# The “Pacific Way”, Traditional Hierarchy and Democracy in Fiji, Tonga and Samoa

Jon Fraenkel,

Victoria University of Wellington

The “Pacific Way” has variously been conceived as an authentically *regional* approach to the management of Oceania’s domestic and international affairs or, alternatively, as an elite project elevating ‘tradition’ as an obstacle to greater democratization. The latter interpretation, which focussed on the role played by the chiefly hierarchy in Fiji, Tonga and Samoa, was most comprehensively elaborated in Stephanie Lawson’s 1996 book, *Tradition Versus Democracy in the South Pacific*, and amplified in a 2010 interpretive critique of Fijian chief Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara’s philosophy. This chapter asks whether the thesis that chiefly elites were manipulating tradition to suit their own advantage helpfully interprets what subsequently ensued in those three countries. In Tonga, popular pressure encouraged major reforms enacted in 2010 diminishing the powers of the monarchy. In Samoa, a universal franchise was introduced in 1990 and the powers of the *tama-a-’äiga* (paramount chiefs) were considerably diminished over time, not least in a *de jure* sense by the Supreme Court in 2021. In Fiji, the 1987 coup – which was followed by a new 1990 Constitution that strengthened the position of the Great Council of Chiefs – proved only the first of three illegal overthrows of Fiji governments. Paradoxically, it was not a populist election victory that carried forward the 1980s reformist project, but – after the 2006 coup – a Republic of Fiji Military Forces (RFMF)-backed government. It did so not as the agent of democratization but in defiance of electoral democracy, which was claimed to be conducive to empowerment of ethno-nationalist forces. In the process, the Bainimarama government also abolished the Great Council of Chiefs.

In the 1980s and 1990s, the fact that independence had mostly not been driven by concerted resistance to colonial rule on the part of Pacific political leaders encouraged many scholars to focus on continuity and alignment between the new and old orders.
Because safeguarding or promoting ‘tradition’ became such a prominent feature of the early post-independence political discourse of Pacific politicians, radical academics – influenced by a leftist reading of European history and by Karl Marx’s famous comment in the 18th Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte about the ‘dead weight of tradition’ weighing ‘like a nightmare on the brain of the living’ – identified appeals for preservation of the customary framework in Pacific societies as instrumental in cementing the privileged position of the new empowered elites. Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger’s edited book, *The Invention of Tradition*, was a key text for these scholars (Hobsbawm & Ranger, 1983). The 1987 coup in Fiji was the key confirmatory political development. In that year, a short-lived reformist government led by Dr Timoci Bavadra was overthrown by the country’s first military coup. The post-coup administration was widely seen – to some degree accurately – as entailing an attempted re-empowerment of Fiji’s hitherto dominant eastern chiefs. The new ruling indigenous party that subsequently won elections in 1992 and 1994, the Soqosoqo ni Vakavulewa ni Taukei (SVT), was itself the creation of the Great Council of Chiefs.

As Tongan academic Epeli Hau'ofa expressed this in 1987, 'traditions are used by the new ruling class to enforce the new order':

> 'It is the privileged who can afford to tell the poor to preserve their traditions. But their perceptions of traits of traditional culture to preserve are increasingly divergent from those of the poor, because in the final analysis it is the poor who have to live out the traditional culture; the privileged can merely talk about it, and they are in a position to be selective about what traits they use or more correctly urge others to observe; and this is increasingly seen by the poor as part of the ploy by the privileged to secure greater advantages for themselves' (Hau'ofa 1987: p12, p4).

This inequality-focussed perspective was thought particularly applicable to Polynesia 'where aristocratic rules and Christian church traditions, combined with depredations of the emerging bourgeoisie, have inflicted suffering on the poor' and where elites were enforcing 'traditions on the poor in order to maintain social stability' (Hau'ofa 1987: p. 12). Hau'ofa subsequently became better known for his later paper 'Our Sea of Islands', positively delineating scope for a new regional identity (after the fashion of that other authentically regional interpretation of 'the Pacific Way', albeit rather as an alternative Oceanic perspective) (Hau'ofa, 1998; Hau'ofa, 1994).
In *Tradition Versus Democracy in the South Pacific*, and in later writings, Stephanie Lawson drew on Hau'ofa's earlier class-based perspective and applied this to an investigation of political developments in Fiji, Tonga and Samoa, arguing that:

> '[T]he idea of tradition has been deployed not so much in defence of highly prized aspects of unique cultural identities, but in defence of elite power and privilege against growing demands for accountability in government as well as more extensive opportunities for participation by those without traditionally derived political or social status' (Lawson 1996: p5).

Lawson's analysis consisted principally of an investigation of various powers exercised by the traditional hierarchy over national-level politics in the three countries and of Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara's 'Pacific way' conceptualization of regional identity. The latter was likewise deemed 'first and foremost a conservative discourse embracing notions of class and hierarchy common to elite elements among both colonisers and colonised' and to be 'inflected with chiefly values in accordance with the high standing of the figure who pronounced it' (Lawson 2010: p. 299, p. 301); Lawson 1996: p. 3-4, p. 165-66). Lawson rejected Ron Crocombe's efforts to recast the 'Pacific way' in an anti-colonial light on the grounds that the true meaning of ideas should be established with reference to the context in which they are first expressed (Lawson 1996: p. 299).

In this paper, I adopt the different approach of taking both ideas and institutions to be regularly re-moulded to fit the changing context and not to be necessarily tied to what they were at their inception. To ascertain whether or not elites were manipulating tradition to suit their own advantage, it is necessary to establish who the 'traditionalist elites' were, and whether or not they were able to shape policy formulation in their own interests. In some settings, the 'defence of tradition' consisted largely of a conservative upholding of the *status quo* (or, in the Fiji post-2006 coup case, of the *state quo ante*). In others, it entailed advocacy of de-centralization, which was not necessarily 'undemocratic' or 'anti-democratic'. In many cases, traditionalist justifications of policy changes have indeed disguised the pursuit of some form of group self-interest, but those elites responsible have not necessarily been the top-ranking chiefs. Conversely, reformists have not always been democrats, as is most obvious in Fiji's post-2006 coup era. In all three countries, at least some high-ranking chiefs have – at critical junctures – been deeply engaged either in democratic reform
or the protection of democracy, as was the case during the transition to a universal franchise in Samoa, with the shift to a majority popularly elected parliament in Tonga and with Ratu Mara's efforts to thwart the 2000 Speight coup in Fiji. Most importantly, the aspiration for styles of democratic reform that sit well with the customary order and resistance to external imposition, which is far from unique to the Pacific Islands, should not be rejected as a form of 'relativism' or democratic backsliding.

Economists too frequently perceive elite manipulation of traditional culture as an obstacle to modernization. Since survival of traditional hierarchies in Fiji, Tonga and Samoa was intimately connected with the continuation of communal land tenure, both have regularly been seen by neo-classical economists as 'binding constraints' on economic growth. For those modern economists who focus on the Pacific Islands, traditional consumption patterns inhibit private saving and investment and communal land tenure limits economic potential (Ward 1985). In the Fiji case, right-wing economist Ron Duncan therefore endorsed 2006 coup leader Frank Bainimarama's actions as a necessary step towards the removal of 'traditional institutions that have supported the chiefly elite'. In 2021, Bainimarama's speechwriters echoed the same perspective:

> 'Attempts to modernise our land administration started in the early 1900s. Our colonial rulers then saw that our well-being and economic position could be improved if more control of our land were placed in our hands. However, there was one impediment – the then Council of Chiefs. They blocked attempts to improve our economic position through improved land administration. They felt it was their God-given right to retain the lion's share of the return on our resources. Let it be very clear to us that the Council of Chiefs was a Colonial construction. It was suitable for a particular time, but when I saw that they would continue to stand in the way of our progress, I decided to make them irrelevant. Chiefs are still with us, but where they should rightfully sit – in the vanua. That is where they will be more influential as they lead our people. That decision has affected you in a lot of good ways. Removing them has enabled us to progress better as a nation, as a race' (Fiji Sun 2021).

Such perspectives, which were used to retrospectively justify the 2006 coup, attracted some sympathy from some of the Pacific-watchers in Canberra, Wellington and Hawai'i and at multilateral agencies such as the World Bank and Asian Development Bank, showing – once again – that concepts are not necessarily tied to what they were at
their inception (Finin 2007; Herr 2010; Pacific Institute of Public Policy 2009; Khan ND; Baleinakorodawa, Barr & Qalowasa 2006).

## The South-Central Pacific

Prior to colonial rule, Tonga, Fiji and Samoa formed a 'larger social system' tied together by traditional linkages through trade and hierarchical inter-marriages (Kaeppler 1978; Davidson 1977). In contrast to Hawaii and Tahiti, colonial rule did not entail a wholesale reconfiguration of the traditional order, but its reshaping in some congruence with the new powers of the colonizers. Fiji was colonized in 1874, following a Deed of Cession by paramount chiefs, with the bulk of the land area retained under communal tenure. Samoa became a tri-dominion jointly ruled by Britain, the USA and Germany, before being divided between Germany (Western Samoa) and the USA (American Samoa) in 1899. The Germans established a Land and Titles Court to deliberate over disputes over chiefly titles and land rights, but here too land was mostly retained under communal ownership. In Tonga, key convulsions in the traditional order commenced prior to the 1870s and 1880s colonial scramble for the Pacific. King George Tāufa'āhau Tupou I's promulgations of 1839, 1850, 1862, and 1875 sought to ward off the unwanted attentions of foreign powers by establishing a unified constitutional monarchy on the model of the European kingdoms. An 1862 Edict of Emancipation abolished the customary obligations of 'commoners' to their chiefs. In 1875 and 1881, thirty of the chiefs were ennobled and granted hereditary estates, while the rest became unrecognised in formal law (Bott 1981: p59). King George Tupou I's successor, King George II, proved less able to resist foreign encroachment, with the country becoming a British 'protected state' in 1900 (Fusitu'a & Rutherford 1977).

Those 19th century histories greatly influenced the politics of the post-colonial period, commencing in 1962 in Samoa and in 1970 in both Fiji and Tonga. In none of the three countries was there any concerted effort to resurrect the ancient order, although in Fiji the argument that the 1874 Deed of Cession ought to have been reversed so as to restore power to the paramount chiefs became an important component of the radical ethno-nationalist argument. Instead, older institutions were re-moulded to fit the new circumstances, thereby creating an abundance of Hobsbawmian 'invented traditions'. In Fiji, for example, the Vola ni Kawa Bula (VKB, Register of Native Births)
became a cornerstone of indigenous identity, particularly after the 1990 constitution
removed 'other Pacific Islanders' from the 'Fijian' electoral roll and explicitly based
Fijian identity on the VKB (Republic of Fiji, 1990 Constitution, S. 156 (a)). Its true origins
had been largely forgotten. In an effort to enlarge the land area available for state-
orchestrated development projects or settlement, colonial authorities pioneered the
drawing up of lists of mataqali (clan) members so as to identify 'extinct' mataqali
whose land could be appropriated as crown land (Scarr 1984: p115; Sunday Times
(Fiji) 2006). In Sāmoa, the German-initiated Land and Titles Court became known as
a quintessentially Samoan institution, presided over by Sāmoan lay judges who are
experts in custom, and displacing warfare as the arbiter over chiefly succession
disputes (Meleisea 1987: pxii). Tonga's abundant 'invented traditions' were largely of
indigenous origin, even if these were sometimes shaped by external influences (not
least through the intermediation of Hawai'i I diplomat Charles St. Julian). The very
requirement, imposed by the processes both of colonization and decolonization (or
resistance to these), that Tonga, Fiji and Samoa become nation-states imposed some
inevitability that traditional institutions, concepts or even the language prevailing in
one or other part of each country become formalized as 'national'.

## Dual Power in Tonga

The Tongan story most closely fits the elite manipulation thesis, owing to the emergence
of an electorally successful pro-democracy movement and royal resistance to reform.
Yet reform, when it arrived, came largely at the instigation of King George Tupou V
and in a shape that more closely resembled the aspirations of his government than
those of the elected People's Representatives.

George Tupou I's 1875 Constitution formalized monarchic control over both the choice
of Prime Minister and Cabinet, who sat in a legislative assembly alongside equal
numbers of noble and people's representatives. Post-1875 Tonga is often described as
a 'constitutional monarchy', but the King was not given a merely ceremonial role akin
to that eventually assumed by the European monarchs, so it has aptly been identified
as a 'constitution under a monarchy' (Powles 1990: p. 155). Those ministers, who also
served as a Privy Council advising the King, had powers of veto over the decisions
of the Legislative Assembly. From 1984, there were nine people's representatives,
representing the ‘commoners’ and nine MPs representing the holders of 33 noble titles (Campbell 2001: p. 810, p. 815; James 1994). Through the 1990s, King George Tupou IV resisted calls for constitutional change, despite mounting protest against maladministration of government (Campbell 2008: p.2). Only in 2004 – under the influence of his son and eventual successor, Tupouto’a – did major political reforms commence. In November 2004, it was announced that two Peoples Representatives and two Nobles Representatives would be appointed to cabinet after the 2005 election. In March 2006, Prince Lavaka, the King’s son, resigned the Prime Ministership and was succeeded by a ‘commoner’ closely associated with the pro-democracy movement, Feleti Sevele, the first time any popularly elected Peoples Representative had occupied that post. Nevertheless, this remained a government appointed by the King and one that could be freely discharged by the King.

The major constitutional changes in Tonga occurred in 2010, but these were devised in such a way as to avoid a ‘tradition versus democracy’ confrontation. A confrontation did occur, but only after the initial reforms of 2005-6. On 6th November 2006, protests outside parliament, directed against the slow pace of reform, sparked major riots in the capital, Nuku’alofa, culminating in the burning down of much of the city’s business district. Yet the Sevele government remained in office and, with the backing of King George Tupou V, it steered the necessary constitutional amendments through parliament. The King would henceforth act on advice in the selection of the Prime Minister and cabinet. The number of People’s Representatives was raised from nine to seventeen, who were to be elected under a first-past-the-post system in single member electorates. The King kept powers of veto, the right to dissolve parliament and control over appointments to the judiciary as well as the selection of the Attorney-General (Powles 2013: p. 31-50). A reconstituted Privy Council retained an advisory role for the monarch and was to serve, alongside cabinet, as a shadowy agency of dual power with often-uncertain authority. The Speaker was to be selected from among the noble MPs (Kingdom of Tonga 2010: S. 61). The King declined pressure to directly appoint four members of parliament, with those powers instead henceforth conferred on the elected Prime Minister (Kingdom of Tonga 2010: S. 51, (2a)).

From the 2010 election onwards, Tonga for the first time had a majority popularly elected parliament, but with the nobles on occasion retaining the ability to control which faction formed the government owing to their retention of nine seats in parliament.
Noble alignment with conservative MPs, usually from the northern or outlying islands, enabled control over government in 2010-14 and again in 2019-21, but most nobles sat on the opposition benches under the 2014-19 and post-2021 governments. In August 2017, the King used his royal powers of dissolution to oust a government led by veteran pro-democracy activist 'Akilisi Pohiva, but – with the backing of most of the people's representatives – Pohiva was able to briefly return to office after the November 2017 polls (until his death in 2019). In office, Pōhiva pressed for a continuation of democratic reform through abolition of the nobles' seats and for an end to the exercise of various executive powers by the Privy Council (Moala 2014; ABC 2017). Further constitutional amendments to remove remaining executive powers of the King-in-Privy Council or to either abolish, or amend the method of election of, the nobles representatives are unlikely under the present monarch, King George Tupou VI, who succeeded to the throne upon the death of his reformist brother in 2012.

## Fiji: The Rise and Fall of the Eastern Chiefs

The Fiji post-colonial experience resonates with the elite manipulation thesis owing to the 1987 coup's attempted re-empowerment of the eastern chiefs via the provisions of the 1990 Constitution.

Fiji became a British Crown colony in 1874, after the signing of a Deed of Cession with the country's leading chiefs. The colony's first governor, Sir Arthur Gordon, adopted a 'protectionist' policy aimed at arresting a steep decline in the indigenous population over the 19th century. Many of the most fertile lands had been alienated prior to cession, but further sales of indigenous land to white planters were forbidden. Fijians were to be governed 'in accordance with native usages and customs' (Roth 1951; France 1968). Ethnic Fijian employment on plantations was restricted. Over 60,000 indentured labourers were brought from the Indian subcontinent to serve as a labour force and became the mainstay of the country's sugar industry. By 1911, Fiji-born Indians outnumbered first-generation migrants. Indigenous Fijians were largely kept in their villages, obliged to cultivate specified crops to pay taxes-in-kind under an officially recognised chiefly system (Scarr 1980: p. 8). Designed to insulate Fijians from the market economy, at least until population levels recovered, the Fijian administration was to survive until the 1960s, despite cumulative erosion of chiefly powers and increasing drift from the village to the town (France, 1971).
After independence in 1970, the country was ruled under successive governments led by Lau high chief Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara, with the largely Fiji Indian-backed National Federation Party (NFP) comprising the largest opposition party. In the mid-1970s, the emergence of a Fijian Nationalist Party split the indigenous vote, leading to an April 1977 election defeat for Mara's Alliance Party. Siddiq Koya's NFP obtained a narrow majority, but Governor General Ratu Sir George Cakobau instead appointed Ratu Mara to lead an interim government pending fresh elections in September (Murray 1978). A decade later, in April 1987, a predominantly Fiji Indian-backed coalition between the NFP and the newly formed Fiji Labour Party (FLP) was able to win a narrow victory over Mara's Alliance, and this time briefly formed a government led by indigenous Fijian medical practitioner Dr Timoci Bavadra. That government lasted only a month before it was overthrown in Fiji's first military coup, led by third-ranking military officer Sitiveni Rabuka. The NFP-FLP coalition had drawn most of its support from western Viti Levu, not only from Fiji Indian voters but also from some indigenous Fijians opposed to the longstanding dominance of the eastern chiefs. In the aftermath of the coup, a new Constitution in 1990 reserved the position of Prime Minister for a 'Fijian' and introduced a wholly communally-based electoral system, with 37 seats allocated to indigenous Fijians and 27 to Fiji Indians in a 70-member parliament (Republic of Fiji 1990: S. 83 (2), S. 41 (3) & (4)). A 34-member Senate was henceforth to be dominated by 24 Fijians nominated by the Great Council of Chiefs, further reinforcing the indigenous control over the upper house that had earlier existed under the 1970 constitution (Republic of Fiji 1990: S. 55, (1)).

Ostensibly, these developments heralded a re-traditionalization of the Fiji political order, but several developments cast doubt on that interpretation (Norton 1999). First, in the wake of the 1987 coup indigenous Governor-General Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau brokered peace talks between the post-coup government and the deposed Bavadra government (the 'Deuba Accord'), which were derailed by a further intervention by Rabuka (often called a 'second coup'), after which the 1970 constitution was abrogated and Fiji became a republic. Ganilau was a high chief, the *Tui Cakau*, but his authority had been successfully challenged by a military officer who held no chiefly title. Second, under the 1990 constitution, a new political party was forged in June 1991 at the instigation of the Great Council of Chiefs: the Soqosoqo ni Vakavulewa ni Taukei (SVT) (Tora 1990: p. 14). In the contest for SVT leadership, Ro Lady Lala Mara, the
Roko Tui Dreketi (paramount chief of the Burebasaga confederacy) and wife to the interim Prime Minister Ratu Mara was passed over in favour of Rabuka, another sign of the weakening of the traditional order.

Rabuka was able to win elections in 1992 and 1994. Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara became President, but his rivalry with Rabuka remained an important feature of Fiji politics over the ensuing years. In 1999, Rabuka fought a fresh election – on the basis of a new 1997 Constitution aimed at bridging differences with Fiji Indian politicians. His SVT suffered a major defeat. A key reason for that defeat, at least as regards the indigenous Fijian vote, was the formation of a new party, the Veitokani ni Vakarisito ni Leweinivanua (VLV), which included among its leaders Ratu Mara's alleged illegitimate son, Poseci Bune and his daughter, Adi Koila Mara. The VLV took close to 20% of the indigenous vote, accounting for the lion's share of the fall in the SVT ethnic Fijian vote share from 65.3% in 1994 to 38% in 1999 (Fraenkel 2001: p. 14-15). The VLV joined new Prime Minister Mahendra Chaudhry's Peoples Coalition government with the blessing of Ratu Mara.

In accordance with the elite manipulation thesis, the Peoples' Coalition 1999 victory might potentially be seen as a triumph of democratic forces. Its overthrow, one year later in May 2000, could plausibly be seen as a reactionary reimposition of traditionalist power. Yet such an interpretation downplays the inter-communal tensions that arose during the May-July 2000 coup crisis.

