Tag: politics

• The Pasifika Way Forward: Leadership Must Be Claimed, Not Delegated

  As Pasifika leaders gather in Palau for the 55th Pacific Islands Forum, the familiar challenges await: climate finance, ocean governance, economic resilience. Yet one question hangs over every agenda item like a gathering storm: in an era of intensifying great-power rivalry, how does the Forum remain master of its own house?

  The recent Foreign Ministers Meeting in Suva offered a glimpse of both the problem and the path forward. When New Zealand’s Winston Peters pushed for a joint statement condemning China’s missile test, the effort failed. Not because Pasifika leaders are indifferent to security—but because they are refusing to be instruments of others’ anxieties. As one minister put it, Pasifika priorities must be “conceived by the Pasifika, shaped by the Pasifika and owned by the Pasifika.”

  This is not anti-Western or anti-Chinese. It is pro-Pasifika. And it is the only sustainable foundation for regional solidarity.

  A Leadership Vacuum—And The Nation That Must Fill It

  Yet solidarity requires leadership, and leadership requires courage. Fiji, as the largest Pasifika nation after Papua New Guinea, carries a particular weight—and a particular responsibility. It cannot afford to be a passive follower of a vuvale foreign policy dictated from Canberra, nor can it allow its regional leadership to be subsumed by the strategic priorities of any great power. This is not about antagonism toward Australia; it is about maturity. Genuine partnership requires the ability to say no, to chart an independent course, and to insist that Fiji’s foreign policy, serve our people and the wider Pasifika family—not the geopolitical anxieties of distant capitals.

  For too long, Pasifika leadership has been deferred to outsiders—to former colonial powers, to larger neighbours, to those who claim to speak for the region while rarely listening to it. The Suva meeting demonstrated that when Pasifika nations assert their agency, they can resist external pressure. But resistance is not enough. The region needs proactive leadership that sets the agenda, shapes the narrative, and insists on Pasifika-led solutions to Pasifika challenges. Fiji, with its diplomatic weight, its military capability, and its central geographic position, is uniquely placed to provide that leadership—but only if it chooses to exercise it boldly and independently.

  As one observer put it bluntly: rather than allowing itself to be led by the nose by Canberra’s strategic anxieties, Fiji must grow the backbone to lead the entire Pasifika in standing up to all great powers—whether they come from the West, the East, or elsewhere. This is not about picking sides; it is about refusing to let anyone else pick sides for us. It is about recognising that the Pasifika’s future must be shaped by Pasifika peoples, on Pasifika terms, for Pasifika purposes.

  The Geopolitical Trap

  The great powers have discovered the Pasifika. The United States, China, and their allies are vying for influence through aid, security partnerships, and diplomatic courtship. For Pasifika nations, this attention brings resources—but it also brings pressure. The danger is not engagement itself; it is the subtle erosion of agency that comes when external powers set the terms of debate.

  Dame Meg Taylor, former Forum Secretary-General, warned that “the question of whose priorities shape the agenda is one we must always keep asking.” This is the central challenge. When the Forum is asked to take sides in a rivalry that is not of its making, it risks becoming a proxy battlefield rather than a forum for Pasifika priorities.

  The Real Priorities

  For Pasifika island nations, the most urgent concerns are not geopolitical but existential: climate change, energy security, development financing, infrastructure, and economic resilience. These are the issues that threaten livelihoods, cultures, and futures. These are the issues that demand regional solidarity.

  The Forum has already demonstrated its capacity for Pasifika-led solutions. The Treaty of Rarotonga established the world’s first nuclear-free zone in a populated region. Pasifika leadership secured the 1.5-degree Celsius target in the Paris Agreement. The Parties to the Naoero Agreement remains one of the strongest examples of Pasifika-owned governance. These achievements prove that when the Pasifika speaks with one voice, the world listens.

  The Path Forward

  So how does the Forum safeguard its independence—and how does Fiji lead the way?

  First, by strengthening economic self-determination. As Dame Meg Taylor has argued, economic independence is the region’s most important structural challenge. Pasifika-owned initiatives like the Pasifika Resilience Facility must be prioritised over externally funded programs that carry hidden strings. Fiji, as the region’s economic hub, must champion these initiatives and resist the temptation to trade sovereignty for short-term aid.

  Second, by deepening regional unity without sacrificing diversity. The Forum’s strength lies in its ability to accommodate different national interests while maintaining collective purpose. This requires patience, consensus-building, and a willingness to resist external pressures to divide and conquer. Fiji must use its diplomatic weight to bridge differences and keep the region united—not by imposing its will, but by facilitating genuine dialogue and consensus.

  Third, by telling Pasifika stories on Pasifika terms. The State of the Pasifika Ocean Convening in Suva earlier this month, demonstrated the power of civil society, Indigenous knowledge holders, and youth to shape the regional agenda. These voices must be amplified, not sidelined. Fiji must ensure that its leadership is inclusive and that the region’s diverse perspectives are heard and respected.

  Fourth, by demanding that partnerships serve Pasifika priorities—not the other way around. As Solomon Islands Foreign Minister Rick Houenipwela stated, partnerships must continue to serve Pasifika priorities, not external agendas. Fiji must model this principle in its own bilateral relationships, demonstrating that true partnership is based on mutual respect and genuine consultation—not on the ability to extract concessions from smaller neighbours.

