errands that we had to do. They are still helping us, for example when we need a lift somewhere they never refuse us. Thus he dismissed youthful anti-social behaviour as a universal prob lem and focused instead on the contrast between the racial discrimina tion he experienced in Mauritius and the respectful and friendly welcome he felt he had received in Crawley and in his neighbourhood in particular. Others reported being held at arm’s length by locals uninterested in foreign newcomers. Irene, a Chagos islander in her fifties, told me that “most British people are not interested in speaking to us, they aren’t interested in learning about where we’re from.” Her daughter Yvette, who works in a local supermarket, agreed that “in Mauritius we knew our neighbours, but here we don’t know them. Nobody has the time to talk, they’re not even interested, and they’re racist.” Madeleine, a Chagos islander in her forties, told me she had had some unpleasant encounters whilst working at Gatwick Airport:

The British are racist. For example at work we don’t have the right to say anything. We have to listen to what they say. British people always protect other British people, even if a boy says we’re dirty because he doesn’t like black people. ‘a lost people?’ 235

In several situations, though, various local authorities have intervened. Two of my interviewees told me that their children had been bullied and called ‘Negro’ or ‘black’ by other children at their local primary school, and one told me that her daughter had cried when she was told by a fel low pupil that she had no right to be there, which prompted her teacher to chastise the other pupil. Conversely, several Chagossians who worked at Gatwick Airport told me that they have been cautioned at work for breaking guidelines by calling other black colleagues ‘Negro’ or ‘nigger’ in jest. This raises the question of relations between Chagossians and other ethnic minority communities in Crawley. Renée, a woman of Chagossian parentage, told me two contrasting stories illustrating that she had felt both a harsh rejection and a warm welcome in her adult education classes at Central Sussex College, where she studied English as a Foreign Language. On the one hand, the female Muslim students in her class had declared that they didn’t want to share the class with non-Muslim stu dents, and in response the teacher (a Hindu woman of South Asian ori gin) separated the students, sitting the Muslim and the Mauritian students at opposite sides of the classroom. On the other hand, during a private tutorial with this teacher, Renée broke down and revealed that she didn’t have any money to buy food for her family. The same teacher later presented her with a gift of three bags of foodstuffs. In a similar vein, a Pakistani shopkeeper who owns a shop on Broadfield Parade— who claimed already to speak seven languages—is renowned amongst Chagossians for making an effort to learn French and Creole so that he can communicate with his new customers. In terms of accommodation, Chagossians reported a wide range of experiences related to renting: from claims of dishonest and profiteering landlords who were inattentive to necessary household improvements, to reports of mutually beneficial relationships with friendly landlords.21 As mentioned above, a significant proportion of Crawley’s population comprises migrants from South Asia, who are often concentrated in particular neighbourhoods. As a result of the Right to Buy council houses scheme and the popularity of Buy to Let mortgage schemes, a significant proportion of Chagossians’ landlords are ofS outh Asian ori gin, as are many Chagossians’ co-workers, managers and employers. With this in mind, Luke remarked that:

21 Both extremes worryingly often seem to lack formalised Tenancy Agreements to protect tenants’ rights. 236 laura jeffery

Chagossians want to leave Mauritius because Creoles are disadvantaged and discriminated against by Hindus and Muslims, but they come here and find thatH indus and Muslims are ahead here too because a long time ago they were the first to be given the chance to come here and work, and by their intelligence they’ve succeeded. In a certain sense, he implies, history is repeating itself for Chagossians and their families, who have been given the opportunity of a fresh start in the UK but still find themselves struggling to overcome the fact that educationally and professionally they are several steps behind South Asians and others who were able to migrate to the UK before them. For some, preconceptions of a wide gulf between life in Mauritius and life in the UK had to be reconsidered when high expectations of life in the UK were dashed by unexpected hardships. This was revealed par ticularly clearly in a discussion with two unemployed men of Chagossian parentage. Bruno was in his early forties, and had left his wife and chil dren behind in Mauritius when he came to the UK. His friend, Nathaniel was a single man in his mid-twenties. I asked them about the contrasts between their prior expectations and their actual experiences of life in the UK. LJ: When I gave English classes in Mauritius, people assumed la vie en rose in the UK, and didn’t believe me when I said that there is racism and pov erty in the UK. Bruno: Do you know why people didn’t want to believe you? Because peo ple say that Mauritius is paradise but it’s not, it’s hell—racism, corruption, important people [gran-dimunn] remain important, insignificant people [ti-dimunn] remain insignificant—but they think it’s not like that here [in the UK], that everyone’s equal. They see big limousines in films and they hear that everyone in the UK has a house and a car, and they think our life is good, but even though I have a car, I find that life is difficult.I was never depressed until I came to the UK. It’s not the weather that depresses me, it’s because this is a terrible country, and now I think it would have been bet ter to stay in Mauritius. Nathaniel: I got depressed here too. Bruno: The Chagossian community is a lost people [enn lepep perdi]. Poverty [lamizer] has made them come [to the UK]. I’ve seen lots of peo ple who are living like animals [bebet] but they don’t even know it. They say ‘I have my house, my car, my life is OK’, but they will be slaves for white people for their whole lives. Nathaniel: There’s lots of racism here, dogs get better treatment than Chagossians here because of our black skin. You’d have to say that we aren’t living here, we’re surviving [nu pa pe viv isi, nu pe surviv]. Most striking about this conversation was that the phrases Bruno and Nathaniel used to describe the problems faced by the extended ‘a lost people?’ 237

Chagossian community in the UK—particularly Bruno’s evocation of the Chagossian community as “a lost people” working like slaves for the benefit of others and Nathaniel’s assertion that dogs are treated better than Chagossians due to racism—were exactly the same as those I had heard many times from Chagossians describing their problems in Mauritius. The key change is that the identity of the archetypal racist ethnic Other has been adapted from Indo-Mauritians in Mauritius to white Britons in the UK. My point is not to claim that they decided that Mauritius was not as bad as they had previously thought, but rather to highlight their sense of disappointment that the UK was not undeniably an improvement. Both men were immensely disappointed because they had emigrated from Mauritius to escape discrimination and hardship, and anticipated that the UK would offer them an opportunity to improve their situations; instead they encountered similar problems in the UK.

Conclusion: Onward Migration and Echoes of Marginalisation

In this chapter I have shown how Chagossian migrants’ descriptions of their experiences in the UK since 2002 often echo displaced Chagos islanders’ experiences upon arrival in Mauritius in the late 1960s and 1970s, and in several instances the same tropes reappear in new con texts. For instance, the separation of families between the UK and Mauritius or the Seychelles (resulting from uneven eligibility for UK citizenship and the relatively high cost of migration) is reminiscent of the break-up of families who found themselves divided between Mauritius and the Seychelles or dispersed within Mauritius and the Seychelles after the displacement from Chagos.L ikewise, as in Mauritius, Chagossians in Crawley face educational and socio-economic chal lenges, which are connected to their chain migration to more deprived neighbourhoods. Finally, also as in Mauritius, Chagossians in Crawley report experiences of ethnic discrimination. At the same time, however, Chagossian migrants’ accounts of life in the UK are much more varied than their almost uniformly negative accounts of life in Mauritius, with some recounting lower levels of ethnic discrimination, more positive employment experiences, and an ability to sustain a higher standard of living than in Mauritius. On the one hand, the similarities I have outlined in this chapter illus trate that uprooting and relocation—whatever the characteristics of the ‘home’ and ‘host’ societies, and regardless of whether the movement 238 laura jeffery is forced or voluntary—is routinely fraught with difficulties, including feelings of homesickness and concerns about social exclusion. On the other hand, the more varied accounts of onward migration to the UK highlight that there are key distinctions between the historical case of forced displacement from Chagos to Mauritius and the Seychelles and the 21st century option of onward migration to the UK. In the first case, Chagos islanders were forced from their homeland to turbulent late- colonial Mauritius and the Seychelles and had no option of returning to Chagos; in the second case, members of the extended Chagossian com munity can choose whether or not to try their luck in the UK in the rela tively stable early 21st century, and can later reverse this decision through return migration if desired. Reverend Mario Li Hing: Committed to the Chagossian Cause