Chaudhry's FLP had emerged from the 1999 election with an absolute majority of 37 of the 71 seats, but his party had only 1.9% of the ethnic Fijian first preference vote. His majority had arisen due to ballot transfers under the 1997 constitution's new alternative vote system, including – critically for three constituencies that took the FLP over the required absolute majority threshold – votes transferred from the VLV (Fraenkel & Grofman 2006: p. 642). Given that majority, Chaudhry had little need for his coalition partners, other than for non-electoral legitimacy. Nor did he any longer see the need, following the cautious 1987 precedent, to make an indigenous Fijian Prime Minister. Instead, Chaudhry became Fiji's first Prime Minister of Indian descent. During his year in office, Chaudhry paid little attention to his slender support among ethnic Fijian voters. His primary constituency was Fiji Indian cane farmers, though his 1999 electoral triumph owed much to the backing also of the Fiji Indian urban middle classes and some support from multi-ethnic trade unionists. All three of his ethnic Fijian
coalition allied parties split. The dissidents joined the rising tide of indigenous resistance, while party leaders mostly remained in the Peoples Coalition cabinet. This was not a triumph of democracy over tradition. As hostility mounted, Chaudhry repeatedly insisted that he had a democratic 'mandate', as he did in raw numerical terms, but these claims could not conceal the fact that his backing within the Taukei community was negligible, despite that community having a majority in the population (Lal 2000b: p. 286). When the coup eventually came, on May 19th 2000, it had an air of inevitability. There were simultaneously several coup plots ready to roll, but George Speight's shambolic insurrection proved the first cab off the ranks (Digitaki 2000).

The May 19th 2000 coup could only superficially be interpreted as a resurrection of the traditional order against the forces of change. The coup itself was described as a 'civilian coup', but it had important backing within the Republic of Fiji Military Forces (RFMF). Speight himself had no military background. He was a part-European businessman. Some of his key allies were dissident members of the parties whose leaders had remained in Chaudhry's People's Coalition cabinet. It was a chaotic coup. Speight and his supporters – including a small contingent from the RFMF's Counter-Revolutionary Warfare Squadron – seized control of parliament and held Chaudhry and most of his cabinet hostage for 56 days. The President, Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara proclaimed a state of emergency and the RFMF and police loosely ring-fenced the parliamentary complex. A standoff ensued. What followed showed the obsequiousness of the Great Council of Chiefs, rather than its ascendancy. The chiefs deliberated for three days, before making major concessions to Speight's demands, including offering further dialogue and a pardon for the hostage-takers. A delegation from the Council then trooped into the parliament building, where Speight and his accomplices held control, to placate the maverick coup leader, but to no avail (Fraenkel 2000: p. 297).

On May 29th, Ratu Mara stepped down as President at Bainimarama's instigation, and the Constitution was declared abrogated, this time not by the insurrectionists but by the military. It was a coup within a coup. Some amongst the chiefly elite, including Bau chiefs Adi Samanunu Cakobau and her sister Adi Litia Cakobau, backed Speight. They later convened a Bose ni Turaga (Council of Provincial Chiefs), as distinct from the Bose Levu Vakaturaga (BLV, Great Council of Chiefs), signalling the would-be ascendancy of the minor chiefs against the authority of the equivocating BLV (Fraenkel 2000: p.
302). Nevertheless, this was a side-show compared to the real relocation of power. It was primarily the RFMF that defeated the Speight coup, even if – de jure – it was the law courts that in March 2001 pronounced the May 29th 2000 abrogation of the constitution unlawful.

The December 2006 coup brought a new ascendancy for the RFMF not as the harbinger of democracy but as its antithesis. The government that emerged in the aftermath of the 2000 coup was led by Laisenia Qarase, at the head of a new largely indigenous-backed party, the Sososoqo Duavata ni Lewenivanua (SDL). His government had important links with the traditional chiefs, but more importantly with the Methodist Church leadership. Military Commander Frank Bainimarama had been a very junior naval officer at the time of his appointment by Ratu Mara in March 1999 and had endured a major personal threat to his life during the mutiny of November 2000 (orchestrated by supporters of the Speight coup). His efforts to rebuild a fractured RFMF placed him on a collision course with Qarase's SDL government (Firth & Fraenkel 2009). In December 2006, he overthrew the Qarase government. Ideologically, Bainimarama's position had not been clear at the time of the 2000 coup, but in hostility to the Qarase government it had crystallized against the influence of church and paramount chiefs. Once in office, Bainimarama would subsequently dispense with the majority of his initial allies, including Catholic social justice advocates, Ratu Mara's descendants, the Fiji Labour Party, and various sympathizers in the civil society movement, most of whom soon changed from conditional supporters to virulent opponents of the Bainimarama-led government. The Great Council of Chiefs was abolished in 2012.

Bainimarama's FijiFirst Party was able to win elections in 2014 and 2018 with absolute majorities, but by December 2022 its popular support had waned to a point that allowed an opposition coalition government to narrowly assume office. Chaudhry and several of his Fiji Labour Party colleagues had joined the interim administration appointed in the wake of the December 2006 coup, though in 2008 Chaudhry resigned as finance minister and soon became highly critical of the military-backed government. When elections were eventually held in 2014, Bainimarama's newly formed FijiFirst Party won 59% of the vote, relying strongly on the Fiji Labour Party's former bases of support in Western Viti Levu and northern Vanua Levu. Policies on rehousing squatters, the minimum wage and free school fees aimed at improving the livelihoods of the urban
and rural poor. The FLP vote collapsed to 2.3% of the national total in 2014, 0.62% in 2018 and 2.7% in 2022, each time falling below the 5% threshold required to gain seats in parliament. From a position of incumbency, FijiFirst was able to rally the support of those reformist-inclined areas that had backed the short-lived Labour-led governments of 1987 and 1999, but by 2022 the FijiFirst vote share was down to 42.6%. Sixteen years of semi-authoritarian rule did much to strengthen opposition support for democracy, media freedom, the rule of law and an end to police repression.

## Samoa: Modernization Disguised as Tradition

Sāmoa's ability to elaborate its own political institutions in the last quarter of the nineteenth century was initially assisted by intense regional rivalry between Germany, America and Britain. The 1873 constitution established a bicameral parliament with an upper house (Ta'imua') and lower house (Faipule), both of which were occupied by matai chosen by other matai using customary methods of dialogue and consensus. Pressured by commercial interests, diplomats and developments in neighbouring Fiji to establish a centralised government, Sāmoa developed a fractious monarchical system, rotated between the country's two highest lineages (Sā Mālietoā and Sā Tupuā) for four-year terms. Monarchic rivalry during the 1870s resulted in the advent of four tama-a-'āiga titles (literally meaning 'one who is an offspring related to the established political families of Sāmoa'): Mālietoā, Tupuā Tamasese, Matā'afa and Tuimaleali'ifano. Under German rule (1900–1914), Governor Solf pursued a policy of restricting foreign land purchases and native employment on plantations in Western Sāmoa that kept the customary village-based system more or less intact. Tama-a-'āiga title-holders were appointed as advisors, and the Faipule was retained in a consultative capacity.

Following Germany's defeat in World War I, Sāmoa came under the stewardship of New Zealand, first as League of Nations Mandate (1919–45), and then as a United Nations Trust Territory (1946–61). The emergence of the Mau movement in the 1920s, an indigenous protest movement aimed at obtaining recognition for Sāmoan self-government, led the New Zealand administration to grant political concessions, including enhancing the authority of the Fono village council. The Samoa Amendment Act of 1947 provided for
a Legislative Assembly with 11 Sāmoan members representing customary districts as a preparatory stage on the road to independence.

After independence in 1962, Sāmoan politics shifted away from the earlier consensus-based selection processes towards greater competition. During the pre-independence years, members of the Legislative Assembly had usually been selected unopposed, after village discussions declared in favour of a single candidate (a style of decision-making which reinforced the position of the traditional power-brokers of Tūmua and Pule). Because it equalised factors such as age, rank and experience that were thought to merit greater weight in decision-making, voting was viewed as contrary to the consensus principles of the village fono. MPs were frequently rotated among villages within a constituency, with each taking it in turns to nominate an unopposed candidate (Meleisea 1987: p. 212-213; So'o 2002: p. 228). From independence onwards, election rivalry sharpened, the number of candidates standing rose and the percentage of MPs returned unopposed fell. Nevertheless, the degree of control exerted by village councils over candidate selection and voter choice continued to provoke controversy. MPs were occasionally elected in defiance of local council choices and the villagers deemed responsible could face banishment, entailing either exclusion from council proceedings or, in the more draconian cases, loss of property including lands and removal from the village.

Similarly at the national level, critical decisions regarding selection of office-bearers tended initially to be taken by consensus and to facilitate the accession to the prime ministership of leading customary chiefs. Until 1976, Sāmoa's prime ministers were all holders of tama-a-'äiga titles. Competition then sharpened, though at first the victors remained top title-holders. The opening up of constituency and prime ministerial-level competition in Sāmoa in the late 1970s coincided with the formation of a party-based system. Tupuola Efi's narrow victory after the 1979 elections triggered the opposition to assume a more organised form. The Human Rights Protection Party (HRPP) was formed. It was able to win the general election of 1982 and – aside from the short-lived 1986-87 coalition government period – that party remained continuously in office from 1982 to 2021.

The HRPP nevertheless faced challenges, most notably from the Tūmua and Pule protests of the 1990s. Traditional orators on the island of Savai'i ('Pule-e-ono') rallied
behind customary representatives of the Tama-a-'Āiga (paramount chiefs) on Upolu ('Tūmua') to oppose a new 10% Value-Added Goods and Services Tax and press for a change in government. Their spokesman was then Leader of the Opposition Tui Ātua Tupua Tamasese 'Efi (previously known as Tupoula 'Efi), also the holder of one of the four Tama-a-'āiga titles and Prime Minister prior to the HRPP's initial assumption of office in 1982 (So'o 2006: p. 353; So'o 2008: p. 187). Tupua Tamasese 'Efi became Head of State in 2007 and served two terms ending in 2017. His rivalry with HRPP Prime Minister Tuila'epa Sa'ilele Malielegaoi, who assumed office in 1998, was a continuing sub-plot of Sāmoan politics through the first two decades of the new millennium.

Ostensibly, the HRPP was the party of modernization, and its 1990s opponents were the traditionalists, but the controversies that led to the party's defeat at the 2021 election suggest a more nuanced interpretation. In 2020, a schism emerged in the HRPP over three bills designed to reconfigure the Land and Titles Court, supposedly to bring this more into line with Sāmoan custom and tradition. Under the pre-2020 arrangements, appeals from the Land and Titles Court were occasionally sent to the Supreme Court, but the 2020 reforms envisaged the establishment of a separate 'Land and Titles Court of Appeal and Review'. This would have 'supreme authority over the subject of Samoan customs and usages', leaving the ordinary court system responsible solely for criminal and civil cases. The breakaway HRPP MPs formed the Fa'atuatua i le Atua Samoa ua Tasi party ('Samoa United in Faith') which publicly dedicated itself to opposing these reforms and to upholding the 'rule of law'. This too was not a confrontation between FAST democrats and 'traditionalists'. In the April 2021 election, FAST drew particularly strong support from the more tradition-bound island of Savai'i. It pledged to revise constituency boundaries to give each of the six Pule (traditional authorities) of Savai'i its own district and promised that the next Head of State would hail from that island. As incoming FAST Prime Minister Fiame Naomi Mata'afa indicated in the run up to the 2021 election, both sides were 'playing the "custom and tradition" card' (Islands Business 2020).

Sāmoa was never a good fit for the 'tradition versus democracy' thesis. Even under colonial rule, its customary order was less stratified than that of Tonga or Fiji.

Although frequently translated as 'chief', matai are rather family heads and no Sāmoan family lacks a matai (Tcherkézoff 1997: p. 419; Huffer & So'o 2000: p. 284). Matai are
ideally the custodians of family estates, entrusted by their 'āiga (extended family or land-holding descent group) with authority (pule) over deployment of land and labour (lati 2022). Matai are not necessarily selected with reference to descent. Community and family (tautua) service and personal qualities are often more significant, and matai titles can be reclaimed from holders who perform poorly or behave in an undignified manner (Tiffany 1974: p50-51). Other matai must be present during the conferring of titles, when the host family usually provides gifts entailing some combination of cash, fine mats or food. Decisions are endorsed by the village mayor (pulenu'u) before matai are registered with the Land and Titles Court. Titled household heads participate in village councils. Non-titled people are not allowed to participate except as observers. Consensus-based decision-making gives greater weight to the views of those at the helm of the village hierarchy and dissent is rarely openly voiced.

Insofar as it applied to Sämoa, the elite manipulation thesis relied critically on two developments: first, the Village Fono Act of 1990; and second, the depiction of the 1990 transition to a universal franchise as a method of preserving the integrity of the Fa'amatai system. In itself, the Village Fono Act was a de-centralization measure, granting village councils the power to determine 'custom and usage', but court controversies arose over the occasional use of those powers to 'banish' individuals (Forsyth 2009). The depiction of the Village Fono Act as inherently 'undemocratic' depends on a portrayal of the central state as the true guardian of democratic freedoms and a blanket view of the village fono as inherently more conservative. Second, the 1990 shift to a universal franchise was clearly a move towards a more democratic order, but it was presented as offering a defence of traditional institutions by the ruling HRPP. The restricted franchise, so it was argued, was creating strong incentives for the proliferation of matai titles since politicians could thereby expand their voter bases (Meleisea 1987: p. 234, p. 235; Macpherson 1999: p. 83). Yet there were also other reasons for matai title proliferation, including status rivalry, urbanization, and the desire to incorporate remittance-sending migrants overseas into the Samoan political system (So'o & Fraenkel 2005: p. 342-44). Pressures to shift to a universal franchise were not new. They had been anticipated by the framers of the 1962 constitution, which was a major reason why the restricted franchise was placed in ordinary legislation rather than in the Constitution. Agitation for change accelerated in the 1970s and 1980s, in the shape of the 1976 Tupua Tamasese Report and through recommendations by senior
judges (e.g. Court of Appeal of Western Samoa 1982). That this reform was couched in
terms of defence of the integrity of the traditional system did not convince the 47.4%
of voters who opposed the switch in the referendum conducted in 1990. Those voters
who sought to preserve that matai-only franchise were clearly not convinced that this
would undermine the integrity of the chiefly system.

Who were the ‘Traditional’ elites and were they in control?

In Fiji, Tonga and Sāmoa, those in key positions of executive authority after independence also held leading hierarchical titles in the traditional order. In Tonga, the head of government and the cabinet were appointed and dismissed at ‘the King’s pleasure’ (Kingdom of Tonga 1875: S. 51). In Sāmoa, the 1962 constitution provided that the position of Head of State be initially jointly held by two tama-a-‘äiga title-holders, Tupua Tamasese Mea’ole and Malietoa Tanumafili II for life, but since the death of the latter in 2007, the occupancy of that office by tama-a-‘äiga title-holders has been by convention rather than constitutional requirement. In Fiji, the 1970 Constitution left a Governor General appointed by the Queen, an office replaced – after the 1987 coup – by a President appointed by the Bose Levu Vakaturaga (Republic of Fiji 1990: S. 31). In both Fiji (post 1990) and Sāmoa, the Head of State held formal executive authority, but the intention of the framers of those constitutions was clearly that the President would, in the Westminster fashion, ‘act in accordance with the advice of the Prime Minister’ and that Prime Minister would be the elected member who ‘commands the confidence of a majority of the Members of Parliament’ (Government of Samoa 1960: S. 31, (1), S. 32 2 (a); Republic of Fiji 1990: S. 82, (1); S. 83 (3)). That model of the Head of State acting ‘on advice’ was also adopted in Tonga from 2010 onwards, but with substantial powers still resting with the King.

In practice, occupants of the offices of Governor-General or President (Fiji) or Head of
State (Samoa) initially, after independence, remained the holders of powerful titles in
the traditional system. In Samoa, the Head of State has remained one of the tama-a-
'äiga title-holders. The Council of Deputies, which is periodically entrusted to conduct
the duties of the Head of State, was initially - by convention - filled by other such title-
holders. In 1988, Vā'ai Kolone became the first of five non-tama-a-'äiga title-holders
appointed to the Council of Deputies, signalling a change that many in Samoa view
as a precursor to a likely future assumption of the position of Head of State by an
individual without such a title. In Fiji, post-independence Governors General – Ratu Sir
George Kadalevu Cakobau (1973-1983) and Ratu Sir Penaiia Ganilau (1983-1987) –
were both holders of paramount chiefly titles. After the 1987 coup, when Fiji became
a republic, the Office of the President was also at first held by paramount chiefs (Ratu
Sir Penaiia Ganilau 1987-93 and Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara (1993-2000), but since the 2000
coup presidents have held lesser standing in the traditional order. In accordance with
the Westminster tradition, the powers of Heads of State (i.e. disregarding the British
Queen) were largely ceremonial, but there were exceptions (as indeed there have
been in the United Kingdom, e.g. in 1931 when King George V brokered the formation
of a grand coalition government in the midst of the Great Depression).

In both Fiji and Sāmoa, Heads of State reinforced constitutional power with traditional
authority at critical junctures. In 1975 and 1982, tama-a-'äiga title-holders serving as
Heads of State appointed Samoan Prime Ministers who did not command a majority
in parliament. In neither case were those decisions challenged in the courts. In both
cases, those appointments proved only of short duration (So'o 2022). In Fiji, Governor
General Ratu Sir George Cakobau appointed Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara as Prime Minister
after the March-April 1977 election, despite the defeat of his Alliance Party by the
largely Fiji Indian-backed National Federation Party (NFP). That was a decision often
compared to Governor-General Sir John Kerr's dismissal of Gough Whitlam in Australia
in 1975, but in the Fiji case it was not a dismissal, but rather a decision as to who should
become Prime Minister. The NFP had exactly half of the parliamentary seats, rather
than a clear majority and major dissension within the NFP ensued centred on the
leadership of Siddiq Koya. In his own 'deliberate judgment', Ratu Sir George Cakobau
re-appointed Ratu Mara as purportedly 'best able' to command a majority (Scarr 2008:
p. 232-35; Premdas 1979: p. 196). Yet customary authority ultimately proved unable to
trump parliamentary sovereignty: that government soon fell, leading to fresh elections
which – owing to a major rift in the NFP and a decline in the vote for the radical Fijian
Nationalist Party – Ratu Mara's Alliance Party was able to win.

In both countries, later Heads of State too have acted outside the Constitution,
occasionally appealing to the 'doctrine of necessity' or even to 'prerogative powers'
inherited from the British monarch. Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara navigated the crisis
occasioned by the Speight coup in May 2000 by declaring a 'state of emergency'. Since
Prime Minister Mahendra Chaudhry was being held hostage inside the parliamentary complex by Speight and his supporters, Ratu Mara claimed to be constitutionally entitled to swear in a new head of government (Republic of Fiji 1997: S. 106 (1)). He briefly appointed western chief Ratu Tevita Momoedonu as acting Prime Minister, who immediately dissolved parliament, thereby allowing Ratu Mara to assume executive authority (Fraenkel 2000: p. 297). When those decisions were later challenged, the High Court found them consistent with the 'doctrine of necessity' – purportedly allowing action outside the constitution if the ultimate objective is to preserve the constitution (High Court of Fiji 2000). This had not been a President using his traditional powers to curb, constrain or usurp popular accountability, but a paramount chief attempting to use that authority to safeguard democracy during a period of acute crisis.

What was striking about the exercise of presidential power after the 2006 coup was neither its appeal to the letter of the law nor to traditional authority. This was a puppet president dancing to the tune of the military commander. When the High Court controversially upheld those presidential powers in late 2008, it did so not by appeal to Fijian tradition but with reference to 'prerogative' powers supposedly inherited from the British monarch (Williams et al 2008). That flawed judgment was reversed on appeal. The better indicator of the greatly weakened role of traditional authority in 2006 was the unceremonious dumping of Vice President Ratu Joni Madraiwiwi, who had strenuously attempted to stop Ratu Josefa's acquiescence to the military takeover. Ratu Madraiwiwi, the Roko Tui Bau, came from what was once traditionally the most powerful lineage of Bau Island, the political centre of the Kubuna confederacy. He was also Bainimarama's own high chief, but that did not stop soldiers being deployed to evict him from his official residence the day after the 2006 coup. Ratu Joni was later, in 2012, appointed as one of the life peers in Tonga.

Samoa has avoided Fiji's many experiments in unconstitutionality, but it sailed close in April-July 2021, and at this point too traditional authority was contested. In the wake of the April 2021 election, with the outcome deemed tied at 25 seats for the Human Rights Protection Party and 25 for the Fa'atuatua i le Atua Samoa ua Tasi (FAST), the Head of State Tuimaleali'ifano Sualauvi Va'aletoa II purported to cancel the April 9th election and schedule a fresh election. [In fact, FAST had a majority due to the backing of a single independent in the 51-seat parliament]. The judges who sat to deliberate on the constitutionality of that decision found that the Head of State had no 'reserve powers'
to void an election and that there was therefore 'no lawful basis for the Head of State calling for a new election on 21 May 2021' (Supreme Court of Samoa. 2021a: S. 91, S. 94). This judicial affront to traditional authority was enough to trigger menfolk from the village of Falelatai to descend on the capital to 'protect' their tama-a-'äiga from what they deemed culturally inappropriate judicial pressures to convene the opening of parliament. The equivocating Head of State at first bowed to the legal judgment and called the required parliamentary meeting for the last possible date, 24th May, but then issued another promulgation rescinding this. The exasperated judges were in no doubt that he was acting on the advice of the defeated former Prime Minister.