  Fifth, by exercising diplomatic courage. Leadership means taking positions that may not please all external partners. It means speaking truth to power—whether that power resides in Washington, Beijing, Canberra, or Wellington. Fiji must be willing to say no, to push back, and to insist that the Pasifika’s voice is heard and respected in every forum, from the United Nations to the negotiating tables of the great powers.

  A Leadership Vacuum—And The Nation That Must Fill It

  Fiji cannot afford to be a passive follower of a vuvale foreign policy dictated from Canberra. Genuine partnership requires the ability to say no, to chart an independent course, and to insist that Fiji’s foreign policy serves Fiji’s people and the wider Pasifika family—not the geopolitical anxieties of distant capitals. For far too long, Pasifika leadership has been deferred to outsiders—to former colonial powers, to larger neighbours, to those who claim to speak for the region while rarely listening to it. The Suva Foreign Ministers’ meeting demonstrated that when Pasifika nations assert their agency, they can resist external pressure. But resistance is not enough. The region needs proactive leadership that sets the agenda, shapes the narrative, and insists on Pasifika-led solutions to Pasifika challenges. Fiji, with its diplomatic weight and central geographic position, is uniquely placed to provide that leadership.

  The Challenge

  This is not a call for confrontation. It is a call for maturity. The Pasifika does not need to choose between the great powers. It needs to insist that its own priorities come first. The United States, China, Australia, New Zealand, and others can be valuable partners—but they must be partners, not patrons. They must listen more than they lecture, and they must respect that the Pasifika Way is not a relic of the past, but a living framework for decision-making.

  The great powers will continue to compete. They will continue to offer aid, seek alliances, and jostle for influence. But the Forum’s task is not to choose between them. It is to remain united around its own priorities, to speak with its own voice, and to insist that the Pasifika’s future be shaped by Pasifika peoples—for Pasifika peoples. And Fiji, as the region’s natural leader, must have the courage to say this clearly, consistently, and without apology.

  The ocean has always been our highway, our home, our identity. Let us govern it as ours—and let Fiji lead the way in ensuring that no external power; however powerful, ever forgets that.

  2026.08.28

• The US’s AI Panic Isn’t About Theft. It’s About an Alternative Future.

  The Wall Street Journal recently told a compelling story: a former teacher and his pupil, once bound by academic dreams, are now the billionaire faces of China’s AI revolution, leaving US tech pioneers looking over their shoulders with alarm.

  Yet, within the first few paragraphs, the familiar accusations creep in. Theft. Espionage. National security. It is the reflexive mantra of Silicon Valley and Washington whenever China achieves a technological breakthrough.

  But here is the uncomfortable truth the West refuses to utter aloud: China hasn’t just caught up. It has built a fundamentally different vision for artificial intelligence—one that terrifies the US establishment not because it is stolen, but because it challenges their entire economic and social order.

  Let’s start with the allegation of theft. It is a psychological defense mechanism. It is far easier for US executives and politicians to accuse Chinese labs of copying than to admit a painful reality: US tech is bogged down by short-term greed. While US companies are busy figuring out how to charge you monthly for every chatbot query, Chinese engineers—under immense pressure from chip restrictions—were figuring out how to do more with less. The “student” surpassed the “master” through sheer grit, state-backed scale, and a homegrown talent pool that the US education system struggles to match. To concede this would force Wall Street to look inward and ask why their own innovation machine is stalling.

  But the deeper issue lies in ideology. The Western mind cannot process a non-capitalist tech boom. In the US playbook, any world-changing technology must ultimately serve the billionaire elite—it exists to enrich shareholders, consolidate monopolies, and extract recurring fees from the public. AI in the US is a luxury good, designed to replace workers and drive ad revenue for a handful of trillion-dollar corporations.

  China, on the other hand, treats AI like public infrastructure. Think of it less like a shiny new iPhone and more like high-speed rail or electricity. The goal isn’t just to create billionaires—though that happens—but to integrate smart systems into farming, disaster prediction and preparedness, logistics, and public healthcare. When China uses AI to forecast typhoons for coastal villages or optimize supply chains for its remote provinces, it doesn’t fit neatly into the Western narrative. The West dismisses this as propaganda because acknowledging it would raise a devastating question: Why is US AI only making the rich richer, while Chinese AI is being deployed to uplift the masses and eradicate poverty?

  This brings us to the “national security” boogeyman. Let’s be honest: banning Chinese AI products has very little to do with protecting citizens from spies. It is a trade barrier, plain and simple—a smokescreen for market protectionism. If US consumers and small businesses were allowed to use China’s highly efficient, cost-effective AI tools, the enormous profit margins of US tech giants would collapse overnight. Washington isn’t afraid that Chinese AI will steal your data; it is afraid that Chinese AI will steal the market by being better, cheaper, and more accessible. When you can’t out-compete, you outlaw.

  Finally, there is the ego problem. The West has long viewed itself as the eternal “teacher” of global technology. To watch the “pupil”—Tang Jie and Yang Zhilin—not only close the gap but innovate smarter under harsh restrictions, shatters that hierarchical arrogance. The US expected China to always be a few years behind. Now that the timeline has evaporated, the only face-saving move is to scream “cheating.”

  But the real threat Chinese AI poses to America is not espionage. It is the terrifying proof that there is another way to build the future. It is a future where technology serves the collective good, where progress is measured by societal resilience rather than quarterly earnings, and where the machine works for the many, not just the moguls.

