Pasifika Talanoa by a traveled ITaukei Fijian

The Art of Pasifika Multi-Alignment

The Solomon Islands’ decision to exclude global powers from the core deliberations of the Pacific Islands Forum (PIF) Meeting in Honiara in September, is more than a procedural adjustment. It is a seismic tremor shaking the foundations of regional diplomacy, forcing a stark confrontation with the defining geopolitical challenge of this era for Pasifika: the imperative of multi-alignment. Prime Minister Jeremiah Manele’s gambit, framed as reclaiming space for authentic Pasifika talanoa, simultaneously serves as a high-stakes litmus test. Does this move signify a collective, strategic step towards mastering the intricate art of engaging all powers simultaneously on Pasifika’s own terms? Or does it risk becoming, under the shadow of Honiara’s deepening ties with Beijing, a veiled maneuver towards realignment that fractures the very unity essential for effective multi-alignment? The answer will profoundly shape whether the Pasifika emerge as sovereign architects of our destiny or remain vulnerable pieces on others’ chessboards.

I. The Geopolitical Crucible: Why Multi-Alignment is Non-Negotiable

Pasifika finds itself caught in the vortex of the most intense strategic competition the region has witnessed since the WWII. The US-China rivalry is not a distant abstraction; it permeates every state, manifesting in security pacts, infrastructure investments, diplomatic offensives, and fierce competition for political influence. This superpower contest overlays the persistent, complex relationships with traditional partners like Australia and Aotearoa and engagements with other players like the EU, Japan, India, and the UK.

· Existential Vulnerabilities Demand Diversification: Against this backdrop, the Pasifika faces existential threats that dwarf traditional security concerns for most island states. Climate Change is an immediate, relentless assault, threatening territorial integrity, freshwater security, and economic viability through sea-level rise, intensified cyclones, and ocean acidification. Economic Volatility plagues remote economies heavily reliant on tourism, fisheries, and remittances, all susceptible to global shocks. Ocean Health and Resource Management are critical for food security and economic survival. NCDs and Limited Human Resource Capacity further strain development. Crucially, no single external power possesses the resources, political will, or aligned interests to comprehensively address all these challenges. Relying solely on one patron, creates dangerous dependency, increases vulnerability to coercion and inevitably forces compromises on core Pasifika priorities to align with the patron’s strategic goals. The history of aid dependency and its often-distorting effects provides ample cautionary tales.

· The False Binary and its Existential Poison: The pressure of the US-China rivalry actively seeks to force Pasifika states into a binary choice. This framing is not only reductive but fundamentally toxic to Pasifika’s interests. Choosing one side inherently alienates the other, sacrificing potential benefits, inviting retaliation and potentially triggering regional instability. It reduces sovereign nations to mere instruments in a global power struggle. Total isolation, conversely, is neither feasible nor desirable. Engagement is essential for accessing vital development finance, technology, markets, scientific expertise, and global platforms to advocate for existential issues like climate action. Multi-alignment, therefore, is not a policy preference; it is an indispensable survival strategy. It demands the active, skillful cultivation of relationships with all relevant powers, extracting maximum benefit while avoiding over-reliance on any single one and protecting core regional interests.

II. Forging the Collective Tools for Multi-Alignment

This is where the potential justification for Manele’s exclusionary move lies. The PIF often resembled a mini-UN rather than a Pasifika family meeting. The sheer cacophony of competing narratives and lobbying efforts frequently drowned out the internal consensus-building essential for the region to speak with one voice. A temporary pause from this external noise could provide the vital sanctuary needed for the Forum to focus inward and build the capacity required for effective multi-alignment. This period must be used to forge three critical tools:

1. Defining Unshakeable Non-Negotiables: The PIF must emerge with a unified stance on core existential priorities that are non-negotiable in any engagement with partners. Foremost among these is Climate Change Action. This means collective, unequivocal demands for:

   · Radical Global Mitigation: Holding major emitters accountable to drastically reduce emissions aligned with 1.5°C pathways, leveraging the PIF’s moral authority as frontline states.

   · Urgent, Accessible Adaptation Finance: Demanding that climate finance is scaled up massively, simplified in access, and delivered directly to national and sub-national levels.

   · Loss and Damage: Securing concrete, operationalized funding mechanisms for irreversible climate impacts.

   · Ocean Stewardship: Establishing unified positions on marine protected areas, sustainable fisheries management and deep-sea mining regulation, recognizing the Blue Pasifika as the foundation of life and identity.

   · Nuclear Non-Proliferation: Reaffirming the Rarotonga Treaty and addressing concerns from nuclear testing. Removing these existential issues from the geopolitical bidding wars and presenting them as unified, non-partisan red lines is fundamental. No dialogue partner should be able to “buy” support by offering climate adaptation funds while simultaneously undermining global mitigation efforts. Multi-alignment strength begins with knowing what cannot be traded.

2. Crafting a Unified Engagement Framework: Multi-alignment without coordination is chaos. The PIF must develop robust, collective protocols governing how the Forum engage with external partners. This framework must address:

   · Transparency and Consultation: Mechanisms for members to share information on significant bilateral agreements before they are finalized, allowing for regional discussion and minimizing surprises that destabilize cohesion.

   · Shared Red Lines: Defining collective boundaries that no external partner should cross (e.g., undermining the sovereignty of another member, violating established regional agreements).

   · Benefit Assessment and Equitable Distribution: Developing criteria to assess the true value and risks of external engagements, and exploring mechanisms to ensure benefits can be shared regionally where appropriate.

   · Coordinated Diplomacy: Strategies for leveraging collective weight in multilateral forums to advance Pasifikapriorities.

   · Dispute Resolution: Clear processes for addressing concerns within the Pasifika family arising from a member’s external engagements. This framework transforms multi-alignment from an ad-hoc national scramble into a coordinated regional strategy, amplifying the collective voice and bargaining power of each state.

3. Building Unbreakable Internal Cohesion: The bedrock of successful multi-alignment is solidarity. A fractured PIF, riddled with mistrust or competing external allegiances, is easily divided and conquered by great powers employing classic “divide et impera” tactics. Offers of lucrative bilateral deals designed to undermine neighbors or regional positions become potent weapons. This hiatus must be used to:

   · Strengthen Pasifika Identity: Reaffirming shared history, culture and the vision of the “Blue Pasifika Continent.”

   · Rebuild Trust: Facilitating open, honest, and sometimes difficult conversations about members’ different perspectives, vulnerabilities, and external relationships within the safety of the Pasifika family.

   · Enhance Sub-Regional and Intra-Regional Cooperation: Deepening practical collaboration on issues like fisheries surveillance, disaster response, health, and education, demonstrating the tangible benefits of unity.

   · Address Historical Grievances: Acknowledging and working through historical tensions to build a more resilient collective. Unity is not uniformity; it is the strength derived from diversity harnessed towards common goals. This internal strength is the power source that makes multi-alignment a strategy of strength.

III. The Solomons’ Shadow: Multi-Alignment or Veiled Realignment? The Risk of Fracture

The profound risk associated with Manele’s move lies not in the concept of a pause itself, but in its timing, perception, and the specific context of Solomon Islands’ foreign policy.

· Timing Amidst the Storm: Implementing this exclusion precisely at the zenith of the US-China rivalry in the Pasifika is inherently provocative. It occurs when both powers are pouring unprecedented resources into the region. Slamming the door now inevitably appears less like a neutral housekeeping measure and more like a deliberate act taking sides that favours one actor. It fuels suspicion that the goal is not balanced multi-alignment, but the creation of a space less scrutinized by powers perceived as hostile to Honiara’s chosen partner.

· The Beijing Backdrop: Solomon Islands’ decisive 2019 switch from Taiwan to China, followed by the highly controversial 2022 security agreement, provides an unavoidable context. The secrecy surrounding the security pact negotiations and its perceived potential to facilitate a Chinese military presence deeply alarmed neighbors. Against this backdrop, Honiara championing the exclusion of the US and others from the PIF dialogue space is widely interpreted, as an extension of its deepening alignment with Beijing. It creates a perception that the move is designed to:

  · Avoid Scrutiny: Shield bilateral Solomons-China dealings from critical regional discussion within the PIF.