Owing to the absence of a Head of State convening of a lawful parliamentary meeting, FAST unofficially held a swearing in ceremony on the lawns outside a parliament on 24th May 2021, without the presence either of the Head of State or the Clerk or the outgoing Speaker. The Speaker, a Tuila'epa loyalist, had instructed the Clerk of parliament to lock the doors of parliament. The judges at first rejected the constitutionality of that ceremony and upheld the 'cultural propriety, solemnity and continuity since independence of the swearing in by the Head of State of constitutional office-holders' (Supreme Court of Samoa 2021b: S. 57). Yet when the Head of State still more emphatically rejected a court ruling that parliament meet by July 5th accusing the judges of 'flagrant disregard, and disrespect, of the powers of the position of Head of State', the judges lost patience. They insisted that the Head of State was 'a servant of the Constitution, not its master' and that he had no power that 'sits alongside' or 'trumps' the Constitution (Court of Appeal of Samoa 2021: S. 60). Fiamē Mata'afa was deemed to have been legally sworn into office as Prime Minister on 24th May. As Asofou So'o has argued, the result has been a further weakening of the powers of tama-a-'äiga serving as Heads of State and a greater 'constitutionalization' of Samoan politics (So'o 2022).

Those holding honorific titles should not be confused with the 'chiefly elite', if by that expression one means those at the top of the neotraditional order. By 2012, the number of matai titles recorded by the Land and Titles Court in Sāmoa was over 60,000, though many individuals hold multiple titles and some titles are split between individuals. The 2016 *Census of Population* reported that 14% of the population held such titles (Samoan Statistical Bureau 2016: p. 29). In Tonga, there exist 33 recognised noble titles (though one is presently held by the King and some are occasionally vacant), as well as six
matapule titles and five life peers In Fiji, the Native Lands Commission recorded 18,221 titles in 2004, though 62% of these were Turaga ni Tokatoka ('family heads'), Turaga ni koro ('village chiefs') and Turaga ni Tikina ('district chiefs'). The Commission itself regarded 'chiefly' positions rather as those bestowed on individuals with the higher-ranking titles, the Turaga ni Yavusa ('heads of tribes'), Turaga ni Mataqali ('clan heads') and Turaga ni Vanua ('provincial chiefs') (Fiji Times 2004). At that time, the Commission reported that close to 30% of those higher-ranking titles were vacant, meaning that no accepted claimant had been installed (Fiji Sun 2004). Fifteen years later, in the wake of the Bainimarama coup and the abolition of the Great Council of Chiefs, that share of vacant titles had risen to 52% (FBC 2019). The Bainimarama government's halting of the disbursal of iTaukei Land Trust Board rental incomes to title-holders probably explains a good part of that increase, indicating not only a decline in chiefly political power but also a major diminution in economic power.

## Drivers of Change

In the 1980s and early 1990s, the key 'impetus for democratic reform' in Fiji and Tonga seemed to be coming from those who backed the Fiji Labour Party and the pro-democracy movement in Tonga (Lawson 1996: p. 163; p. 8; p. 112-3). There was no similar movement in Sāmoa. There, it was not a mass-based democracy movement that triggered the shift to a universal franchise in 1990-91, but the HRPP government.

In Tonga, proposals for reform during the 1990s were mostly cautious. There were annual calls for constitutional change, and for expanding elected representation in parliament, but most proposals did not impinge on the King's prerogative in selecting the Prime Minister or cabinet. Some called for a bicameral parliament, with an upper house for the nobles. Others favoured direct popular election of nobles (see the review in Campbell 2011). In the 1990s, some reform-minded ministers and members of the royal family rhetorically embraced the need for change over the longer-run, but posed the barrier as a question of timing or as requiring greater sophistication on the part of popularly elected MPs or as a counterpart of the development of a robust party system (Lātūkefu 1993: p. 62). Such public statements imparted a sense of inevitability to the transition, even when they were often accompanied by claims that the people's representatives were making demands in culturally inappropriate
ways or were showing disrespect towards the king. Elite resistance to those reforms encouraged greater radicalization in the 2000s. An early 2000s campaign against Prince Lavaka's restrictive media laws and the 2005 public sector strike were critical watersheds. Even if the key reforms were ultimately introduced at the behest of the Sevele government, the rising tide of protest and the strong electoral performance of the pro-democracy politicians, provided the critical context.

In Fiji, advocacy of greater democracy by adoption of a common roll was complicated by the inter-ethnic dimension, and the perception that this would disadvantage the indigenous community. When Fiji Indian political leaders, who had in 1929 been for the first time elected (rather than nominated by the Governor-General), put forward a motion for 'common roll' elections in the Legislative Council, this was defeated by an alliance between Fijian, European and official members, resulting in an Indian walk-out and boycott (Gillion 1977: p. 130-46). NFP leader A.D Patel fought a vigorous campaign in the 1960s to abolish communally-reserved seats and to instead conduct elections on a combined electoral roll which would give each citizen 'one vote, one value' (Lal 1997: p. 39-40, p. 191-3; p. 194; Lal 1992: p. 195-96). In the Fiji context, where Indians from mid-century until the 1980s out-numbered ethnic Fijians, the demand for a common roll was often interpreted not as an issue of egalitarian principle, but as an expression of communal self-interest. As such, it strengthened the emerging alliance between Fijian and European members and it encouraged traditional chiefs, such as Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna to adopt an overtly anti-democratic stance.

Fiji went to independence in 1970 under interim electoral arrangements that Prime Minister Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara promised to review subsequently. The consequent Street Commission report in 1975 did not recommend the abolition of communal rolls, but instead the election of 25 of the 52 parliamentary seats on a common roll 'with no restriction of race or religion for either voters or candidates', using a single transferable vote electoral law. Ratu Mara did not accept those proposals (Lal 1992: p. 222-224). When the Fiji Labour Party emerged in the mid-1980s, its main focus was on opposition to Mara's wage-freeze rather than the constitutional question. Labour's 1987 leader, Dr Timoci Bavadra, did echo the elite manipulation thesis, arguing that Fiji's leaders had 'amassed huge personal wealth by making use of their traditional political powers' and that culture and tradition were being used to preserve those privileges (Lal 1992:
p. 263). But this was couched in terms of a class-based emphasis on social inequality and on the potential for a cross-ethnic coalition to defeat Ratu Mara's Alliance Party. Bavadra saw no need for a showdown with the chiefly hierarchy:

> 'The chiefly system is a time-honoured and sacred institution of the taukei. It is a system for which we have the deepest respect and which we will defend. But we also believe that a system of modern democracy is one which is quite separate from it. The individual's democratic right to vote in our political system does not mean he has to vote for a chief. It is an absolutely free choice' (Bavadra cited in Lal, 1992: p. 263)

When a gradualist move towards greater democratization eventually occurred, it was through a mid-1990s power-sharing compact between the leaders of the main Fiji Indian and indigenous Fijian-backed parties. In the mid-1990s, Prime Minister Rabuka, in co-operation with National Federation Party opposition leader Jai Ram Reddy, established a Joint Parliamentary Select Committee and a Constitutional Review Commission to propose amendments to the 'interim' 1990 constitution. In the resulting 1997 constitution, 25 common roll constituencies were introduced, with no ethnic designation of candidates, alongside 46 communal or racially-reserved seats. A multi-party cabinet provision was adopted, entitling all parties with more than 10% of seats in the 71-member parliament to participate in government. Such a power-sharing arrangement had been foreshadowed in 1970s calls for a 'government of national unity', but this had been rejected by radical critics of the 'plural society syndrome' on the grounds that it entailed recognition, rather than the quashing or transcending, of ethnic differences.

The difficulties encountered in implementing that 1997 power-sharing agreement laid the groundwork for the December 2006 coup and the sixteen years of military-backed government that followed it. In 1999-2000, Chaudhry proved able to avoid the intent of that new law by excluding the largest indigenous party by first preference vote share and by weakening the position of those indigenous Fijian parties that participated in his Peoples Coalition cabinet. After the May 2000 coup, Chaudhry's successor as Prime Minister, Laisenia Qarase, tried to follow suite by excluding the largest Fiji Indian backed party but this was ruled unlawful by Fiji's Supreme Court and Court of Appeal. A short-lived experiment in multi-party cabinet did commence in May 2006. Nine ministers
from the largely Fiji Indian backed Fiji Labour Party joined Qarase's government, but
Labour leader Mahendra Chaudhry declined to participate. In July, the new cabinet
was saluted by military commander Frank Bainimarama as a 'great and new concept
of power sharing at the executive level of government' (Mataivalu News July/August
2006; Fiji Times, 28th July 2006). He did not stick by that view. Fiji's power-sharing
government was cut short by Bainimarama's December 2006 coup, which offered
instead a program of suppression of ethnic politics in the name of 'good governance'.
Those years of authoritarian rule were opposed by most in the traditional Fiji hierarchy,
including deposed Vice President Ratu Joni Madraiwiwi, but these continued an earlier
established trend. 'The BLV itself is in many senses a symbol', wrote Ratu Joni in mid-
2007: 'in treating it in such a cavalier and contemptuous manner, the Commander
exposed the facade of its authority. This has compounded the erosion of traditional
authority structures. That may not be such a bad thing, replete as it is with shibboleths
and anachronisms which need to be cleared' (Madraiwiwi cited in Fiji Times, 26 July
2007). Thus not all customary chiefs rallied behind a stirring defence of the traditional
order.

Traditionalization or State-ification?

In Fiji, Tonga and Sāmoa, the recasting of traditional authority has been interlaced with
an extension of state authority. In Tonga, the system of high-ranking titles was levelled
upwards, with the 1875 creation of 20 noble titles (raised to 30 in 1880), but with other
chiefs reduced to the de jure status of 'commoners' (James 1992: p. 95; Marcus 1997).
In Samoa, the pre-contact hierarchical system had comprised distinct ali'i ('chiefs')
and tulāfale ('talking chiefs' or 'orators'), but this difference was gradually whittled
away in favour of the generic term matai (Meleisea 1995: p. 34; Meleisea 1992: p. 22).
What Serge Tcherkezoff describes as a 'the levelling of the chiefly system' entailed 'the
merging of what used to be the egalitarian notion of family or household head with the
old notion of sacred chief' (Tcherkézoff 2000: p. 115, p. 122-4). German establishment
of the Land and Titles Court assisted this evening out process. In Fiji, paramount chiefs
were incorporated into a Native Administration (later Fijian Administration) as salaried
civil servants, initially with rights to extract tribute formalized in statute (MacNaught
1974). Yet even in Fiji, cultural restraints prevented the chiefs from consolidating as a
ruling class. As Carmen White pointed out:
‘... even as chiefly status has been transformed and institutionalized through colonial and state structures, chiefs have been precluded from straying from certain moral imperatives – namely, their redistributive functions and their role as representatives of the collective honour and prestige of their constituencies. The prominence of these imperatives in Fijian notions of the proper roles of chiefs has impeded chiefs from becoming a ruling political and economic class in Fiji’ (White 2015: p. 169).

That has been less true of Tonga, where the 1875 constitution substituted inflexible rules of hereditary succession for earlier more flexible rules and where the system of town and district officers displaced the local-level power of the nobles making them more responsive to centralized power (Powles 1990: p. 145-6; Bott 1981: p. 59-60). Nevertheless, Tonga's nobles too became a salaried elite and through the 20th century 'Increasingly the status and wealth of a noble depend on his relationship with government, and with the royal family, not with his people' (Campbell 2006: p. 279).

In many cases, modern reform initiatives purportedly inscribing tradition into law have in practice served to strengthen the power of the state, a trend discernible in the Fiji case from the onset of colonial rule (France 1969). For example, electoral reforms promoted by the HRPP governments in Sāmoa to institutionalise customary compulsory service ('tautua') for candidates were promoted as codification of 'tradition' but, as Suaalii-Sauni shows, can better be understood instead as 'the nation state directly imposing itself on what was once the prerogative of the village or the aiga' (Suaalii-Sauni 2017: p. 176-77). The proposal for a new court to deal with appeals from the Land and Titles Court, which figured so centrally during the 2021 election campaign, was depicted by the HRPP as enshrining indigenous control in law to displace 'palagi' (foreigner) institutions, but that interpretation depends on ignoring the fact that the original objective in establishing the Land and Titles Court was not, as Malama Meleisea points out, 'preserving Samoan institutions, as many Samoans suppose today, but more to manipulate and control the decision making process by which the legitimacy of chiefly titles and authority over land was recognised' (Meleisea 1987: p. xii). In Fiji, Laisenia Qarase's 2006 Qoliqoli bill – which so inflamed opposition from the RFMF and Fiji Labour Party – set out to transfer beach, lagoon and reef areas to indigenous owners 'in accordance with traditional customs, practice and usage', but its major
inspiration came from the New Zealand 2004 Foreshore and Seabed Act rather than Fijian tradition. Its practical effect would have been to establish a new state body tasked with collecting and transferring payments to Fijian owners (Parliament of Fiji 2006). There exist numerous other similar examples.

Attacks on tradition too should not necessarily be read at face value. In the aftermath of the 2006 coup, military commander Frank Bainimarama famously told the chiefs to go and 'meet under the mango tree and enjoy home brew' (Bainimarama, cited in *The Australian*, 22 Nov 2006). But his showdown with the Great Council of Chiefs was primarily a corollary of the coup-triggered struggle for legitimate power. The Bose Levu Vakaturaga was, constitutionally, the critical appointing authority for the President, but in the aftermath of the December coup it rejected Bainimarama's efforts to install his own preferred Head of State (Fraenkel 2008: p543). Once in office as Prime Minister, Bainimarama may have abolished the Great Council of Chiefs and halted payment of land lease rents to the various tiers of chiefs, but the FijiFirst government also took steps to resurrect a purified and de-politicized version of the chiefly hierarchy – through proposals for village bylaws and through its controls over the provincial councils. After an elected parliament was restored in 2014, Bainimarama's FijiFirst party persistently claimed to be a better custodian of customary land tenure than the main opposition party, SODELPA, accusing the latter of facilitating the privatization of native land (Fraenkel 2019: p. 486). In the run up to that election, traditional chiefs from around the country were enlisted in support of FijiFirst (Fraenkel 2015: p. 156). Prior to his 2022 election defeat, Bainimarama toured the country on the campaign trail repeatedly lamenting each province's large number of uninstalled chiefs and vacant titles.

## Conclusion

The elite manipulation of tradition thesis acquired some currency in the early post-independence years because high chiefs initially retained key political positions in the de-colonised state, but the longer-run trend in both Fiji and Samoa has been for those without such titles to assume greater political prominence. In Tonga, that transition
has been much more recent, but also both more and less emphatic – more emphatic
since it entailed relinquishment of major royal powers of control over government; less
emphatic since the noble representatives remained a powerful bloc in parliament. In
all three countries, urbanization and economic growth have created affluent middle
classes that have a limited stake in the traditional order. Those with traditional authority
are not necessarily the most prosperous or powerful of their country's citizens. Those
who acquired power through modern post-colonial channels are sometimes able to
acquire customary recognition by gaining neo-traditional titles, whether as 'life peers'
in Tonga, by selective installation of chiefs regulated by the Ministry of iTaukei Affairs
in Fiji, or through the granting of matai titles recognised by the Land and Tiles Court in
Sāmoa.

In this chapter, three main arguments have been advanced against the 'democracy
versus tradition' framing as a tool for understanding post-1990s political developments
in Fiji, Tonga and Samoa. First, to ascertain whether traditional elites were manipulating
tradition in order to protect their privileged position, it is necessary to establish who
traditional elites were, and whether or not they were in control. If a 'traditionalist elite'
can be so identified, does the proposition refer to all, some or most chiefs, and is this a
question of probability or close correlation? Alternatively, is the obviously correct claim
merely that some or even many chiefs, on some occasions, used tradition to protect
their own interests? In *Tradition Versus Democracy*, we are offered an interpretive
answer to an empirically verifiable proposition, but what is required is both a political
economy analysis of class differentiation and a more careful investigation of which
influences are shaping public policy. Second, although some radical reformists, and
critics of the traditional hierarchy – such as Chaudhry in Fiji or Pāhiva in Tonga – pressed
for democratic reform, others – such as Bainimarama in Fiji – either did not do so or else,
if one believes the heroic reading of the 2006 coup, insisted that 'true democracy'
could only be achieved after a period of authoritarian rule. In Fiji after the 1987 coup,
the eventual shift towards greater democracy was through the 1997 constitution,
with its power-sharing provisions, but that was a road Chaudhry preferred to avoid
when the opportunity arose in May 2006 and a route that was disavowed by critics
of the 'plural society syndrome'. In Tonga, Pāhiva too chose a confrontational route
to democratic reform and rejected opportunities to reach a compromise with the
Sevele government. Third, where acts of parliament were passed with 'traditionalist'
justifications, these were often not exactly what they appeared to be, and those
responsible were not necessarily 'traditional elites'.

The 'tradition versus democracy' thesis lends itself to a *tabula rasa* approach to
democratization that rejects approaches that find potential agencies conducive to
greater accountability of political leaders within indigenous ideas or institutions. This
is denied by Lawson (Lawson 1996: p. 67). On the one hand, she rightly rejects the
argument that 'there is only one "correct" universal form,' of democracy. On the other
hand, she notes that 'a substantial part of the history of democratic development in
the West has been about depersonalizing political power, and vesting it in impersonal
institutions' and then concludes 'that democratic politics is characterized by the
depersonalization of power' (Lawson 1996: p. 30, p. 12, p. 35). Yet the de-personalization
of established political power primarily characterizes the British history of democracy,
particularly via the ideas and institutions of parliamentary 'sovereignty' (Loughlin 2003).
In contrast, greater democracy emerged in America and France through revolutions.
In many other parts of the world, it arose through adaptations that did not necessarily
echo the British experience. In America, arrangements were adopted that were less
oriented towards de-personalized power and more oriented towards institutionalized
checks and balances 'pitting ambition against ambition' (Madison 1788). In the newly
independent states, partial democracy often emerged only in the twilight of the
colonial era, with local elites either subsequently adapting to its presence or reverting
to some form of authoritarian rule (since colonial rule was itself invariably authoritarian).
In many of those cases where forms of democracy have survived, as in much of the
post-colonial Pacific, these have been reconfigured or at least re-styled – for better or
worse – in a manner perceived as possessing greater symmetry with traditional ideas
or institutions, a process which should not be confused with either a philosophical
endorsement of 'relativism' or democratic backsliding.

Where does that leave deliberations on 'the Pacific way' as the supposed regionalist
pinnacle of that conservative defence of tradition? Must one be bound by the way
Ratu Mara understood that phrase, or should we join Epeli Hau'ofa in discarding this
as 'a shallow ideology that was swept away by the rising tide of regional disunity in
the 1980s' (Hau'ofa 1998: p. 43)? Whether one opts for 'the Pacific way' or Hau'ofa's
'Oceanic' identity what is conveyed is normally either a yearning for regional cohesion,
particularly attractive for those seeking to strengthen linkages with other Pacific Island states (as for New Caledonia and French Polynesia), or else a preference for home-grown institutions or reforms rather than carbon copies of those elaborated in 'the west'. In that latter sense, 'the Pacific Way' does not differ greatly from other badges of regional identity that emphasise consensus decision-making in contrast to the supposedly adversarial qualities of Anglo-American, francophone or continental European democracy, such as 'the African way', the 'ASEAN way' or the 'the Caribbean way' (also a popular name for restaurant chains). In short, there seems no good reason to either be greatly worried or enthused by 'the Pacific Way'.

## References

ABC Pacific Beat. 2017. Tongan PM wants to get rid of Noble MPs within a decade', 25th October.

Baleinakorodawa, Paulo., Father Kevin Barr & Semiti Qalowasa. 2006. 'Time of Uncertainty – Opportunity', *Fiji Times*, December 19th.

Bott, E. 1981. 'Power and Rank in the Kingdom of Tonga', *The Journal of the Polynesian Society*, 90, (1), 79-102.

Campbell, I. 2001. 'Tonga', in (Eds) Nohlen, D., Grotz, F., & Hartmann, C., *Elections in Asia and the Pacific: A Data handbook*, Oxford University Press.

Campbell, I. 2006. 'Rock of Ages: Tension underlying Stability in Tonga', in (Eds Ramsey, D et al, Australia's Arc of Instability: The Political and Cultural Dynamics of Regional Security, Springer.

Campbell, I. 2008. 'Tonga: The Constitution, the Riot, the Election and Reform', *New Zealand International Review*, 33, (5), 2-6.

Campbell, I. 2011. *Tonga's Way to Democracy*, Herodotus Press.

Chand, S. 2015. 'The Political Economy of Fiji: Past, Present, and Prospects', *The Round Table*, 104, (2), 199-208.

Court of Appeal of Western Samoa. 1982. In the Matter of the Constitution of the Independent
State of Western Samoa and Electoral Act between Attorney-General and Saipai'a Olomalu, Roderick Crichton & Georgina Cecilia Moore etc, Judgment, 26 August. http:// www.paclii.org/ws/cases/WSCA/1982/1.html.

