Fiji is a damaged, divided democracy. George Speight’s dramatic intervention
has dislocated the process of political reconciliation, severely strained race
relations, and shattered the foundations of the nation’s economy just when
Fiji was gradually emerging from the debris of 1987. The images of looting and
burning, thuggery and violence on the streets of Suva, the worst in the history
of Fiji, will forever remain deeply embedded in the collective consciousness
of its people, and the recovery from the wreckage and ruin will be long and
hard.
George Speight, a Fijian of part-European descent, a failed businessman, an
Australian permanent resident, proclaimed himself as a saviour of the Fijian
‘race.’ The
constitution, which only three years ago was unanimously approved by the Fiji
Parliament (the majority of whose members were indigenous Fijians), blessed
by the Great Council of Chiefs, and praised by the international community,
had to go, he said. The government of Fiji must be returned to indigenous Fijian
hands.
Speight is the front man for a variety of interests, including the radical nationalist
Fijians operating on the fringe of indigenous politics, opportunistic Fijian
politicians
defeated at the last elections keen to settle old scores, and an assortment
of people from various social and ethnic backgrounds who rode the gravy train
of the 1990s, but whose prospects dimmed upon the election of Mahendra Chaudhry’s
People’s Coalition government. They were not pleased, and they threatened
reprisal.
Elements of the military, too, are involved, especially members of the crack
Counter Revolutionary Warfare Unit established by Sitiveni Rabuka after the
1987 coups. Their involvement is the inevitable consequence of a politicised
armed force whose loyalties lie to individual leaders than to the institution
of the army.
The Chaudhry government’s hectic ? in the view of some of his critics
too hectic ? legislative program heightened their fears. The prime minister’s
pugnacious style,
forged during his long years in the country’s trade union movement and
his government’s ongoing, hugely counterproductive confrontation with Fiji’s
media, worsened the situation. The government was understandably pressed by
its political opponents to deliver early on its electorally appealing but economically
costly election promises, including introducing minimum wages, providing social
security, rolling back the structural reform program, and resolving the ever-difficult
issue of expiring leases. Land, always an emotional issue in Fijian politics,
became the rallying point for Fijian groups already distrusting of the government
and galvanised into action by the dormant Taukei Movement by that mercurial
chameleon of Fiji politics, Apisai Tora, whose own party is Chaudhry’s
coalition partner. Such is the nature of politics in Fiji.
The problem, if there is one, is not Mr Chaudhry’s ideas and his vision
for Fiji; it is more his style and the tradition of open, robust political discourse
it represents which does not sit easily with the other tradition of more allusive
and indirect discourse, conscious of well defined cultural protocols, rank and
hierarchy. Removing Chaudhry from power will not solve Fiji’s ever-deepening
social and economic problems in an increasingly globalized world. The land question
will have to be resolved sooner rather than later because the Fijian sugar industry
drives the engine of the national economy. The state, whoever runs it, cannot
evade responsibility for the fate of people turfed out from the leases after
generations of earning their livelihood from them, nor ignore the legitimate
interests of Fijian landowners who want them back. The principles of good, effective
and transparent governance will have to be observed irrespective of who is in
power.
Speight and those who support him want a reversion to the 1990 constitution
which enshrined Fijian majority in Parliament and to the principles of ethnic
dominance
which underpinned it. But even with greater numbers, Fijians could govern only
with the support of non-Fijian parties because they have splintered into political
parties bitterly opposed to each other. Rabuka lost the 1999 election in large
part because of Fijian political fragmentation. The same will happen again,
for Fijians, like other communities in Fiji and elsewhere, are divided by ancient
prejudices and modern greeds. And the fragmentation will increase with the gradual
disappearance of the fear of Indian dominance which has informed political discourse
in Fiji for the last half century.
The culture of political patronage which emerged in the 1990s brought the country
to the verge of bankruptcy, epitomised most notably in the near-collapse of
the
National Bank of Fiji. Well-connected opportunists had a field day. Virtually
every public institution became infected by the virus of mismanagement or abuse
of office. The most seriously affected victims of this were the ordinary Fijians
of all ethnicities. But there were also some who benefited unscrupulously from
the public coffers, and some of them are among the moving agents behind the
present crisis. Returning to 1990, as Speight and his supporters demand, will
once again hobble the institutions taking Fiji towards better governance.
Race has been portrayed in the media and popular commentary as the main issue
behind the present turbulence. It is an issue, but there is more to the story
than meets the eye. Speight has trained his sight on the Indians, but he is
also leading a middle class revolution against the Fijian establishment symbolised
by Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara.
The disrespectful and dismissive (once unthinkable) tone in which his name
is being taken, the call for his resignation, the increasingly audible whispers
about his supposed dynastic ambitions, the long reign of the eastern hierarchies
of the Koro Sea, touch deeper issues about the structure of power in traditional
Fijian society than is first apparent. Race becomes a tool for mobilizing Fijian
opinion, for in the ultimate analysis, this crisis is more than about Indians.
Mahendra Chaudhry is not the problem facing Fiji today. You may remove him
from power, but the deep-seated problems will not be removed. You may maim the
messenger, but the message will not go away.
Originally published in The Australian, May 25, 2000.
This text may have been edited to protect the writer.
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