  · Stifle Dissent: Suppress criticism from fellow Forum members regarding the implications of Honiara’s alignment for regional security and unity.

  · Tilt the Environment: Subtly shift the regional diplomatic atmosphere by removing countervailing voices from the premier forum, making it easier for a particular narrative to dominate.

· Echoes of Discord Within the Family: The reactions from key PIF members are not mere procedural objections; they are alarm bells ringing for the very foundations of multi-alignment.

  · Fiji’s Sitiveni Rabuka warned bluntly that the move could “blow up decades of Pasifika unity.” This reflects a core fear: that the exclusion, driven by one nation’s specific alignment, will fragment the Forum, making collective action and the unified front essential for multi-alignment impossible.

  · Aotearoa’s Winston Peters expressed concern about “external influences” shaping the decision – diplomatic code for deep suspicion about Beijing’s hand in Honiara’s move. This highlights the corrosive effect of mistrust: if members believe a fellow state is acting as a proxy for an external power, the solidarity needed for multi-alignment evaporates.

  · Smaller island states may feel caught in the middle, wary of alienating either Honiara (and potentially Beijing) or the concerns voiced by Fiji/NZ.

The Critical Question: Is Manele’s gambit genuinely strengthening the collective capacity of all Pasifika states to engage all partners more effectively and autonomously? Or is it, intentionally or not, facilitating a de facto realignment by stealth for Solomon Islands thereby weakening the collective position and leverage of the PIF as a whole? True multi-alignment requires unwavering confidence that every Forum member is fundamentally committed to the collective strategy, not exploiting the pause for unilateral advantage that undermines the group’s cohesion and bargaining power. The shadow of Honiara’s Beijing ties, casts deep doubt on this confidence.

IV. Charting the Path Forward: From Sanctuary to Strategic Hub

The exclusion of dialogue partners only serves Pasifika sovereignty if it is demonstrably, transparently used to build the infrastructure for stronger, more confident, and more strategic multi-aligned engagement. Failure to do so will render the move a costly mistake, potentially fracturing the PIF and leaving individual states more exposed. Success hinges on three pillars:

1. Uncompromising Transparency: The internal PIF discussions during this period must be focused on collective Pasifika priorities and the development of the multi-alignment toolbox. The agenda, process, and the outcomes of these discussions, must be transparently shared among all members. Any perception that this hiatus is being used to advance bilateral Solomons-China interests, will be fatal to trust and unity. Independent facilitation or clear reporting mechanisms may be necessary to bolster credibility.

2. Inclusive Consensus Through Vigorous Debate: True Pasifika unity is not forged through imposed silence or the suppression of dissent. Fiji’s concerns, Aotearoa’s wariness and the perspectives of every member, must be heard and addressed head-on within the Forum. This requires creating a safe space for talanoa – open, respectful, but frank and sometimes difficult conversations about security perceptions, external relationships, and fears of fragmentation or external influence. Unity forged through navigating these complex discussions is infinitely more resilient than a superficial consensus achieved by sidelining uncomfortable truths. Mechanisms for mediating disputes or differing viewpoints need strengthening.

3. The Imperative of the 2026 Re-engagement Blueprint: The ultimate success or failure of this hiatus will be judged solely on what is presented to the dialogue partners in 2026. The PIF must emerge with:

   · A Crystal-Clear, Unified Position on core non-negotiables.

   · A Robust, Operational Framework for engaging external partners, detailing protocols for transparency, consultation, red lines, benefit assessment, and coordinated diplomacy.

   · Demonstrably Stronger Internal Cohesion and trust among members.

   · A Confident, Strategic Approach outlining how the Pasifika intends to leverage its collective position within the multi-polar world. This blueprint must articulate how the region will engage the US, China, and all others on Pasifika terms, setting clear expectations and demonstrating the collective will to enforce them. It should position the PIF not just as a recipient of aid or a venue for others’ agendas, but as an active, strategic hub, shaping its own future through multi-alignment.

V. Conclusion: Weaving the Unbreakable Net of Sovereignty

The Solomon Islands’ decision to shut the door on global powers within the PIF is a stark and urgent reminder of the precariousness of Pasifika’s position in the 21st-century geopolitical order. It embodies the intense yearning for self-determination, control, and a voice unmediated by giants. Yet, it also highlights the ever-present peril of becoming unwitting instruments in others’ strategic designs, or of internal divisions fracturing the collective strength that is the region’s only true shield.

Pasifika’s future cannot lie in nostalgic isolationism nor in the seductive trap of choosing a single patron. The path to genuine sovereignty, resilience, and the ability to confront existential threats like climate change winds necessarily through the mastery of multi-alignment. This is not hedging or opportunism; it is the sophisticated, necessary statecraft of vulnerable yet determined nations navigating a multi-polar storm. It demands recognizing that strength lies in diversity of partnerships, managed collectively with wisdom and unwavering principle.

Manele’s move presents a high-risk, high-reward scenario. It could be the catalyst that forces the Pasifika family to forge the tools – unshakeable unity, non-negotiable priorities, and a strategic engagement framework – essential to navigate the treacherous waters of US-China rivalry as empowered players. Used wisely, the “sanctuary” becomes a crucible, a workshop where the net of sovereignty is woven from multiple, strong threads of partnership. Each thread – engagement – must be carefully selected and integrated, creating a whole far stronger than the sum of its parts, capable of lifting Pasifika above the status of pawns.

Conversely, if this hiatus becomes a cover for veiled realignment, deepens mistrust, or fails to produce concrete results, it risks shattering decades of Pasifika unity. The door slammed shut may not just keep external powers out; it could lock the Pasifika into a future of increased vulnerability, fragmentation, and dependency, where individual nations are picked off by competing powers, their sovereignty diminished rather than enhanced.

The responsibility now rests squarely on the shoulders of all Pasifika leaders. They owe it to their people, as custodians of their lands, cultures, and futures, to rise above the “geopolitical games.” They must seize this moment not for evasion or narrow national advantage, but for the arduous, essential work of forging an unbreakable internal consensus rooted in shared Pasifika values and existential needs. They must emerge in 2026 not just with a quieter forum, but with a transformed PIF: a confident collective, speaking with a single, powerful, and truly independent voice, equipped with the strategic vision and robust mechanisms to engage the world on its own terms.

The era of passive reception is over. The multi-polar storm is here. The sanctuary must be a forge, not a hiding place. The future belongs not to those who choose one master or none, but to those who master the art of engaging many. Pasifika’s sovereignty depends on its ability to weave this complex, resilient net of multi-alignment. The time for decisive, collective action is now.

2025.09.15
Constitutional Crucible: Forging True iTaukei Sovereignty by Restructuring Power

The stark lesson from Papua New Guinea (PNG) is undeniable: meaningful sovereignty for indigenous landowners begins not with administrative tweaks, but with constitutional bedrock. PNG’s explicit recognition that “all customary land is the property of the customary owners” (Constitution, Section 53) stands in radical contrast to Fiji’s Native Land Trust Act, which vests “control” in a state-appointed Board (TLTB). This comparison shatters any illusion that the TLTB’s colonial structure can be reformed, while remaining subordinate to the Fijian state. The path forward for the iTaukei, demands a revolutionary constitutional settlement, placing the Bose Levu Vakaturaga (BLV), at the helm of a profoundly restructured system, learning from both PNG’s empowerment and its challenges.

PNG’s Beacon: Constitutional Recognition as Non-Negotiable Foundation

PNG’s framework offers the BLV a powerful blueprint for its core demand:

1. Sovereignty Anchored in Law: PNG’s constitution places customary ownership beyond state whim. This is the essential first step Fiji must take. A new Fijian constitution, must explicitly state that customary resources are vested in the iTaukei Resource Owning Units (ROUs), recognizing their inherent, inalienable rights. This eradicates the legal fiction of state “trusteeship” embedded in the TLTB Act.

2. Decentralized Power, BLV as Guardian: PNG has no TLTB. Management rests directly with clans/tribes. Fiji can adapt this by constitutionally mandating the BLV as the supreme traditional body responsible for safeguarding iTaukei customary law, land rights, and resource sovereignty. The BLV becomes the constitutional guardian of Vanua principles, ensuring ROU autonomy while providing overarching guidance and dispute resolution based on custom, not state policy.