Court of Appeal of Sam. 2021. Attorney General Vs Latu et al, http://www.paclii.org/ws/cases/ WSCA/2021/6.html.

Davidson, J. 1977. 'Western Polynesia and Fiji: Prehistoric contact, diffusion and differentiation in adjacent archipelagos', *World Archaeology*, 9, (1), 82-94.

Digitaki, T. 2000. 'Operation Chaos: A Coup of a Different Type is in the Making as Taukei Seek Redress for Rights', *The Review, May*.

Duncan, R. 2014. 'Reflections on Constraints to Growth in Pacific Islands Countries', DevPolicy Blog, June 26th 2014. Available https://devpolicy.org/reflections-on-constraints-to-growth-in-pacific-island-countries-20140626/.

Duncan, R and Codippily, H. 2014. 'Identifying Binding Constraints in the Pacific Islands', East West Center Working Paper.

Field, M., Baba, T & Nabobo-Baba, U. 2005. *Speight of Violence: Inside Fiji's 2000 Coup*, Pandanus Books.

Fiji Broadcasting Corporation (FBC). 2019. '52 percent of all chiefly titles are vacant', July 12.

*Fiji Sun* 2004. 'Vacant Chiefly Titles Mount in Fiji', 18th August.

*Fiji Sun* 2021 Your Land is Safe: PM', 26th July.

*Fiji Times*, 2004. 'Confusion over Chiefly Titles', 26th October.

*Fiji Times*. 2008. 'Chiefs retreat after two-day talks' December 18th.

Finin, G. 2007. 'One Year into Fiji's Fourth Coup', East West Centre Insights, 2, (2). 1-4. https:// www.eastwestcenter.org/sites/default/files/private/Insights00202.pdf.

Firth, S., & Fraenkel, J., 'The Fiji Military and Ethnonationalism: Analyzing the Paradox', in (Eds) Fraenkel, J. Firth, S., & Lal, B., *The 2006 Military takeover in Fiji: A Coup to End all Coups? ANU Epress*, 2009, 117-137.

Fraenkel, J. 2000. 'The Clash of Dynasties and Rise of Demagogues; Fiji's Tauri Vakaukauwa of May 2000', *Journal of Pacific History*, 35, (3), 295-308.
Fraenkel, J. 2001. 'The Alternative Vote System in Fiji; Electoral Engineering or Ballot-Rigging?', *Journal of Commonwealth and Comparative Politics*, 39, (2), 1-31.

Fraenkel, J. 2008. 'Fiji: Melanesia in Review', *The Contemporary Pacific*, 20, (2), 450-460.

Fraenkel, J. 2009. 'Fiji: Melanesia in Review', *The Contemporary Pacific*, 21, (2), 337-352.

Fraenkel, J. 2013. 'The Origins of Military Autonomy in Fiji: A tale of Three Coups', *Australian Journal of International Affairs*, 67, (3), 327-341.

Fraenkel, J. 2015a. 'The Remorseless Power of Incumbency in Fiji's September 2014 Election', *The Round Table*, 104, (2), 151-164.

Fraenkel, J. 2015b. 'An Analysis of Provincial, Urban and Ethnic Loyalties in Fiji's 2014 Election', *The Journal of Pacific History*, 50, (1), 38-53.

Fraenkel, J. 2017. 'Mandatory Power-Sharing in Coup-Prone Fiji', in (Eds) John McGarry & Allison McCulloch. *Power-Sharing: Empirical and Normative Critiques*, Routledge, 103-123.

Fraenkel, J. 2019. 'Ethnic Politics and Strongman Loyalties in Fiji's 2018 Election', *Journal of Pacific History*, 54, (4), 480-506.

Fraenkel, J., & Grofman, B. 2006. 'Does the alternative vote foster moderation in ethnically divided societies? The Case of Fiji', *Comparative Political Studies*, 39 (5), 623-651.

France, P. 1968. 'The Founding of an Orthodoxy: Sir Arthur Gordon and the Doctrine of the Fijian Way of Life', *Journal of the Polynesian Society*, 77, (1), 6-32.

France, P. 1969. *The Charter of the Land: Custom and Colonization in Fiji*, Oxford University Press.

France, P. 1971. 'Easing the Stays: Fijian Administration during the last Decade', *Journal of Administration Overseas*, 10, (3), 192-200.

Forsyth, M. 2009. 'Banishment and Freedom of Movement in Samoa: Leituala v Mauga, Kilfifi et al [2004] WSSC 9', *Journal of South Pacific Law*, 13, (1), online.

Fusitu'a, 'E., & Rutherford, N. 1977. 'George Tupou II and the British Protectorate', in (ed) Rutherford, N. *Friendly Islands: A History of Tonga*, Oxford University Press, 173-189.
Gillion, K.L. 1962. *Fiji's Indian Migrants; A History to the End of Indenture in 1920*, London, Wellington & New York: Oxford University Press.

Gillion, K.L. 1977. *The Fiji Indians; Challenge to European Dominance, 1920-1946*, Australia National University Press, Canberra.

Government of Fiji. 1970. 1970 Constitution. http://www.paclii.org/fj/legis/consol_act/fio1970acof403/

Government of Samoa. 1960. Constitution of Samoa, http://www.paclii.org/ws/legis/consol_act_2008/cotisos1960438/

Hau'ofa, Epeli. 1987. 'The New South Pacific Society: Integration and Independence', in Hooper, Britton, Crocombe, Huntsman & Macpherson, *Class and Culture in the South Pacific*, Centre for Pacific Studies & IPS, 11-23.

Hau'ofa, E. 1994. 'Our Sea of islands', *The Contemporary Pacific*, 6, (1), 148-161.

Hau'ofa, Epeli. 1998. 'The Ocean in Us', *The Contemporary Pacific*, 10, (2), 392-410.

Herr, R. 2010. 'Time for a Fresh Approach: Australia and Fiji Relations Post-Abrogation', Australian Strategic Policy Institute, Special report, Issue 27.

High Court of Fiji. 2000. Chandrika Prasad V Republic of Fiji, 15th November, http://www.paclii.org/fj/cases/FJHC/2000/121.html.

Hobsbawm, E. & Ranger, T. 1983. (Eds) *The Invention of Tradition*, Cambridge University Press.

Huffer, E. & A. So'o. 2000. 'Consensus versus Dissent: Democracy, Pluralism and Governance in Sāmoa', *Asia Pacific Viewpoint*, 44, (3), 281-304.

Iati, I. 2022. 'Are Samoa's Political Institutions Democratic? A critical examination of the fa'amatai and the 2021 general election', *Journal of Pacific History*, 57, (4), 451-473.

*Islands Business*. 2020. Fiame's New Chapter', 10th November. https://islandsbusiness.com/2020/november-2020/fiame-s-new-chapter/.

James, K. 1994. 'Tonga's Pro-Democracy Movement', *Pacific Affairs*, 67, (2), 242-263.

James, K. 1992. 'Tongan Rank Revisited: Religious Hierarchy, Social Stratification, and Gender
Macpherson, C. 1999. 'Changing Contours of Kinship: Impacts of Social and Economic Development on Kinship Organization in the South Pacific', *Pacific Studies*, 22, (2), 71-95.

MacNaught, T. 1974. 'Chiefly civil servants? Ambiguity in district administration and the preservation of the Fijian way of life 1896-1940', *Journal of Pacific History*, 9, (1), 3-20.

Madison, J. 1788. 'The Federalist No 51', February 6th 1788, in (Ed) Ball, T., *The Federalist with Letters of "Brutus"*, Cambridge University Press, [2012].

Marcus, G. E. 1977. 'Succession Disputes and the Position of the Nobility in Modern Tonga', *Oceania*, 47, (3), 284-299.

Meleisea, M. 1987. *The Making of Modern Samoa: Traditional Authority and Colonial Administration in the Modern History of Western Samoa*, Institute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific.

Meleisea, M. 1992. *Change and Adaptations in Western Samoa*, Christchurch: Macmillan Brown Center for Pacific Studies.

Meleisea, M. 1995. '"To Whom Gods and Men Crowded": Chieftainship and Hierarchy in Ancient Samoa', in J. Huntsman (ed.), *Tonga and Samoa: Images of Gender and Polity*, Christchurch: Macmillan Brown Centre.

Moala, K. 2014. A Reformist's Political Agenda', *Pacific Islands Report*, 28th February.

Murray, D. 1978. 'The Governor-General in Fiji's Constitutional Crisis', *Politics*, 13, (2), 107-125.

Norton, R. 1999. 'Chiefs for the Nation: Containing Ethnonationalism and Bridging the Ethnic Divide in Fiji', *Pacific Studies*, 22, (1), 21-50.

Pacific Institute of Public Policy. 2009. 'Lending Fiji a Hand: The Need for International Engagement and a National Dialogue', Briefing 9, July.

Parliament of Fiji 2006. Qoliqoli Bill, Bill No. 12.

Powles, G. 1990. 'The Early Accommodation of Traditional and English Law in Tonga', in Herda, P, Terrell, J and Gunson, N. (Eds) *Tongan Culture and History; Papers from the First Tongan History Conference*, RSPAS, 145-169.

Powles, G. 2013. *The Kingdom of Tonga's Path to Democracy*, University of the South Pacific, 2013, p31-50.
Premdas, R. 1979. 'Elections in Fiji: Restoration of the Balance in September 1977, *The Journal of Pacific History*, 14, (4), 194-207.

Qarikau, Maika. 2000. NLTB General Manager, 'Tauri Kei Na Kena Solina Na Lewa Kei Viti, Deed of Sovereignty: Vola Tabaki ni Lewa Vakavanua Vakaturaga', 31st May. [Copy in author's possession].

Republic of Fiji. 1990. Constitution of the Sovereign Democratic Republic of Fiji (Promulgation) Decree 1990, available https://constitutionnet.org/sites/default/files/1990constitution.pdf.

Republic of Fiji. 1997, 1997 Constitution, available http://www.pacli.org/fj/legis/num_act/ca1997268/.

Roth, G.K. 1951. *Native Administration in Fiji During the past 75 Years; A Successful Experiment in Indirect Rule*, Occasional paper no 10, Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, London.

*Samoa Observer*. 2021. 'Six pule of Savai'i should have seats: Former M.P', 17th February.

*Samoa Observer*. 2020. 'F.A.S.T. manifesto electrifies big island', 7th November.

Samoan Statistical Bureau. 2016. Socio-Economic Atlas. Available https://www.sbs.gov.ws/images/sbs-documents/Population_and_Demography/SOCIO_ECONOMIC_Atlas2016.pdf.

Scarr, D. 1980. *Viceroy of the Pacific; The Majesty of Colour – A Life of John Bates Thurston*, ANU, Canberra.

Scarr, D. 1984. *Fiji: A Short History*, George Allen & Unwin.

Scarr, D. 2008. *Tuimacilai: A Life of Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara*, Crawford House.

So'o, A. 2002. 'Sāmoa', *The Contemporary Pacific*, 14, (1), 224-236.

So'o, A. 2006. 'More than 20 Years of Political Stability in Samoa under the Human Rights Protection Party', in *Globalisation and Governance in the Pacific Islands*, (Ed). S. Firth, Canberra: ANU Press.

So'o, A. 2008. *Democracy and Custom in Sāmoa* (Suva, Fiji: IPS Publications, University of the South Pacific.
So'o, A. 2022. 'The Constitutionalization of Sāmoan Politics: A Comparison of the 1975, 1982 and 2021 Political Crises', *Journal of Pacific History*, 57, (4), 407-423.

So'o, A., & Fraenkel, J. 2005. 'The Role of Ballot Chiefs (Matai Pālota) and Political Parties in Sāmoa's Shift to Universal Suffrage', *Commonwealth and Comparative Politics*, 43, (3), 342-44.

Suaalii-Sauni, T., 2017. 'Legal Pluralism and Politics in Samoa: The Faamatai, Monotaga and the Samoan Electoral Act 1963, in (Eds) Butler, P. & Morris, C., *Small States in a Legal World*, Springer, 2017.

Sunday Times. 2006. 'The History of the Vola ni Kawa Bula', 26th February.

Supreme Court of Samoa. 2021a. FAST Vs Attorney-General, Electoral Commissioner and HRPP, 17th May, http://www.paclii.org/ws/cases/WSSC/2021/23.html.

Supreme Court of Samoa 2021b. Attorney General Vs Matafeo George Latu, Taulapapa Brenda Heather Latu et al, http://www.paclii.org/ws/cases/WSSC/2021/31.html.

Tcherkézoff, S. 1997. 'Is Aristocracy Good for Democracy? A Contemporary Debate in Western Samoa', in J. Wassman (ed.), *Pacific Answers to Western Hegemony: Cultural Practices of Identity Construction*, Oxford and New York: Berg.

Tcherkezoff, S. 2000. 'Are the Matai 'Out of Time'? Tradition and Democracy: Contemporary Ambiguities and Historical Transformations of the Concept of Chief', Governance in Samoa, ed. E. Huffer and A. So'o (Canberra: Asia Pacific Press; Suva, Fiji: Institute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific.

Tiffany, S.W. 1974. The Land and Titles Court and the Regulation of Customary Title Successions and Removals in Western Samoa, *Journal of the Polynesian Society*, 83, (1), 35-57.

Tora, I. 1990. 'Chiefs Dig In', *Pacific Islands Monthly*, July, 14.

Ward, R. 1985. 'Agriculture Outside the Village and Commercial Systems', in *Western Samoa: Land, Life, and Agriculture in Tropical Polynesia*, ed. by Fox, J. W., and K. B. Cumberland, Whitcombe and Tombs, Ltd., Christchurch; Fairbairn, Te'o I. J., *Island Economies: Studies from the South Pacific*, Suva: University of the South Pacific.
White, C. 2015. 'Chiefs, Moral Imperatives, and the Spectre of Class in Fiji', *Journal of Anthropological Research*, 169-194.

Williams, G., Leung, G., Regan, A & Fraenkel, J. 2008. 'Courts and coups in Fiji: the 2008 High Court judgment in Qarase v Bainimarama', SSGM Discussion Paper, 10.
# The Pacific Way and the New Sovereignty in Oceania

Tamatoa Bambridge, Paul D'Arcy, Alexander Mawyer, Bernard Rigo

The authors contributed equally to this chapter and their names appear in alphabetic order.

## Decolonizing Sovereignty in Pacific Politics

A foundational inquiry into normative pluralism understood as "the presence in a social field of more than one normative order" (Griffiths 1986: 6) offers a particularly fruitful approach to unpacking the conceptual basket the "Pacific Way" in the wake of passing time. Whether Sir Kamisese Mara's vision, articulated in the dawn era of Fiji's independence in the 1970s, is applied to the internal legal order, to regional relations in identity, or to political, economic or cultural registers, we observe a foundational opposition to the Western normative order(s) in and by which non-Oceanian states exercised colonial rule and diverse governmentalities across the region. However, tides rise and fall. Reflecting on the passage of time in regional political philosophy and praxis, we argue that the Pacific way of the 1970s, whatever the register, significantly prefigures yet contrasts with foundational aspects of Hau'ofa's vision developed 20 years later (1993:36), particularly when he affirmed "anyone who has lived in our region and is committed to Oceania, is an Oceanian". In conversation with our ongoing project to rethink some of the currents, eddies, and tidal flows of sovereignty dynamics in 21st century Oceania, both collectively and separately (Rigo 2010, Bambridge, D'Arcy, Mawyer 2021; Le Meur and Mawyer 2022), here we reflect on the persistence and presence of Mara's transformative vision.

We begin by recalling the context in which the "Pacific Way" emerged as a consensual watchword for achieving successful decolonization in Oceania. We note that the translation of the "Pacific Way" within internal political registers did not constitute a radical break with the Westphalian model in the reconstitution of self-governing Oceanian states but was instead part of its continuity though localized and, figuratively and literally, Oceanized. In our critical reflection here, we evoke the loss
of the mobilizing power of this slogan and the criticisms which followed: reification of culture, instantiation of a weak often elitist pluralism, an ideology which risked being characterized as insufficiently radical, even neo-colonial, and which consolidated the domination of external and regional powers alongside the urbanized elites frequently operating in the socio-political and linguistic codes of English or French. Finally, we highlight new non-state, local and regional dynamics exquisitely visible when one scrutinizes the region through a normatively pluralist lens which reframes the very notion of sovereignty across Oceanian states. Finally, we highlight the reticular and multi-centred recompositions (Bonnemaison 1985, 1992) between the “Pacific Way” and other approaches that contribute to the dynamics of contemporary Oceanian societies.

## The Pacific way

Though Sir Kamisese Mara used the formula for the first time in 1970 at the United Nations General Assembly when Fiji had freshly obtained its independence (Blanchet 1988: 390), he had in fact begun to articulate the dialogic and mutualist commitments that infused his formulation a quarter of a century earlier:

> "I had coined the phrase 'The Pacific Way' and felt we could speak from our own experience, insofar as Fiji was recommending continuing dialogue as a means of resolving differences on a basis of mutual understanding" (Mara 1997:117)

Mara conceived that the foundational commitment to dialogue and exchange should make it possible to overcome local to national to regional scale differences and achieve a common understanding of situations. Poorly conceived colonial boundaries and migrant labour policies divided the formerly united and unified previously distinct peoples across the Pacific. As a decolonial praxis, the Pacific Way thus oriented Fiji's independence within the context of a consensual and fundamentally peaceful postcolonial transition which avoided the "furnace of wars of national liberation... the errors committed in Africa and the massacres that bloodied Southeast Asia" (Panoff 1991:3). As Mara clarified,

> But this is nothing new in the Pacific. Similar calm and orderly moves to independence have taken place in Western Samoa, the Cook Islands, in Nauru,
and in Tonga. We like to think that this is the Pacific Way, both geographically and ideologically. (Mara 1997: 238).

This last perspective is interesting, because if the notion of a dialogic and relational post-coloniality inclusive of Oceanian forms and functions of exchange is inscribed at the beginning of the 1970s in the context of the construction of a State endowed with the same institutional forms—e.g. bureaucratic government, representative democracy, policing—as that under colonial domination, the formula introduces the ideology of a plurality of approach to solving political, economic and social problems, a plurality based—in particular in the case of Fiji, Samoa, Tonga and the Cook Islands—on the existence and maintenance of a chieftaincy which was to continue to retain whole swaths of material agency, domain-specific authority, and actual sovereignty over the land, despite the political upheavals introduced into land tenure by colonial policy at the turn of the century.

This form of intra-state pluralism developed in Oceania stands on particularly fertile ground since Oceanian societies sometimes, rightly or wrongly, characterized and considered as conflictual (Naepels 1998), had a myriad of local, culturally integral institutions and approaches aimed at solving problems through exchanges and discussion. These institutions were often diminished or greatly simplified during the colonial era (Ward and Kingdom 1998, Bambridge 2009) in order to ensure state control over the relations between individuals and groups. Today, in an educational register, the formula of the Pacific way is still mobilized in terms of methodological approach to solve problems with a variety of institutions (Crocombe 1975) from Talanoa (Vaioleti 2006) in Tonga, Samoa, Fiji, to Hui in Aotearoa-New Zealand (Robinson 2005) defined as "a personal encounter where people talk about their problems, their realities and their aspirations" (Vaioleti 1999-2003).

We argue here that this longstanding practice of predominant and fluid local management, supplemented by occasional and temporary surrender of local control to colonial authorities, endured across the violences and disruptions of the colonial era precisely because of its efficacy and because it offered a means of resolving tensions and best accommodating the diversities and local, rights'-based within rapidly transforming contemporary Pasifika communities and states.
## Critical Currents

Since the 1990s, one of the most intriguing aspects of the conversations around the Pacific Way becomes evident in the tension between these exceedingly enduring normative currents noted above—mutualism, dialogue, and the continuity of traditional orders of power alongside and within emerging elites across the region—and broad criticism both from outside and within the region across three primary registers: identity, politics and society.

If the formula was above all a political watchword in the context of the independences of the 1960s and 1970s, Ron Crocombe, professor at the University of the South Pacific, first questioned the mobilizing capacity of Pacific Way as a driving force of new regional identity/ties (Crocombe 1975) and as a process in reaction to colonization (Crocombe 2001: 150). Similarly, Teaiwa (2002) opens up a critical approach to the formula “Pacific way” because one might perceive in it a form of reification of culture that obeys more to an identity assignment by external forces, underlining the permanence of a neo-colonial continuity. Mélanie Anae goes further when she writes about the annual Pasifika festival in Auckland in which “the ironic thing is that the Pasifika promotes this pan-Pacific ideology of the ‘Way of the Pacific,’ while reducing culture to traditional aesthetic elements represented in music, dance and fashion mixed with globalizing modern influences producing a ‘hybrid’ model” (Anae 1997: 131). Thus, “the reification of terms or concepts such as -Polynesia, Polynesian, Pacific Island and, more recently, the ‘Pacific Way’ serves to create a myth of the ‘unity’ or ‘community’ of the Pacific Island. (...) On the contemporary scene, this vision has highlighted the total lack of consideration for the distinctive character and diversity of each Pacific island nation encompassed in this cultural area” (Anae 1997: 129; c.f. Kabutaulaka 2015 and Hanlon 2009 for Melanesia- and Micronesia-centered re-figurations of this problematic).