  The West will not admit this narrative because doing so would unravel its ideological bedrock. If China can build advanced AI and use it for broad-based societal uplift, then America’s model—which creates immense wealth for a few while alienating the rest—is exposed as a choice, not an inevitability.

  So, they cry theft. They cry security. It is not an analysis of China’s capabilities; it is a confession of their own stagnation. And you cannot ban a better idea. You can only fear it.

  2026.08.22

• The CUMA Bill 2025: A Continuation of Injustice Disguised as Progress

  Earlier this week, Parliament passed the Commercial Use of Marine Areas (CUMA) Bill 2025 with 27 votes in favour, seven abstentions, and 21 members not voting. The Government hailed it as a landmark reform—an “important step towards strengthening the governance, protection and sustainable utilisation of our marine resources” that would “revert proprietary ownership of marine areas used for commercial purposes to customary owners.”

  Yet beneath the rhetoric of empowerment lies a profound deception: the CUMA Bill does not restore what was promised, does not honour what was taken, and does not satisfy the aspirations of the iTaukei as articulated by the Bose Levu Vakaturaga.

  This is not a correction of historical wrongs but a continuation of them—a legislative sleight of hand that replaces the 2010 Surfing Decree with a more palatable name while preserving its core injustices.

  A Century of Broken Promises

  The iTaukei claim to qoliqoli ownership is not a novel demand but the fulfillment of a promise made over 140 years ago. In 1881, at Nailaga, Ba, Governor Sir William Des Vœux conveyed Queen Victoria’s wishes to the Bose Levu Vakaturaga:

  “It is Her Majesty’s desire that neither you nor your people should be deprived of any rights in those reefs which you have enjoyed under your own laws and customs… measures will be taken for securing to each Mataqali the reefs which properly belong to it, exactly in the same way as the rest of their land will be secured to them.”

  This was the Crown’s solemn commitment: qoliqoli would receive the same legal protection as native land. Yet while native land was secured through colonial land laws, the equivalent protection for qoliqoli was never implemented—blocked by white settler opposition and commercial interests.

  This injustice has been documented repeatedly. The 1975 Qoriniasi Bale Cabinet Sub-Committee recommended transferring full proprietary ownership to customary holders. The 2006 Qoliqoli Bill proposed to “henceforth and without further assurance vest the proprietary ownership of all qoliqoli areas to traditional and customary qoliqoli holders.” Dr Tupeni Baba concluded that restoring legal recognition of qoliqoli ownership would correct this historical wrong. The BLV, in its submission to the Constitution Review Commission; anchored its position on the 1881 Royal Dispatch, affirming that “qoliqoli ownership must be recognized in the same way as customary ownership, owners own their land.”

  Each generation has identified the problem. Each generation has proposed the same solution. And each generation has seen that solution denied.

  Ownership vs. Benefit-Sharing

  The distinction between the 2006 Qoliqoli Bill and the 2026 CUMA Bill could not be starker.

  2006 QOLIQOLI BILL — “e tukuna o cei nai TAUKEI NI se TAUKENA na WAITUI-YALAVA NI QOLI.” (Who owns the ocean?)

  2026 CUMA BILL — “e tukuna o cei me VAKAYAGATAKA na Waitui/Yalava ni Qoli.” (Who benefits from the ocean?)

  The 2006 Bill proposed the transfer of proprietary rights of qoliqoli areas—beach, lagoon and reef—from the State to the qoliqoli owners. It was a rights-first model: ownership, proprietary control, exclusive decision-making powers.

  The CUMA Bill, by contrast, is a benefit-sharing model: regulation, sustainability, commercial-use management, revenue sharing. Ownership remains with the State. The iTaukei do not receive proprietary rights; they receive the right to apply for ownership of limited areas used for commercial tourism, subject to a formal, multi-institutional administrative process. Fishing activities are excluded entirely. As Deputy Prime Minister Viliame Gavoka himself acknowledged: “This is a process, not an automatic transfer. There is no automatic vesting.”

  This is not ownership. This is conditional access dressed in the language of empowerment.

  A Clear Mandate Rejected

  The BLV’s submission to the CRC was unequivocal:

  · Return of proprietary ownership of all qoliqoli areas to customary holders

  · Constitutional recognition of customary laws, practices, and governance structures

  · Stronger protections for iTaukei proprietary rights, including veto power over development projects

  The BLV stressed that qoliqoli is “not simply an economic resource but an extension of the Vanua, closely tied to identity, culture and stewardship.” Development and investment could proceed, but “only when customary ownership remains at the centre of decision-making.”

  Yet the CUMA Bill does none of this. It does not immediately vest proprietary ownership. It does not remove the Surfing Decree’s injustice. It does not fulfill historical promises. It does not honour the iTaukei mandate.

  The Illusion of Compensation

  The Government’s defense is that the CUMA Bill provides compensation and benefit-sharing. But compensation for use is not the same as recognition of ownership. As the Fiji Commerce and Employers Federation noted, the Bill’s compensation framework raises fundamental questions: How is “fair and equitable” compensation defined? How are existing arrangements recognised?

  Critically, the CUMA Bill offers the right to apply for ownership of “commercial used marine areas”—estimated at less than 10% of all qoliqoli areas. The remainder stays with the State. This is not restoration; this is tokenism. As one Facebook commentator observed: “The minimal benefit CUMA gives is the right to apply to own ‘commercial used marine areas’ which is less than 10% of all qoliqoli areas. This right would disappear if proprietary ownership is transferred to qoliqoli owners, something that CUMA and  the Coalition Government do not allow iTaukei.”