3. Rejecting State “Control”: PNG proves a centralized state board controlling indigenous land is not inevitable. Fiji’s constitution must prohibit any state entity from assuming “control” or “administration” of customary land and resources, in the manner of the current TLTB. The state’s role shifts to registration support, legal protection, and facilitating negotiations requested by ROUs, not dictating terms.

Beyond PNG: The Imperative of BLV-Led Institutional Restructuring

Constitutional recognition alone, however, is insufficient. PNG’s struggles with implementation offer crucial warnings and necessitate a robust BLV-led institutional framework:

* The Hybrid Solution: A BLV-Subordinate Resources Authority: Abolishing TLTB overnight risks chaos. Instead, transform it into a technical Resources Authority directly accountable to the BLV, not the Ministry of iTaukei Affairs. Its mandate shifts fundamentally:

* From Controller to Facilitative Servant: It serves ROUs at their direction, providing technical expertise (surveying, valuation, lease drafting), financial management, dispute resolution facilitation, and maintaining registries – not making leasing decisions.

* BLV Oversight & Policy: The BLV sets the policy framework for this Authority, ensuring its operations align with Vanua principles and prioritize ROU empowerment. The BLV appoints its leadership and audits its performance.

* Building ROU Capacity: A core function becomes intensive training for ROUs in negotiation, financial and digital literacy, sustainable development, and legal rights – addressing the capacity gap that plagues PNG and leaves landowners vulnerable.

* Learning from PNG’s Pitfalls: Safeguarding Against Exploitation:

* FPIC as Constitutional Right: Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC), must be constitutionally enshrined for all land and resource dealings, surpassing PNG’s weaker implementation. The BLV Resources Authority acts as an independent verifier of FPIC, protecting ROUs from coercion.

* Transparent & Accountable ROUs: To combat “elite capture” seen in PNG, the BLV must champion robust, transparent governance structures within ROUs (e.g., strengthened Mataqali/Vanua councils). The BLV Resources Authority can provide governance training and support audits.

* Rigorous Lease-Leaseback Scrutiny: If a mechanism similar to PNG’s SPABL (state lease-back) is considered for large-scale projects, the BLV Resources Authority must act as a fiercely independent watchdog, ensuring genuine ROU consent, fair terms, and preventing land grabs. Ideally, ROUs should deal directly with developers where capacity allows, bypassing the state middleman.

* Minerals: The Unfinished Business: The constitution must explicitly challenge the state’s theft of subsurface rights. The BLV must lead the fight for iTaukei ownership or co-ownership of minerals, ensuring communities share equitably in the wealth extracted from their Vanua.

Why Constitutional Change is the Only Viable Starting Point

Attempting to “reform” TLTB within the current constitutional framework is doomed:

1. Legitimizing the Lie: It perpetuates the state’s illegitimate claim to “control” iTaukei land. Real change requires dismantling the legal basis of this control.

2. Vulnerability to Politics: State-controlled institutions (even renamed or “restructured”) remain subject to shifting political winds, budgets, and the “national interest” defined by non-iTaukei priorities. Constitutional entrenchment provides stability.

3. Empowering the BLV Meaningfully: Restoring the BLV without constitutional authority over its core institutions (land, qoliqoli, affairs) renders it a ceremonial body. True leadership requires sovereign jurisdiction.

The Call: A Constitutional Mandate for BLV Sovereignty

The BLV must seize the momentum generated by Dr. Ponipate Rokolekutu’s recent analysis, Rabuka’s 2022 campaign promises, and the powerful example of PNG. Its demand must be unequivocal:

“It must call for a new constitutional order that:

1. Explicitly vests ownership and management authority of iTaukei customary resources in the Resource Owning Units.

2. Recognizes the Bose Levu Vakaturaga, as the supreme traditional guardian of iTaukei custom, land rights, and resource sovereignty, empowered to oversee and guide the implementation of these rights.

3. Mandates the creation of a BLV-accountable Resource Authority, replacing TLTB, to serve ROUs with technical expertise, transparency, and unwavering loyalty to Vanua interests.

4. Enshrines Free, Prior, and Informed Consent as a non-derogable right for all land and resource dealings.

5. Initiates the process to restore iTaukei rights over subsurface minerals.”

Conclusion: From Colonial Shackles to Constitutional Sovereignty

Papua New Guinea illuminates the path: customary resources sovereignty is achievable when constitutionally enshrined and fiercely guarded. Fiji’s iTaukei are not asking for a privilege; they demand the restoration of a fundamental right stolen by colonial law and perpetuated by the neo-colonial state. The hybrid model – a constitutionally empowered BLV overseeing a restructured, service-oriented Resources Authority – offers a pragmatic yet revolutionary path. It learns from PNG’s empowerment while proactively addressing its implementation challenges. This is not mere administrative change; it is a constitutional revolution. The BLV must lead this fight, not just for resources, but for the very soul and future of the Vanua. The time for tinkering with TLTB is over. The time for constitutional recognition of BLV-led iTaukei sovereignty is now.

2025.09.15
Two Names, One Nation: Forging Fiji’s Covenant

We stand at a crossroads of history and hope. Our journey as a nation has brought us far, yet the path to a more perfect union stretches before us, demanding our courage, our integrity, and our collective will. This journey is not mapped by foreign ideas but charted by the unique contours of our Vanua, our people, and a simple, profound idea that can define our future: that the term ‘iTaukei’ remains the exclusive and honoured name for the First People, the guardians of the Vanua, the owners of the land and resources, their heritage safeguarded by the Bose Levu Vakaturaga. And that the name ‘Fijian’ belongs to every single citizen of this nation.

This is more than semantics; it is the decolonization of our identity and the foundation of our covenant. It grants the iTaukei the unequivocal recognition and security we deserve as the indigenous people, while offering every citizen – whether their ancestors walked these shores for millennia or arrived through the trials of girmit – the unequivocal belonging they crave under the shared banner of a common nationality. To be ‘iTaukei’ is to speak of ancestral identity. To be ‘Fijian’ is to swear allegiance to a common destiny.

This foundational recognition is the first and most critical step toward reconciliation. For the Indo-Fijian community, it means moving beyond mere acknowledgment, to a deep, respectful understanding of we, the iTaukei as the First People. It is to honour the sanctity we hold of our Vanua – that profound, spiritual connection we have to land, resources, ancestry, and heritage that is not merely a concept but a living, breathing reality. The Bose Levu Vakaturaga is not a political relic but the steward of this soul, a vital institution that embodies custom, social structure, and a direct link to the ancestors. To understand this is to understand the very bedrock of our iTaukei identity.

From this place of security and respect, a powerful, reciprocal belonging can flourish. It enables the iTaukei community, confident in the protection of our unique heritage, to extend the hand of unconditional family-hood, to fully integrate every citizen as an indispensable partner in our Fijian story. It is the only way an Indo-Fijian can truly say, “My home is here, my roots are deep, and my future is Fijian,” without reservation.

Yet, this covenant of mutual recognition is not tested in grand declarations but in our daily actions. It is broken by the stereotype in a boardroom where an Indo-Fijian business owner, perhaps clinging to a misplaced sense of cultural superiority, overlooks iTaukei talent, perpetuating harmful myths about work ethic. This is not just a bad business practice; it is a failure to invest in the nation’s full potential and a rejection of the shared community the Vanua represents. True, inclusive prosperity is the only prosperity that will last.

Conversely, the covenant is shattered when an iTaukei individual, burdened by historical grievance, unleashes that pain upon an Indo-Fijian citizen with a hateful shout. This act is a betrayal of the very values of the Vanua, which teaches veilomani (love and compassion) and veirogorogoci (respect). It denies the fundamental truth that the Indo-Fijian community has no other home; their roots are deep in Fijian soil, and their future is irrevocably tied to ours.