From a societal point of view, we note that criticism appears to emerge mainly within and after independence. According to Ratuva (2003: 247), the Pacific Way reflected a romantic euphoria about a Pacific renaissance that modernity could embrace while fostering a unique peaceful identity shared by all island states, or more particularly, by the emerging Pacific elites “who saw themselves as the founders...of the new Pacific postcolonial order.” The Pacific Way is thus denounced as an elitist ideology (Hau‘ofa 1993: 4-12), a “hegemonic practice” of local elites (Lawson 2010) that conceals social and political inequalities in the internal state order.
In terms of regional policy, Panoff (1991) speaks of a “vanished dream” due to the proliferation of conflicts and the need for independent states to deal with sometimes complex socio-economic situations in which the consensual approach is no longer effective. Huffer (1992: 15) questions the end of the Pacific Way in Fiji following the seizure of power by a military regime in 1987. Thus, on a regional level, the legitimacy of the Pacific Way to articulate intra- to inter-state community is also questioned by the most populated states including Vanuatu, PNG and the Solomon Islands whose articulations and actions indicated strong preference for a “Melanesian Way.” If at the beginning of the 1990s, Blanchet (1988) suggested that highlighting a Melanesian Way responded to the concern to affirm a poorly recognized specificity and probably aimed more to broaden than to reduce the content of the “Pacific Way,” within twenty years, Tcherkezoff (2009) noted that this is an ethno-geographical division that reflected the geographical power-functions of prior colonial institutions and orderings. Tcherkezoff and others' comparable insights thus complicate and, in a sense, give lie to any sense that the post-colonial era reflects the telos of the colonial when, in evident fact, the tentacles of colonial power functions extend into the present in subtle and not-so-subtle ways. Thus, for some observers, the Melanesian Way appears as a radical criticism of a Pacific Way considered too conciliatory with regard to both former colonial powers and also vis-à-vis New Zealand and Australia which, through their presence in regional institutions (particularly the Forum), continue to exert an influence deemed neo-colonial, by influencing decisions to advance their interests even when not aligned with those of other regional partners (Firth 2008: 122).

In an article entitled “Regionalism and changing regional order in the Pacific Islands,” Tarte (2014:313) suggests that much of the new regional dynamism is driven by the discontent of a growing number of Island states vis-à-vis the established regional order and by the desire to assert greater control over their own future, whether conceived pragmatically or metaphysically. The management of fisheries by the Parties to the Nauru Convention (PNA) which established new practical governance and management of fisheries and their socioeconomic benefits, including significant increase of income from fishing, is thus also a remarkable realization of a vision of local-to-national-to-regional agentive potency. The development of the Melanesian Spearhead Group which excluded the regional powers of NZ and Australia to similarly diverse ends. These Pacific Island states have, according to Tarte (2014:315), achieved a historic victory
by renaming the regional bloc to which they belong, now the grouping of developing Asia-Pacific small island states. They are now constituted as the Pacific Small Island Developing States Group on Sustainable Development Issues and Climate Change, rather than as the Pacific Islands Forum Group. In doing so, they distance themselves even further from the regional powers accused of exercising a neo-colonial influence. What is criticized is not the "emergence of a regional anti-colonial political identity" to use Crocombe's (1993) formula. What is called out, instead, is the absence of a radical break with the old world, the neo-colonial influence of external or regional powers in the Pacific.

For Oceania's peoples, like those of other places, the (re)capture of sovereignty is associated with the end of the colonial period and generally corresponded to the accession to independence, that is to say to "full sovereignty" with regard to international law (for Africa, Cooper 2015, Coquery-Vidrovitch 2011; for Oceania, Campbell and Latouche 2001; for the Americas, Centeno 2002, Klooster 2009). Thus, the question of the sovereignty of the diversely constituted Oceanian states in the globalized world of the end of the 20th century is clearly at the centre of the concerns surrounding the discussions around the Pacific Way. After independence and even for non-independent States, Oceanian Nations are now beset by development problems and must face new challenges related to global climate change regionally and locally imminent, alongside environmental degradation, biodiversity loss, and other hazard drivers of the Anthropocene, as well as shifting geopolitical currents in the new contest around China's place in the region (Wesley-Smith and Porter 2022).

What dominated the period 1960-1990 is the idea that sovereignty is synonymous with the construction of a Westphalian state in the Western sense. This idea ultimately refers to a "graft of the state" (Bayart 1996), that is to say to a product imported into Africa, Asia and the Pacific by colonial powers, usually without regard to local circumstances and social, economic and political ways of being. Broadly speaking, Westphalian citizenship is based on residence within a geographically fixed bloc of territory and acknowledgement of and adherence to centrally derived laws. In notable contrast, what we have been terming 'Oceanian sovereignty' (Bambridge, D'Arcy, Mawyer 2021) is more fluid, pluralistic, and relational, and focuses as much on ongoing actions and obligations to kin, community and locality than rights based on adherence to
uniform rules by geographically defined members/citizens. In reflecting on how such Oceanian sovereignties emerged and have become visible in diverse domains, we note that the formula of the “Pacific way” as an ideology could have but did not always (or often) participate in a reflection on the concrete processes of formation of a pluralist State or even in a deconstruction of the notion of sovereignty to take into account social, cultural and individual dynamics.

## New Sovereignties, New Sovereign-Ties

It is clear that today's claims for sovereignty have different aims and take paths where political claims are not the only priority. As Clifford (2001: 472) points out: "nation-state affiliations no longer seem, so unambiguously, the royal road to a better future". The concept of "sovereignty" is indeed mobilized by a variety of social, environmental and political actors and movements and invested with new meanings (Barker 2005, Maaka and Fleras 2005, Kauanui 2008, Liffman 2011, Fabricator and Gustafson 2011). It encompasses a multiplicity of social, economic, cultural and political rights and duties, shifting sovereignty from a "matter of state" to the right to self-determination in various areas.

To illustrate these new dynamics, we draw on three examples in North, Central and Eastern Oceania. Indeed, the struggles of indigenous peoples and local communities are no longer the only ones to play a central role in a redefinition that calls into question the model of the nation-state, perceived as a legacy of the logics of colonization (Hernández-Díaz 2010, Gasparello and Quintana Guerrero 2009). These projects have in common the explicit objective of implementing greater cultural, political, economic, environmental self-determination, leading to a pluralist redefinition of sovereignty (Gagné 2020).

Since the mid-1990s in Oceania, a new movement was emerging based on strengthening community participation in monitoring and assessment of marine resources in Fiji, Papua New Guinea and the Solomons. These communities were part of a network project that in 2000 would become the founding sites of the "Locally Managed Marine Area" network. Today, the LMMA network includes more than 1000 communities in seven countries: Fiji, the Solomons, Papua New Guinea, Palau, Pohnpei, Indonesia and the Philippines.
In 2006, this same dynamic gave rise to a non-governmental organization "One Reef" domiciled in Palau. It now includes around fifteen sites spread across North Oceania (Palau, Yap, Pohnpei) working with local communities to develop their food sovereignty and control their lagoon area.

In 2019, the Rāhui Center was created in French Polynesia. The Center brings together fifteen sites on three archipelagos (Tuamotu, Leeward Islands, Society Islands) and has also developed collaborations with Rapa Nui, the Cook Islands and NGOs from the Hawaiian Islands. While these three entities have very different histories, they share a common socio-political strategy, inclusiveness and methodological approaches. All aim to allow local communities to regain a form of sovereignty over their resources, associate local communities and scientists from the region or outside, and support the actions of communities according to their own priorities in a way, articulated with local, national and regional public policies (Fabre et al. 2021).

These new locally grounded, reticular, multi-centred and dynamic projects evidence significant governance articulations and action. However, they are not locked into a national and/or regional dichotomy since they articulate their actions at these three scales (regional, national and local) clearly pursuing the objective of "recovering their lost sovereignty" (Hau'ofa 1993:33-34). The words of Hau'ofa (1993:35) illustrate the approach of these non-governmental organizations :

> We cannot confront the issues of the Pacific Century individually as tiny countries, nor as the Pacific Islands Region of bogus independence. We must develop a stronger and genuinely independent regionalism than exists today. A new sense of the region that is our own creation, based on our perceptions of our realities, is necessary for our survival in the dawning era. (1993: 35)

According to the approach of these NGOs, the State in Oceania is no longer considered as the sole guarantor of sovereignty over the resources of the populations, since the populations and village communities actively participate in it. We note the remarkable originality of this approach to sovereignty grounded in identity developed by and through communities it is centred on the individual and his affinity relationships (family, friends) rather than in relation to the State, thus radically distinct from the classic Westphalian concept of sovereignty. On another scale, Hau'ofa emphasizes in this regard the limitation, both geographical and institutional, of the concept of sovereignty based on a State in Oceania, even when it relates to the Ocean:
It is one of the great ironies of the Law of the Sea Convention, which enlarged our national boundaries, that it also extended the territorial instinct to where there was none before. Territoriality is probably the strongest spur for some of the most brutal acts of aggression and because of the resource potentials of the open sea and the ocean-bed, the water that has united subregions of Oceania in the past may become a major divisive factor in the future relationships between our countries. It is therefore essential that we ground any new regional identity in a belief in the common heritage of the sea. (Hau'ofa, 1993:39)

Combined with a sociological perspective, the sovereignist approach of local communities is both a continuation and a break with the ideology of the "Pacific way". Continuity is highlighted in decision-making after a broad debate with the plurality of actors involved, who are thus relational co-actors in decision. Rupture is highlighted when, as a result, the decisions no longer reflect the agency or vision (or possibly goals) of an administrative elite. This participatory approach reverberates in Hau'ofa's analysis:

> It is a world that we have created largely through our own efforts, and have kept vibrant, and independent of the Pacific island world of official diplomacy and neocolonial dependency. (Hau'ofa, 1993:32)

An original aspect underlined by Hau'ofa is in fact the equivalence he posits between oceanic and Oceanian identity metonymically represented by the relation between the title of his essay "The Ocean in Us," and the essay's concluding line, "The ocean is in us". As Bevacqua (2010:83) points out, Hau'ofa invites us to rethink the ocean as a metaphor for sovereignty in Oceania.

Another originality of the sovereignty proposed by these localizing and Oceanizing approaches lies in what makes up the "we" to which reference is made. It brings together local communities as well as scientists and actors concerned with the health of the oceans and the wellbeing of societies. As Hau'ofa formulates:

> But what or who is a Pacific Islander? The issue should not arise if we consider Oceania as comprising human beings with a common heritage and commitment, rather than as members of diverse nationalities and races. Oceania refers to a world of people connected to each other. (...) For my part, anyone who has
lived in our region and is committed to Oceania, is an Oceanian. This view
opens up the possibility of expanding Oceania gradually to cover larger areas
and more people than is possible under the term Pacific Islands Region. (...).
We have to search for appropriate names for common identities that are more
accommodating, inclusive and flexible than what we have today. (1993:36)

Thus, in addition to other 'we-s' which matter profoundly in the region. Here is a "we"
that is neither based on an ethnic or cultural principle or on a common language.
On the contrary, Hau'ofa recognizes the great variety of cultures and languages
in Oceania which is the strength of this community. Like the approaches discussed
above, the "we" is based on a common historical and cultural heritage. Thereby: "All
of us in Oceania today, whether indigenous or otherwise, can truly assert that the sea
is our single common heritage." (1993: 39)

The unifying element of belonging to a new form of sovereignty is itself original because
it is not based on established and clearly delimited borders: "It is of utmost significance
for the strengthening of a regional identity to know that our region has achieved its
greatest unity on threats to our common environment: the ocean... Oceania refers to
a world of people connected to each other." (1993: 35-36)

Therefore, unlike a sovereignty delimited by the borders of a State or on an "Indigenous
community", the network approaches identified are part of a new paradigm of a
more open sovereignty:

"Realization of the fact that the ocean is uncontainable and pays no respect to territoriality should spur us to advance the notion based on physical reality and practices that date back to the initial settlements of Oceania—that the sea must remain open to all of us." (1993: 40)

This change in posture (the individual and his community, rather than the State) is
combined with a change of scale:

"Scholars of antiquity may raise the issue of continental cultural influences on the
western and north-western border islands of Oceania, but these are exceptions,
and the Asian mainland influences were largely absent until the modern era. On
the eastern extremity of the region there were some influences from the Americas,
but these were minimal. It is for these reasons that Pacific Ocean islands from
Japan, through the Philippines and Indonesia, which are adjacent to the Asian mainland, do not have oceanic cultures, and are therefore not part of Oceania. This definition of our region delineates us clearly from Asia and the pre-Columbian Americas and is based on our own historical developments, rather than on other people's perceptions of us." (1993: 38)

Finally, the last originality of these approaches is based on the proposal of a new mechanism for regulating this sovereignty on another scale similar to that proposed by Hau'ofa: "Our most important role should be that of custodians of the ocean, and as such we must reach out to similar people elsewhere for the common task of protecting the seas for the general welfare of all living things." (1993: 40)

The conception of sovereignty developed by these local approaches since the beginning of the 2000s is original from three points of view. First, it is centred on the individual and their relationships, therefore on a sociology of reciprocity. Secondly, it challenges the delimitations of Westphalian states in a plural and non-exclusive framing of potential moral and practical agency in governance which, *at least in some domains*, includes all those who identify with a common heritage, the ocean. Finally, it suggests an alternative mode of governance in which humans act as guarantors of a balance between all living beings.

## Finding Our (Pacific) Way in Normative Pluralism

The questioning of state-based sovereignty appears as an implicit critique of neo-colonialism and the "Pacific way" and is based on a pragmatic approach developed by community actors and activists, cultural practitioners, and research networks in Oceania. In various forms (a code of ethics for the Rāhui center, a social contract for the LMMA or conventional Community agreements for One Reef), these approaches are not part of the philosophical presuppositions that underlie the Western imagination of a state. They do not evoke the idea according to which, "man is a wolf for man" (Hobbes 1921) and that the freedom of each must be abandoned in favour of a superior entity capable of guaranteeing the freedom of all. In the same sense, they do not subscribe to the idea of the "social contract" (Rousseau 2001) that is the basis of the myth of the Western state. As in most Pacific societies, the legal security of
individuals is today shared between the groups to which the individual belongs, his
extended family, the village, and the State, which ensure certain security prerogatives
according to various modalities.

From these points of view, the conception of sovereignty developed by these
approaches seems “anarchic” because it is based on the practice of individuals and
the identity consciousness of the existence of a common heritage rather than on the
verticality of a power state. This refusal of an overhanging and encompassing state
power is not, however, the affirmation of an “anarchic” tendency but rather the proposal
of an Oceanian-style democracy, that is to say a democracy where the people is not
the sum of individuals but of collectives. It is precisely these “collectivities” that found
the social order, that is to say the bond and the rule of which the Rāhui center, the
LMMA network and One Reef are a good example. Sovereignty here emanates not
from centralized states that monopolize decision-making and rule-making powers but
from these collectives who are decision-makers. Thus, belonging to these collectives
is defined by the sharing of the link (to the ocean and the land) and respect for the
social and environmental rules on which it is based.

If state and/or indigenous sovereignty is often defined as a right to self-determination, it
is not in terms of right but of responsibility in which these approaches fit. This responsibility
is established with regard to the ocean in the sense that all Oceanians are accountable
for acts and uses likely to harm them. This vision is thus part of an epistemological
revolution because sovereignty is developed from a sociological position rather than
a political and legal one. It inscribes sovereignty in an anthropology of daily life (cf.
Hau'ofa 1994) which insists on the daily life of ordinary people as opposed to a state and
necessarily "elitist and westernized" conception of sovereignty. On a methodological
level, sovereignty is approached as implicit: we do not ask people what sovereignty
is for them, but the observation of the way of life of people infers questions in terms of
identity and sovereignty.

Finally, the identity associated with this new Oceanian sovereignty is not exclusive,
nor closed but appears as a procedural identity, that is to say, it is relational and
engendered by active and experiential relationships to specific land and sea
locations and their human and other-than-human communities. Importantly, Hau'ofa
challenges use to reflect how the irreducible rights of Oceania's Indigenous peoples
must be engaged in some domains, in others the form and function of the identity
that underpins community and collectivity does not rest on an ethnic basis, which
distinguishes it from the principles of sovereignty defended by the declaration of the
rights of indigenous peoples. Nor is it based on arbitrary boundaries usually associated
with a state border. It is based on the practices resulting from both the anchoring and
mobility of Oceanians (Bambridge 2004), and on a praxis of care and responsibility to
local resources, the wellbeing of communities, and the collective and integral futurity.
The Ocean, as a common heritage, becomes a relevant space for the integration of
identities, cultures and societies.

In this conception, it is the social and cultural relationship to the ocean that constitutes the Oceanian identity. Some will rejoice, others will chafe and challenge. Tensions and contrastive differences with Mara's articulation, and those who built off of it, will undoubtedly be debated. A delicate point is the risk of dilution of sovereign authority in extended membership except to describe the specificity of this relationship with the Ocean and the Fenua. The strong point that we are seeking to articulate here, is a clear argument for perceiving that the region and its diversely constituted states, those both self-governing and non-self-governing are, broadly speaking, collectivelymoving away from a Western vision of sovereignty and may be doing so, per Hau'ofa, in a manner that is avoiding an ethnicist drift.
References

Anae Melanie, 1997. Towards a NZ-born Samoan identity: some reflections on ''labels''. View points and Perspectives, Pacific Health Dialog, Vol 4, N°2, 128-137.

Bambridge T., 2009. La terre dans l'archipel des îles Australes. Etude du pluralisme juridique et culturel en matière foncière. Institut de Recherche pour le Développement (IRD) et Aux Vents des îles, 412 p.

Bambridge T., 2004. « Mobilité et Territorialité en Océanie », dans L'Information géographique, Paris, Vol. 68, pp 195-211.

Bambridge, T., d'Arcy, P. and Mawyer, A., 2021. Oceanian sovereignty: Rethinking conservation in a sea of islands. *Pacific Conservation Biology*, 27(4), pp.345-353.

Barker J., 2005. Sovereignty matters. *Locations of Contestation and Possibility in Indigenous Struggles for Self-Determination*. University of Nebraska Press, Lincoln and London.

Bayart (dir.). La greffe de l'État. Edition Karthala, Paris, 1996.

Bevacqua, M. L., 2010. Our Sea of Islands: Epeli Hau'ofa and Frantz Fanon. LiNQ 37, 80-93.

Blanchet Gilles. Le développement régional en question : une voie pacifique pour le Pacifique Sud. In : Tiers-Monde, tome 29, n°114, 1988. Pp. 385-389; doi : https://doi.org/10.3406/tiers.1988.3545

Bonnemaison J., 1985. "The tree and the canoe : roots and mobility in Vanuatu society", dans Chapman M., *Mobility and Identity in the island Pacific*. Special edition of the Pacific Viewpoint, Wellington.

- 1992, « Le Territoire enchanté. Croyances et territorialités en Mélanésie », Géographie et cultures, n°3, p 71 à 88.

Campbell I, C., et Latouche J-P., 2001. *Les insulaires du Pacifique : histoire et situation politique*. Presses universitaire de France, 2001 - 380 pages

Centeno M A., 2002. Blood and Debt: War and the Nation-State in Latin America. Penn State University Press.
Clifford James, 2001. Indigenous articulations. *The Contemporary Pacific*. Vol. 13, No. 2, Special Issue: Native Pacific Cultural Studies on the Edge (FALL 2001), pp. 468-490 (23 pages), University of Hawai'i Press

Cooper F, 2015. L'Afrique dans le monde. Capitalisme, empire, État-nation. Paris, Payot, Coll. « Bibliothèque historique », 250p.

Coquery-Vidrovitch C, 2011. Petite'histoire de l' Afrique. Paris : La Découverte, 222 p

Crocombe Ron, 1975. The Pacific Way, Social Issues in National Development, 1975, Suva, South Pacific Social Sciences Association, 252 p.

Crocombc R., 2001. The South Pacific. University of the South Pacific, Fiji.

D'Arcy, P., 2009. Variable rights and diminishing control: the evolution of indigenous maritime sovereignty in Oceania. In Water, Sovereignty and Borders in Asia and Oceania. (Eds D. Ghosh, H. Goodall, and S. H. Donald.) pp. 34–51. (Routledge: New York.)

Fabre, P., Bambridge, T., Claudet, J., Sterling, E. and Mawyer, A., 2021. Contemporary Rāhui: placing Indigenous, conservation, and sustainability sciences in community-led conservation. *Pacific Conservation Biology*, 27(4), pp.451-463.

Fabricant Nicole et Gustafson Bret, 2011 (eds). Remapping Bolivia: resources, territory, and indigeneity in a plurinational state. viii, 251 pp., maps, illus., bibliogr. Santa Fe, N.M.: School for Advanced Research Press.-

Firth S (2008) The New Regionalism and its Contradictions. In: Fry G, Kabutaulaka T (eds) Intervention and State-Building in the Pacific: The Legitimacy of 'Cooperative Intervention', pp. 119–34. Manchester UniversityPress, Manchester.