“We want to help youngsters make the best of their education so they will be able to help their community,” says Mario Li Hing, President of the Protestant Evangelical Church and Director of Scripture Union Indian Ocean/Africa. He explains that “a few years ago, during a time of prayer and fasting, the case of the Chagossians was laid as a burden on our hearts. Since that moment, we have come alongside them and offer them our help and support.” The Reverend started a Bible-based NGO, Mo Pense Toi (I Think and Care about You) which seeks to bring the Chagossian community relief, comfort and hope by equipping and empowering them to enhance their living conditions. The scope of actions includes tuition for students, English reading and writing classes for adults, sponsoring children to go to kindergarten, leadership train ing, Bible study groups, help with the building and renovation of houses, medical assistance, and one-on-one counselling sessions when neces sary. They also provide school materials and participate in raising funds. Together with a Catholic priest, Father Mongelard, Reverend Li Hing accompanied the group of Chagossians that visited three of the Chagos islands in 2006, noting that “though most of the Chagossians are Roman Catholics they have asked me to be their chaplain.” Supporting the Chagossians during the trip was a challenge, according to Reverend Li Hing: “Especially the arrival was very emotional. They have memories of the life on the island.” The BritishI ndian Ocean Territory (BIOT) Admin istrator from the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) also accom panied the group. “We made a request to him for a group of Chagossians to return to the islands to restore the graves, as the cemeteries there were in a much neglected state. This was done in 2008 by a group of eight Chagossians. They focused on the renovation of the cemeteries. Accord ing to the BIOT Administrator the ruined churches do not need renova tion for the time being because nobody is living there.” Speaking about the expulsion of the Chagossians, Reverend Li Hing claims that “the British government as well as the Mauritian government did not foresee the implications of the deal, which was part of the negotiations about independence. A referendum should have been held, 240 reverend mario li hing now it is too late. They had no choice. Their right was taken from them. Nowadays, for the elderly natives the struggle is about compensation, recognition, welfare and their daily livelihoods. They needcompensation, not per se in money, but in resources, like health care, housing and train ing centres. However, the crucial point is about their fundamental right, dignity and the choice to be able to live on their birth place. Chagossians must never renounce their right of return, they need to stand strongly on their point and it should remain their objective. It is not about a choice between return and compensation but it is about both.” The struggle in court has made the next generation aware of their Chagossian identity, according to Reverend Li Hing: “They are proud to be Chagossians and not ashamed to say it, because if they do not, in a certain sense, they will deny their roots.” TheR everend men tions that, in the past, Chagossians were looked down on by Mauritians who called them “Ilois” which connotes ‘backwardness’: people who are underdeveloped. “This has caused a trauma, a sense of being victims and a belief that no one can do anything with them. The children bear this heritage and its consequences: they became part of the marginalised group of Creoles who attend ZEP (Priority Education Zones) schools and they are not motivated to make an effort at school, although a few of them have been able to face the problems.” Also, they are “in transition,” insists Reverend Li Hing, “They have got the feeling ‘this is not our place,’ even though they were born here and are thus Mauritians. Now that they have British passports they say: ‘Let’s leave, if we cannot go to the Chagos islands then we will go to the UK,’ especially when an older brother or sister has already moved. However, those who have opted to be in the UK might still consider living in Chagos or visiting it regularly.” Reverend Li Hing does not want to give up his work for the Chagossians. “Some people say: ‘Oh, these people want money.’ For us it is easy to talk about their case in this way, but we ourselves have not gone through the emotional experience and human tragedy. For them, it is the cry of their hearts. They want their dignity back. They want people to hear and they will never give up!”

By Marry Kooy Longing and Belonging in Real Time: How Chagossian Children in Mauritius Imagine the Chagos Islands

Sandra J.T.M. Evers

The English have taken the land from the Chagossians and made it a dependency of Mauritius. Then the English took Chagos back and the Chagossians came here. The Chagossians were unhappy. That was because their land was pulled away from them. They were not adapted to Mauri tius because they did not know anybody. They did not have much money and no work. Afterwards they almost all died, two or three went to England. Because the English allowed it. And maybe they are also dead. Now the children follow this example and go to England. I will also go there … (Jean, ten years old).1 Jean’s grandparents were born in Chagos and although he did not expe rience the eviction of the Chagossians from the archipelago himself, the memory and consequences of this, live on through him. This chapter concerns the (grand)children of the some 1,500 Chagossians who were relocated to Mauritius, and focuses specifically on children between the ages of nine and twelve. The research is part of a larger cognitive anthropological study cur rently being carried on by the undersigned and her research collaborator, Marry Kooy, investigating perceptions of kinship and family history held by primary school children between the ages of nine and twelve (cf. Kooy 2008).2 Fieldwork for this research was conducted from August 2007 until April 2008 in Port Louis (educational zone I). Methodologies consisted of participant observation, home visits, photo elicitation,

1 To protect the privacy of the children, their names are pseudonyms. 2 I would like to thank Marry Kooy for sharing her research data and discussing this chapter extensively with me. It should be stressed, however, that I am responsible for the interpretations and conclusions of the study as presented in this chapter. We express our appreciation to the Mauritian Ministry of Education, Culture & Human Resources and the Government Teachers Union (GTU) for their assistance during the research. We are grateful to teachers, children, their families and everybody else who participated in this study. 242 sandra j.t.m. evers cognitive tests, and reflexive drawing exercises in which children crea tively expressed their views. In all, more than 250 drawings of pupils with different family backgrounds were collected and discussed with the children. Forty-one Chagossian children (22 girls and 19 boys) pursuing grades five and six, or forming part of the ‘repeaters class’ (pupils who failed the primary school exam) are at the heart of this chapter and represent about 90 percent of all Chagossian children attending these classes. It should be noted that the concept of Chagossian children refers to children who claim to have at least one (great)grandparent (sometimes even parent) who dwelled in the Chagos archipelago. All children in our research identified themselves as being Chagossian despite the fact that they usually were of mixed ancestry (cf. Jeffery and Vine, this volume).3 We will come back to this at the end of the chapter. The chapter begins by introducing two Chagossian girls and their ideas of kinship and Chagos. The conversation below followed one of the drawing exercises, where children were asked to draw the place where ‘the grandparents of their grandparents’ come from: Lilli is a skinny, shy girl with a dark complexion. She has just turned twelve and is in grade six of primary school. She has been drawing with great care and seems eager to discuss her work.

Lilli: You see, this is Chagos. That is the place where my grandparents come from. It is beautiful there. The sun always shines and there are many birds in the sky. They are so free flying around. There is sugar cane, water, fruits on the trees, fish in the sea and always food on the fire. You know people cook with wood there. The houses are made of wood and have grass on the roofs. See that is me looking through the window. I am going to live in Chagos one day. You see, I am all happy there. My father is also happy. Now he is a prisoner and you know, he will be so happy to come with my mother and me to Chagos. You see, … there are no prisons in Chagos. My mother goes and gets the water and then car ries it on her head. That is what my grandmother did there so mum will have to learn that as well. Oh, I guess I will have to practise that also. I have no idea how to do that.

3 as Laura Jeffery rightly pointed out while reviewing this chapter, in our research the definition of Chagossian children does not include the “children” of the first generation Chagossians, who are now often grown-up. In Mauritius this group is conceptually included in the term Zanfan Chagossien. In the context of the primary schools, however, it was usually employed to refer to children in the school and not their parent(s). longing and belonging in real time 243 ife in Chagos ife l Illustration 11. Illustration Lilli, by d rawing 244 sandra j.t.m. evers

SE: Who else will go to Chagos with you? Lilli: My grandfather is already dead but my grandmother will come. She is there as well on the drawing, but you cannot see her. She is resting inside. You see, grandma is very old and cannot walk very well. Now she lays on the bed in our house in Roche Bois, but our house is not as nice as the houses in Chagos. If it rains we all get wet. Grandma will be so much happier in Chagos. Then, eh let me think … I have two brothers as well. But they won’t come with us. One is in England. He worked with my father until he had enough money to go there. I am not sure what he is doing there. My other brother is now doing the work my father used to do. He works at night but I have no idea what kind of work he does. He also wants to go to England. He says Chagos is boring. I tell him he can swim there. But he says he can swim anywhere. I tell him how happy he will be in Chagos. Now he is always angry. He likes beer … a lot. SE: What will you be doing in Chagos? Lilli: I will be doing all kind of important things. Things I cannot do here. My teacher says I am hopeless. I cannot pass the exam. So this will be my last year in school. Then I will have to work. And I will take care of my mother and grandma. They need me. I always feel bad when I go to school. Mum is also sick a lot and then I need to help her. That is why I do not go to school very often. I cannot pass the exam anyway, so it does not really matter. A few weeks after this interview, I meet Lilli with her friend Anne at the public beach of Pereybère, although I must confess I did not immediately recognise her: Lilli: Hi, do you not know who I am? You came to my school and I made a drawing for you. SE: Oh yes, I remember. You look so different now that you are not wear ing your school uniform. Lilli: You mean that I look sexy.

She is wearing a red bikini with pink flowers and a mini skirt that accentu ates her small waist. SE: Yes, I guess that is it. You came all the way from Roche Bois? Lilli: Yes, by bus. A friend paid for me. He is over there.

She is pointing towards a man who looks to be well into his mid-twenties, her senior by more than ten years. Lilli: His friend paid for Anne. Anne and I like the beach.

Anne is one year younger than Lilli and is in grade five. Anne places the origins of her grandparents on Salomon, part of the Chagos islands. longing and belonging in real time 245

Illustration 12. drawing by Anne, life in Salomon 246 sandra j.t.m. evers

During one session, she described her drawing as follows: Anne: This is where my family comes from and where I will live when I am older. I will be very happy there. Here I am swimming in the sea with my friend. There is lots of fish in the sea to eat and lots of fruits in the trees. Look, here are the trees with the coconuts. If we are thirsty we drink the water inside. I think that the friends of my mother also will go with us to Salomon that is why I have put them everywhere. They always come to our house. We all sit outside together. Our house in Roche Bois is of iron and is too small for us all. It only has one room. But in Salomon we will have lots of space. You know … what you see is a bâtiment en étage. People are building this for us right now. It will be beautiful when we go there. I have never been in such a building. But I am sure they make it very strong. We will have proper tables, chairs and beds there. And you know what? We will even have a television. I will have a dog that stands in front of the door to check whether people are allowed to come in. SE: What will you be doing when you live there? Anne: Swim, I would just swim everyday. There is no school. There is no need for it. We will find everything we need right there. That seems so nice. Now my mother always complains we do not have enough money. My dad has no work. She sometimes goes away and then comes back with some money. We buy food for it together. But that does not make her happy. She does not like to work. It makes her sad. So she can also swim the whole day once we are there. We can rest on the beach together. She will not be tired anymore. At night we will sleep in nice beds and when it gets cold, we will have blankets. SE: It sounds like a nice place. Anne: Yes, I cannot wait until I can go. I will not have to go to school and not think about getting money for my mother. I will be so happy. Here we cannot be happy. We have nothing and I think people do not even like us. We are too poor. The analysis of this case and the data of other Chagossian children will form the nexus of this chapter. The above girls see life in Chagos in sharp contrast to their daily realities in Mauritius. Before elaborating on the children’s imagination of Chagos and their family history, we will first take a look at Mauritian society and its constituting ethnic groups. This section focuses on the social and economic position of the Creoles, and Chagossians in particular.