This project of nation-building extends beyond social harmony to our economic sovereignty, where our communities have distinct but interconnected roles and responsibilities. True belief in Fiji is measured in more than words; it is measured in where we choose to invest our prosperity. The practice of transfer pricing, where wealth – predominantly from successful non-ITaukei businesses – is shifted abroad, drains the lifeblood from our economy. This is not merely a business decision; it is a choice between investing in Fiji or abandoning it. It is a betrayal of the very community and nation that fostered that success.

This internal abdication stands in stark contrast to the external faith shown from afar. The immense remittances sent home, primarily by iTaukei workers and those living abroad, represent a powerful stream of investment and a profound vote of confidence. These funds, earned through sacrifice and hard work, are a lifeline of love that directly supports families, builds homes, and fuels local economies across our islands. If our iTaukei family abroad believes in us so fiercely, how can those who prosper on Fijian soil every day believe any less? This diaspora are our ambassadors and champions, demonstrating daily what true commitment to Fiji looks like. Their contribution, and that of the Indo-Fijian diaspora who also invest and remit, fortifies Fiji’s standing as a regional power, a status earned by the hard work of all our people.

Our journey toward a more perfect union, is further complicated by the tensions that exist not just between our communities, but within them. We are not monolithic blocks. Within the iTaukei community, deep fissures exist, mirroring global divides. There are tensions between the fundamentalists and the secular, vividly illustrated in the fierce debate over support for Israel and the proposed embassy in Jerusalem. This is not a simple foreign policy issue; it strikes at the heart of religious identity, political alignment, and modern versus traditional worldviews, creating a schism as complex and passionate as that within Israel itself.

Similarly, the Indo-Fijian community carries the enduring legacy of the subcontinent’s partition. The historical fractures between India and Pakistan continue to weave their way into modern Fiji, manifesting in cultural, religious, and sometimes political undertones, that influence community dynamics. These internal divisions are not signs of weakness; they are the realities of a living, breathing democracy. They are the many roads that one bus must travel on the route to nationhood. They make the need for a unifying, national identity – Fijian – all the more critical.

This is precisely why we must banish extremism of any shape or form into irrelevance. Our effort to build a more perfect union requires a conscious citizenship that embraces complexity, rejects purity tests, and seeks the common good. It demands that we champion the cause of iTaukei aspiration not as a threat, but as the just and necessary foundation for true peace. It demands that iTaukei leadership and society open the doors of belonging so wide, that every citizen feels an unconditional sense of home. It demands that our economic choices—from the largest corporate boardroom to the smallest market stall—are made with a single, unifying purpose.

We are not without a blueprint for this complex work. Look to the spirit of Suva Grammar School, a microcosm of the Fiji we strive to become. On its grounds, the distinctions of background fade into the shared identity of being an Old Scholar. iTaukei, Indo-Fijian, and every other community stand side-by-side, united by a common experience, mutual respect, and a collective pride. The school did not erase their identities; it layered upon them a greater, shared identity—that of a family. This is the model we must scale to the nation.

A more perfect union is within our grasp. It is a Fiji where the iTaukei heritage is honoured without question, where every citizen belongs utterly as a Fijian without reservation, and where our economic choices are made for the collective good. It is a nation that acknowledges its internal complexities but is not defined by them.

Our children and grandchildren will not ask us how much wealth we accumulated for ourselves. They will ask what we built for them. They will ask if we were brave enough to confront the hard truths, to invest in the difficult conversations, and to choose the collective “us” over the comfortable “I.” Let us bequeath them a nation united in spirit and thriving in fact—a true testament to our covenant of Viti, built on the powerful, inclusive truth of two honoured names.

2025.09.14
Why Support for Modern Israel Is Not a Christian Imperative
1 Understanding the Theological Distinction Between Biblical and Modern Israel
The core of Christian fundamentalist’s argument rests on a theological conflation of modern Israel with biblical Israel—a position that numerous Christian scholars and theologians have robustly challenged. Modern Israel is a secular nation-state established in 1948 through geopolitical processes, while biblical Israel represents a covenant community within God’s salvation history . The New Testament itself demonstrates that God’s promises to ancient Israel, find their fulfillment in Jesus Christ, through whom blessings extend to all peoples.

Theologically, Romans 11 speaks of spiritual grafting into God’s covenant people through Christ—not political support for any modern nation-state. The Apostle Paul’s metaphor emphasizes the inclusive nature of God’s salvation available to Jews and Gentiles alike through faith, not ethnic or national affiliation. This understanding prevents the theological error of equating modern state policies with divine endorsement.

2 The Ethical Imperative: Principled Non-Alignment in the Face of Injustice

The Pasifika Conference of Churches (PCC) advocates for principled non-alignment—a position that engages all parties while refusing to remain neutral in the face of injustice . This approach reflects Jesus’s command to “love your neighbor” (Matthew 22:39) by prioritizing human dignity, international law, and civilian protection over partisan political alliances .

Reverend Bhagwan and the PCC have explicitly condemned all forms of violence—including Hamas’s initial attack—while emphasizing that criticism of the Israeli government’s policies does not constitute antisemitism. Their statement affirms: “We grieve every life taken and reject every hatred—antisemitism, anti-Arab racism, and Islamophobia”. This balanced position recognizes the historical suffering of Jewish people while acknowledging the current plight of Palestinians.

The PCC’s call for Palestinian recognition at the UN General Assembly stems from the same commitment to self-determination that Pasifika nations have sought in our own decolonization journeys. This consistency is what Reverend Bhagwan means by an “Ocean of Peace”—a vision that demands ethical coherence rather than selective application of principles .

3 The Pasifika Context: Why Fiji’s Embassy Decision now is Problematic

The Fiji government’s decision to establish an embassy in Jerusalem at this time, contradicts international consensus that the city’s status should be resolved through final-status negotiations . The PCC has cautioned against this move precisely because it prejudges Jerusalem’s status and potentially normalizes ongoing violations of international law .

Prime Minister Rabuka’s claim that this is “not a religious decision” but rather “strategic engagement” rings hollow when considering Fiji’s own peacekeeping history in the region. Fijian soldiers have witnessed firsthand the devastating consequences of conflict, including the 1996 Qana massacre where Israeli shelling killed 106 Lebanese civilians sheltering at a UN compound. This historical context makes Fiji’s diplomatic move particularly morally troubling.

The PCC’s critique is not about rejecting dialogue with Israel but about ensuring that engagement serves peace with justice. As Reverend Bhagwan notes: “We cannot talk about the killing of thousands of people, unarmed civilians, children, the destruction of humanitarian spaces and at the same time talk about relationship with the countries that are perpetrating this violence” .

4 Conclusion: Toward a Consistent Christian Witness

Christian support for the modern state of Israel is not a theological imperative but a political choice—one that must be evaluated based on its alignment with Christian values of justice, peace, and human dignity. The Pasifika Conference of Churches offers a theologically robust and ethically consistent framework that:
1. Distinguishes between biblical Israel and the modern state of Israel
2. Affirms the equal worth and dignity of both Israeli and Palestinian people
3. Advocates for peace based on international law and human rights
4. Rejects all forms of violence and discrimination
This approach honors Christianity’s Jewish roots while recognizing that the church’s primary allegiance is to God’s kingdom—not any earthly nation. As Jesus told Pilate: “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36). Our call as Christians is to bear witness to this alternative reality where peace is established through justice, reconciliation through truth, and security through equal rights for all .

Rev. James Bhagwan and the Pasifika Conference of Churches, exemplify this prophetic witness—one that speaks truth to power while extending compassion to all affected by conflict. This is not abandonment of Christian roots but rather its fullest expression.
2025.09.13
The Unforgivable Choice: My Struggle to See a Human Behind the Enemy
I am writing this to myself, because the person I fear I’m becoming is watching closely.

The news of Charlie Kirk’s death didn’t sadden me. My first reaction was colder, sharper—a quiet, unsettling sense of irony. It was the easy response, the one that required nothing of me but a cynical shrug. It felt like a victory for my side. And that is what terrified me.

Because just a week earlier, a different death in the Pasifika, reflected my own hypocrisy back at me. In Fiji, Dr. Isireli Biumaitotoya—a beloved, controversial, and vibrant transgender known as Leli Darling—was murdered. The social media response was not grief, but a grotesque eruption of hate, a chorus of bigotry celebrating the silencing of a voice that dared to live openly.