Gagné, N. (dir.), 2020. À la reconquête de la souveraineté : mouvements autochtones en Amérique latine et en Océanie, Québec et Paris, Presses de l'Université de Laval et Hermann, Coll. « Mondes autochtones ».

Gasparello Giovanna, Jaime Quintana Guerrero 2009 Ot ras geografías: experiencias de autonomías indígenas en México. Universidad Autónoma Metropolitana, Unidad Iztapalapa- 233 pages.

Griffiths John, 1986. What is legal pluralism ? Journal of legal pluralism.
Hau'ofa, E. 1994. Our sea of islands. *The Contemporary Pacific: A Journal of Island Affairs* 6, 148-161.

Hau'ofa, E. 2000. The ocean in us. In 'Culture and Sustainable Development in the Pacific'. (Ed. A. Hooper.) pp. 32-43. (Australian National University Press: Canberra.)

Hernández-Díaz C., A,. 2010. La costumbre como fuente del Derecho. Criterio jurídico garantista–. 142 Ano 2 - No. 2 - Enero-Junio de 2010

Kauanui, J. K. 2008. Hawaiian blood: Colonialism and the politics of sovereignty and indigeneity. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.

Hanlon, David. 2009. "The 'Sea of Little Lands': Examining Micronesia's Place in 'Our Sea of Islands.' The Contemporary Pacific, 21(1): 91-110.

Hobbes Thomas, (trad. R. Anthony) 1921. Leviathan ou la Matière, la Forme et la Puissance d'un État ecclésiastique et civil : Traduction française en partie double d'après les textes anglais et latin originaux.–Tome premier – De l'Homme, Paris, Marcel Giard.

Huffer Elise, 1991. Les îles dans le monde ou le monde vu des îles : une approche comparée de la politique extérieure de trois micro-Etats océaniens : Fidji, Tonga et Vanuatu. *Journal de la Société des Océanistes*, (92-93), p. 7-10. ISSN 0300-953.

Kabutaulaka, T., 2015. Re-presenting Melanesia: Ignoble savages and Melanesian alternatives. *The Contemporary Pacific*, 27(1), pp.110-145.

Klooster W, 2009. Revolutions in the Atlantic world : a comparative history. New York : New York University Press, 239 p.

Lawson Stephanie, 2010. 'The Pacific Way' as Postcolonial Discourse, *The Journal of Pacific History*, 45:3, 297-314, DOI: 10.1080/00223344.2010.530810

Mara K., The Pacific way. Hawaii University Press, Honolulu.

Liffman M., 2011, Huichol territory and the Mexican nation: Indigenous ritual, land conflict, and sovereignty claims. University of Arizona Press.

Maaka R and Fleras A., 2005. The Politics of Indigeneity: Challenging the State in Canada and Aotearoa New Zealand. Dunedin: Otago University Press.
Mawyer, A., and Jacka, J. K., 2018. Sovereignty, conservation and island ecological futures. Environmental Conservation 45, 238-251. doi:10.1017/S037689291800019X

Naepels Michel, Histoires de terres Kanakes. Conflits et rapports sociaux dans la région de Houailou (Nouvelle-Calédonie). Paris: Editions Belin, 1998, 380 p.Panoff 1991

Niezen R., 2003. The Origins of Indigenism Human Rights and the Politics of Identity. University of California press.

Panoff Michel. Introduction. The Pacific way : un rêve évanoui? In: Journal de la Société des océanistes, 92-93, 1991-1-2. pp. 3-6; doi: https://doi.org/10.3406/jso.1991.2892

Ratuva S., 2003. "Reconceptualizing Contemporary Pacific Island States: Towards a Syncretic Approach", The New Pacific Review/La Nouvelle Revue du Pacifique, 2 (1): 246-62.

Rigo Bernard, 2010, « Exigences démocratiques et persistance des logiques océaniennes », «Democratic Requirements and the Persistence of the Logics of Oceania" in Gouvernance et autonomie dans les sociétés du Pacifique Sud : Etudes comparées, Governance and Self-reliance in Pacific Island Societies : Comparative Studies, (dir. A H. Angelo & Y-L Sage), Revue Juridique Polynésienne, édition bilingue.

Rigo Bernard, 2004. Altérité polynésienne ou les métamorphoses de l'espace-temps. Paris, CNRS édition.

Rousseau Jean-Jacques, 2001. Du contrat social, Flammarion, GF, 2001 (préface de Bruno Bernardi)

Tarte Sandra, 2014. Regionalism and Changing Regional Order in the Pacific Islands. Asia & the Pacific Policy Studies, vol. 1, no. 2, pp. 312-324 doi: 10.1002/app5.27

Tcherkezoff Serge, 2009. Le Pacifique-sud aujourd'hui, Paris, Presses du CNRS, 1997. Traduit : The Changing South Pacific, ANU, Canberra 2005, republié en 2009 par ANU Press, 335p.

Teaiwa Teresa, 2002. « On Analogies: Rethinking the Pacific in a Global Context ». The Contemporary Pacific, Volume 18, Number 1, 71–87. University of Hawai'i Press.

Vaioleti Timote M., 2006. Talanoa Research Methodology: A Developing Position on Pacific Research. Waikato Journal of Education. Vol. 12, 21-24.
Vaioleti, E. C., & Vaioleti, T. 2003. Cultural motivations for learning. Paper presented at the Inaugural Pacific Research: Education Symposium, University of Waikato.

Vaioleti, L. M. M. (1999). Great Kiwi Schools Poetry Challenge. Retrieved. September 12, 2003, from http://www.poetry.co.nz/view.asp?surn

Ward G., Kingdom E., 1995, Land, Custom and Practice in the South Pacific. Cambridge University Press.

Wesley-Smith, T. and Porter, E.A. eds., 2022. *China in Oceania: Reshaping the Pacific?*. Berghahn Books.
In search of the Pacific Way Consensus in Regional Politics

Georges Carter

Senior Research Fellow and Deputy Head, Department of Pacific Affairs,
Coral Bell School of Asia Pacific Affairs,
College of Asia and the Pacific, ANU;
Director ANU Pacific Institute

Ever since the phrase ‘Pacific Way’ was introduced in the 1970s it has become the term
to articulate the construction, becoming, unity, and agency of a regional community
in the most culturally and geographical diverse area in the world. Moreover, the phrase
is synonymous with political regionalism of the Pacific Island Forum (PIF), formerly the
South Pacific Forum, and its evolution. For over fifty years the Pacific Way has been
manifested in regional politics and its policies in various articulations – Pacific Plan,
Framework of Pacific Regionalism and the Blue Pacific in many ways. “The Pacific Way
is a set of ideas, visions and processes that are dynamic, reinventing itself.” (Kabutalaka,
2021)

However, at the PIF 50th anniversary there was no celebratory mood as the region
held its breath with the unravelling of unexpected events. COVID 19 pandemic closed
the countries and region from the rest of the world and form each other – isolating
leaders and its states to online zoom meetings. Geopolitical manoeuvring by external
partners whether old and emerging partners intensified in the lockdown through
the humanitarian corridor and numerous high level state visits to the islands. Within
this context, the internal politics of the PIF were disrupted with the selection of the
new Secretary General of Henry Puna from Cook Islands, which prompted the five
states from Micronesia (Palau, Federated States of Micronesia, Nauru, Kiribati, and
Marshall Islands) to leave the organisation. The leaders from Micronesia drew dissent
from a gentlemen’s agreement that meant it was their subregional time to lead the
organisation. Much of the political commentary, and rhetoric by leaders at the time,
called out the regional organisation the Pacific Way and its value of consensus in crisis.
The Pacific Way is a far more complex and nuanced method of decision-making than a gentlemen's agreement or a handshake. It is often misunderstood and dismissed as an inferior system of political decision-making compared to a merit, rules-based method seeking expediency and efficiency. We base the Pacific Way on face-to-face meetings, its strength is in our words and the actions, and the integrity attached to them. It is built on consensus. It also allows for the most difficult conversations to take place and to understand different positions with wise counsel, a critical ingredient to ensure unity. The collective amnesia now being exposed by our Pacific island leaders denying that such an agreement existed warrants interrogation. (Panjueli, 2021)

This poignant call by renowned Pacific activist and scholar Maureen Panjueli underscores the significance and relevance of this 50-year-old phrase of the Pacific Way, in contemporary regional politics. This concern and conflict of the term and state of politics as Tarcisius Kabutaulaka posits, "over the years these values have been marginalised in favour of the increasing bureaucratisation of regionalism and regional organisation... requirements and processes...while such requirements are important, they need to be grounded in regional values." (Kabutalaka, 2021).

While many have sought to decipher its various meanings and evolution throughout the decades (Huffer, 2006; Lawson, 2015; Fry, 1981; Fry 2017), very few have sought to unpack the utility of the phrase – that is, explore the value of ‘consensus’ in regional politics. What is idea and practice of consensus in the Pacific Way? The closest was an encouragement from the Eminent Persons Group of the Pacific Islands Forum that reviewed the Pacific Plan, posit ‘"... this concept or style — which is often mentioned but seldom defined — implies honesty, mutual respect and tolerance. It is based on recognition and acceptance of differences, but with an underlying awareness of the need to find unity and consensus. The Pacific Way is guided by a sense of justice, compassion, tolerance and understanding. It is about working together" (EPG 2004: 2004).

As a contribution to the collection of papers celebrating 50 years of the Pacific Way, this paper seeks to explore the Pacific Way consensus in the imagination and utility of actors in regional politics. It focuses on the processes of politics inside the Pacific Islands Forum in how it builds and achieves consensus. In a new study on Oceanic diplomacy
(Carter, Nanau, Fry 2001), a community or 'aiga' of scholars attempt to document the distinctive diplomatic practices and principles that come out of the long history and diverse cultures of the Pacific Islands. These longstanding indigenous and traditional systems are still important in the conduct of relations among tribes and clans within the modern states of the Pacific. These principles, practices and protocols work alongside Western diplomatic practices in the performance of modern diplomacy by Pacific Island states and are sometimes employed in the region's diplomatic approaches to the global arena. One area of exploration is the place and role of consensus in regional politics.

In order to understand the Pacific Way consensus, this paper revisits literature on the Pacific Way throughout the decades that unpack philosophical, post-colonial and critical reviews of the concept. At the same time this paper is informed by personal research utilising what I call Global Talanoa. This is a political ethnography of the international politics of climate change that Pacific states and peoples participate and lead at the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, United Nations General Assembly – and significant to this paper, at the regional politics of PIF (Carter 2018). The underlying concept examined in these multilateral forums is consensus decision-making.

## The Pacific Way

Ratu Kamisese Mara, then and first prime minister of Fiji first coined the phrase Pacific Way in the 1970s to articulate the coming together of the nation of Fiji as a political community. Inspired first by this partnership of uniting a multiracial country "people of different races, opinions and cultures can live and work together for the good of all, can differ without rancour, govern without malice, and accept responsibility as reasonable people intent on serving the interests of all." (Mara, 1997) He would famously reintroduce the term in the global arena and imaginations at the UN "symbolise a way of doing things specific to the Pacific: a way that emphasised moderation, respect, consensual dialogue, [and] reflected a constructed regional consciousness." (Huffer, 2006). Ratu Mara notes in his biography that it was based in respect for human beings, which obliges us not to condemn outright but to sit down and talk so that here can be better understanding which can lead to tolerance and good will (Mara, 1997).
The phrase was born in a time of decolonisation and the construction new political communities – not only for cosmopolitan Fiji, but also the Pacific region. While regionalism as a project to share technical and humanitarian resources (Fry, 2017; Fry 1997) was conceived in the colonial administrations purposes of the South Pacific Commission. By the 1970s the strained relationships with the French government and nuclear testing in the region coincided with the period of decolonisation. The Commission did not provide a platform for states and colonies at the time to discuss political issues – like self-determination or anti-nuclear testing.

The new independent modern states and their leaders were in search new
communities, and identity. Thus, five independent or self-governing states at the time
– Samoa, Tonga, Nauru, Fiji and Cook Islands established the South Pacific Forum in
1971. It underscored Pacific exceptionalism. “The colonial experience left a common
unpleasant taste in the mouths of islands people: a common humiliation, a common
feeling of deprivation and exploitation”. (Crocombe, 1976:13). While states were
enthralled by nation building, the creation of the South Pacific Forum was born as an
expression of regional self-determination. The Forum was the first regional organisation
created with the intent of placing the independent Pacific’s interests and perspectives
at its heart (Huffer, 2006).

As the term Pacific Way was galvanised to bring national unity in multi-ethic Fiji, the
phrase would also be used to unite the multi-island and most diverse ethnic-linguistic
societies of the Pacific Ocean. The Forum was the meeting of Pacific states leaders,
and the leaders would naturally rally around a concept of the ‘Pacific Way’. As an
ideology it became a tool for continued cooperation with metropolitan powers such
as Australia and New Zealand who were invited to join the Forum, and as a diplomatic
device for maintaining Pacific protocol and approaches (based on harmony and
pragmatism) in regional and international affairs (Huffer, 2006). The South Pacific
Economic Bureau was the secretariat arm of the leaders meeting; the Bureau would
come to socialise the Pacific Way as an identity to frame and rationalise their becoming
as a legitimate organisation. The Bureau used the Pacific Way to frame mandates of
the leaders throughout the 1970s. It is important to note here how the Leaders and the
Bureau used the term to legitimise and socialise their mandate and work – with the use
of the term “Blue Pacific” by the Pacific Islands Forum at the time.
## Consensus as value of the Pacific Way

With the exception of the leaders meeting, the term “consensus” was enshrined in the meetings as a core value, essential in supporting the legitimacy of those institutions. From the very first communique and meeting papers, the Leaders affirmed the value of consensus in its decision-making as a key value of the Pacific Way. Critiques of the Pacific Way and the use of consensus have focussed on its elitist decision-making constructed by elites to serve elites. As Epeli Hauofa argued in his seminal Sea of Islands work, there is no connection with local people (Hauofa 1993). The emergent Pacific elites “who saw themselves as founders ... of the new postcolonial Pacific order” (Ratuva, 2003) legitimised their decision-making through this consensus. Nevertheless, despite its elitist orientation, as well as the fact that it is often “embarrassingly clichéd”, it remains a popular way of representing the region collectively. (Meleisa, 2000: 76). However, within the realm of regional political organisation – decision-making by consensus upholds the sovereignty and dignity of diverse political communities despite material wealth or size (Lawson 2010).

The collective decision-making of leaders needed an elite system and process of decision-making. The Forum is state-centric and elite-centric, this is undeniable. It is unsurprising that as states constructed their regional political identity, especially by the first five founders of organisation, that an elite decision-making process – consensus – emerged. While some have argued that it was primarily Polynesian, nevertheless it was a form of decision-making that was accustomed and familiar to these leaders. It was form of decision-making that was present at the local community level, and practiced at the national level. The argument here is that elite decision-making processes at local communities levels whether villages or tribes, were re-introduced and transplanted into national systems. Consensus decision-making, through respectful and honest conversations of leaders would be preferred than leadership and decisions made through voting.

## How is consensus practiced and perceived inside regional politics?

Across the humanities and its disciplines, consensus is a concept used to explain the rationality of group decision-making. Wherever and whenever individuals gather to
make decisions, the sum decision is perceived to be the consensus: whether it is an
agreement to conclude, continue or defer. Whether it be a village meeting to decide
a moratorium on fishing grounds, or states negotiating a treaty on conservation of
forests - consensus decision-making is a practice of everyday life.

Studies by anthropologists and historians have identified forms of consensus decision-
making that were present in societies throughout history and across the globe. From
early hunter-gatherer societies (Silberbauer, 1982), to village communities in Japan
(Smith, 1959), Sierra Leone (Ferme 1988), India (Dumont 1980), Vietnam (Popkin 1979)
and Papua New Guinea (Marai 2001). Each discipline lines differ in their approaches,
not to mention the subjects at the focus of their analysis. For psychology the behaviour
and mind of individuals in a group are key in their analysis; sociology and anthropology
explore societal groups and their relationships, interactions and cultures of individuals
in a decision-making setting; while international relations and diplomatic studies focus
on the behaviour of states in a multilateral setting. In other words, consensus decision-
making is present and studied at three levels: the individual, societal groups, and
states. Despite these differences of unit analysis there is general understanding even as
presented in the simplest of definitions: consensus is achieved (an agreed outcome),
and what it represents (a group solidarity or belief in an idea or opinion).

This paper unpacks consensus decision-making inside regional politics. Utilising global *talanoa* or a political ethnography of the annual leaders meeting, in this case the ethnography during the 2015 PIF Leaders’ meeting in Port Moresby, and the 2019 PIF Leaders’ meeting in Funafuti – this study traces the practice and processes of decision-making. What comes to the fore, are two elements or approaches that broaden our conceptualisation on consensus not for PIF, but also in understanding authority in international politics in two ways. Consensus can be visual, and seen in the transactions of states and their representatives to build and a reach consensus through a process. The second is that consensus is relational and can be understood as the perception, mental consciousness of identity of those involved in achieving the decision. Together both these elements – transactional and relational consensus help explain not just state behaviour, but also relationships between states over time.

Transactional Consensus

The first element is transactional consensus or the interactions and observable
behaviour of states and individuals in a decision-making process that lead to a
collective outcome. It involves structural factors like procedures, communication and negotiations on what Crocombe calls Pacific Way as the consensus of material interactions in discussions about trade, investment, free movement of people, security, to name a few (Crocombe 2004: 300)

The PIF was established in 1971 as the main political multilateral organisation in the region. Created out of the demand by Pacific leaders for a space to dialogue the “high politics of the region”, this “inner circle of regionalism” (Fry 1991:169) was conceived in the era of decolonisation. In part it was borne out of the frustration of newly independent states over colonial government administrations’ unwillingness to discuss political issues in technical regional arrangements such as the South Pacific Commission on issues like self-determination and the French government’s nuclear testing policy in its territories (Shibuya).

Over the next four decades, the Forum’s membership had grown from the five founding states into a robust organisation that includes all the sixteen independent states in the Pacific region<fnref n="1" />. While originally membership was limited to independent or self-governing states, the French territories of French Polynesia and New Caledonia would gain full membership after a lengthy campaign for recognition. As the preeminent regional political body, the Forum’s legitimacy is cemented in the recognition by states and intragovernmental bodies outside of the region. These partner relationships were visible in the PIF Dialogue Partners meeting, which was established in 1989 for its 18 observer partners to meet with its Pacific counterparts<fnref n="2" />. More importantly, the Forum’s legitimacy was affirmed in the work of its highest council, the PIF Leaders Meeting. The Leaders Meeting allowed states to consider both international and regional politics. The communique sets out the annual priorities for the region. The Leaders Meeting was also responsible for approving political declarations or mandates of cooperation on shared regional issues of concern that ranged from security, law enforcement, development agenda, transportation, a nuclear-free Pacific to climate change.

The PIF communique decisions and its subsequent political declarations serve as the instruments by which regional policies are developed and implemented (PIF Standing Committee). The organisation has no charter, so judgements are reached by members

<footnote n="1">1 The organisation in 2016 - increased to 18 to include two French territories - comprises 18 members: Australia, Cook Islands, Federated States of Micronesia, Fiji, French Polynesia, Kiribati, Nauru, New Caledonia, New Zealand, Niue, Palau, Papua New Guinea, Republic of Marshall Islands, Samoa, Solomon Islands, Tonga, Tuvalu, and Vanuatu.</footnote>

<footnote n="2">2 Canada, People's Republic of China, Cuba, European Union, France, Germany, India, Indonesia, Italy, Japan, Republic of Korea, Malaysia, Philippines, Spain, Thailand, Turkey, United Kingdom and the United States</footnote>
at each Forum meeting by a process of discussion and those conclusions on which
consensus has been achieved are announced in a communique (South and Veitaiyaki
1999). As the PIF had no formal constitution to guide its work, it depended on the
leaders' prerogatives year by year. Consensus decision-making was norm at the United
Nations- a decision-making process familiar to the newly independent countries in the
1970s. This regional agenda and priorities were coordinated by the PIF Secretariat,
under the leadership of the Secretary General, amongst the nine technical regional
organisations that make up the Council of Regional Organisations in the Pacific<fnref n="3" />.

Consensus is a product of discussion and dialogue, and not consensus by negotiation that on the surface seemed straightforward. The highest body in the Forum is the Leaders Meeting which is hosted in alternating island countries. The Leaders meeting has transformed from what Mara reported as a three-day meeting, to the current mini UN conference of parties with multiple side meetings and bilateral showcase of events. Nevertheless at the final Leaders retreat meeting paper discussed by Forum leaders in a closed retreat that allows Leaders space for discussion. However, the process of discussions was also a source of uneasiness and frustration amongst members especially when regional good impinges on national policies and interests.