Social Casting of Chagossians as Creoles

Chagossians are popularly classified as members of the Creole category in Mauritius. Creoles are considered to be the descendants of people longing and belonging in real time 247 who were brought in as slaves from mainly East Africa and Madagascar to toil on the sugar plantations. After the abolition of slavery in 1835, followed by a four year ‘apprenticeship,’ they were freed and survived through fishing and other activities (cf. Palmyre 2007). Nowadays, Creoles form about 28 percent of the population of Mauritius. Most of them are Roman Catholics. Interestingly enough, the Creoles compose together with the descendants of the former French Colonial rulers the administrative category of ‘general population.’ These so-called Franco-Mauritians represent about 2 percent of the population. Sino- Mauritians make up 3 percent of the population. Ohters are Hindus (approximately 50 percent) and Muslims (16 percent), principally descendants of former indentured labourers from India who replaced the slave labour upon abolition of slavery in Mauritius (cf. Jeffery and Vine, this volume). In this multicultural society, the perceived connections with former homelands—among which include India and China—are important in the construction of group identities. However, ‘Creoles’ lack “a singular homeland from which to construct an identity” (Boswell 2006, 11). ‘Creole’ is associated with cultural ‘mixing’ and hybridity, therefore cre olization is resisted by many Mauritians. Creolization is equated with being Creole. According to Boswell, Creoles belong to a negatively des ignated category and “their identity has become a resource for the construction of other ethnicities on the island” (Ibid.). Boswell argues that “[t]he homeland ‘requirements’ form a part of dominant group’s discussions on identity and also part of the process necessary to identify subaltern groups. In this context, Creole is a sort of anti-category, useful for other groups to define themselves and as a means to establish hegem ony” (Ibid., cf. Palmyre 2007, 78). Mauritians entertain essentialised ideas about the Creoles: they are people with curly hair, who live in poverty and have social problems, a condition which is seen as a “primordial element of Creole personality”; therefore in public discus sions, instead of looking to causes like colonialism or unemployment, people tend to emphasize that Creoles “are bound to participate in nega tive social behaviour” because “it is in their nature” to do so (Boswell 2006, 159). In the 1990s, the socio-economic situation of the Creoles was sum marised as the ‘malaise Creole,’ or the Creole predicament (Boswell 2006). Currently, however, under the stewardship of the charismatic Catholic priest le père Grégoire, they more assertively claim their rights, reconstruct their identity by tracing their African roots, stress the African origins of sega songs which are so popular in Mauritius, gain in 248 sandra j.t.m. evers political consciousness and challenge ‘state-inspired notions of culture and identity’ (Ibid., 61–76, 150). Chagossians insist that they are not ‘just Creoles’ and have their own culture and particular history. Boswell asserts that Chagossians can be distinguished from the other Creoles, whose ancestors toiled in Mauritius, by analyzing their cultural traditions and practices, which they “regularly invoke by coming together to share a meal dance or reminisce about life in the Chagos archipelago” (Ibid., 54). Johannessen underlines the importance of these narratives as they strengthen notions of belonging (2005, 6, 54). In the narratives of Chagossians about their eviction and current lives, words such as sagren (defined by them as ‘sorrow’), latristes (‘sad ness’) and lamizer (‘misery’ and ‘poverty’) are often used. Johannessen sees these concepts, which refer to different personal experiences, as constituting “an interconnected vocabulary generally agreed upon and possibly communicable” (Ibid., 30, cf. Vine 2006a, 252–255). In her study entitled, “How a plantation became paradise,” Jeffery speaks about “a standardized mythico-historical narrative” (2007, 951) which, when expressed in songs, represents the romanticized collective imagination that is so crucial to the current collective identification as Chagossians. Islands and village ties that existed on the Chagos islands “were severely ruptured” when Chagossians were deported (Vine 2006a, 215). People who originally lived on a scattered archipelago in exile converted their self-image to “an extended group-consciousness” (Johannessen 2005, 22). This process was catalysed by litigation brought against British and US governments, which sought financial compensation and a right of return to the Chagos islands. On 22 October 2008, a House of Lords (UK) judgment struck down the principle of right of return; despite this, Chagossians continue to fight for their recognition as a people claiming the right to live in their homeland. Particularly in legal proceedings, it is crucial that Chagossians are recognized as a definable entity, derived from a common ancestry and culture, in order for a right of return to be recognized. In the past, the British and American governments coun tered Chagossians’ claims to a common ancestry by underlining that their ancestors were merely copra workers whose contracts were termi nated for the simple reason that their services were no longer required. The successful rebuttal of this line of argument naturally hinges upon not melting away into a more generic Creole category. Chagossians’ rec ognition as a people is a linchpin in this; however, these essentialised claims of identity paradoxically hinder Chagossians’ integration in longing and belonging in real time 249

Mauritius and confirm their ‘naturally’ appointed state: living on the margins of Mauritian society. During our fieldwork, it was notable that Chagossians are seen as people who had curly hair, and were considered to be lazy, unemployed and socially marginalized. They would purportedly spend their days playing drums, singing and dancing, as this quote of a male teacher of Indian descent symbolises: “They are just like Creoles but ten times worse. They are lazy and do not like to work for their money. They resent living in Mauritius as they were betrayed and paid the price for our independence. They await their return to Chagos. In the meantime, they try to skin Mauritius and the Mauritians as much as they can, play their music and live in the same backward way as their slave ancestors did.” Vine speaks about a “double exclusion” as they repre sent “the bottom of the bottom”; Chagossians are excluded “first, as Chagossians who gave up their homeland so the rest of Mauritius could have its independence, and second, as members of the minority Afro-Mauritian Creole population” (Vine 2006a, 227, 233, cf. Eriksen 1986, 59). Such images of Chagossians, and more generally of Creoles, are rein forced by ethnic policies of the state. Eisenlohr stresses that governmen tal policies concerning language, which emphasize innate links between people and their ancestral places and spaces, reproduce ethnic bounda ries: “ … state institutions explicitly encourage the cultivation and pub lic celebration of diasporic links, expending significantly more resources and effort on supporting ethnicized ancestral cultural traditions and ancestral languages than on the promotion of a national public culture transcending ethnic boundaries” (Eisenlohr 2006, 28, cf. Palmyre 2007, 49). He argues that ‘ancestral’ (principally Indian) languages are pro moted, while Creole—which is dominant in daily conversations— receives hardly any state support (Ibid., 29). In primary schools, classes in languages like Hindi, Mandarin and Arabic are offered, which are mainly attended by children of that specific background. English is the language of instruction. In history and geography classes, children are taught the basics of Mauritian history and learn about the background of the diverse popu lation. In school textbooks for Standard IV to VI, the history of Mauritius is described in a few chapters. First it is mentioned that Mauritius was discovered by Portuguese traders and then visited by Dutch sailors who settled in the island, after which the French came who developed agri culture. It is described that slaves were brought from Madagascar, 250 sandra j.t.m. evers

Mozambique, Senegal, and India, who had to work very hard in the fields and who lived in slave huts made of wood and thatch. Slaves who ran away were severely punished by their masters when they were caught (Ministry of Education, History & Geography Std V 2008, 54, 55). The children of the last year of primary school learn about the British, the abolition of slavery and the arrival of Indian labourers. Chinese shops on sugar estates are also mentioned. The last page is about the independence of Mauritius (Ministry of Education, History & Geography Std VI n.d.). Throughout the curriculum, emphasis is on national pride and ‘unity in diversity.’ However, this seems more wishful thinking rather than a substantiated argument, as this point is not fleshed out for the children. In the official teaching on diversity, the focus is on different religious festivals, and children are taught to respect the places of worship, whether they be temples, mosques, churches, Tamil temples, or pago das. However, the question remains as to whether the children really learn to understand and respect each other. Mauritian society is highly ethnicized, exemplified by intra-ethnic socialising and marriage pat terns (Eriksen 1998, 49, 122). As Mauritian sociologist Dr Sheila Bunawaree emphasised during an interview about educational policies: “Children have no knowledge of each other: they will always see the other as external to their own experiences and this can cause new iden tity politics. Teachers teach from their own background and have little or no training in intercultural education.” While at school, children learn about their specific origins, lan guages and (material) culture, creoles miss the explicit anchoring in place. They also do not have founding myths or heroes (Palmyre 2007, 78). Their history is written for them, which is symbolised in the school manuals where Creole history is portrayed in one-dimensional terms: they were the slaves of Mauritius. What is taught about the his tory of slavery is reflected in some of the stories of the more than two hundred children with different family backgrounds we spoke with. They related the experiences of people who were forced to work hard, and who were punished if they did not. One boy and one girl said slaves’ ears were cut of for punishment. The children sometimes referred to the ‘slaves’ as “prisoners,” which might be inspired by their contemporary experiences as many children know people who are in prison. It is important to note that only one boy of all Chagossian children made reference to Africa, despite the fact that most Chagossians have African ancestors. longing and belonging in real time 251

In the History and Geography curricula, there is virtually no atten tion paid to history of the Chagossians. Only in the textbook for Standard VI is the Chagos archipelago mentioned: “Some people from Mauritius went to live and work in these islands. The main activity of the islands was fishing. In Agalega and in the Chagos archipelago, there were also many coconut trees. Coconuts were sent to Mauritius to make oil. Some of the islands also sent guano (fertiliser) to Mauritius” (n.d., 33). In Philip’s Atlas of Mauritius for Primary and Lower Secondary Schools (2007) there is a small map of Diego Garcia in the section “outer islands”; it shows a US Military Base and several names of places, some with the added label: “ruin.”