Two deaths. Two ideologies. One identical, chilling failure of humanity. And I felt it in myself.

This is my uncomfortable truth: my initial instinct was not compassion. It was tribalism. It was to perform a crude calculus of grief, to measure the value of a life based on its political utility. To see a point on a scoreboard, not a shattered family.

I am writing to fight that instinct. I am writing to choose the harder path.

To the family and friends of Charlie Kirk: Your grief is real. To dismiss your pain as an acceptable casualty in a culture war would be to commit the very sin of dehumanization I claim to oppose. To love people who loved him means I must honor the weight you carry. I choose your humanity.

To the memory of Leli Darling and her grieving mother: Your humanity was attacked twice—first by violence, then by a torrent of cruel words that shame our species. To remain silent in the face of that hatred would be a betrayal of everything I believe. I choose to condemn that poison unconditionally.

This is the unforgivable choice we are forced to make in a broken world: to hold two crushing truths at once.
1. Truth One: A complex, imperfect human being is gone, and a circle of love around them has been shattered.
2. Truth Two: The ideas they championed have real and often devastating consequences.
To ignore the first truth is to become the cold, cruel monster you oppose. To ignore the second is to be a naive bystander to harm. The only way through is to stand in the painful, dizzying space between them.

So this is my challenge to you, and my note to my future self:

The next time a polarizing figure falls, pause. Breathe. Before you share, before you comment, before you let that wave of tribal satisfaction wash over you, ask:
- Do my words widen the rift or help stitch it closed?
- Am I arguing against a deadly idea, or am I celebrating the death of a person?
- Does my reaction make violence more or less likely?
We are sliding into a world where our digital rage licenses real-world cruelty. We are becoming mirror images of our enemies, arguing against hate with hate.

The world does not need more soldiers in this war. It needs healers. It needs people brave enough to do the hardest work: to see a human behind the label of “enemy,” and to choose empathy, not because it is easy, but because it is the only thing left that can save us from ourselves.

I am trying to build a soul that is a refuge, not a weapon. This is the mirror I choose to look into.

Which will you choose?
2025.09.12
Fiji’s Jerusalem Embassy: The Betrayal of Peacekeeping Legacy Amidst Bloodshed

1 The Unflinching March to Jerusalem: Fiji’s Diplomatic Triumph or Moral Failure?

Despite widespread condemnation from human rights organizations, Pacific regional bodies, and its own citizens, the Fiji government remains steadfast in its decision to open its embassy in Jerusalem next week. This move, touted as a “strategic step” to deepen cooperation with Israel, comes at a time when Israeli military operations in Gaza have killed tens of thousands of Palestinian civilians, including numerous children, and reduced much of the territory to ruins. The timing underscores a profound moral disconnect between Fiji’s celebrated peacekeeping legacy and its current foreign policy alignment with a nation whose military actions have been repeatedly condemned by international bodies.

Prime Minister Rabuka’s government defends the decision as an act of engagement intended to “build bridges and promote dialogue”. Yet this diplomatic rhetoric rings hollow, when contrasted with the horrific reality of Israel’s recent attack on Doha, which killed a Qatari security officer and several Hamas affiliates; and was unanimously condemned by the UN Security Council, as an “alarming escalation” that violates sovereignty and threatens regional stability. Rosemary DiCarlo, the UN’s top political affairs official, warned that such actions “undermine the work of mediation and dialogue [and] weaken confidence in the very mechanisms we depend on for conflict resolution”.

2 Historical Amnesia: From Qana to Gaza

The bitter irony of Fiji’s decision is magnified by its historical role as a UN peacekeeper in conflicts involving Israel. In 1996, Fijian peacekeepers were stationed at the Battalion Headquarters in Qana, Lebanon, when Israeli artillery shells struck the facility, killing 106 Lebanese civilians and injuring 116 others, along with four Fijian UN peacekeepers. A United Nations investigation concluded that the Israeli shelling was deliberate, based on video evidence showing an Israeli reconnaissance drone over the compound before the attack.

The Qana massacre occurred during Operation Grapes of Wrath, when Israeli forces attempted to stop Hezbollah rocket fire into northern Israel. Israel claimed the shelling was intended to cover an Israeli special forces unit that had come under mortar fire near the compound, but the UN investigation found evidence of a perceptible shift in fire from the mortar site to the UN compound. This historical context makes Fiji’s current embrace of Israel particularly ethically problematic—the same nation that killed civilians under UN protection now receives Fiji’s diplomatic rewards.

3 Moral Hypocrisy: Peacekeeping Values vs. Political Expediency

Fiji’s decision represents a fundamental betrayal of the values underpinning its UN peacekeeping legacy. For decades, Fiji has contributed more troops per capita to UN peacekeeping than any other country, building an international reputation as a neutral protector of civilians in conflict zones. This legacy includes the 2014 incident in the Golan Heights when 44 Fijian peacekeepers were taken hostage by al-Qaeda-linked insurgents and required Qatari mediation for their release.

The moral contradiction is staggering: Qatar, which helped secure the release of Fijian peacekeepers, now suffers an Israeli attack on its sovereignty that the UN Security Council unanimously condemns. Meanwhile, Fiji prepares to open an embassy in Jerusalem, effectively rewarding Israel for behavior that violates international norms. This decision demonstrates a foreign policy devoid of moral consistency—one that abandons the principles of neutrality, civilian protection, and respect for sovereignty that have long defined Fiji’s peacekeeping contributions.

Reverend James Bhagwan, general secretary of the Pacific Conference of Churches, aptly notes that this move “sits uneasily with the vision of an ocean of peace, which is one that is demilitarised, that is decolonising, and of course of which is grounded in international law”. He emphasizes that “non-alignment must be principled and not passive”—a clear indictment of Fiji’s abandonment of its traditional neutral stance.

4 The Religious Card: Manipulating Faith for Political Gain

The Fijian government’s decision appears influenced by domestic religious sentiment rather than sound foreign policy principles. Professor Jioji Ravulo, a prominent Fijian academic at the University of Sydney, explains that “a religious devotion to the modern state of Israel is entrenched among many Fijians,” connected to “the idea of the biblical Israel and the way in which our indigenous communities in Fiji connect to that”.

Shamima Ali, Coordinator of the Fiji Women’s Crisis Centre, believes Prime Minister Rabuka is “playing to the masses,” noting: “I don’t believe that he is stupid enough to go along with this whole thing of the lost tribe of Israel and so on. I think it’s just about buying votes because he does know where the majority sentiment is”. This exploitation of religious devotion for political gain, represents a cynical manipulation of public sentiment that disregards both historical context and current humanitarian realities.

5 Ethical Foreign Policy: A Three-Dimensional Failure

Fiji’s decision fails on all three dimensions of ethical foreign policy evaluation: intentions, means, and consequences.

5.1 Questionable Intentions

While the government claims the embassy represents “strategic engagement” rather than endorsement of Israeli policies, the timing and location suggest otherwise. Establishing a diplomatic presence in Jerusalem—a contested city whose status remains unresolved under international law—implicitly endorses Israel’s claim to the city as its capital. This move comes amid Israel’s violent expansionism in the West Bank, where Prime Minister Netanyahu has explicitly rejected a Palestinian state, declaring “There will never be a Palestinian state. This place is ours”.

5.2 Harmful Means

The means of achieving this diplomatic goal—exploiting religious sentiment, ignoring historical context, and disregarding regional partners like Qatar—demonstrate an absence of virtuous leadership. Virtues essential to ethical foreign policy include honesty, accountability, respectfulness, and fairness. Fiji’s approach lacks these qualities, instead exhibiting political expediency and moral shortsightedness.

5.3 Damaging Consequences

The consequences of Fiji’s decision are likely to include:

· Undermining regional solidarity: Fiji isolates itself from Pacific consensus on Palestine and contradicts broader Pacific concerns about self-determination and human rights.
· Damaging peacekeeping credibility: Fiji’s perceived alignment with Israel compromises its future effectiveness as a neutral peacekeeper in conflicts involving Israel or its neighbors.
· Legitimizing violations: The embassy move lends implicit legitimacy to Israel’s occupation of Palestinian territories and its recent violation of Qatari sovereignty.