The Chair of the Leaders' Meeting (and the rotating host of the annual summits) and the Secretariat have considerable influence in suggesting rules of procedures for leaders to approve. This proved advantageous for member states to suggest agendas and priorities for the regional leaders to consider. With no formal voting rules in the Leaders' council, the preferred and only rule of procedure was consensus. "While the Pacific Way is supposed to bring about flexibility and compromise, the strong desire for consensus (at times for its own sake, it seems) gives each Forum member a de facto veto during the Forum meetings, thus weakening the collective unity and power of the Forum" (Shibuya 108).

While leaders were instrumental in affirming decisions, the task of the detailed language
and wording of what the final outcome would look like, took place in informal settings
with a small group of officials. The PIF Forum Officials Committee engages in preparatory
meetings and online email negotiations. The preliminary result from this process would

<footnote n="3">³ The nine agencies of CROP as of 2015 were: Pacific Aviation Safety Office (PASO); Pacific Islands Development Programme (PIDP); Fisheries Agency (FFA); Pacific Islands Forum Secretariat (PIFS); Pacific Power Association (PPA); Secretariat for the Pacific Community (SPC); Secretariat of the Pacific Regional Environment Programme (SPREP); South Pacific Tourism Organisation (SPTO); and University of the South Pacific (USP)</footnote>
be considered by Leaders and given the mandate to continue or to discontinue. Once
the consent from Leaders was received, usually through affirmations at the opening
plenary, negotiation bargaining and monitoring by officials would then take place.

This negotiation process took place in closed informal chambers, where participating
states would take on board new or revised positions from national policies. The
positions of states communicated in the persuasive debates of its official negotiators
present in the room during this stage is most vital. The ability of states to influence the
outcome of decisions made in regional organisations rests heavily on the presence of
representatives who can lobby other officials in favour of a compromise. While officials
present ranged from diplomats, foreign affairs people, environmental climate change
practitioners, and the representatives of regional organisations and non-governmental
organisations there was a smaller coalescent group driving these negotiations.

Consensus decision-making in regional politics is transactional. Inside PIF the procedure
and mode of decision-making is by consensus, not voting. This is a procedure that is
familiar with states, as it is used in international forums like the UN, and, as indicated
above, in local communities. The only time voting as a decision-making procedure
is used is when it comes to elections, in this case selection of the Secretary General.
Furthermore, consensus decision-making takes place in process or series of meetings
that aim to remove disagreements of parties. Agendas are nominated and discussed
by the Forum Officials Committee, much of which are suggested by work of the
Secretariat of the Pacific Islands Forum (formerly the South Pacific Bureau for Economic
Cooperation). These are then elevated to the annual Leaders Meeting, the pinnacle
is the Leaders Retreat where Leaders meet face to face with the Secretary General.

Relational Consensus

A second element that is ascertained in the global talanoa examination of PIF meetings
and argued by many scholars from Mara, Crocombe to Penjueli and Kabutaulaka-
concerns consensus decision-making as relational. Relationality in international relations
recognizes the importance of ongoing relationships by peoples, actors in international
spaces, in terms of relations in motion as ontologically significant. It not only recognises
the material capabilities, but also the perceptions, positionality, practices and norms of
people. Relational Pacific 'relationality' involves the harmony of humans living with the
natural world of ocean and land, taking in wellbeing and the spiritual realm. (Carter
and Fry, 2023). Indeed consensus may be a process of decision-making, but it is also
a complex web of relationships of leaders and officials forged from meetings, but also
of culture. In this context, it is a deeper appreciation of collectivist Pacific values not
subsumed by power, but more concerned with authority.

Relational consensus is the psychological impact and the process of consensus as ideology, identity, idea; that the Pacific way of consensus is building and maintaining consensus. Crocombe refers to this as the Pacific Way identity. "It is in this area that Pacific Island regionalism has greater strengths — including feelings of common origins and historical experiences, common elements in value systems, cultural patterns and symbolic representation" (Crocombe 2004: 300). He goes on to explain that the identity factors are particularly important in the region, given that in most of the world's regional organizations both material (transactions) and identity factors are strong (ibid.). One shared identity for the 'political region' was the self determination and colonisation that island political communities have endured in the last hundred years.

Relationality refers to connectedness of political communities, and this can be found
in pan Pacific identity and ideas – similar to the Pacific way. Across cultures of the
Pacific there are shared values that shape Pacific peoples' identity and societies: these
include a sense of belonging and relationship with others, the environment, space
and time. Moana, Oceania and Solwara (salt water), and concepts mana, tapu,
talanoa, va have broad shared meaning within the region, that remind sacredness,
taboo, people and places, relational space, the ocean and the Pacific as a region
shaped by shared kinship. The seminal work on 'whole of life' relationality by Reverend
Professor Upolu Vaai work reminds us that consensus decision-making and indigenous
Pacific ways of knowing and relations with humans, animals, nature and spirituality.
Decision-making is not just based on personhood, but more importantly the wellbeing
of all beings – harmony of man, nature, and spirituality (Vaai and Caisimira 2017). The
values of environmental stewardship – of land and sea – and in connection with the
spirit world (whether indigenous religions or Christianity) personify the worldviews of
Pacific peoples.

Relationality is also evident in the relationship of leaders. Crocombe identified a core
of island elites from Fiji, Tonga, Samoa applied primarily "to an inner group of English-
speaking, tropical islands of the south Pacific ... the chiefly ideology emanating
from the core island groups exhibiting strongly hierarchical socio-political structures
had considerable strength and influence over the broader region, at least to the
extent that "the idea of chieftain-ship had become an accepted part of the Pacific
Way "(Crocombe 2004). Leaders like Ratu Mara, King Tupou IV of Tonga and Tupua
Tamasese Lealofi IV share royal lineage of inter-marriages, war and appeasement of
hundreds of years of Oceanic diplomacy. In Pacific Way discourse, according to
Crocombe, the differences between these highly stratified hereditary hierarchies on
the one hand, and the "bottom up" egalitarian systems of societies in other parts of
the Western Pacific — namely Melanesia — on the other, tended to be minimized, "for
the development of Pacific unity necessitates a playing down of internal differences
and a maximizing of similarities" (Crocombe, 1976: 11).

Furthermore, Ratu Mara reminds us of the importance of the shared experience.
"Because of our experience...I was glad we could have the opportunity...my own
feelings...I felt we could represent a view ... that each country must be approached
with understanding of its own individual and special problems, and that the pace of
the [constitutional] change must be in accordance with the wishes of the people
themselves" (Mara 1997:118). In the early days of the Forum this was the shared
experience of colonisation and coming out of decolonisation. In a way this experience
created us and them inside the Pacific islands forum – Lawson calls neo-colonial. By
the turn of the 1980s it was the shared experience for the need for collective action on
the management of ocean through Law of the Seas, and work around management
of fisheries. It was a shared experience to counter nuclear testing in the Pacific, or
development in the states and region by the 1990s, or security from ethnic tensions
and instability, and more recently is the shared experience calling on more climate
action, and protecting the oceans. It is vital for a regional consensus to act on these
regional challenges.

Culture or political culture is a significant element in relationships. Naraki (1980) once
said consensus is an end product of conflict resolution. This prominent Melanesian
philosopher argued that consensus is a Melanesian way of life of solving disputes. Without
consensus, there is no Melanesian way of resolving conflict. Consensus is a collective
effort by which the majority of the group members agree to a resolution in regard to
the conflict, a culture of establishing peace among warring tribes (Narakobi, 1980). When both conflicting parties agree to certain terms of reference, consensus is valued as ending conflict. Cultural rituals are performed to enable the consensus process to reach the required level. During the process of conflict resolution, the rituals of using natural objects such as food, plants, or songs that have some symbolic meaning aid the process. Some cultural events are used, like 'breaking of spears' (Kemelfield, 1990), killing of pigs, feasting, singing, shaking hands, and dancing to celebrate and mark such occasions. Cultural diplomacy prescribes ways that could vary from breaking of spears used in fighting as a symbolic way of ending the dispute to eating sugar canes. These have symbolic meanings of peace and resonate with the idea of long lasting friendship between the groups once in conflict. Leaders, whether the 'big man' or chiefs, are the centre of gravity by which people abide and whom they follow, but through the art of consensus; the spirit of collectivism exists, and not individualism. (See Hofstede, Marai)

One critical ingredient that aids consensus is having leaders with skills who can muster the group into one whole entity (Mara 1997). These leaders are skilful in handling conflicts and also lead a tribe or clan in culturally prescribed ways (Narakobi, 1983). In the scenario of conflict resolution, both parties come to compromise to end the conflict. This may sometimes involve intervention by a third neutral party in bringing the two conflicting parties to reach a peaceful solution in regard to the problem.

Consensus is reached on the basis of the interest of the group rather than of the individual leader. The group cohesion exercised through collectivism in Melanesian societies arises from child rearing practices. The child is taught how to work as a group member and to follow culturally prescribed norms in order to maintain group identity, which is of paramount importance for the group's survival. The clan family lineage must be emphasised by respecting the group members first, rather than one's self. Sharing and caring for other members of the clan come first before oneself. One's self is captured through group dynamics; without putting the group first, the self has no value. This cultural principle serves as the basis of a collectivism tendency, which is evident in Melanesia societies. (Marai)
## Conclusion

The phrase 'Pacific Way' describes and prescribes the unity of the region. For over fifty years it has been manifested in regional politics and policies in various articulations – Pacific Plan, Framework of Pacific Regionalism and the Blue Pacific in many ways. Coined by regional leaders, and prescribed in the work of regional organisations, the values of the Pacific Way remain evermore relevant and significant in the evolution of regionalism. This paper is informed by the multi-disciplinary literature on the phrase and the global talanoa unpacking how consensus is built and achieved the Pacific Islands Forum.

Consensus or consensus decision-making is a cornerstone of the Pacific Way. As the regional political organisation Pacific Islands Forum was constructed by leaders, it is unsurprising that states and their leaders would incorporate a decision-making process that was recognised as an international norm, shared decision-making process in national and local communities that were unpinned by culture and traditions.

The concepts of the Pacific Way have been constructed and incorporated in the process of decision-making to depict a form of deliberation. Leaders invoke the concept of the Pacific Way to initiate a process and to conclude an outcome (Carter 2018). The Pacific Way describes the political dialogue of leaders in both consent for an agenda of negotiations to take place, and in agreement to conclude or affirm decisions. It is a political concept that yields to the practice of persuasion by parties to influence, compromise and agree on solutions (Sohn 1997). At the same time, it is important to acknowledge that not all participants have an equal footing in terms of power. It is a forum or situation of negotiating multiple options proposed by interested parties. Not all participants would agree on one option or combinations; consensus decision-making is a forum of disagreements. According to Michael Haas the significance of consensus of the organisation meant working around the philosophy of the 'Pacific Way' or a system of 'unanimous compromise,' where everyone sacrificed something for the overall benefit of the whole and all decisions are made by consensus.

By exploring the process in which individuals, societal groups or states come together to make decisions, there is an added richness in understanding the complexity and management of this endeavour. Through tracing the complexity of actors and issues, and the management of activities in consensus decision-making, this can help explain
factors in building and reaching consensus. In unpacking Pacific Way consensus, there are two elements in understanding of consensus in regional politics: transactional and relational.

In regional politics consensus as outcome refers to details of decisions, whether in the language of a final communique or a political declaration, negotiated by a small group of officials, previously discussed and agreed to by leaders in a closed meeting at the Leaders' Retreat. The process is closed and state or leader centric, but advantageous in consolidating legitimacy for decision-making that actually took place in closed small group official negotiations. Needless to say, what supports these processes are the relationships or relational consensus. This is informed by shared identity, shared culture, shared experience and shared diplomacy. Consensus as both transactional and relational makes us appreciate more what Ron Crocombe was trying to explain about what the Pacific Way promotes – it “satisfies both psychological and political needs, in that it helps to fulfil a growing demand for respected Pacific-wide identifying symbols and for Pacific unity... that reduces the extent and intensity of neo-colonial dependency of the islands countries [sic] on the richer Pacific border-lands” (Crocombe 1976).

It is now 50 years since the Pacific Way has provided a blue print for regional political action. Consensus was enshrined for the beginning as a value of the Pacific Way. It validated a process of transactions for Leaders and its officials in the Pacific Islands Forum to create a decision. But at the same time it underscored relationships- or relationality of consensus. It promulgated an identity, ideas and value for regional Pacific. So when the Pacific leaders voted for the Secretary General in 2021, that led to the fracturing of the PIF- the comment that Pacific Way and consensus was under threat may be misleading. Rather the decision-making of voting for a PIF chair would bring about more issues. The resilience and longevity of the PIF lies in its ability to uphold the Pacific Way and its value of consensus.
## References:

Panjueli, Maureen. 2021. Where is the 'Mana' in the Pacific Way, https://www.pngattitude.com/2021/02/where-is-the-mana-in-our-pacific-way.html

Tarcicius Kabutaulaka, 2021. Pacific Way(s) and Regionalism https://devpolicy.org/pacific-ways-and-regionalism-20210325-2/

Elise Huffer, 2006. Regionalism and Cultural Identity, https://library.oapen.org/bitstream/handle/20.500.12657/33739/459255.pdf?sequence=1&page=51

Stephanie Lawson, 2010. Postcolonialism, neo-colonialism and critical approaches to Pacific Way. SSGM

Stephanie Lawson, 2015. Regionalism, sub-regionalism and politics of identity. https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/09512748.2015.1022585?casa_token=Zqr_GmC02m8AAAAA:XEm-y4WmBgGN9Od6Hz4iGKxZwcfwejDUdiEXW0pe-HP4u-TCi6wSinJ-4cHSDLgTsQtPWMj4pwykrCFhacZ9HZ1VzPoQ_BL0oCgFRszK3KyxCBNl7M

George Silberbauer, "Political process in G/wi bands," in Politics and History in Band Societies, ed. Eleanor Burke Leacock and Richard B. Lee (Cambridge [Cambridgeshire]: Cambridge University Press, 1982).

Greg Fry 1981. Regionalism and International Politics of the South Pacific. https://www.jstor.org/stable/2756789?casa_token=Zqr_GmC02m8AAAAA:XEm-y4WmBgGN9Od6Hz4iGKxZwcfwejDUdiEXW0pe-HP4u-TCi6wSinJ-4cHSDLgTsQtPWMj4pwykrCFhacZ9HZ1VzPoQ_BL0oCgFRszK3KyxCBNl7M

Greg Fry 2017, Framing the Islands https://library.oapen.org/handle/20.500.12657/23600

Greg Fry 2007. The south pacific experiment reflections on the origins of Pacific identity, https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/00223349708572837?casa_token=l1C-MRYQaf4AAAAA:wbYQLd36UOTHb1gQo52cX1YNJkxABkVxiVVX0QMbmxHwg9UWfVr_pdvmGRT0jztJ8SEmJ4wZX9xd

Eminent Persons Group, 2004. Review of the Pacific Islands Forum https://www.bing.com/search?q=EPG+2004+pacific+way&qs=n&form=QBRE&sp=-1&lq=0&pq=epg+2+pacific+way&sc=10-17&sk=&cvid=0C454BD9C5DB4048ADE2136AFA8D3186&ghsh=0&ghacc=0&ghpl=
George Carter and Greg Fry, 2023. Australia's indigenous diplomacy and its regional resonance in Oceania https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/10357718.2023.2268024

George Carter, Gordon Nanau, Greg Fry, 2021. Oceanic Diplomacy: an introduction. https://openresearch-repository.anu.edu.au/bitstream/1885/247293/4/Oceanic%20Diplomacy%20-%20An%20Introduction_George%20Carter_Greg%20Fry_Gordon%20Nanau_In%20Brief_2021%2023_Department%20of%20Pacifc%20Affairs.pdf

George Carter, 2019. Multilateral consensus decision-making: How Pacific island states build and reach consensus in climate change negotiations https://openresearch-repository.anu.edu.au/handle/1885/157008

Ratu Kamisese Mara, 1997. Pacific Way: a memoir https://books.google.co.ck/books?hl=en&lr=&id=A6x-ZOGJYb4C&oi=fnd&pg=PR9&dq=pacific+way+mara&ots=jA4lHQr9K5&sig=SjMS8i-z3_YMYFnqMx_G2hVUbBI&redir_esc=y#v=onepage&q=pacific%20way%20mara&f=false

Ron Crocombe, 1976, The Pacific Way: an emerging identity (Suva 1976)

Steven Ratuva, 2003. Reconceptualizing Contemporary Pacific Island States: Towards a Syncretic Approach, The New Pacific Review/La Nouvelle Revue du Pacifique,2 (1): 246–62.

Malama Meleisea, 2000). Governance, development and leadership in Polynesia”, in E. Huffer and A. So'o (eds), Governance in Samoa.

Thomas C. Smith, The agrarian origins of modern Japan (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1959).

Mariane Ferme, "The violence of numbers: Consensus, competition, and the negotiation of disputes in Sierra Leone," Cahiers d'Etudes Africaines 38, no. 2-4 (1998).

Louis Dumont, Homo hierarchicus: the caste system and its implications, Complete rev. English ed. (Chicago: The University Of Chicago Press, 1980).

Samuel L. Popkin, The rational peasant: the political economy of rural society in Vietnam (Berkeley: University Of California Press, 1979).

Louis B. Sohn, "United Nations Decision-Making: Confrontation or Consensus," Harvard International Law Journal 15, no. 3 (1997): 441.
Leo Marai, "The Psychology of Consensus in Melanesia," Journal of Pacific Rim Psychology 1, no. 2 (2007).

Merriam-Webster, "Consensus," www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/consensus.

Greg Fry, "The politics of South Pacific regional cooperation," in The South Pacific: problems, issues and prospects, ed. Ramesh Thakur (New York: Springer, 1991).

Shibuya, "The problems and potential of the Pacific Islands forum," 104

G Robin South and Joeli Veitayaki, Global initiatives in the South Pacific: regional approaches to workable arrangements, Asia Pacific School of Economics and Management (Canberra: Asia Pacific Press, 1999), 12-13.

PIF Pacific Islands Forum, "Forum Standing Meetings," Pacific Islands Forum https://www.forumsec.org/forum-standing-meetings/.

Louis B. Sohn, "United Nations Decision-Making: Confrontation or Consensus," Harvard International Law Journal 15, no. 3 (1997): 441.

Upolu Luma Vaai and Aisake Casimira, Introduction: A relational renaissance, in Relational Hermeneutics, The University of the South Pacific and Pacific Theological College 2017
# The French Pacific collectivities in the concert of nations

## Pr. Jean-Paul Pastorel

Professor of public law at the University of French Polynesia
(Governance and island development)

On this fiftieth anniversary of the Pacific Way, promoted at the United Nations by Sir Ratu Kamisese Mara, then the first leader of a country that was gaining independence, Fiji, we can ask ourselves what contribution the French Pacific collectivities can make to multilateral dialogue in Oceania. We will leave aside the Wallis and Futuna archipelago which, because of the “crystallisation” of its 1961 customary status, has no competence in international matters (Lotti, 2011), to concentrate on the role of New Caledonia and French Polynesia. It may be objected that the monopoly of international legal personality enjoyed by the French State excludes sub-State authorities from exercising powers in the conduct of international relations as a matter of principle (Patry & Laferrière, 1983, Zöller, 1992, Ndiaye, 1994, Gueguen, 2015) and that, even if these authorities are, to varying degrees, involved in the State’s external action, the State always remains, in the final analysis, the “master of international commitments”.

So why question the international capacity of the French Pacific territories?

- Firstly, because these collectivities give France an “unexpected” strategic depth (Mallatrait, 2009), enabling it to deploy its “Indo-Pacific” diplomacy in Oceania. At a time when France is seeking to guarantee access to vital zones or strategic points of passage that could be under threat (Ministry of the Armed Forces, 2019, Ministry of Europe and Foreign Affairs, 2022, Assemblée nationale, 2022), its diplomacy can only work with “Oceanian words”, to use Ambassador Lechervy’s phrase (2019 & 2021), by “narratively (re)valuing its island territories in its strategy” (Milhiet, 2019 & 2022, Frécon, 2022). A simple “rewriting of a neo-colonial narrative” would not take long to raise questions among all the political forces in the communities of Oceania as well as in the countries of the region. France therefore has every interest in “thinking the [Pacific] region from the inside out to legitimise its place in the Pacific” (Mohamed-Gaillard, 2019) by developing
territorial diplomacy aimed at gradually integrating its Pacific collectivities into their regional environment, but also on an international scale. This is all the more important given that, for the countries of the South Pacific, the French territories of the Pacific, through France, provide a gateway and privileged access to the European Union, and enable closer links between Oceanians to tackle global challenges such as climate change, or the major energy or digital transitions (Al Wardi, 2017).

- Secondly, because these French Pacific collectivities, the product of a recent colonial history, have been included by the United Nations in the list of non-self-governing territories within the meaning of Chapter XI of the United Nations Charter (articles 73 and 74) (Pastorel, 2021). In this context, the UN Decolonisation Committee is encouraging the regional and international integration of these territories. Even if, for the time being at least, France is limiting its cooperation with the UN to developments in New Caledonia, it has resigned itself to supporting the integration of its Pacific collectivities into their geopolitical ecosystem (Libération, 2017) to show that its territories have a "free hand" in terms of regional cooperation (Maclellan, 2018, Chauchat, 2021) and, indirectly, to demonstrate that the regional integration of these territories can take place... without independence.