  The Government’s approach, as articulated by Gavoka, reveals a fundamental disjoint: “CUMA Bill will address… a legal structure to ensure the iqoliqoli owners are compensated for the commercial use of their marine areas by tourism operators.” He does not deny that CUMA fails to immediately vest ownership of all qoliqoli. He simply reframes the question from ownership to compensation.

  The Continuity of Injustice

  The CUMA Bill does not repeal the 2010 Surfing Decree; it replaces it while preserving its core provisions:

  · Continuing the moratorium against iTaukei dealing with surfing areas

  · Withholding proprietary ownership, reserving it to the State

  · Denying customary holders the full rights promised in 1881

  As one critic observed: “CUMA simply continues the injustice of the Surfing Decree by continuing the moratorium and continuing the denial of proprietary ownership of Qoliqoli areas to customary Qoliqoli holders.”

  The only real solution, as articulated by the BLV and echoed by commentators, is clear:

  “Return proprietary ownership. Keep regulatory authority. Build a joint‑vesting commercial model. Anything less is just another version of the Surfing Decree — with a nicer name.”

  A Betrayal of Trust

  The iTaukei majority that voted for the Coalition Government did so with a mandate: repeal the 2010 Surfing Decree, restore qoliqoli ownership, and honour the 1881 promise. Instead, the Government has delivered CUMA—a Bill that perpetuates the same injustice with a more sophisticated name.

  The BLV’s disappointment is not merely procedural; it is existential. Qoliqoli is not a commodity to be leased or a resource to be shared. It is the Vanua itself—identity, culture, stewardship, and inheritance. To deny full proprietary ownership is to deny the iTaukei their place in their own land and waters.

  The CUMA Bill is a deception: it offers a token where justice demands full restoration. It offers process where history demands finality. The question is not whether the CUMA Bill is an improvement on the Surfing Decree. The question is whether Fiji will finally honour the promise made in 1881—or continue, for another generation, to deny the Chiefs and the iTaukei, what is rightfully theirs.

  2026.08.22

• The Unraveling of a Superpower, in Real Time

  We are witnessing the degradation of a superpower — not through economic collapse or military defeat, but through the deliberate recklessness of its own leader, abetted by a political class that looks away and a billionaire class that profits from the chaos.

  The United States, once the architect of the postwar global order, now governs less like a responsible hegemon and more like a capricious mob boss: demanding tribute, threatening allies, and lashing out at friends and adversaries with equal contempt.

  Donald Trump’s second term has stripped away the last vestiges of statecraft. Strategic calculation has devolved to impulsive provocation; diplomatic nuance has been crushed by instinctive belligerence. The world is left with a disquieting question: is this still the power that once upheld the rule of law, or has it become precisely what that law was designed to contain?

  Consider the tariffs. In his first term, Trump called trade wars “good and easy to win.” In his second, he has escalated them into an indiscriminate economic blitzkrieg against nearly every trading partner — including longstanding allies in Europe, Asia, the Americas and the Pasifika. These are not instruments of statecraft; they are expressions of raw, uninformed nationalism. Even his own advisors privately call them insane.

  They punish American consumers, fracture global supply chains, and erode the very trust that sustains the dollar’s reserve status. Yet the billionaire class applauds. In the wreckage they find fresh arbitrage, new loopholes, and distressed assets to acquire — profiting from the very instability they publicly decry.

  Then there is Iran. The war — launched on dubious pretexts, prosecuted without congressional authorization and justified through ever-shifting narratives — has become the quagmire strategists warned of for decades. But the most chilling revelation is not the war itself; it is the president’s overnight threat to bomb Oman, a Gulf ally that had the temerity to mediate between Tehran and Washington.

  “If Oman gets in the way, we’ll bomb the s— out of them.”

  This is not statecraft; it is hostage diplomacy. The message to every friendly nation is unmistakable: neutrality is treason, mediation is treachery, and even your best efforts to prevent conflict will be met with American ordnance. The United States is no longer a peacemaker; it is an arsonist threatening to incinerate the fire brigade.

  And as if to underscore the portrait of a disoriented giant, Trump has instructed the Pentagon to significantly scale back major military exercises with South Korea—without prior coordination with Seoul, without defined objectives, and without discernible strategic rationale.

  South Korea, a treaty ally that hosts nearly 28,000 American troops, is reduced to a prop in a theatre of dominance. It sends mixed signals to Pyongyang, unsettles regional partners, and transforms a solemn alliance into a transactional gesture. Allies are no longer partners; they are props.

  Taken together, these actions compose a disturbing portrait: a leader who wields tariffs as weapons, war as a hobby, allies as obstacles, and military power as a personal cudgel.

  But this degradation would not be possible without enablers. The political class — Republicans who dutifully fall in line, Democrats who offer only tepid resistance — has abdicated its constitutional duty to check executive overreach. The billionaires who orbit the president, from tech moguls to hedge fund managers, see in his chaos an opportunity to dismantle regulations, lower taxes, and acquire weakened rivals. They are not victims of this decay; they are its primary beneficiaries.