The Harsh Reality of Life in Mauritius

The daily lives of Chagossian children are full of challenges. Most Chagos islanders and their descendants live in the poor neighbourhoods of Port Louis and surroundings: Cassis, Roche Bois, Pointe aux Sables, and Baie du Tombeau. These areas, principally inhabited by Creoles, are generally considered to be dangerous (cf. Boswell, 2006, 140). Upon their arrival in Mauritius, Chagossians encountered a society already struggling with unemployment. Job security on the plantations was no longer a given. In the sugar industry, additional workers were not needed. There was no copra industry to work in, and competition in fishing was high. The Mauritian economy was being diversified with manufactures in new Export Processing Zones and increasing tourism, though jobs in these sectors demanded more educational background than the majority of Chagossians had (Vine 2006a, 217, 223, 231). According to a survey of Vine, just over a third of the first generation and less than two-thirds of the second generation were working in 2002/2003, most of them in manual labor jobs, as dockers, domestics, casual construction workers, and factory workers. Vine points out that Chagossians are chronically indebted, which incites many to resort to crime, particularly petty theft, drug trafficking and prostitution. He writes, “Prostitution appears as an ongoing employment opportunity of last resort for Chagossians with relatively few other opportunities,” (2006a, 224, cf. Johannessen 2005, 22, for more details see also Jeffery and Vine, this volume). Children feel the impact of this poverty and the social problems they encounter. A boy translated life in Mauritius in a drawing (illustration 13) 252 sandra j.t.m. evers

Illustration 13. drawing on life in Mauritius that resonates well with the difficulties Chagossians now encounter: a person with a sad face who has to beg for money and food. In their drawings and stories, the children also often report on their broken family units. Based on their stories, it seems that the majority of children lived in matrifocal families where particularly grandmothers, mothers and aunts acted as the household authority figures. Children also indicated that they rarely resided with both natural parents. The father had often left the house when the children were still very young, during which time the mother was typically supported by her sisters and mother. It should be stressed however that there might very well be a distinction between the image that children portray of themselves and longing and belonging in real time 253 their living situation on the one hand, and reality on the other—as we did not visit all the children in their homes. Our focus in the study was on the children’s perceptions of their family history and current lives. Factual studies on the livelihoods of the Chagossians have been under taken by Jeffery 2006a and Vine 2009.

The challenges of Chagossian children in primary school

Education is highly valued by most Mauritians and seen as part of the route out of poverty. Many Creoles however feel marginalized in the education system and mostly do not profit from the possibilities of secondary and tertiary education. The vast majority of Creole children already fail in their educational trajectory at primary school. As Palmyre states: “Dans le domaine de l’éducation primaire, l’hyper-compétitivité accroissait d’année en année le nombre d’enfants qui ne décrochaient pas le C.P.E. (Certificat d’Ėtudes Primaires) et les chiffres révélèrent qui les enfants créoles y figuraient en grand nombre.A u secondaire, la situation n’était guère plus satisfaisante: peu de jeunes Créoles avaient accès à une éducation de qualité. Leurs chances d’accéder aux études universitaires étaient quasiment nulles” (2007, 37).4 From the age of five, children receive six years of free tuition for pri mary school, which terminates with the Certificate of Primary Education Examination (CPE exam). In 1980, 47.3 percent passed (MES 1991, 10) and in 2006, the percentage rose to 67.9 percent (Ministry of Education, Culture and Human Resources 2008, 34, 35). Primary schools can be divided into two broad categories: schools where more than 40 percent of pupils pass the CPE exam, and schools where less than 40 percent of the children succeed in doing so. The latter category of schools is referred to as ZEP schools (Zones d’Education Prioritaires). In 2007, there were 30 ZEP schools out of 289 primary schools. Unsurprisingly, ZEP schools feature prominently in the poorer quarters of Port Louis. While they are principally frequented by Creole children. Chagossian children also attend these schools. There is no specially designed educational policy

4 Translation: In the field of primary education, fierce competition is increasing the number of children who fail to earn the C.P.E. (Certificat d’Ėtudes Primaires) and fig ures reveal that a large number of failing students are Creole. At the secondary level, the situation is scarcely better. Few Creoles have access to quality education. Their chances of entering university-level studies are virtually non-existent (2007, 37). 254 sandra j.t.m. evers for Chagossian pupils as they are deemed to share poor school perform ance with their ‘fellow’ Creoles. The creation of the ZEP schools was part of a wider educational reform that was implemented at the onset of the 21st century. The ZEP project is based on the philosophical premise that positive reinforce ment is required to create favourable learning conditions for children living in the less developed regions (ODEROI 2008, 8). Since 2004, every ZEP school has a liaison officer who makes an inventory of the social situation of each child at school. Many of these children have problems at home such as drugs, alcohol, prostitution, and broken families. While working in these schools, we were confronted on a daily basis with the challenges that the teachers face in their class rooms. Children seem to have never learned how to settle differences with words alone; regularly, children jumped on and started hitting each other. Violence seemed to be their principle avenue of communication, for boys and girls alike. As a teacher remarked, “If I turn my head for a second, somebody will be wounded.” Teachers are thus more busy keep ing the children under control than actually teaching course content, as another teacher confirmed: “We learned how to teach the programme, but not how to deal with these children. They come from disturbed homes.” Many teachers mentioned that they fear for their own pupils and their social environment (cf. Hollup 2004, 31). A teacher described this as a vicious circle: “They are marginalized and think everybody is their enemy. The children find that they are treated as animals here. If you are an adult it maybe does not matter as much: a dirty toilet, con stant noise.5 But for the children it does matter. They are only nine, ten years old. We do not know what is going on in their tiny heads. Maybe they feel excluded. Then they get restless and start hitting.” Her colleague agreed but insisted that poverty further exacerbates the difficult situa tion of the children, adding, “At home children do not spend time on homework. Some have responsibilities like taking care of siblings, clean ing and cooking” (cf. also Jeffery, this volume). This vision of ZEP schools and their pupils appears to be held by an overwhelming majority of teachers, and is further confirmed by a 2008 Observatoire des Droits de l’Enfant de la Région de l’Océan Indien (ODEROI) report about the ZEP schools. The report discloses that most

5 The teacher refers here to the noise produced because the school is being renovated. longing and belonging in real time 255 children live in very low-income households and only 76.7 percent of them have received daily breakfast prior to attending school. The level of education of caregivers is minimal; among father/male guardians, 14 percent did not finish primary school and 45 percent had completed six or fewer years of education. Forty percent of the children received little or no help with their homework (ODEROI 2008, 19). Teachers provided the following additional explanations for the poor performance of their pupils: automatic promotion of pupils (this refers to the system that children always pass to the next year even if they do not have the com petences for this class); curriculum not adapted to the pupils; absentee ism and lack of pupils’ interest in their studies. While classes are conducted in English, less than 1 percent of the children speak English at home (Ribouet 2008, 11 cf. Ministry of Education, Culture and Human Resources 2008, 18). This makes understanding the teacher and the school books a major challenge to many pupils. Against this backdrop, it is unsurprising that 62,2 percent of the teachers at the ZEP schools have expressed the desire to be transferred to a non-ZEP school (ODEROI 2008, 15, 31). In the meantime, many children leave primary school illiterate, a problem that does not only apply to ZEP schools. An 2003 UNICEF report stresses that “[a]nalysis of the literacy results showed that there are serious deficiencies in writing expressions without mistakes. In fact, the mean score in this domain was 47.8 percent. The mean score for the domains of vocabulary, reading and comprehension, and grammar were 89 percent, 68 percent and 60 percent respectively” (UNESCO/UNICEF 2003, 115). The Ministry confirms on its website that “[i]t is not accept able that, after having spent six years in primary school, many children cannot read and write properly a simple sentence and cannot perform simple arithmetic exercises” (Ministry of Education, Culture and Human Resources 2009). In view of this daunting reality, the Ministry of Education, Culture and Human Resources is banking on the ZEP school programme as it sees many advantages to this concept. In its defence, the Ministry points in particular to the efforts undertaken to gear courses more to individual needs. To validate this argument, the Ministry points out increased overall pass rates of the primary school exams in ZEP schools, from 31.4 percent in 2004 to 36.5 percent in 2006. However, the Ministry recognises that there is a wide variety between individual ZEP schools, and that the performance of girls (44.5 percent) exceeds that of boys (29.7 percent) (Ministry of Education, Culture and Human Resources 2008, 36). 256 sandra j.t.m. evers

The report further states that the distribution of pupils’ pass rates at the CPE level—analysed over the past six years—is ‘U-shaped,’ which is very unusual. Many children pass with either ‘A’ score or ‘F’ score, while a low number of pupils graduate with the intermediate scores of ‘B’ to ‘E’ (Ibid., 24). This means that a category of children, those in the ‘F’ zone, do not manage to acquire basic skills at all. We worked with teachers and children in several ZEP schools and it cannot be overstated how much respect we developed for the efforts and good intentions of teachers and liaisons officers. It is clear that the ZEP policies sprung from noble philosophies; study data however confirms that many children in ZEP schools think they have little chance to learn in school, and many feel stigmatised by the label ‘ZEP pupil,’ which they consider to be a confirmation of their negative self image. As one Chagossian girl (ten years old) pointed out so strikingly: “I have a real problem. Nobody wants me, not at home and not at school. I am at a ZEP school. That is a special school for stupid children like me.” The negative image of the ZEP schools has also been targeted as a problem by the Ministry: “In the case of ZEP schools, what needs to be removed is the negative branding/labelling but without losing the added value it has provided to the education system. In other words, the spotlight with regard ZEP schools must be taken away from ‘failure’ by promoting measures to enhance the ‘successes’ of ZEP students and schools.” In the future, the Ministry wants to “gradually phase out ZEP schools with integration of ZEP best practices in all pri mary schools.” It is also stated that the school “culture” and mindset of teachers, parents, students, and policy-makers has to be changed as it has been influenced by the “branding and labelling of students and schools.” It is thus argued that “[s]tronger foundations at the lower levels of the system must ensure that all children acquire confidence in their learning abilities to ensure that they will succeed at the higher levels of the system, and be prepared to enter a competitive job-market with a respect and thirst for knowledge that will maintain them throughout their life, during market fluctuations and employment diversity. The only way to ensure this is by creating a culture of achievement through out the system, and at all levels of the system. Therefore a moving from a ‘one-size-fits-all’ culture to a ‘culture of valuing the individual learning achievements of each and every student’ is needed.” Furthermore, the Ministry wishes to change the CPE exam from a “selection exercise for admission to secondary school” to a “record of achievement for each pupil,” and gradually introduce continuous assessment (Ibid., 38, 61). longing and belonging in real time 257