- As overseas countries and territories (within the meaning of Part Four of the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union) associated with the European Union, the French Pacific collectivities are also encouraged to promote the values and standards of the "European family" in order to better integrate into the global economy (Pastorel, 2018). The special preferential arrangements (art. 355-2 TFEU), which give them free access to the European market while protecting their domestic market, are not intended to be maintained indefinitely (as can be seen from the parallel development of the arrangements for the ACP countries). When renewing the association decision with the European Union in 2021 (Council Decision, 2021), the Council of the European Union noted that "the special relationship between the Union and the OCTs [must] evolve from a development cooperation approach towards a reciprocal partnership fostering the sustainable development of the OCTs" (preamble, point 11) and [be based on] "the promotion of cooperation and integration between the OCTs and other-
er partners and neighbouring regions” (preamble, point 14). It is committed to supporting the participation of the OCTs in regional integration organisations (Art. 7-4) and considers the OCT authorities to be ‘the actors of cooperation’ (Art. 11). Within the framework of the Overseas Countries and Territories Association (OCTA), whose secretariat is based in Brussels, the French authorities in the Pacific have set themselves the objective of strengthening their participation in the cooperation initiatives of regional and/or sub-regional organisations, in particular by aligning themselves with the Green Pact and blue growth, youth, education and culture (OCTA, 2021-2027). This “territorial economic diplomacy” (National Assembly, 2016) aimed at developing the economic, cultural, scientific and technical potential of these local authorities is now encouraged by the State, which has come to regret the “under-utilisation of [these local authorities’] capacity for action in international matters” (Senate Law Commission, 2019).

- Finally, the processes of devolution of autonomy to the French Pacific collectivities and, in the case of New Caledonia, decolonisation, have generated a “multiplied diplomacy” (Fabius, 2012) of these territories. “Opening a new stage, marked by the full recognition of the Kanak identity, a prerequisite for the rebuilding of a social contract between all the communities living in New Caledonia, and by a sharing of sovereignty with France, on the road to full sovereignty” (cf. preamble to the Accord), the Nouméa Accord expressly places New Caledonia's international and regional relations under the heading of “shared competencies” (art. 3.2). While the status of Polynesia maintains foreign policy within the remit of the State (art. 14 of the Organic Law of 27 February 2004), it allocates significant means of action to this collectivity under the heading of “special powers of Polynesia” (art. 15 to 17).

All these factors combine to give the French local authorities in the Pacific a sphere of competence in international matters that goes far beyond what French law on the external action of local authorities provides not only for authorities in mainland France, but also for overseas departments and regions (Délégation pour l'action extérieure des collectivités territoriales, 2019).

Can we then outline the means available to these communities to integrate into the community of nations? To answer this question, we will classify these means under three
headings: those resulting from the colonial era and which were formerly devolved to governors (I); those that are linked to the globalisation of economies (II); and, finally, those that France now recognises in its strategy of reinvesting in the geopolitical field of the Pacific (III).

## I. Skills inherited from colonial history

Under the “imperial” Republic (Le Cour Grandmaison, 2009 & 2019), the governor was the true repository of the Republic’s powers and had very wide-ranging powers, including in international matters, especially as there was no specific text setting out his powers (Charmeil, 1922, Cohen, 1973, Ramognino, 2001, Dasque, 2005, Morlat, 2010). The imperatives of colonial public order justified such prerogatives. Now divided between the central state and the territorial authorities, these prerogatives are a contemporary legacy of metropolitan France’s grand imperial design. Two examples will serve to illustrate our point:

### A. Consultation of local and regional authorities on the State’s draft international agreements

By way of symmetry with the old principle of legislative speciality, according to which laws and regulations enacted by the central government only applied in the colonies if expressly mentioned and subject to a particular formality of introduction into the local legal system, international practice accepts the existence of a principle of territorial speciality of international commitments in the overseas collectivities.

Traditionally, it was up to the government to extend the effects of an agreement to these territories by means of an express declaration. This declaration could be made when the agreement was signed or ratified, or at a later date. For treaties as for laws, there was therefore no systematic application in the overseas territories. In an old article published in 1960, Pierre Lampué gave a significant list of agreements containing “territorial” clauses.

As with the principle of legislative speciality, the opinion of the authorised representatives of these territories was sought.
Neither the Fourth nor the Fifth Republic changed this situation.

In his book *Le statut constitutionnel de la France d'outre-mer* (1992), constitutional scholar François Luchaire explains:

> [...] Article 74 of the Constitution [...] requires that the territorial assemblies be consulted prior to any law amending the specific organisation of the territories concerned. This organisation gives the authorities of the territory [...] competence in many areas; an international convention that intervenes in one of these areas modifies this particular organisation; it can therefore only be the subject of a law authorising ratification after the opinion of the territorial assemblies concerned has been obtained.

It should be noted that the opinion of these authorities is in no way binding on the authorities of the Republic, who "retain complete freedom" to decide whether or not to follow up the international agreement (Conseil Const. 2000-435 DC, n° 24). However, the Organic Law must set out "the conditions under which the institutions [of the local authority] are consulted on [...] the ratification or approval of international commitments entered into in matters within its jurisdiction". The Organic Law of 19 March 1999 on New Caledonia (art. 89) and the Organic Law of 27 February 2004 on the autonomous status of French Polynesia (art. 9) have thus made subject to consultation (1):

- Bills authorising the ratification or approval of France's international commitments in the local authority's areas of jurisdiction;

- Treaties or agreements, prior to their ratification or approval, which are not among those mentioned in the first paragraph of article 53 of the Constitution and which fall within the remit of the local authority.

## B. Involving local and regional authorities in the negotiation and conclusion of international agreements by France

During the colonial era, the French territories in the Pacific were either placed directly under colonial rule, such as New Caledonia (1853), or administered as protectorates, such as Tahiti and its dependencies, as well as Wallis and Futuna, before the fiction of the protectorate (Pastorel, 2020) was dissipated by pure and simple integration into the colonial heritage (from 1880 to 1901 for the Établissements français d'Océanie) or,
in the case of Wallis and Futuna, and contrary to the decolonisation movement, into
the category of overseas territories (1961).

Under the supervision of the Ministry of the Navy and then, from 1894, the Ministry of Colonies (for the colonies) and Foreign Affairs (for the protectorates), these territories were administered by representatives who, since the organic ordinances of the Restoration, had been the agents of the Head of State. These representatives could negotiate and sign protectorate treaties with the local chiefdoms, following the example of the proclamation of the protectorate over Tahiti (1842) on the personal initiative of Admiral Dupetit-Thouars in 1842, ratified by Guizot, and then the decision, Tahiti (1843), this time disavowed by the French government (1843) or, later, the protectorate over the islands of Rurutu (27 March 1889) and Rimatara (29 March 1889) negotiated by Governor Lacascade.

Admirals or, from 1879, governors, certainly acted on behalf of the State and only the Head of State was authorised to ratify these agreements or conventions; but it was they who were "in charge". The decrees of 12 December 1874 (art. 71) for New Caledonia and 28 December 1885 (art. 58) for the French Oceania Establishments confirmed their exorbitant powers by granting them the power to "negotiate, when authorised and within the limits of their instructions, all commercial and other agreements".

This system has lasted until the present day, adapting to the institutional changes in these territories. The statutes of these authorities (art. 8 of the statutes of French Polynesia and art. 28 of the statutes of New Caledonia) allow the State to involve them in the negotiation and conclusion of international agreements with the States of the South Pacific, the international institutions of the region or the regional bodies dependent on the specialised agencies of the United Nations, and even the European Union (Senate, 2020) (art. 41 of the statutes of French Polynesia and art. 30 of the statutes of New Caledonia).

In a context marked by the desire to re-establish peaceful relations with the States and territories of the region, relations damaged by the events in New Caledonia, by the resumption of nuclear testing and by the *Rainbow Warrior* affair (Mrgudovic, 2006), one of the promoters of this jurisdiction explained to the National Assembly that it was a question of "giving [these territories] all the appearances of a State to put it on an equal footing, as it were, with its partners in the South Pacific" (National Assembly,
1996). However, when negotiating or signing an agreement in the State's area of competence, the territorial executive always acts "as the representative of the State and in the name of the French Republic" and "must, in the execution of [its] mandate, implement the instructions given to [it] by the competent authorities of the Republic"; these same authorities "remain free to issue powers to other plenipotentiaries or to issue powers [?] for only one of the negotiation and signature phases; they may withdraw the powers thus conferred at any time" (Const. Council, no. 2000-435 DC Recital no 18).

## II. Skills linked to European and international developments

With the globalisation of economies and the single European market, French local authorities in the Pacific have benefited from powers granted, within a general framework, to all local authorities in European States. Since the Framework Act of 6 February 1992 establishing the legal framework for decentralised cooperation, which was passed on the eve of the signing of the Maastricht Treaty establishing Economic and Monetary Union (7 Feb. 1992), the French legislature has gradually strengthened the external action of the overseas collectivities, starting with the overseas departments that are an integral part of the European Union (Act 13 Dec. 2000) and extending these powers to all the overseas territories, including those that are only associated with the European Union (Act 5 Dec. 2016). However, it is not certain that these new powers are suited to the geopolitical context of the Pacific.

A few examples will suffice to demonstrate this trend.

### A. Negotiating and signing administrative arrangements

Well known in international practice (Coulée, 2018), the administrative arrangement is an act "of limited scope or of a technical nature" which must be, in the words of the Constitutional Council itself (Const. Council, no. 96-373 DC, Recital no. 13 and no. 2004-490, Recital no. 28), "made necessary by the implementation of other international agreements" and subject to the issue of an appropriate power by the authorities of the Republic, as well as "compliance with Articles 52 and 53 of the Constitution" (Const.
Council. no. 96-373 DC Recital no 11). Its sole purpose is therefore to "supplement or clarify an existing agreement or, at the very least, organise administrative cooperation of limited scope" (Circular Prime Minister, 1997).

It was introduced into the Statute of Polynesia in 1996 (current art. 16 of the Statute of Polynesia) at a time when France was trying to get back into the diplomatic game in the South Pacific after the nuclear tests (Mohamed-Gaillard, 2010). This delegation of signature had a political function, as it was intended to "showcase" the French territories in the Pacific by presenting them as autonomous collectivities, proud of their membership of the Republic. In the same spirit, the then President of the Polynesian Government was mandated by French President Jacques Chirac to sign the three protocols to the Treaty of Rarotonga on the denuclearisation of the South Pacific (Le Monde, 27 March 1996). By giving French Polynesia the possibility of "signing and approving" administrative arrangements, "in compliance with and for the application of the Republic's international commitments", the organic law sought to promote the territory's cooperation with "the administrations of any State or territory in the Pacific".

However, these acts of limited scope were emptied of all useful effect by the Constitutional Council (Oraison, 2004 and 2006, Goesel-Le Bihan, 2006) and were not incorporated into the status of New Caledonia. Moreover, they fell far short of what the Noumea Accord of 5 May 1998 was to confer on the territory, which was henceforth entitled to "conclude agreements [with countries in the Pacific zone, international organisations or organisations associated with them, and the European Union] in its areas of competence" (art. 3.2.1).

## B. Decentralised cooperation agreements

In the context of European integration, the French local authorities in the Pacific inherited from the Act of 6 February 1992 the possibility of concluding decentralised cooperation agreements with other French or foreign sub-national territorial authorities, in compliance with the principles laid down by the Constitution and the Republic's international commitments (Const. Council no 94-358 DC, Recital no 52 and no 96-373 DC, Recital no 14). However, while the legislator has made the procedures for implementing these agreements more flexible, by lifting the requirement for a local public
interest (Thiollière Act of 2 Feb 2007), by replacing the requirement for decentralised cooperation with the concept of “external action” (Act of 7 Jul. 2014) or by adding to the objectives of these agreements the policy of solidarity-based development and the fight against global inequalities (Act of 4 August 2021), these agreements, which the Conseil d'État considers (25 Oct. 1994) to be mere contracts under domestic law (Zoller, 1990), “may not be entered into with a foreign State, unless their purpose is to enable the creation of a European grouping of territorial cooperation” (art. L 1115-5 CGCT). These groupings were created by European regulations to strengthen the economic, social and territorial cohesion of the European Union (Regulation EC 2006 & 2013).

Inserted in the statutes of Polynesia (art. 17) and New Caledonia (art. 33), these instruments are ill-suited to the context of the South Pacific because they were conceived within the framework of cross-border cooperation between European territorial authorities, excluding any agreement with a foreign State (Blanc & Rakotondrahaso, 2018) (2) (except for the famous territorial cooperation groupings), which limits the interest of this mechanism in a regional environment composed essentially of States. At most, they would allow agreements to be signed with the Hawaiian Islands or Easter Island, not even with the Cook Islands, whose status as an associated state does not lend itself to this type of partnership (Goesel-Le Bihan, 1997, Al Wardi & Pastorel, 2020).

### III. Skills related to France's redeployment in the Pacific

France's redeployment in the Pacific, against a backdrop of warming relations with Australia and New Zealand, has resulted in an “oceanisation” of French diplomacy.

#### A. Negotiating and signing regional agreements

Long reserved for the State (Admin. Tribunal, Noumea, 1985), the power to negotiate and sign regional agreements with States, territories or regional bodies in the Pacific or regional bodies dependent on the specialised agencies of the United Nations has been recognised for both New Caledonia (art. 29) and Polynesia (art. 38).

Because of their autonomous status, the scope of these agreements is as extensive as their area of jurisdiction. As the State only reserves jurisdiction over sovereign functions,
the French Pacific collectivities can therefore equip themselves with international
regulatory instruments to fully exercise their powers.

However, this power is only “partial” (Goesel-Le Bihan, 2006, p. 3-11) insofar as the authorities of the Republic can not only impose themselves in the negotiations within the delegation of these territories, but also, in any case in Polynesia, oppose purely and simply the very principle of the negotiations (art. 39-2 of the Statute). The agreement resulting from these negotiations is then submitted for ratification or approval under the conditions laid down in Articles 52 and 53 of the Constitution.

It is undoubtedly this “sharing of powers”, which is complex to implement, that explains the caution of these local authorities in taking initiatives. However, if we take as an example the issue of tax treaties designed to avoid double taxation of taxpayers, these local authorities would have the greatest interest in negotiating and concluding tax treaties (already with Polynesia and New Caledonia, but also with neighbouring countries). The memory of a tax treaty between the French Republic and New Caledonia, qualified by the Constitutional Council in 1983 as a simple “treaty of pure domestic law” (Const. Council, 83-160 DC, recitals no. 5 and 9 and Cabannes, 2015), has no doubt also contributed to dissuading the most daring.

As our colleague Géraldine Giraudeau points out, “the sovereign State never completely relinquishes the power it has to negotiate and conclude international agreements” and only delegates [...] under the protection of effective safeguards and control mechanisms” (Giraudeau, 2010).

**B. Diplomatic representation at international level**

Historically speaking, the first manifestation of the participation of entities dependent on a State in international organisations was the admission of colonial territories as long as these entities made a “contribution distinct from that of the administering State” (Kovar, 1969). In the South Pacific, associated states such as the Cook Islands and Niue, recognised by the United Nations as *Self Governing States*, have been admitted to organisations such as UNESCO, the WHO and the ILO, even though they are not formally independent of New Zealand (Agniel, 2011, Havard, 2016) (3).
The question of the French Pacific territories is more ambiguous because, unlike the Cook Islands or Niue, the United Nations considers that their statutes are no more than "dependent governance arrangements modernised over the years, in form and nomenclature, but not in substance" (UN 2016, AG/COL/3299 & A/AC.109/2017/7). They nevertheless support their participation, to varying degrees, in international bodies (UN, 2021). France's diplomatic policy has itself adapted to these changes by encouraging its Pacific collectivities to become part of the Oceanian ecosystem while "always remaining in the background" (Fisher, 2015):

- By associating these Pacific communities with regional organisations on an Asia-Pacific scale: the Pacific Commission in 1983, the Pacific Regional Environment Programme (SPREP), the Pacific Islands Development Programme (PIDP), the Pacific Power Association responsible for promoting direct cooperation between Pacific Island electricity utilities or the South Pacific Tourism Organisation (SPTO), the Western and Central Pacific Fisheries Commission (WCPFC).

- The participation of the French Pacific collectivities in these organisations is not at odds with French diplomacy, since these collectivities are only “partial” members (Dormoy, 2022), to use Daniel Dormoy’s expression, in the sense that they are not contracting parties, which excludes them from exercising competences relating to the constituent act, and also because their financial contributions remain relatively modest compared with those of the member states (4).

- By allowing both New Caledonia (art. 31) and Polynesia (art. 42) to join regional organisations and, with the agreement of the State, international organisations, as members, associate members or observers.

These local authorities were initially encouraged to join regional organisations such as the Pacific Islands Forum (PIF), which were initially forums for regional political consultation and even spearheaded opposition to the French presence in the Pacific (De Deckker, 2002, Al Wardi, 2018). Against a backdrop of reconciliation with the regional powers of the South Pacific, France supported the membership of its Pacific collectivities in the PIF, which gradually moved from a purely advocacy role to regional policies in the fields of transport, communications, development and international trade (see SPARTECA, PIC and other agreements).
SPARTECA, PICTA, PACER and PACER Plus agreements), as well as the sustainable management and conservation of marine and coastal resources in the Pacific region (see Forum Fisheries Agency, High Commissioner for the Pacific Ocean, etc.). The participation of the French collectivities in the Pacific can therefore be an asset for the Republic to avoid being isolated in the Oceanian world (Lechervy, 2015, National Assembly, 2020), even if the internal tensions that weaken Oceanian regionalism (Korinman, 2022) and narrow it to identities more closely based on a tripartition opposing Melanesia, Micronesia and Polynesia (Al Wardi, 2015), sometimes make regional actions illegible (National Assembly, 2022, p. 80).

The French Pacific collectivities were subsequently authorised, as associate members, to join specialised UN agencies (New Caledonia's membership of the WHO and UNESCO), or other international organisations (New Caledonia's membership of the International Organisation of the Francophonie and New Caledonia and Polynesia's membership of the World Meteorological Organisation). Even though these territories cannot, as associate members, put forward candidates for posts to be filled in these international organisations, nor put themselves forward as candidates to host meetings of the bodies, nor sit in on closed sessions and take part in a vote within the bodies, they can play a full part in the work of implementing the actions of these institutions and thus take ownership of their objectives and agendas.

- By encouraging the establishment of relations with States or territories in the Pacific: although diplomatic representation remains the prerogative of the Republic (Const. Council no 2004-490 DC, Recital no 27), the State has recognised for both New Caledonia (art. 32) and Polynesia (art. 15) the possibility of having "representations" of its Pacific collectivities in countries in the Pacific zone.

- Only New Caledonia, which is committed to the Nouméa Accord process, has adopted these arrangements by using the French diplomatic network to open delegations hosted in the French embassies and consular offices of the host country (Australia, Fiji, New Guinea Papua, New Zealand, Vanuatu) and has developed its economic cooperation with these countries through cooperation agreements. However, it should be noted that they are not very far removed from the system applicable to the overseas regions which, following the Letchimy
law on overseas diplomacy, were authorised to appoint public officials to rep-
resent them in France's diplomatic network (art. L 4433-4-5-1, L 7153-10 and L
72-53-10 CGCT) (Bertile, 2016) (5).

So as not to conclude...

As suggested by Polynesian MP Steve Chailloux, the external action of the French collectivities in the Pacific can be a vector of the Pacific Way by promoting closer ties between the peoples of Oceania, while respecting their differences, for example around cross-cutting issues (climate change, biodiversity, sustainable development, communications, etc.) or issues linked to regional economic integration (free trade areas, relations with Europe or with Australia and New Zealand, with the WTO, etc.). This development is not in contradiction with France's Indo-Pacific strategy, provided that the French government strengthens co-management with the French overseas territories.

However, as noted in a recent Senate information report on France's strategy for the (Indo)Pacific (French Senate, 2023), the French territories in the Pacific are not fully involved in defining a global strategy at the heart of one of the areas where the world is being shaped today. This strategy is adopted by the executive in an exclusively vertical approach (Lechervy, 2019), and sometimes borrows a neo-colonial narrative that resurrects the myth of "power through colonial empire" (Ageron, 1985), where the French overseas territories are merely pawns on the geopolitical chessboard. It is also reflected in a stiffening of the State's stance on developments in its territories in the Pacific, likely to call into question the decolonisation process in New Caledonia or the autonomy of Polynesia (6), or even the customary status of Wallis and Futuna (Regnault, 2021, Chauchat, 2022).

If France's (re)commitment to Oceania is not based on its island power, France "would be depriving itself on the international stage of the relays of influence offered by a very dense web of political, economic, cultural and social interactions" (Senate, 2023) and could even give rise in the long term to questions in its own Pacific island territories and in the countries of the region that could have an impact on its geopolitical ambitions.
The creation in June 2022 of a fact-finding mission by the Assembly of French Polynesia on the impact of France's (Indo)Pacific strategy on its French collectivities in Oceania