6 Conclusion: A Call for Moral Consistency

Fiji’s decision to open an embassy in Jerusalem next week represents not just poor timing but a fundamental betrayal of the values that have made its international peacekeeping contributions so valued. By aligning with Israel amid its devastating campaign in Gaza and violation of Qatari sovereignty, the Fijian government abandons the principles of neutrality, civilian protection, and respect for international law that have long defined its foreign policy.

The ghosts of Qana—where 106 Lebanese civilians died under UN protection amid Israeli shelling—should give Fiji pause about embracing Israel without conditions. So too should Qatar’s role in securing the release of Fijian peacekeepers in 2014, contrasted with Israel’s recent attack on Doha that threatened regional stability.

True leadership would require either conditioning diplomatic engagement on Israel’s respect for international law and humanitarian principles or maintaining the neutral positioning that has made Fiji’s peacekeeping contributions so valuable. As the Pacific Conference of Churches has highlighted, Fiji cannot simultaneously promote an “Ocean of Peace” while aligning with parties engaged in violence against civilians.

One can only hope that Fiji will reconsider this diplomatically reckless and morally compromised decision before the embassy opening next week. If not, the Fijian government will have chosen political expediency over principled statecraft—and in doing so, betrayed the legacy of its peacekeepers who have sacrificed so much to protect civilians in conflict zones worldwide.

2025.09.12
The Pacific’s Prophetic Paradox: Faith, Myth, and the Unwavering Support for Israel

The fascinating and deeply reported account of the Pasifika’s allegiance to Israel reveals a complex tapestry of faith, identity politics, and geopolitical strategy. From the Negev Desert to the jungles of Malaita and the government offices of Draiba, a powerful narrative—the myth of the Lost Tribes of Israel—has been woven, binding remote island nations to a distant conflict in the Middle East. However, this unwavering support, born from a desire for significance and spiritual homecoming, appears to many observers as a profound paradox. While presented as a righteous stand for an “elder brother,” this alignment, championed by fundamentalist Christian leaders, often overlooks a critical examination of both scripture and the stark reality of Israel’s modern actions, culminating in what can only be described as a tragic abdication of moral responsibility in the face of the devastating genocide in Gaza.

The allure of the Lost Tribes myth is undeniably powerful, especially for nations historically relegated to the margins of global affairs. For the people of Fiji, the Solomon Islands, and others, the story is not mere folklore; it is a theological and historical anchor. It transforms them from inhabitants of “the ends of the earth” into central players in a millennia-old biblical saga. As Robert Kaua in the Solomons articulated, this belief provides a “lifetime commitment,” a sense of divine purpose that elevates their national identity above one of mere post-colonial struggle. This deep-seated need for a glorious past and a significant future is a potent force. When combined with the evangelical framework that views the modern state of Israel as a prerequisite for Christ’s second coming, it creates an ideological imperative to defend it unconditionally. The emotional resonance is clear: the Fijian marchers waving Israeli flags and blowing shofars genuinely feel they are championing their own family.

Yet, this fervent belief is dangerously susceptible to manipulation, both from within and without. The reporting exposes a startling cynicism among the myth’s most prominent champions. The retired Solomon Islands warlord Jimmy Lusibaea admits the story was a useful tool for morale, a banner under which to wage a holy war, yet he privately expresses uncertainty about its truth. Fiji’s Deputy Prime Minister Viliame Gavoka, who leverages the myth for political capital, squirms and stammers when asked directly for his belief, eventually conceding it’s a useful narrative to make people “buy into what you believe in.” Most telling is the preacher Mikaele Mudreilagi, whose vision in the desert propelled him to activism. When pressed, his conviction crumbles into a hesitant “if” and a “possibility,” a far cry from the certainty he preached to his followers. These leaders are not true believers; they are entrepreneurs of faith, packaging a palatable prophecy to consolidate power, win elections, and gain relevance.

This internal manipulation is compounded and encouraged by external actors who recognize the strategic value of these votes on the world stage. Organizations like the International Christian Embassy Jerusalem (ICEJ) actively cultivate and celebrate this support. Their president’s praise for the Fijian branch’s “amazing impact” reveals a clear understanding that these Pasifika nations are a diplomatic lifeline. In forums like the United Nations and the International Court of Justice, where Israel faces near-total isolation, the votes of Fiji, Nauru, and Papua New Guinea are priceless. The establishment of the so-called Indigenous Embassy in Jerusalem is a masterstroke of propaganda, weaponizing the concept of indigeneity, to shield the Israeli government from accusations of settler colonialism. By presenting Pasifika Islanders as “indigenous advocates” for Israel, it creates a moral equivalence that is both historically inaccurate and ethically grotesque, effectively using the descendants of one colonized people to launder the reputation of a modern occupying power.

This brings us to the most troubling aspect of this alliance: the profound and willful moral disconnect it requires. The fundamentalist Christianity that underpins this support is highly selective. It cherry-picks the Old Testament—the covenants with Abraham, the glory of King Solomon’s Ophir—while systematically ignoring the unsavory bits: the genocidal commands, the prophetic calls for justice, and the entirety of Christ’s teachings in the New Testament centered on mercy, peacemaking, and love for one’s enemy. This faith has been utterly brainwashed, into aligning with a Western, conservative political project that values nationalist expansion over universal human dignity.

The brutal reality in Gaza is the ultimate test of this cherry-picked faith. As Israel’s military campaign, under the leadership of Benjamin Netanyahu, has unleashed a horrifying scale of destruction—leveling entire neighborhoods, killing tens of thousands of civilians, and creating a man-made famine—the response from these Pasifika champions has been to double down. They frame it solely as a war of good against evil, of Israel against Hamas, refusing to engage with the disproportionate and collective punishment being meted out upon a largely helpless population. To stand with Israel is one thing; to offer unqualified support for a campaign the International Court of Justice has found to be “plausibly” genocidal is another entirely. Their “missile prayers” are not for the ceasing of violence or the protection of all innocent life but for the victory of one side, blind to the mountains of corpses being created in their name.

The great tragedy is that this position betrays the very indigenous and spiritual values these nations claim to hold. Pasifika cultures are traditionally built on community, reciprocity, and a deep connection to the land. To see leaders like Gavoka and Mudreilagi use their influence to endorse the dispossession and slaughter of another people connected to their land is a bitter irony. The compassionate wisdom of their own cultures, which should inspire calls for reconciliation and ceasefire, is drowned out by the drumbeat of apocalyptic zeal and realpolitik. They pray for a time when “the two flags unite,” as Kaua did, while their government’s actions on the world stage empower the very forces making that dream impossible.

In the end, the story of the Pasifika’s support for Israel is a cautionary tale about the power of story and the danger of faith divorced from critical ethics. The Lost Tribes myth provided a beautiful dream of belonging and purpose. But in the hands of cynical leaders and foreign interest groups, it has been weaponized into a narrative that justifies overlooking a horrific reality. It is a testament to the fact that the most potent myths are not those that are true, but those that we desperately want to believe—even if that belief requires closing our eyes to a genocide and abdicating our shared responsibility for our fellow human beings.

2025.09.10

Fiji’s Constitutional Crossroads: A Hammer in Search of New Tools – The Paradox of Change in a Land of Coups

The ancient adage that “when all you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail” finds unsettling resonance in Fiji’s turbulent political history. For decades, Fijian politics has been dominated by the hammer of authoritarian imposition and military force, with constitutions abrogated and rewritten to serve the interests of those in power. The 2013 Constitution, crafted by the Bainimarama/Khaiyum regime with “no extensive public consultation process” and “imposed by decree after an unlawful coup,” represented the ultimate expression of this hammer-and-nail governance . Today, Fiji stands at a historic juncture—the Supreme Court recently, effectively reshaped this flawed document, declaring its amendment provisions “virtually unamendable” and reducing the impossible threshold for change to a more democratic process . The pressing question that now confronts Prime Minister Sitiveni Rabuka’s coalition government, is whether they will continue reaching for familiar hammers or finally embrace a more diverse toolkit for nation-building.

