Fiji, we have a problem.
It is in our phones, our comments, and, increasingly, our homes. Fijians are hurling abuse at fellow Fijians they have never met. The anger is palpable. Some seem to wake up each morning determined to find someone to attack.
I feel sorry for them—and for the families who must live with the consequences of that bitterness.
Behind a pseudonym, people sometimes become crueler than they would dare to be in person. Anonymity does not conceal the spirit; it reveals how we choose to use our freedom. Perhaps some of this anger is rooted in old wounds, disappointment, or unresolved trauma. But trauma is not a licence to wound others.
And this is happening at a critical moment in our nation’s life.
We are rebuilding trust, debating our constitutional future, trying to recover economically, and attempting to heal from decades of division. At such a time, unchecked anger is not harmless. It spills over into our institutions, our communities, and our homes.
We have seen a former Prime Minister publicly humiliate a former comrade and fellow MP. We have witnessed the former leader publicly abuse a journalist. We have endured the condescending arrogance of a former Minister who seemed to claim authority over everything.
And yes, we continue to live under the 2013 Constitution, shaped by the long shadow of military strongman culture—a legacy many believe diverted our nation from a more promising path to prosperity.
When leaders behave badly, followers learn that such behaviour is acceptable. When those in authority normalise contempt, it becomes easier for everyone else to do the same.
When outrage becomes the currency
Our social media algorithms reward outrage. They draw us into petty disputes, turn neighbours against neighbours, and amplify the most provocative voices.
An insult attracts more attention than a thoughtful solution. A threat travels faster than the truth.
This is not merely a matter of bad manners. It erodes trust. It teaches our young that politics is synonymous with abuse. It discourages decent people from entering public life. It divides families and communities. And ultimately, it damages our reputation, social cohesion, and economic prospects.
But we cannot blame social media alone.
We must also look in the mirror.
Have we shared an insult because it made us laugh? Have we amplified a cruel post? Have we remained silent while someone was bullied? Have we mistaken humiliation for strength and aggression for courage?
The Fijian way is not this.
We have veiwekani—our bonds of kinship and relationship. We have veidokai—mutual respect. We have veilomani—care and compassion for one another. We have vakarokoroko—humility and reverence.
These are not merely words from our cultural inheritance. They are values we must actively practise, especially when we disagree.
Respect is not weakness. It is one of the foundations of a strong nation.
Reclaiming our decency
What can we do?
First, pause before posting. Ask yourself: Is it true? Is it kind? Is it necessary? Not every thought deserves an audience.
Second, refuse to feed the outrage machine. Do not share toxic content simply because it is entertaining or confirms what you already believe. Every share gives it more power.
Third, hold our leaders to higher standards. Criticise policies, decisions, and conduct—but do not strip people of their dignity. Accountability and cruelty are not the same thing.
Fourth, create digital talanoa spaces where respect is non-negotiable. We need conversations that welcome disagreement without permitting abuse, threats, or humiliation.
Fifth, support genuine truth and reconciliation. Healing cannot take place if we continually reopen old wounds for political advantage, personal gratification, or online engagement.
We can be angry and still be decent.
We can disagree profoundly and still recognise one another’s humanity.
We can challenge authority without abandoning respect.
And we can defend our principles without destroying our relationships.
The screen will reflect what we choose to feed it. If we feed it outrage, it will return more outrage. If we feed it truth, respect, and hope, perhaps we can begin to change the tone of our national conversation.
This is not just about social media. It is about the kind of Fiji we want to leave to our next generation.
Let us choose courage over cruelty. Accountability over humiliation. Dialogue over abuse.
Let us reclaim the values that have held our communities together—and make them visible again in the way we speak, disagree, and lead.
For our families. For our communities. For Fiji’s future.
Vinaka vakalevu.
Pasifika Talanoa by a traveled ITaukei Fijian 