Furthermore, the Ministry promises to ensure “the inclusion of social skills for self-improvement in a multicultural society and lifelong skills” (Ibid., 60). The Ministry envisages a national campaign in which the teachers are the principal target group (Ibid., 26, 27, 39, 40, 59) as they have to put it all in practice. The problem is that the soothing words of the report and proposed improvements in the ZEP-system seem very distant from real ities in the class rooms, where teachers are preoccupied with keeping the pupils under control. The report skips over the fact that the poor per formance of children in the ZEP schools is related to economic and social challenges faced by children in everyday life: problems which pre vent them from studying properly or even going to school. Thus, the failure of Creole and Chagossian children who frequent ZEP schools is also due to the fact that, on the one hand, children and their caregivers feel that they have fewer chances than others due to their identification as Creoles (which also feeds their own insecurities), and on the other hand, children sometimes seem less motivated to engage intensively in the educational trajectory because they predict that they will fail anyway and never succeed in acquiring government scholar ships. When this double-edged sword is seen alongside the challenging living conditions (cf. illustration 14) and school environments children navigate through, it is not difficult to understand why Creole children and their caregivers have less faith in the educational system and pros pects for succeeding than other groups in Mauritius.

Away from daily realities: imagining Chagos

Chagossian children seem to dream of a better life. Their perspectives on what this could entail and where such a state could be achieved in reality will be discussed later in this chapter. First, we will look at the images that Chagossian children entertain of the place where their ancestors dwelled. Thirty-two of the children drew Chagos when asked to depict the place where ‘the grandparents of their grandparents come from.’ They named this place Chagos, Chagos zil (Chagos island), Diego Garcia, or simply Diego. A few noted specifications likeS alomon or Diego, le Nord. The other Chagossian children made drawings of the neighbourhood they live in; two children drew another place in Mauritius, while one child drew Rodrigues, one La Reunion and one Africa. Despite not always drawing Chagos, all children referred to their ancestry in the 258 sandra j.t.m. evers aniel (eleven years) showing Chagossian dwellings just after the floods of March 2008 March floods of the after just dwellings Chagossian showing years) (eleven aniel Picture taken by D taken by Picture Illustration 14. Illustration longing and belonging in real time 259 archipelago in the stories about their drawings or in the focus groups that were held. The majority could narrate about Chagos in more or less detail. Two girls gave a description (“the place where my grandmother stayed” and “where my grandparents stayed”) instead of the actual name of the place that they had visualised in the drawing, though in their stories, it became clear that they spoke about Chagos. Only two girls and one boy said that they could not relate anything, as one of the girls put it: “I don’t know Diego, I have never been there, my father did not tell me.” Before analysing the data of the children, some typical drawings and stories are presented below:

“Very quickly, the fishermen come back home in that island because there is a lot of fish there” (Marie, twelve years old, illustration 15). Marie has sketched life on Diego. She uses bright colours which reflect the happiness typified by life on the island. Her grandparent’s house has a thatched roof and wooden doors and win dows. In the front, they have a lawn and on the side a poultry den, where they keep chickens. The coconut tree, a standard item included in most drawings by Chagossian children, is also part of this landscape. The grandparents lead a relaxed life in Diego. When they wake up, they first savour their beautiful environment. The only major task her grand parents have to accomplish during the day is washing their clothes at riverside. Lianne (nine years old, illustration 16) also has ideas about life in Chagos: I have drawn my grandmother, my grandfather and mother. The house has a bathroom, and flowers, the sun is there and some clouds, there is a coco nut pie and a vegetable garden … Chagos is the place of my grandmother. She is dead now. I want to go to Chagos to see the house of my grandmother. Lianne also imagines Chagos to be a perfect place where houses are com fortable and people are happy. The vegetable garden represents the secure idea that there is no hunger in Chagos.

While all children drew houses, life was principally portrayed outdoors in a rural setting surrounded by the sea. There were no shops, no offices and no cars, with the exception of two children, a boy and a girl, who did mention the presence of cars. The boy also referred to a garage and motor cycles. Only one girl mentioned that there was a city in Chagos. 260 sandra j.t.m. evers

Illustration 15. drawing by Marie, life in Diego Garcia longing and belonging in real time 261 ife in Chagos ife l Illustration 16. Illustration Lianne, by d rawing 262 sandra j.t.m. evers

The majority of the children talked about the activities of people liv ing in Chagos. They mentioned the washing of their clothes, collecting and preparing food (only one girl spoke of hunting in this regard), fish ing, fetching water and wood, cultivating vegetables, picking fruits (par ticularly coconuts), and feeding the animals. Most children related that there were animals in Chagos, such as birds, fish, chickens, cows, don keys, sheep, goats and dogs. Some depicted them as well, but others found it difficult to draw more complicated animals and preferred birds and fish, which they claimed to be much easier to depict on paper. Physical aspects of imagined Chagos, all representing the good life, like the idyllic environment, the animals, trees and food, were central to the drawings and conversations about Chagos. The life-styles of people in Chagos were described in leisurely terms. Children indicated that food is readily available, leaving ample time for relaxation. In the drawings and stories of the children, people thus spend their time sitting, resting, walking, swimming, and particularly watch ing television. This was an indication that their imagination of the past could be integrated into the present and future perfectly. It is remarkable that none of the children mentioned the copra planta tions or enslavement of their ancestors. The only data noted on less ideal realities of life in Chagos concerned a girl who said that people there have no money and that she would like to help them. Another girl said that she was reluctant to go to Chagos as her cousin there would not want to play with her. Why this would be the case could not be discerned. Thus, for the overwhelming majority of the children, Chagos is a beautiful place, where flowers, fruit trees, vegetables, animals (particu larly birds), and fish are plentiful. These representations of Chagos ech oed the narratives of parents and grandparents, who portrayed Chagos as a paradise, conveniently omitting the difficulties of slavery and plan tation life from their stories (cf. Jeffery 2007).

Longing and Belonging

Narratives about Chagos principally come through the children via their female kin. Grandmothers, with whom many children live, are crucial in this regard, not only as caregivers but also as principal interlocutors where it concerns the transmission of the fate of the Chagossians. It was a group of grandmothers who first drew attention to the harsh socio-economic circumstances of the Chagossians, when eight Chagos sian women engaged in a hunger strike in Port Louis in March 1981. longing and belonging in real time 263

They were supported in their cause by hundreds of principally female demonstrators (cf. Vine, 2006, 299). These women succeeded in placing the Chagossian fate, both nationally and internationally, on the political agenda by leading demonstrations and playing key roles in court hear ings. Behind the scene, they also keep the Chagossian struggle alive by passing it on to their children and grandchildren. Currently, the pre- eminent high profile activist leading the Chagossian cause is Olivier Bancoult (the son of Rita Bancoult, who was one of the first major activ ists). Many children know of Olivier Bancoult and see him as a father figure. As one girl remarked, “Bancoult told us that we will have to go back to Chagos. So if he tells us the time has come, we will go.” Most Chagossian children see themselves as part of a bigger group of Chagossians, and this conception is important to their self-identification. They derive a certain pride from being Chagossian, and not merely Creole. As one girl explained: “Everybody thinks that I am just an ordi nary Creole, but I am not, I am Chagossian.” In this regard, we were struck by the fact that it was not uncommon for teachers to be unaware of the Chagossian origin of children in their own classes. As one teacher remarked after a drawing session with these pupils: “I had no idea that they come from Chagos and that they are intelligent enough to under stand the assignment and to make such a beautiful drawing.”6 In addition, the majority of Chagossian children referred to the sad ness of their grandparents. They deem it as essential that they return to Chagos in the near future, as a boy framed it: “Grandfather would like to go back because when he left his island he was crying.” In this respect, two key concepts recur in virtually all conversations with the children: Happiness (boner) and Togetherness (ansam). It is impressive to witness how well children can piece together the core elements of the socio- economic position of their kin. The eviction from Chagos is described as the breaking apart of kin groups. The eventual return to Chagos by grand parents, parents, uncles, and aunts (now dispersed between Mauritius, the Seychelles and the UK (Chagos Refugees Group 2008, 12) is envis aged as a family reunion. In Chagos, they will all live happily together. Almost all Chagossian children included people in their drawings, whom they referred to as grandparents, great-grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, parents, brothers, and sisters. ‘Friends,’ ‘children’ and ‘other women’ were each mentioned once, though all the other people in