The Burden of History and the Democratic Deficit

Fiji’s constitutional journey has been anything but smooth. Since independence in 1970, the nation has had four constitutions, with all but the current one abrogated following military interventions. The 2013 Constitution emerged from what the Supreme Court frankly acknowledged as an undemocratic process—drafted by a small group of officials over a very short period, lacking legitimate public participation, and imposed from above rather than growing from the collective will of the Fijian people. This origin created what the Court termed a “democratic deficit”, a fundamental illegitimacy that has haunted the document despite three elections conducted under its provisions.

The Constitution’s amendment procedures were deliberately designed to be virtually unchangeable, requiring a 75% parliamentary majority plus the same supermajority in a referendum—a threshold so prohibitively high, that it effectively rendered the people powerless to alter their fundamental law. This rigidity reflected the hammer mentality of its authors: having fashioned the constitution to serve their interests, they ensured it would remain immune to democratic modification. The coalition government’s challenge to these provisions represented not merely a technical legal maneuver but a fundamental confrontation with Fiji’s authoritarian legacy.

The Courts Intervention: Providing New Tools

The Supreme Court’s landmark opinion offers a potential breakthrough in this democratic impasse. In a remarkable exercise of judicial power, the Court remedially interpreted the amendment provisions, lowering the threshold to a two-thirds parliamentary majority plus a simple majority of voters in a referendum. This decision reflects profound judicial wisdom—it neither capitulates to government demands for simple majority amendment nor preserves the existing impossibility of change. Instead, it charts a middle path that makes amendment feasible while still requiring broad consensus.

The Court’s reasoning deserves particular attention. Rather than engaging in pure textual interpretation, the justices adopted a contextual approach that considered Fiji’s complex political history and the democratic values underlying constitutional governance. They emphasized that the spirit of the Constitution—promoting “a democratic society based on human dignity, equality and freedom”—must take precedence over rigid textual provisions that undermine that very spirit. This approach recognizes that constitutionalism cannot be reduced to a mere hammer of control but must serve as a diverse toolkit for democratic flourishing.

Table: Comparing Constitutional Amendment Requirements

Document	Parliamentary Majority Required	Referendum Requirement	Practical Effect
2013 Constitution (Original)	75% of MPs	75% of registered voters	Virtually unamendable
Supreme Court Revised Standard	66% of MPs	Simple majority of voters	Difficult but achievable
Government’s Desired Standard	Simple majority	None	Easily amendable

Cabinet’s Pathway: Between Vision and Political Reality

The Supreme Court’s decision presents the coalition government with both extraordinary opportunity and profound responsibility. Cabinet now stands at a crossroads with three potential pathways forward:

1. The Pathway of Constitutional Reform

The government can initiate a genuinely inclusive process for constitutional revision, something multiple stakeholders have demanded. National Federation Party Leader Professor Biman Prasad has called for “a full national dialogue on the Constitution” through a “representative constitutional review commission” that would “ensure that all Fijians’ voices are heard and respected” . This approach would require careful statesmanship rather than hammer-force, recognizing that constitutional legitimacy derives from process as much as substance.

The government must particularly address concerns raised by minority communities, especially Indo-Fijians who fear that lowered amendment thresholds might enable majority tyranny. As Fiji Labour Party Leader Mahendra Chaudhry warned, “The Indian community… feels particularly vulnerable in light of the country’s history of race-based coups and the trampling of their rights” . A visionary cabinet would prioritize protective mechanisms for minority rights that cannot be easily amended, perhaps through special entrenchment provisions or power-sharing arrangements.

2. The Pathway of Economic Transformation

Constitutional change cannot occur in a vacuum—it must be accompanied by economic vision. The IMF’s 2025 assessment notes that while Fiji’s economy has recovered from the pandemic with 3.7% growth in 2024, significant challenges remain: public debt at 80% of GDP, infrastructure constraints, vulnerability to natural disasters, and “brain drain” of human capital . The government’s economic toolkit must address these issues through balanced fiscal policies—continuing growth-friendly consolidation while investing in climate resilience and human development.

The IMF recommends focusing on “enhancing the business environment,” “addressing ageing infrastructure,” and “improving transport network and digital connectivity” . These priorities require technocratic competence rather than political hammering—a recognition that economic prosperity emerges from careful planning and institutional stability rather than grand gestures.

3. The Pathway of Reconciliation and Justice

Perhaps the most delicate challenge concerns Fiji’s troubled past. The Supreme Court notably maintained immunity for those behind the 1987 and 2000 coups “in the interests of ‘stability and continuity’”, but this decision remains controversial. Prime Minister Rabuka himself—who orchestrated the 1987 coups—now positions himself as a reconciler, but many question whether true reconciliation can occur without accountability.

The proposed Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) offers a potential middle path, but its success requires Rabuka’s full participation and transparency. As one analysis notes, “For the TRC to transcend political theatre, Rabuka must pair radical accountability with strategic diplomacy” . This might include testifying with “raw honesty” about his role in the 1987 coups, leading efforts to scrap coup-related immunity provisions, and eventually stepping down to enable generational change . Such actions would represent a decisive break from hammer politics toward a more nuanced toolkit of transitional justice.

Obstacles to a Visionary Pathway

Despite these opportunities, formidable obstacles threaten to return Fiji to “politics as usual”:

Coalition Management: The ruling coalition comprises three parties with potentially divergent interests. Workshops on Fijian democracy revealed challenges in “the coordination of the 3 governing parties” , suggesting that internal tensions might impede bold action.
Ethnic Divisions: Reconciliation of “indigenous iTaukei and Indo-Fijians” remains a central challenge , compounded by the need for “balancing Western law with customary law and indigenous rights and customs” . These divisions require careful navigation rather than heavy-handed solutions.
Generational Transition: With over 60% of the population being youth, there is growing impatience with leaders whose careers “began with guns, not ballots” . The government must balance the experience of older leaders with the energy and new perspectives of younger generations.

Table: Key Challenge Areas for Fiji’s Coalition Government

Challenge Category	Specific Issues	Required Approach
Political-Institutional	Coalition coordination, constitutional reform, judicial independence	Consensus-building, inclusive dialogue
Socio-Ethnic	iTaukei-Indo-Fijian relations, indigenous rights, customary law	Power-sharing, cultural sensitivity
Economic-Developmental	High public debt, infrastructure deficits, climate vulnerability	Technocratic competence, strategic investment
Intergenerational	Youth inclusion, leadership transition, digital transformation	Mentorship programs, political renewal

Conclusion: Beyond the Hammer Mentality

Fiji’s Supreme Court has provided what might be the most important judicial decision in the nation’s history—not by imposing another hammer but by offering a diverse set of constitutional tools. The Court has effectively said that the people of Fiji must have meaningful ability to shape their fundamental law, but that changes should reflect broad consensus rather than narrow interests.

The coalition government now faces its defining test. Will it retreat to the familiar hammers of Fijian politics—authoritarian imposition, ethnic favoritism, and personalistic rule? Or will it embrace a more sophisticated toolkit of inclusive dialogue, careful consensus-building, and visionary planning? The answer will determine whether Fiji remains trapped in its history of coups and constitutions or finally transitions to a stable democratic future.

The Supreme Court has given Fiji something rare: a second chance at constitutional democracy. How the government uses this opportunity will determine whether the nation becomes a democratic exemplar for the Pasifika or another case study in missed opportunities. The tools are now available; vision and courage are all that’s required to use them wisely.

2025.09.10

A Call for a Pasifika Formal Dress Code: Reclaiming Our Climate, Culture and Confidence

For Fiji and the wider Pasifika, the continued adherence to colonial-era formal wear—heavy wool suits, stifling ties, and oppressive judicial robes—is more than a mere sartorial inconvenience; it is a lingering anomaly that demands urgent and conscious re-dress. Our reality is one of sun-drenched islands and humid breezes, a tropical climate that naturally suits lighter, breathable, and culturally resonant garments. Yet, in our halls of power, courtrooms, and corporate offices, we cling to the sartorial legacies of a distant, colder world. This disconnect is not just a matter of physical discomfort but a profound symbolic issue, highlighting a lingering hesitation to fully step into a post-colonial identity that is authentically our own. After more than five decades of independence for many Pasifika nations, it is time to align our professional attire with our environment, our heritage, and our future.