  America’s soft power — the influence derived from example, from values, from reliability — is evaporating. When the president threatens to bomb a mediator, the world learns that American commitments are worthless. When tariffs are imposed on friends, the world learns that American markets are untrustworthy. When exercises are curtailed on a whim, the world learns that American alliances are negotiable.

  The tragedy is that this decay is entirely self-inflicted. No foreign adversary has defeated the United States; it is hollowing itself out from within.

  History will record this period as a long, slow surrender — to narcissism, to shortsightedness, to the delusion that power is an end in itself. And as the world looks on, it is already making other arrangements: diversifying reserve currencies, forging new partnerships, hedging against a superpower that has become a liability. As China rises, that hedging accelerates.

  The degradation is undeniable. The question is whether the American people — and the institutions they once trusted — can awaken before the superpower becomes a cautionary tale for the ages. Because once the world ceases to believe in American leadership, no bomb, no tariff, and no military parade will ever bring that faith back.

  2026.08.17

• The Art of Losing: Sun Tzu’s Warning for a Region at War

  Imagine the ancient strategist, scroll in hand, peering over a map of the modern Levant and West Asia. Sun Tzu would not be impressed by satellite imagery or precision-guided munitions. He would be horrified by the calendar. In his view, time is the deadliest weapon—and it is the one currently being wielded against every major player in this conflict.

  Consider the Iranian theater. What began as a gambit for “decapitation”—the coordinated strikes on nuclear infrastructure and the elimination of Supreme Leader Khamenei—was meant to be a thunderbolt. Yet five months later, nearly 30,000 sorties have failed to deliver the knockout blow. Instead, Iran’s missile production has mysteriously rebounded, and the closure of the Hormuz Strait is impacting a global economy already gasping for air. The strategic objective has quietly morphed from “regime change” to the far more modest goal of merely “reopening the strait.” This is the classic pathology of prolonged war: when the price of victory doubles, the definition of victory halves. America and Israel are no longer fighting to win; they are fighting to stop losing worse.

  Then we turn to Gaza, where the quicksand is deepest. On paper, the IDF has accomplished what militaries are supposed to do—tunnels destroyed, commanders eliminated. But insurgencies do not obey paper. Every fallen militant is replaced by a brother or a son, radicalized not by ideology, but by the rubble of his own home. The deeper wound, however, lies outside the battlefield. Israel is bleeding diplomatic capital at a rate that no ally can replenish. Global public opinion has shifted seismically, and the very alliances that guarantee Israel’s long-term survival are fraying. Sun Tzu taught that the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting—not out of mercy, but out of pragmatism. A victory that costs you your international legitimacy and drains your reserves is not a victory; it is a pyrrhic lease on temporary security.

  But it is the latest front—the West Bank—that troubles me most. Opening a second internal front while the IDF is already overstretched is not a military move; it is a strategic confession. The West Bank is not Gaza. It is a densely woven tapestry of civilian life and fragile governance, where people are watching their neighbors in the strip and drawing their own conclusions. By expanding operations there, Israel risks converting passive non-combatants into active fighters, extending the conflict indefinitely. Sun Tzu explicitly warned against besieging walled cities without a clear exit strategy; doing so while simultaneously fighting in Gaza and monitoring a volatile Iran is the strategic equivalent of bleeding out from a dozen small cuts.

  What haunts me about this moment is the collective refusal to admit the arithmetic. No nation—not the United States, not Israel, not Iran—is emerging from this triangle stronger than when it entered. Treasuries are emptier, arsenals are thinner, reputations are tarnished, and the next generation of adversaries is being forged in the very fires meant to destroy the current one.

  Sun Tzu’s greatest lesson was never about how to fight well—it was about knowing when not to. Victory is only valuable if you have a kingdom left to rule when the dust settles. Today, in Gaza, the West Bank, and across the Persian Gulf, everyone is winning the tactical battles. But step back, look at the horizon, and ask honestly: who is winning the war?

  The silence, me thinks, is the answer.

  2026.08.16

• Forwood’s Folly – If You Want an Appeal, Fund It Yourself. Fiji’s Taxpayers Are Clocking Out.

  The High Court has spoken. Justice Dane Tuiquereqre didn’t merely quash a report; he reaffirmed a fundamental pillar of our fragile democracy: natural justice. Yet, from down south, commentator Alexandra Forwood brands this ruling “a whole lot of bullshit” and demands that President Ratu Naiqama Lalabalavu and Prime Minister Sitiveni Rabuka rush to the Court of Appeal.

  With all due respect, Ms. Forwood—who exactly is going to pay for this next installment of political theatre?

  Let’s be brutally honest. The previous government muddied the separation of powers so thoroughly that we forgot what a clean judiciary looked like. Now, for the first time in years, we have a judicial branch speaking with clarity and independence—striking down an inquiry precisely because it breached the very rules of fairness it was supposed to uphold. To appeal this ruling is to tell our judges: “We don’t like your conclusion, so we’ll keep burning taxpayers’ money until we get the verdict we want.” That isn’t justice; that is authoritarian stubbornness wearing a legal gown.

  We have already torched over $6 million; according to some estimates, on this Commission of Inquiry—and it went absolutely nowhere. The genesis of this saga produced zero convictions, zero policy wins, and zero closure. It produced only a High Court ruling that slapped down the entire process for procedural illegality.

  And now Ms. Forwood wants an encore?