6 It should be mentioned that with ‘they’ in the second part of the sentence, the teacher referred to all children in his class and not only to the Chagossian children. 264 sandra j.t.m. evers the pictures are referred to within the frame of kinship. That being said, it was principally the girls who drew and narrated in most detail about the family they would dwell with in Chagos, and in their narratives, they expressed their longing to meet relatives that were living elsewhere, usu ally the Seychelles or England. The drawings and statements below are testimony to their ideas. Elle (ten years old, illustration 17) wrote down the names of family mem bers who would all be living in Chagos together. Angie (ten years old, illustration 18) listed numerous members of her fam ily who would live in Diego (the ‘o’ no longer fit on her drawing): “ … I will become a singer when I live there. My uncle and aunt will go there, the family of my mother’s side and my father’s side. Only my grandfather can not go there, he is dead.” Rozy (nine years old, illustration 19) has also drawn family members: “Here you see my mother, my father, grandmother and grandfather. There are flowers in the house, television, door, coconut cake, the sun, a window and a table.” Aurelie (eleven years old, illustration 20) placed herself in the past, present and future at the same time by saying that her father took her to Chagos: “I helped my father collecting straw to build the house and I helped him to take all the animals to the sea for a bath and then feed them. Back home I helped my mother with collecting wood and cooking food. I also helped my father with hunting and picking coconuts.” All her family is depicted in her representation of Chagos; her grandparents on her father’s side are old and therefore portrayed with their canes. Thus, the children’s drawings, and those of the girls in particular, are permeated with the longing for lost relatives. They miss their fathers, but also family members who live far away from them: “I have never seen my grandmother from my father’s side; she lives in the Seychelles.” Statements like this were common. Family unity is symbolised by the many drawings of family members all living under one roof. In photo elicitation exercises during field research, children principally photo graphed family members. However, here there is also a noticeable gender difference; while girls photographed their household members, boys seemed more interested in visualising their material environ ment (principally Chagossian houses) and their brothers or, in one case, their brother’s motor-cycle (cf. picture of Daniel). During the photo elicitation assignment, Daniel wished to be photographed with his brother and his brother’s motor cycle (photo is made anony mous by author). longing and belonging in real time 265 ife in Chagos ife l Illustration 17. Illustration Elle, by d rawing 266 sandra j.t.m. evers ife in Chagos ife l ngie, ngie, Illustration 18. Illustration A by d rawing longing and belonging in real time 267 ife in Chagos ife l Illustration 19. Illustration Rozy, by d rawing 268 sandra j.t.m. evers ife in Chagos ife l urelie, urelie, Illustration 20. Illustration A by d rawing longing and belonging in real time 269 aniel of his brother and his brother’s motor cycle motor brother’s his and brother his of aniel Picture by D by Picture Illustration 21. Illustration 270 sandra j.t.m. evers

Conclusion

Chagossian children refer to Chagos as ‘mo pei’ (‘my country’) or ‘zot pei’ (‘their country’). They long for an idyllic place to which they belong. Chagos is portrayed in opposite terms to life in Mauritius, which is con sidered hard, poor and sad. The great majority of children said they would like to go to Chagos, although not all of them would necessary like to take up permanent residence there. What is essential to their sense of themselves, however, is their link to Chagos. The fact that most children are of mixed ancestry was marginal in their drawings and narratives. When asked to draw the place where ‘the grandparents of their grandparents’ came from, thirty-two children depicted Chagos. They all referred to their roots in the archipelago, which forms the kernel of their identity as Chagossians. Children seemed proud of this identity and the way it distinguishes them from the Creoles in Mauritius. This is also expressed in the fact that children’s narratives of their family histories originate in Chagos, not in Africa. The eviction of Chagossians from the Chagos archipelago was portrayed as a cata clysmic event and determining factor of what makes them Chagossians; however, it also severed them from the geographical unity of the group. The family reunion in one central location is important to all Chagossian children, though the consequences derived from this differ between boys and girls. Girls feel a tremendous responsibility for the well-being of their fam ily. They have strenuous tasks at home and, as Lilli also mentions in the opening case, have to deal with feelings of guilt when they leave their family to go to school. Some of the girls cling to the prospect of living in Chagos one day, and presented their stories while smiling. Even with the very real constraints to their agency, the girls do find ways to develop their own coping strategies in conclave with each other and they derive a certain amount of pleasure from attending school and their leisure time. When life becomes too difficult to deal with, they can day-dream about Chagos. Despite also mentioning the importance of family, boys in general deem the possession of wealth to be their ticket to a happy future. They want to copy the ambitions of their brothers or other male family mem bers. They see money as the solution to their problems, opening the door to the acquisition of material wealth. As one boy remarked: “many went to England, I will follow this example. First I will make lots of money, buy many things like a motorcycle and a mobile phone. People longing and belonging in real time 271 will think I am important then. When I am really grown up, then I can go to Britain and join my older brother there. That will be a good life.” This route is a real option for Chagossians, as many do qualify for both Mauritian and the British nationality. The children are dependent on adults who decide for them where to stay or go; this was also indicated in the stories of the children who referred to their relatives or Olivier Bancoult. The feeling of dependency on others and lack of control of their own fate is also experienced by adults, who often have few illusions that they can really improve their lives in Mauritius. Moreover, even the decision to return to Chagos is not theirs to make. Boys and girls equally share the idea that Chagos is currently pre pared for them (cf. case of Anne and her drawing). They were unable to say who exactly is building houses and roads for them, though all seemed to entertain the possibility of an imminent return. If ever they will be allowed to return, the question remains, however, as to how many Chagossians will turn up when the opportunity for the longed for home coming to paradise actually arises in real time.

About the Authors

Dr Stephen Allen, BA, LLM, PhD, Barrister, is a Lecturer in the Law school at Brunel University (UK). His research interests include Inter national Law and Public Law, with particular focus on areas of state hood, territoriality, self-determination, and the rights of indigenous peoples. He is a member of the International Law Association’s Com mittee on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. He has acted as consult ant on the International Law aspects of the Bancoult litigation in the English Courts. Recent publications: -2007. Looking Beyond the Bancoult Cases: International Law and the Prospect of Resettling the Chagos Islands. Human Rights Law Review 7(3): 441–482. -2008. International Law and the Resettlement of the (Outer) Chagos Islands. Human Rights Law Review 8(4): 683–702.

Professor Jocelyn Chan Low is Associate Professor and Head of depart ments of History and Political Science at the University of Mauritius. Formerly serving as Director of the Mauritian Cultural Centre, he is presently a member of the International Scientific Committee of the Slave Route Project (UNESCO). His research interests include the social and political history of Mauritius and the South West Indian Ocean.

Dr Sandra J.T.M. Evers is associate professor and senior researcher at the Department of Social and Cultural Anthropology, VU University Amsterdam. She specializes in Africa and South West Indian Ocean studies, with a particular focus on Madagascar, the Seychelles and Mauritius. Dr Evers’ principal areas of research cover the anthropology of children, (forced) migration, slavery, memory and cognition, frontier societies within the context of globalization, natural resource manage ment, poverty, and sustainable development. She is the director of a joint research programme on natural resource management and poverty between the Department of Social and Cultural Anthropology (VU University Amsterdam) and the Institut de Civilisations/Musée d’Art et Archéologie (Université d’Antananarivo). She also acts as convener of an international working group on the anthropology of children: www.anthropologyofchildren.net 274 about the authors

Professor Vinesh Hookoomsing is former Pro Vice Chancellor of Research and Consultancy at the University of Mauritius. He is a professor of lin guistics and currently specializes in the fields of language, education and cultural studies, with a special focus on Creole and diaspora societies. His involvement in the Chagossians’ struggle dates back to the 1980s; Hookoomsing is a member of the Chagos Solidarity Trust Fund (CSTF) in Mauritius and a close collaborator of the Chagos Refugees Group. He is currently working on a Chagos heritage and culture project under joint development by the CSTF and the newly formed Chagos Training and Resource Centre.

Dr Laura Jeffery is a lecturer in Social Anthropology at the School of Social and Political Science of the University of Edinburgh (UK). Her ESRC-funded doctoral research in Mauritius and Seychelles focused on Chagossian narratives of exclusion and belonging, the politics of victimhood, changing representations of homeland, collective identifi cation, community mobilisation, and political and legal struggles for compensation and the right to return. Her Leverhulme-funded post doctoral research in Crawley (West Sussex) focused on reformulations of ‘home’ and ‘homeland’ in relation to strategies of migration, integra tion and non-integration among Chagossians who have moved to the UK since being awarded UK citizenship 2002. She currently holds an ESRC Research Fellowship to explore debates between conflicting stakeholders—indigenous peoples, conservation groups and govern ing bodies— regarding issues of climate change, environmental conser vation, sustainable development, eco-tourism, military security, and human (re)settlement.

Steffen F. Johannessen is a PhD candidate in social anthropology at the German Martin Luther University of Halle-Wittenberg. His project and field research among the Chagossian diaspora has been financed by and integrated into the interdisciplinary Graduate School of “Africa and Asia in World Reference Systems” (now “Cultures and Societies in Motion”) and the department of Integration and Conflict at the Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology in Halle/Saale. Central themes of research include identity politics and ethnic mobilization, pilgrimage, memory and tradition, migration and diaspora, postcolonial studies, inter/nationalism, multiculturalism, neoliberalism, and development.

Marry Kooy is a freelance journalist who holds a Masters degree in Social and Cultural Anthropology from VU University Amsterdam, where she about the authors 275 worked under the supervision of Dr Sandra Evers. She is also part of the organising team which regularly convenes international seminars on the anthropology of children. Currently she is pursuing a second international Masters degree in “Christian Studies of Science and Society” in the department of Philosophy at VU University.

Dr Maureen Tong defended her PhD thesis in international law at the University of Strasbourg (France) on the right of Chagossians to self- determination and restitution. Her research included several visits to Chagossians living in Mauritius and Seychelles, and was hosted by Richard Gifford, the long time legal representative of Chagossians for court cases in the United Kingdom and the European Court of Human Rights. She also undertook research at the United Nations Special Com mittee of 24 (Decolonisation) in New York. Tong is currently the Head of the Thabo Mbeki Institute African Leadership Institute (TMALI). Tong co-authored the Conceptual Framework Document on the Rights of Indigenous Populations and Communities in Africa published by the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights and the International Working Group on Indigenous Affairs (IWGIA).