The irony is palpable. Visitors to our shores are quick to embrace the comfort and vibrancy of island-style clothing, often purchasing bula shirts and sulus as cherished souvenirs. Meanwhile, Fijians and Kai Pasifika in formal roles, often swelter in outdated Western ensembles, a visual metaphor for a persistent cultural dissonance. This is not about rejecting global interconnectedness but about questioning why, in the very heart of our own nations, the uniform of authority and professionalism remains one that is fundamentally foreign and physically unsuitable. The question we must ask is: does maintaining these standards truly elevate our professionalism, or does it subtly reinforce an outdated hierarchy that places external norms above our own?

This conversation extends far beyond practicality into the crucial realm of symbolic self-determination. Nowhere is this more evident than in our judicial institutions. The sight of judges and lawyers donning horsehair wigs and thick black robes, designed for the courtrooms and climates of 18th-century Britain, feels less like a respected tradition and more like an uncritical homage to a colonial era. If we are serious about the project of decolonizing minds and institutions, then reimagining these powerful symbols is not a frivolous endeavour—it is essential. These vestments are not neutral; they are potent symbols of a system imposed from without. Reforming them would be a powerful declaration that our justice system is of, for, and by the people of the Pasifika, respectful of its past but not bound by it.

We are not without compelling blueprints for this transition. Nations with similar colonial histories have navigated this path with pragmatism and pride. India, for instance, discarded the impractical wig in the 1960s, recognising its incompatibility with both the climate and the cultural identity of a confident new nation. Kenya followed suit in 2011, abolishing wigs and introducing redesigned judicial robes featuring green and gold accents, the colours of its national flag. Some Kenyan judges even incorporate Maasai-inspired beaded collars into their ceremonial attire. These nations understood that professionalism and dignity are not inextricably linked to European aesthetics. They demonstrated that it is entirely possible to honour the solemnity of an institution, while rooting it in local reality. The question is not can we do this, but why haven’t we?

Critics of such change often argue that Western formalwear conveys “professionalism” in a globalised world and that deviating from this norm might undermine international perception. This argument, however, confuses uniformity for universality. True professionalism is conveyed through conduct, competence, and respect—not through the cut of one’s jacket. Moreover, this perspective risks implicitly devaluing our own cultural expressions. The vibrant, well-tailored bula shirt, the dignified sulu vakataga, and the elegant jaba are not casual wear; they are garments of immense pride, heritage, and inherent dignity. By redefining our standards of formality to include these items, we do not lower our standards—we affirm that our identity holds equal value in spaces of power. We declare that a Kai Pasifika, can be taken seriously while dressed as a Kai Pasifika.

The benefits of such a shift are multifaceted. On a practical level, shedding stifling attire would undoubtedly enhance comfort, productivity, and well-being in our oppressive heat. On an economic level, it would empower local designers, tailors, and textile artisans, fostering an industry centred on Pasifika identity rather than importing foreign suits. Culturally, it would be an act of empowerment, especially for the younger generation, to see their leaders and professionals adorned in garments that reflect a confident, modern Pasifika identity.

The path forward is not one of wholesale rejection, but of thoughtful curation and creative innovation. It requires a national and regional conversation led by cultural stakeholders, designers, climate experts, and professionals from various sectors. The goal is not to impose a rigid, state-mandated uniform—as past attempts with the kala vata (colour-coding) have shown—but to develop organic, widely embraced guidelines, that celebrate our unique position in the world. Imagine a Fijian barrister in a tailored, open-neck sulu vakataga and a black jacket trimmed with traditional masi motifs. Imagine a regional diplomat in a sleek, modernised sulu and a Nehru-style jacket made from breathable local linen. The possibilities are as rich and diverse as our cultures.

For Fiji and the Pasifika to fully step into our post-colonial future, we must dare to dress the part. It is time to consciously curate our professional identity, retaining what serves us and courageously redesigning what does not. Let us build institutions and a society where the dress code is not a relic of a bygone empire, but a reflection of our own sun-kissed, ocean-bound, and culturally vibrant reality. Let’s not just participate in the world; let’s enter it on our own terms, clothed in the confidence of who we are.

2025.09.10
A Bulldozer in Disguise – Rabuka’s Haste Betrays the Court’s Consensus

An Op-Ed in Saturday 6 September’s Fiji Times

Prime Minister Sitiveni Rabuka’s confirmation that a draft Bill to amend the 2013 Constitution is ready for tabling — and that he already has the parliamentary numbers to pass it — should be a moment of democratic triumph. Instead, it feels like a sobering reminder that old political habits die hard. While the Supreme Court’s landmark ruling offered Fiji a rare opportunity to break from its history of top-down constitutional impositions, the government’s hurried approach threatens to reduce this profound judicial guidance to little more than a numbers game in Parliament. What was meant to be a pathway to national consensus risks becoming a political bulldozer in disguise.

THERE is no denying the significance of the Supreme Court’s opinion. By declaring the previous amendment thresholds — requiring three-quarters of all MPs and three-quarters of registered voters, including non-voters — “unworkable” and reflective of a “democratic deficit,” the court did more than adjust legal technicalities. It repudiated the very philosophy of the 2013 Constitution: That fundamental law could be imposed on the people rather than shaped by them. In their place, the court instituted a new framework: Amendments must now be supported by two-thirds of Parliament and a simple majority in a referendum. This was designed not just to make change possible, but to make it legitimate — rooted in deliberation and popular consent.

Yet, the Prime Minister’s announcement suggests a preoccupation with the arithmetic of change rather than the spirit of change. Boasting that “I know I have the numbers” and emphasizing parliamentary tactics over participatory process, echoes the very style of politics the Supreme Court’s ruling sought to transcend. It is true that the government’s previous attempt in March, which received 40 votes, would have passed under the new two-thirds threshold (requiring 37 votes). But reducing this profound constitutional moment to a question of vote-counting misses the point entirely. The court’s judgment was an invitation to nation-building, not a green light for political deal-making.

The government’s approach — fast-tracking a draft Bill through Cabinet and Parliament with what a friend termed “indecent haste”— risks creating a constitutional amendment, that is legal, but not legitimate. The Supreme Court provided a dual requirement: Parliamentary supermajority and a referendum. This two-step process was clearly intended to ensure that amendments are not only negotiated among political elites, but also explained, debated, and ultimately endorsed by the people. By rushing the parliamentary process, the government threatens to treat the referendum as a mere formality — a rubber stamp on a deal already struck in the corridors of power. This would repeat the very “democratic deficit” the court condemned.

A meaningful process would look very different. It would embrace the court’s ruling as a mandate to foster genuine dialogue across all sectors of society. Before tabling any Bill, the government should initiate an inclusive, transparent, and unhurried national conversation — facilitated by the promised Constitution Review Committee and parliamentary committees — about what changes are needed and why. This is not about delaying justice, but about ensuring that changes are deeply understood and broadly owned by the citizens, who must live under them. A referendum should be the culmination of a educated national debate, not a leap of faith demanded of an uninformed electorate. For the ordinary Fijian, this is not a matter of political point-scoring, but of democratic principle. We have lived through constitutions crafted in secrecy and imposed by decree. We have seen how legalistic compliance without genuine buy-in leads to instability and resentment. The Supreme Court has offered us a way out of this cycle — a chance to replace imposition with conversation, and diktat with consensus. It would be a tragic irony if the government used the court’s ruling to validate a process that remains, in spirit, profoundly at odds with the democratic renewal the judiciary envisioned.

The Prime Minister is correct about one thing: this is about keeping promises to the people of Fiji. But the most important promise — bigger than any particular amendment — is the promise of a democracy that is truly by and for the people. That means respecting not just the letter of the court’s ruling, but its essence: That lasting change must be built together, with patience, transparency, and respect for the voices of all. The Supreme Court has given us a pathway. It is up to our leaders — and to us — to walk it with integrity, not run through it with haste.

2025.09.10