  Taxpayers are in no mood to entertain more wastage. While Suva’s legal elite obsess over who colluded with whom, our maritime provinces are crying out for basics. Imagine what $6 million—let alone the additional millions an appeal would cost—could buy for Kadavu, Lau, Lomaiviti, and Vanua Levu: desalination plants for drought-stricken villages, proper transport vessels for medical staff, upgraded nursing stations, government facilities, or solar grids to cut diesel dependency. Every dollar poured into this political witch hunt is a dollar that isn’t helping ordinary Fijians.

  So here is my challenge to Ms. Forwood and the Government: Set up a GoFundMe.

  If you genuinely believe this appeal is so critical to your cause—because it certainly isn’t critical to Fiji’s—then put your money where your mouth is. Rally your international backers, business partners, and supporters. Let private donors—not struggling fishermen or sugarcane farmers—bankroll your selfish legal crusade. Taxpayers are in no mood to hand over one more cent to chase a phantom.

  Let the Government accept the High Court’s wisdom. Let the rule of law breathe. And let those who still thirst for this fight reach into their own pockets—it is the only morally and ethically defensible path forward.

  End the saga. Respect the bench. And Ms. Forwood—show us the receipt for your donation before you ask for ours.

  2026.08.15

• Trump’s Double Defeat—And the New Axis Rising in Its Wake

  Look at these two screenshots below side-by-side, and you witness the unraveling of American regional diplomacy in real-time. One headline this morning, from the Washington Post, captures a defiant ally. The other, from the New York Times, captures an emboldened adversary. Yet the most profound message lies not in what the US is losing—but in what the region is building to replace it, and who is filling the vacuum.

  Consider Gaza first. The WaPo image tells us Netanyahu has publicly shredded the president’s prized “Board of Peace” plan. “Israel does not accept the 15-point document,” the prime minister declared, rejecting simultaneous Hamas disarmament and Israeli withdrawal. For a president who markets himself as the ultimate dealmaker, this is mutiny. If Washington cannot compel its closest regional ally to sign off on its own blueprint, trust in US guarantees evaporates.

  Now flip to the Hormuz Strait. The NY Times screenshot exposes Iran’s calculated leverage. Tehran is “holding firm,” using geography to force Washington back toward a June framework—conceding on frozen assets, sanctions, and naval blockades just to get oil flowing. The US is not leading; it is being herded toward terms it previously resisted. This is not brinkmanship; it is a masterclass in exploiting American retreat.

  Enter the Trilateral Hedge

  This is precisely where the new Pakistan-Saudi Arabia-Türkiye agreement enters the frame. Announced amid these very crises, this trilateral security and economic pact is the region’s explicit vote of no confidence in American reliability. Riyadh, deeply unsettled by Washington’s impotence in both Gaza and the Gulf, is actively diversifying its defense partnerships. Ankara sees a chance to lead a Sunni-consortium independent of NATO constraints. Islamabad gains strategic depth and economic corridors, beyond its traditional Gulf patrons.

  This axis is not merely symbolic. It encompasses joint military production, intelligence-sharing, and alternative trade routes—directly challenging the US-centric security architecture. But here is the irony: while this pact is partly designed to counterbalance Iran, it simultaneously signals to Tehran that the US is no longer the sole gatekeeper. Iran watches these developments with quiet satisfaction. The very act of Riyadh hedging its bets weakens the anti-Iran coalition, giving Tehran more room to maneuver.

  Iran: The Silent Victor

  In this post-American West Asia, Iran emerges as the primary beneficiary. Without US naval dominance in the Strait, Tehran’s leverage multiplies. Without US diplomatic credibility in Gaza, Iran’s proxies gain legitimacy. And without a unified Sunni bloc anchored by Washington, Iran’s détente with Saudi Arabia becomes not a concession but a strategic triumph—a recognition of Iranian parity. The trilateral pact, far from containing Iran, inadvertently acknowledges that the region’s future will be negotiated with Tehran, not against it.

  Taken together, the dual crises and the emerging counter-alliance deliver a devastating verdict. In the Levant, the US is impotent. In the Gulf, it is reactive. In the broader Islamic corridor, it is being bypassed. And in Tehran, the Mullahs are watching with glee—their nuclear program advances, their proxies thrive, and their economic pain becomes Washington’s bargaining chip.

  This is no longer about Trump’s “maximum pressure” or dealmaking legacy. It is about structural decline. The screenshots are not just daily news; they are diplomatic obituaries. The US is neither the arbitrator of Israeli policy, nor the enforcer of maritime order, nor the indispensable partner it once was. In this new West Asia, adversaries set terms, allies act unilaterally, middle powers forge their own security arrangements, and Iran stands tallest among the ruins. Washington is left to pick up the pieces—ahead of the mid term elections.

  2026.08.09

• The Pasifika Way is not a Procedural Hurdle – It Is Who We Are

  The Pacific Islands Forum Foreign Ministers Meeting in Suva last Friday was meant to set the agenda for the Leaders’ Meeting in Palau later this month. Instead, it exposed a fundamental divide – not between Pasifika nations, but between how we see ourselves and how some of our partners see us.

  When foreign ministers failed to agree on a joint statement condemning China’s July missile test into Pasifika waters, New Zealand’s Winston Peters was visibly frustrated. He told media that some Pasifika nations were using the consensus system because they were “more concerned with external partners’ wishes than those that belong to the Pacific Islands Forum” – a position he described as an “unusual view”.