Dr David Vine is assistant professor of anthropology at American University in Washington, DC. He is the author of Island of Shame: The Secret History of the U.S. Military Base on Diego Garcia (Princeton University Press, 2009). He is co-author (with the Network of Concerned Anthropologists) of the Counter-Counterinsurgency Manual, or Notes on Demilitarizing American Society (Prickly Paradigm Press, 2009). His other writing has appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Guardian (London), Mother Jones online, the Chronicle of Higher Education, International Migration, Foreign Policy in Focus, and Human Rights Brief, among others.

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Index

Afghanistan xi, 9, 35, 217, 229 British Royal Marines 201 Africa House of Lords xiv, 6, 101, 102, 127, African ancestors/∼ancestry/∼descent/ 130, 136, 137, 140, 141, 146, ∼origin(s)/∼roots 17, 20, 45, 46, 88, 150–152, 157, 159, 160, 164, 176, 95, 96, 97, 120, 121, 210, 247, 250 218, 221, 222, 248 African continent/∼nation/∼States Queen xiv, 32, 34, 72, 109, 117, ix, xii, 1, 2, 3, 14, 17, 28, 32, 34, 52, 137–139, 146, 157, 159–162, 66, 70, 87, 107, 114, 119, 161, 165, 171, 178, 218 166, 167, 171, 174, 175, 180, 210, Royal Air Force 28, 59, 70 228, 239, 247, 250, 257, 270 Afro-Creoles 90, 95–97, 102, 247 Camp Justice xi, 35 Africans/African people/∼slaves 11, Caribbean 72 21, 45, 87, 94, 108, 170 Cassis 81, 91, 197, 251 African Union xii, xiii, 166, Catholic(ism) x, 3, 26, 29, 41, 47, Agalega x, xi, 3, 16, 28, 31, 33, 41, 48, 197, 201, 208, 210, 212, 222, 229, 50, 53, 71, 109, 110, 177, 251 230, 239, 247 Alexis, Charlesia 81–82, 100, 153, cemetery 27, 28, 47, 56, 59, 204, 208, 181, 182 210, 213 ancestors xiv, 5, 11, 12, 36–38, 85, 106, Chagos (see also: excision, visit) 154, 178, 182–183, 184, 199–201, Chagos-Agalega Ltd. x, xi, 31, 205–215, 248–250, 257, 262 33, 109 apprenticeship x, 20, 87, 247 Chagos Creole 12, 26, 118 Chagos Environment Network Bancoult, Olivier/Bancoult (CEN) 1, 2 case/∼judgment/∼litigation xii–xv, Chagos Islanders Case (CA) xiii, 5, 7, 8, 11, 34, 36, 56, 82, 84, 100, 5, 127, 132, 134, 151, 176 105, 127–152, 153–156, 157–159, Chagos Refugees Group (CRG) xii, 172, 182, 186, 188, 204, 206, 218, xiii, xiv, xv, 2, 7, 8, 11, 36, 57, 82, 230, 263, 271 100, 101, 105, 107, 123, 153, 154, Bancoult, Rita 153, 263 178, 182, 186–188, 196–200, 204, belonging (sense of) 117, 194, 195, 221, 223, 230, 263 205–207, 220, 233, 241–271 Chagos Social Committee xii, 56, Bérenger, Paul 81, 189 122, 198 British (see also: UK) Chagos Support Association xiii, 178 British Dependent Territory children xii, xiii, xv, 5, 6, 19, 24, 28, (BDT) xii, 220 38, 45, 47, 50, 53, 93, 98, 103, 105, British East India Company ix, 15 106, 108, 111, 112, 114, 115, 121, British High Commissioner 92, 213 219–223, 225, 232, 233, 235, 236, British Indian Ocean Territory 239–240, 241–271 (BIOT) xi–xiv 1, 3, 4, 12, 16, 32, Chinese 11, 13, 25, 29, 87, 88, 95, 250 33, 61, 68–74, 77–79, 92, 98, 99, church 12, 29, 31, 53, 56, 197, 203, 205, 109, 110, 114, 123, 124, 127–152, 208, 210, 211, 229, 230, 239, 250 157–159, 164–166, 168–179, CIA 35, 60 186–189, 204, 207, 222, 239 coconut ix, 12, 15–17, 19, 23–26, 28, 29, British Nationality Act xii, 129, 36, 43, 46, 47, 48, 84, 102, 108, 202, 132, 220, 222 204, 205, 246, 251, 259, 262, 264 British Overseas Territories Act Colonial Office (CO) 62–65, 69, 71, (BOT) xiii, 219–223 73, 74, 76, 79, 92, 93, 161 290 index colony xi, xiv, 2, 19, 32, 64, 69, 72, 88, 94, Dugasse, Bernadette 11, 103–104, 105 107, 109, 111, 112, 128, 130, 133, 137, Dussercle, Roger x, 3, 12, 26, 27, 138, 141, 157, 161, 162, 171, 41–58, 223 174, 178, 186, 217 Dutch ix, 13, 14, 249 Commonwealth 1, 61, 63, 69, 73, 78, Dutch East India Company (VOC) 79, 92, 127, 135, 136, 157, 162, ix, 86 177, 179, 188, 189, 239 Duval, Gaëtan 62, 63, 66, 67 compensation xii, xiii, 2, 3, 5, 9, 72, 74, 77, 81, 82, 86, 91, 98–102, 122, Eagle Island 8, 16, 24, 201 123, 125–127, 129, 132, 135, 153, Edis, Richard 12, 15, 25, 28, 41, 204 154, 157, 172, 176, 177, 180, 183, education 2, 6, 37, 85, 90–94, 97, 102, 188, 189, 198, 204, 213, 215, 107, 112, 113, 119–121, 123, 145, 218, 240, 248 178, 219, 220, 226, 229–233, copra 2, 3, 15, 16, 19, 24, 25, 27, 28, 29, 235–237, 239–240, 241, 34, 43, 59, 92, 93, 103, 109, 111, 112, 249–251, 253–257 125, 191, 217, 248, 251, 262 Egmont Atoll 14, 27, 201 Corbyn, Jeremy 217–218, 221 European Court of Human Rights xiii, Court of Appeal xiii, 101, 127, 133, xiv, 8, 101, 151, 152, 161, 164, 134, 136, 138, 143, 149, 158, 218 180, 218, 275 Crawley 6, 82, 219–238 European Parliament 8, 180 Creole(s) (see also: Chagos Creole) xi, eviction 2, 3, 13, 56, 98, 108, 112, 12, 26, 29, 43–48, 50–52, 65–67, 81, 196, 200–202, 207, 214, 241, 88–90, 94–97, 102, 118, 123, 235, 248, 263, 270 236, 240, 246–251, 253, 254, 257, excision of Chagos 60, 61–80, 83, 263, 270, 274 165, 166 cyclone 16, 43, 91, 98 exile xi, xiv, 2–7, 12, 13, 37, 83, 85, 86, 98, 102, 105–108, 111, 113, 122, 123, decolonisation xiii, 3, 4, 32, 61, 63–65, 124–125, 128, 129, 132–134, 138, 69, 73, 88, 109, 127, 146, 158, 161, 157–161, 165, 176, 178, 181–182, 162, 164–169, 171, 174–176 198, 206, 219–223, 248 de l’Estrac, Jean Claude 64, 98 expulsion xi, 1, 3, 5, 11–13, 18, 23, 28, demonstration xii, 67, 81, 84, 32–34, 36, 103, 106, 109–114, 116, 86, 181, 187, 263 117, 121–124, 127, 160, 170, 187, Diego Garcia ix–xiii, xviii, 1–5, 7–9, 191, 196, 201, 215, 239 11–17, 20, 21, 23–28, 30–37, 41, 43, 45, 47, 48, 50, 56, 58, 59, 61–63, 71, feasibility study xiii, 8, 9, 135, 141, 77, 78, 81, 98–100, 103, 108–110, 147, 148, 194 114, 116–118, 125–132, 136, 139, Footprint of Freedom 11, 34, 204 142, 150, 153, 154, 165, 166, 172, Franco-Mauritian ix, 11, 15, 19, 177, 178, 181–183, 186–189, 191, 23, 65, 88, 89, 247 201, 204, 205, 207, 217, 218, 251, French ix, x, 3, 12–17, 19, 26, 30, 31, 257, 259, 260, 264 36, 41, 44–48, 65, 86, 87, 123, 153, Diego Garcian Society (DGS)/ Diego 235, 247, 249 Garcia Island Council (DGIC) xiii, xiv, 7, 8, 125, 126, 198, 199, 223, General Population 88, 247 224, 230 graveyard 84, 183, 211 discrimination 2, 6, 83–86, 93–97, 102, Greenpeace 187 115–118, 120, 167, 173, 175, 204, 219, Greenwood, Anthony 62, 67, 68, 73, 220, 230, 233, 234, 237 75, 76, 78 displacement 36, 83–86, 93, 102, 117, Grégoire, père 247 134, 144, 186, 190, 206, 215, 221, 225, 237, 238 heritage 8, 33, 57, 105, 216, 240 Divisional Court xii, xiii, 34, 84, High Court 4, 56, 92, 93, 125, 127, 101, 123, 127, 131, 136, 188 132–134, 153, 181, 186, 204, 217, 218 index 291