  Let me be direct: there is nothing “unusual” about it.

  What is unusual is a visiting foreign minister lecturing sovereign Pasifika nations on how they should conduct their regional diplomacy. What is unusual is demanding that small island states fall in line with a strategic narrative that serves the interests of larger powers, not our own.

  The Pasifika Way is not a procedure – it is our identity

  The Pasifika Way was first articulated by one of our greatest regional leaders, the late Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara, Fiji’s first Prime Minister. Coined in the early 1970s, it came to symbolise a way of doing things specific to our islands: a way that emphasised moderation, respect, consensual dialogue, inclusiveness, adaptation and compromise.

  Ratu Mara conceptualised the true meaning of this phrase, representing the uniqueness of our island nations and their shared interests. The Pasifika Way is rooted in traditional values – the same values enshrined in the Fijian phrase “Me Dua Vata Tiko na Keda i Vau” – a sentiment that has a prominent place in the Vale Ni Bose Levu Vakaturaga, in Draiba, Suva.

  This is not merely a diplomatic procedure. It is who we are. It is how we have governed ourselves for generations – through consensus, through respect, through the understanding that unity is found not in forcing agreement but in patiently building it.

  Unlike the United Nations where you vote, the Forum operates on the basis of consensus – “just like in a BLV meeting”. The 2050 Strategy for the Blue Pasifika Continent describes this as “consensus-based decision making, whilst respecting sovereignty and the principle of non-interference in national affairs”.

  When consensus is mistaken for obstruction

  Kiribati and Naoero opposed a strong statement condemning the missile testing. Peters wanted them to fall in line. When they didn’t, he accused them of appeasing outsiders.

  But here is what Peters fails to understand: in the Pasifika Way, consensus is not a hurdle to be overcome. It is the destination. The process of dialogue, of listening, of finding common ground – that is what holds Pasifika island states together.

  Forum Secretary General Baron Divavesi Waqa rejected suggestions that any country had blocked the statement. He said countries had put forward their sovereign positions and ministers were working through those differences according to the Pasifika Way of dialogue and consensus. Solomon Islands Foreign Minister Rick Houenipwela, who chaired the meeting, stressed that Pasifika unity does not mean every member must hold the same position. He said the Pasifika Way requires countries to listen to each other’s national circumstances and perspectives and work towards positions reflecting the collective interests of the region.

  When a nation exercises its sovereign right to withhold consensus, it is not “blocking” anything. It is participating in the very process that makes the Forum legitimate.

  Some governments have rightly pointed out that China is not the only country testing nuclear-capable missiles in the Pasifika – the United States regularly conducts tests into the Marshall Islands. That complexity, that nuance, is precisely why the Pasifika Way matters. It allows space for all perspectives to be heard, rather than imposing a single narrative convenient to one partner’s strategic interests.

  The “unusual view” that isn’t unusual at all

  The Pasifika Way is not about choosing sides. It is about maintaining relationships with all powers, because our national interests require engagement with all who contribute to our security and development.

  For small Pasifika states, the calculation is different:

  · We need security partnerships – Australia and New Zealand offer the most credible.

  · We need economic partnerships – China offers significant investment.

  · We need to navigate between giants – and that requires skill, not alignment.

  When Kiribati and Naoero withheld consensus, they were not betraying the region. They were protecting their sovereign right to determine their own relationships, in their own time, on their own terms. That is not “unusual”. That is the Pasifika Way in action.

  A lesson for our partners

  Among the discussion points at last Friday’s meeting was the Solomon Islands’ proposal for a regional security treaty – an “umbrella” on top of existing non-binding regional MOUs. The proposal is understood to require more consultation.

  If our partners want to engage constructively on such proposals, they must first understand how we make decisions. The Pasifika Way is not a procedural technicality. It is the expression of our sovereignty, our unity, and our distinct identity as Pasifika peoples.

  Ratu Mara understood this. He built the Pacific Islands Forum on these principles. The late leader emphasised the importance of vuvale, the Pasifika Way, consensus and talanoa. Those values have served our region well for decades.

  Perhaps it is time for our partners from down south, to study them more carefully – before they dismiss as “unusual” what we know to be the very foundation of our regional family.

  2026.08.08

• Beyond the Union Jack: Reclaiming Our Fijian Soul

  In a quiet act of reclamation, the Pasifika nation of Nauru returns to its linguistic soul. Now the Republic of Naoero, its new name sheds the foreign tongue’s ease for the cadence of its own speech. Its people will be Dei-Naoero—not Nauruans—and even its postal code shifts, a small but profound signal. Like Türkiye and Eswatini, this is more than rebranding; it is dignity etched into letters. I admire Dei-Naoero for this courage. To rename oneself is to remember, and in remembering, to stand a little taller.

  The Fiji flag, a serene blue field with the Union Jack ensconced in its corner, is a picture of politeness. It is a visual apology; a quiet nod to a past that, on paper, ended over half a century ago. But as we navigate the complexities of the 21st century, that small, persistent symbol in our corner whispers a larger, more insidious truth: we are still clutching the relics of a colonial mindset, not just in our deeds, but in our very definition of ourselves.

  To question the flag is not to be unpatriotic; it is to be honest. It is to ask why the image of a distant monarch must be our national imprimatur. We have swapped the war club for the memorandum, the colonial government for a democratic one, yet the underlying architecture of power and perception remains a colonial blueprint. We have been conditioned to believe that our value must be validated by an external, often Western, yardstick. We import governance models that don’t fit our communal foundations, measure our economic success by GDP metrics designed for industrial nations, and consume a globalized culture that drowns out our own indigenous narratives.