Hindu 44, 60, 65–67, 88, 89, 95, 230, La Fontaine 13, 14, 31, 32, 62 235, 236, 247 Lalit 99, 100, 187 homeland xii, 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 36, 37, 56, Lasemillante, Hervé xii, 100 57, 86, 99, 105, 113, 114, 117, 125, legislation xii, 5, 72, 127, 130–152, 142, 147, 154, 157–159, 164, 165, 157–180, 188, 221–223 174, 178, 180, 181, 183–217, 238, Le Normand, Pierre Marie ix, 14, 15, 17 247–249 Lesser Dependencies 12, 13, 18, 23, human rights xiii, xiv, 8, 36, 79, 85, 101, 31, 32, 54, 55, 128 125, 141, 151, 152, 154, 160, 161, Let Them Return Campaign xiii 164, 177, 180, 186, 187, 218 Li Hing, Mario 239–241 hunger strike xii, 81, 86, 98–100, 122, 125, 181, 262 Madagascar ix, 14, 17, 46, 52, 72, 87, 210, 212, 247, 249 identity 2, 3, 47, 83, 84, 115–118, 153, Madeley, John 26, 85, 92, 98–100, 167, 199, 237, 240, 247–250, 270 113, 129, 145, Ile d’Aigle 16, 27, 28, 41, 45, 47, malaise Creole 247 48, 49, 55 Mandarin, Fernand xii, 7, 56, 101, Ilois 3, 11, 12, 26, 41–58, 61, 82, 153, 154 92, 96, 97, 100, 101, 131, 154, marginalisation 4, 6, 85, 94, 102, 181, 182, 240 173, 219, 220, 233, 237 Ilois Trust Fund xii, 125, 129, 132, Marine Education Trust 7 133, 153 Marine Protected Area (MPA) 1, 6, 7 imagination 37, 232, 246, 248, 262 marriage 50, 53, 54, 222, 223, 225, 250 impoverishment 2, 12, 36, 83–102, matrifocal 222, 252 113, 175, 192 Mouvement Militant Mauricien indentured labourers 2, 3, 11, 21, (MMM) xii, 60, 63, 64, 99 36, 87, 247 Miliband, David 1, 7, 35 independence military base xii, 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 9, 11–12, Mauritius x, xi, 2, 4, 32, 60, 61–68, 33, 37, 56, 69, 100, 114, 116, 136, 73–79, 83, 85, 89, 90, 95, 96, 142, 154, 165, 166, 171, 172, 177, 124, 164, 166, 167, 172, 189, 183, 186, 188, 195, 217, 218, 251 196, 217, 239, 249, 250 Mongelard, father 239 Seychelles xii, 107, 112, 114 Moulinie, Paul/Moulinie & Co. xi, 31, Independent Forward Block 63, 65, 33, 34, 71, 103, 109, 110, 111 75, 76 Mozambique 14, 17, 250 India ix, x, 1, 2, 3, 11, 14, 21, 28, 45, multicultural 230, 247, 257 46, 59, 60, 65, 69, 86, 87, 247, 250 Muslim(s) xi, 45, 60, 63, 65, 75, 76, descent/∼origin 22, 29, 44, 45, 48, 88, 89, 235, 236, 247 65, 88, 95, 96, 121, 228, 247, 249 immigrants/∼labourers/∼people x, native(s) 7, 26, 41–58, 84, 108, 154, 13, 21, 22, 45, 46, 59, 65, 87, 181, 191–195, 198–199, 201–202, 88, 250 206–207 Indian Army troops 28 indigenous xii, 34, 47, 51, 54, 101, Oil Islands 16, 45, 48, 50, 51, 53, 54, 69 158, 162, 164, 170–174, 176, 179, Order in Council xiii, 61, 72, 75, 180, 191, 194, 218 76, 78, 128, 130, 131, 136, 138, international law 5, 127, 146, 149, 159, 218 150, 157, 159, 160, 162, 171, Organization of African Unity 172, 177–180, 189 (OAU) xii, 166–168, 175, 176 Iraq xi, 5, 9, 35, 217 paradise 41, 103, 202, 236, 248, 262, 271 jurisprudence 163, 180 Parti Mauricien Social Démocrate (PMSD) 62–66, 75–78 Koenig, Jules 62 Pentagon xi, 1, 34, 35 292 index

Peros Banhos ix, xiii, 8, 11, 14, 15, 23, self-determination 5, 146, 157–180 24, 26–28, 34, 37, 38, 43, 52, 91, Seychelles (see also: independence) ix, x, 106, 110, 111, 131, 178, 181, 201, xi, xii, 2, 4, 5, 6, 8, 12, 14, 15, 17, 19, 203, 205, 210, 211 21, 26, 28, 29, 31, 32, 34, 36, 41, 45, petition xi, xiii, 36, 86, 98, 115, 122, 51, 59–61, 69–72, 74, 83, 86, 87, 98, 151, 152, 187 103–104, 105–124, 125, 126, 127, pilgrimage 5, 153, 154, 183–215 128, 159, 167, 170, 184, 191, 192, plantation(s) ix, x, xi, 2, 11, 12, 14–21, 198, 200, 202, 205, 218, 219, 220, 23, 24, 28–30, 33, 37, 38, 45–47, 48, 222, 223, 225, 226, 229, 237, 54, 87, 88, 89, 93, 102–103, 107, 238, 263, 264 108, 109, 110, 125, 129, 177, 191, Sheridan, Bernard xi, xii, 99, 101, 106 202, 204, 247, 248, 251, 262 Siatous, Clement 37–39, 183, 211 polyandry 53 Six Iles 16, 18, 22, 24, 27 Port Louis ix, 6, 37, 43, 46, 54, 60, 81, slave(s)/enslaved ix, 2, 3, 11, 14, 15, 89, 91, 93, 97, 98, 99, 112, 183, 17–19, 21, 36, 45, 46, 87, 94, 104, 185, 197, 198, 200, 201, 205, 108, 170, 197, 210, 217, 236, 237, 208, 209, 210, 212, 221, 226, 247, 249, 250 233, 241, 251, 253, 262 slavery x, 2, 11, 14, 16, 17, 20, 24, 36, private law action/∼proceedings/∼suit 60, 87, 95, 160, 212, 222, 225, xi, xiii, 129, 132, 133, 134 247, 250, 262 protests xi, 99, 122, 125 abolition of ∼ x, 2, 11, 17, 247, 250 Portuguese ix, 13, 45, 86, 249 sovereignty 100, 101, 137, 141, 154, Public Records Office (PRO) 66–79, 110 157, 158, 162, 165–179, 182, 183, 186, 189, 195, 196, 198, 201 racism 96, 123, 192, 234, 236, 237 spirit 51, 52, 54, 173, 197, Ramchalaon, Atman 59–60 208–215 Ramgoolam, Navin 8, 189, 190 stereotype/stereotyping 84, 86, 95, Ramgoolam, Seewoosagur 4, 61, 62, 96, 102 63, 65, 66, 67, 68, 70, 74, 77, 78, sugar 14, 16, 19, 21, 25, 51, 74, 79, 79, 83, 100, 196 86–90, 92, 93, 188, 189, 242, remembering 5, 37, 81, 103–104, 106, 247, 250, 251 108, 111, 113, 181, 184, 190–195, suicide 85, 201 202–208, 210, 212, 213, 214 Rennie, John 62, 68, 71, 74, 75, 77, Talate, Aurélie Marie-Lisette 11, 56, 78, 79 81, 82, 100, 105, 153, 181–182 resettlement xiii, 4, 7, 9, 71, 74, 85, Thomas, A.R. 66 91, 98, 111, 113, 114, 122, 128, Treaty of Paris x, 17, 87, 128, 162 129, 135, 136, 142–144, 148, Trois Frères 14, 16, 27, 28 150, 154, 178, 179, 194, 195 right of abode 5, 127, 129, 132, 135, United Kingdom (see also: British) 136, 138, 139, 141–144, 146, 148, Chagos Support Association xiii, 178 149, 151, 160 citizenship xiii, 6, 84, 101, 107, riots xi, 89 219–223, 225, 229, 237 Roche Bois 91, 244, 246, 251 government xi, xii, xiii, 3, 5, 7, 8, 57, 81, 89, 91, 98–101, 105, 109, sadness 85, 248, 263 123, 125, 127–136, 144–147, Salomon (islands) xiii, 8, 14, 16, 24, 150, 151, 152, 153, 158, 175, 27, 28, 34, 59, 108, 110, 178, 179, 180, 186, 187, 188, 189, 201, 202, 203, 206, 210, 244, 191, 192, 194, 195, 200, 205, 245, 246, 257 206, 214, 221, 222, 224, Scott, Robert 12–18, 20, 22–32, 41, 227, 228 53–55, 64, 65, 108, 172, 201 unemployment 2, 84–86, 89, 90, 92, sega 30, 51, 54, 85, 89, 196, 197, 94, 100, 102, 112, 119, 121, 219, 204, 205, 247 228, 247, 251 index 293

United Nations (UN) xii, 33, 36, 53, US Navy x, xi, 3, 32, 34, 143 62, 73, 101, 109, 127, 145, 145, 158, uprooted/uprooting 2, 36, 53, 83, 161–176, 180, 189, 192, 200 84, 102, 181, 194, 207, 237 United States 2, 4, 5, 12, 18, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 59, 60, 61, 68, 69, 70, 71, 74, Vincatassin, Allen xiv, 7, 8, 125, 126, 199, 76, 77, 98, 114, 116, 119, 122, 124, 230 136, 144, 154, 155, 158, 165, 166, Vincatassin, Michel xi, 99, 125, 129, 133 172, 174, 179, 180, 183, 186, 187, visit (of Chagossians to Chagos archi- 188, 189, 201, 204, 217 pelago) xiii, xiv, 5, 8, 38, 56, 124, government xi, 3, 13, 36, 56, 74, 126, 154, 167, 178, 183–215, 230, 98, 105, 128, 136, 150, 248 239, 240, 253