  This mindset is evident in our institutional thinking. Our education system, for years, prioritized a curriculum that felt more at home in London than in Levuka. We are taught to aspire to the comfort and order of a foreign standard, often at the expense of understanding our own intricate socio-cultural tapestry. Our economic policies; historically geared towards monoculture exports, reflect a system designed for the Empire’s convenience, not for the resilience of our islands. We continue to be “Fiji glad”—content, or at least quiet, in a system that encourages us to be passive recipients rather than active architects of our destiny. Yet we have more educated Fijians than ever before in more than half a century—a resource we squander when we continue to look outward for validation.

  But the most profound colonisation is of the mind. It is the internalized voice that tells us our iTaukei traditions are quaint but not modern, that our Hindi is a language of the home but not of the boardroom. It is the subtle, unspoken hierarchy that still sees “overseas experience” as the ultimate qualification, placing a foreign passport on a pedestal. We perpetuate this in our actions when we favor international consultants over local knowledge, and in our words when we default to a belief that “they” know better.

  Nauru’s courage reminds us that renaming is remembering. To change our flag is to begin the arduous work of decolonizing our own minds. It is a declaration that we are not the leftover of an empire, but the centre of our own universe. It is acknowledging that our strength lies in our Vanua, in the collective wisdom of our Chiefs, in the resilience of our multi-ethnic communities, and in the vast ocean that connects us, not the one that separates us.

  It is time to sever the final symbolic tether. Let us design a flag that speaks of our sunrise, not a foreign sunset. Let us stand a little taller, as Dei-Naoero has shown us. Because until the symbol in our corner changes, the mindset in our heads will never truly be free.

  2026.08.07

• The Art of Reading Between the Lines: A Lesson in Critical Thinking

  The Washington Post recently published a story about President Donald Trump’s frustration with Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth over munitions shortages affecting military options with Iran. Within hours, Trump had labeled the leaks “treasonous” while simultaneously praising Hegseth’s performance. The whiplash is almost dizzying.

  But here’s what caught my attention: We all know who owns the Washington Post and his unequivocal support for Trump. So let’s apply some critical thinking. Are we to believe that Hegseth would genuinely stand up to Trump? Unlikely. Are we to believe that Hegseth blamed his deputy instead? You bet.

  This brings me back to a lesson I learned many years ago at boarding school at Matavatucou. A younger but already wise Murray Heasley, told our class something that has stuck with me ever since: “90% of what you read in the papers is BS.” We didn’t have television back then, but the principle remains unchanged. This is how the rich and powerful shape our thinking.

  And yet, 90% of us will believe what we read and the news stories we’re fed, without critically thinking through the information presented to us.

  The Danger of Consuming Without Questioning

  Today, we find ourselves on the cusp of another four-year election cycle in Fiji. Every day, we’re being fed a heavy dose of party propaganda—from all sides. The newspapers, social media feeds, and eventually, television broadcasts are saturated with political messaging designed to influence, persuade, and sometimes manipulate.

  Our responsibility as citizens has never been more critical. We must sift through the noise, question what we watch and read, and demand satisfaction before forming our opinions.

  When candidates come through our communities during their campaigns, we must ask the hard questions. Not the softballs that allow them to recite rehearsed talking points, but the uncomfortable inquiries that reveal their true character and convictions.

  The Question That Demands an Answer

  Consider this: For those who started in this Parliament as opposition Fiji First candidates and are now being considered for other parties—why did you back the decrees that abolished the Bose Levu Vakaturaga and tried to erase the very existence of the iTaukei?

  This isn’t a question meant to trap or embarrass. It’s a fundamental inquiry about principles, consistency, and accountability. If you supported measures that undermined indigenous institutions and identity yesterday, what has changed today? Or more troublingly, were you simply following orders then, and following different orders now?

  The Bose Levu Vakaturaga wasn’t just an institution—it was a cornerstone of iTaukei identity and governance. Its abolition represented a profound shift in Fiji’s social and political fabric. Those who supported its dissolution must explain their reasoning then and justify their current positions now.

  The Responsibility of the Voter

  In the coming months, we will be bombarded with promises, accusations, and emotional appeals. Some will be genuine; many will be calculated. The difference between the two often lies in the details we overlook in our eagerness to support our preferred candidates.

  Murray Heasley’s lesson wasn’t about cynicism—it was about empowerment. The 90% that might be “BS” isn’t an excuse to disengage; it’s a reason to engage more deeply, to read more carefully, and to question more persistently.

  As we approach our elections, let’s commit to being citizens who think critically, who demand accountability, and who refuse to accept surface-level answers to complex questions. Let’s be the voters who remember what was said—and what was done—years ago, and who hold our leaders accountable for their entire record, not just their most recent press release.

  The power of democracy doesn’t lie in the act of voting alone. It lies in the informed judgment we bring to the ballot box. And that judgment requires us to look beyond the headlines, beyond the propaganda, and beyond the carefully crafted narratives designed to shape our thinking.

  90% may be BS. But the 10% that matters—the truth we uncover through critical thinking—that’s what will determine Fiji’s future.

  The choice is ours. Let’s choose wisely.

  2026.08.07