Menatilities under siege : recasting the “faultlines” of the post-coup Fiji

Democracy activist

The last three years or so has no doubt been one of the most turbulent periods in the history of post-independence Fiji. It has been marked by interpersonal antagonisms as well as intra and interethnic divisions that are contexualised within deteriorating law and order as well as socio-economic conditions. These, arguably, are surpassed only by the immediate effects of the 1987 coups on our people. But then the coups of 1987 would have been ‘raw’ due to, amongst other things, their novelty coupled by the fact that for the first time in our purported island paradise, our dirty linen has been hung out for all to see.

After four coups in a just 20 years, it seems that the path is a well worn one. We see familiar signposts along the way such as the condemnation by the International community, the possible suspension of diplomatic ties, travel bans, and the label of being a pariah state yet again. The familiarity of all these ushers in a sense of déjà vu to all concerned. Indeed we cannot help but believe that we have walked this way often enough to know the ‘exits’ that will take us back or forward (depending on how you look at it) to normality.

But every coup is a different one. Each is a ‘child of its times’ so to speak. The thread that holds them together in our context is that they are all about the usurpation of power. This has been, more or less, the consistent stance of our courts. I therefore would like to turn our attention to another pressing problem that is emerging quite clearly within the new dynamics confronting us in the aftermath of the Appeals Court’s decision and the subsequent action by the President in abrogating the 1997 Constitution. There is, in my opinion, a growing tendency amongst the majority of our people to rush headlong into adopting an ‘either/or’ stance in the current crisis. This division, presumably, is based on two seemingly incommensurate views on how to rebuild our society from where it is at the moment. A close scrutiny of the internal dynamics of the two groups throws up interesting parallels between these so-called antithetical positions. For instance, those who have rushed to adopt an ‘either/or’ position have all become apologists for their respective causes; one group idealises the military-induced status quo while the other romanticises our democratic past.

Most (with some notable exceptions) are subsequently blinded to, for want of a better term, anomalies such as favouritism, marginalisation and repression that occurred in both periods. Furthermore each group has taken every opportunity that presents itself to vilify the other thus further entrenching the ‘us’ versus ‘them’ mindset in a situation that is already fractious. Indeed, it is quite obvious that most members of the groups concerned are galvanised into actions against each other using deep seated disagreements as guidelines for engagement. The result becomes an endless bitter struggle.

Another glaring feature, common to both positions, is the ideological ‘footwork’ taking place in both camps as they attempt to canvass wider support. This murky condition is further compounded by unbridled self interests coming into play, so much so that it would be prudent for the ordinary man and woman not to be caught in the rhetoric of brinkmanship emanating from both sides. All these gave rise to the ironic observation that what we are witnessing are two creatures that are eerily alike in appearance and behaviour. This uniformity is derived from a type of ‘mental closure’ that is in turn generated by a condition that I call the ‘siege mentality’.

A cognitive aberration such as the ‘siege mentality’ arises out of an introverted worldview that ‘demonises’ all forms of dissent. This in turn becomes the precursor of actions aimed at strategically imposing one’s will over others. It entails a measure of carefully orchestrated moves designed to simultaneously court public opinion and stigmatise others who might disagree. This is done by rearticulating one’s position in a way that would allow it to be viewed favourably by the public while at the same time cast suspicion on the motives or character of those who dare resist these overtures.

The thing that usually gives this condition away is the stringent tone of its rhetoric; that is, it usually lays more emphasis on form rather than substance. This is quite evident in the way leaders and acolytes of both groups are beginning to mouth slogans from their respective causes in Fiji as if these were eternal truths. Given the above, it seems to me, right at this point in time, that there are not one but two such examples of the ‘siege mentality’ in Fiji. The more obvious of the two is the one blatantly displayed by the Interim Regime. Any form of criticism, real or perceived, seems to bring out the worst in them. Their response ranges from diplomatic faux pas to deportation of foreign journalists; from internal news blackouts to the exclusions of dissenting parties from ‘dialogue’ and of course to that dreaded ‘trip to the barracks’ for the more vociferous of its opponents. It almost seems that one could measure the degree to which the IR feels under siege by looking at the number of irrational decisions and behaviour coming from within its ranks in a number of key areas. There is no doubt in my mind that this example of ‘siege mentality’ will continue, on the main, to be highlighted by the foreign media outlets as well as the multitude of blog-sites that offer more ‘colourful’ opinions on our crisis. I therefore shall not dwell on it. The second illustration, when compared to the first, is more difficult to get a grasp on. Indeed one would be hard pressed to attach to it the label of ‘siege mentality’ in light of its positive affirmation from both local and international communities. The fact that it employs a vocabulary that sits well within the pantheon of human rights and constitutionalism makes it glibber in comparison. In reality, far from being regarded as a ‘siege mentality’, this second instance is considered as one of the pillars of the ‘civilised’ world. This example of the ‘siege mentality’ is one that I associate with the growing chorus of people in vocal opposition to the IG. Most if not all purport to be advancing the cause of democracy in our country. It is to this group that I shall play the part of the devil’s advocate knowing fully how unpopular this stance is today within the different stake holders in Fiji, not least is my own community. But then again, I have always harboured the belief that Fiji’s current problems will not be solved by popularity contests. We will begin to solve them, though, if we engage in open and honest discussions on the kind of collective future that we wish to have and the specific form of democratic practice that will facilitate this process. In my opinion, the current call for a return to democracy in the quickest possible time leaves a lot to be desired for. The reasons are outlined below. My problem with the calls for democracy from various groups in Fiji and beyond is the assumption that any form of democratic practise is better than the current totalitarian regime in place. There is probably a lot of conventional wisdom in this. However it is also true that the same assertion is fuelled by a great deal of idealistic fervour on the efficacy of democracy and its practices even to the extent that it begins to suppress the niggling problems that have brought our democracy to its knees once too often. These problems emerge in the actual tradition of democracy in our islands. Even if we start from the supposition that there is no ideal way of practising democracy anywhere in the world, we must nevertheless assume that something has to be wrong with our own democratic practice if we have had four coups in just twenty years. Indeed the last two coups were conducted against a constitution that was touted to be one of the ‘best’ in the world. If this is so, then one would conclude that it is high time we delve into our governance structures as well as practices. A rudimentary examination of the discourse emerging from pro-democracy movements in Fiji and abroad shows that the disparity between our concept of democracy, as defined by the 1997 Constitution, and the way we practise it on the ground has been conveniently forgotten in the clamour for a return to how we once were. Indeed the ‘siege mentality’ that I associate with this call directly facilitates the erasure of the distance between the concept and its practice in Fiji. This is evident in a terminology that is tied only to the concept of democracy as a generalised system of governance. In other words, the legitimacy of these demands for a return to democracy is derived from an abstract equation of these ideals to their democratic concept. Thus the ideals and concept simply reinforce one another while a form of wilful forgetfulness expunges the difference between this hegemonic ideology and its particular practice in our nation-state. Judging from the rhetoric of its followers, in our current context, the difference between ideology and reality has all but disappeared from their collective memory. To persevere for a return to democracy under these conditions is bizarre for a number of reasons. First it means that there is no room for critiquing our own practise of democracy that has brought this country to its knees no less than four times. Second, the erasure of the distance between concept and practice through ‘wilful forgetting’ transforms democratic ideals into dogmatic truths. What we have as a consequence are not democratic citizens, but ideological puppets. Indeed what will our democratic future look like when generalised democratic ideals are bandied around like slogans and recited in mantra-like fashion by its current advocates in a way that becomes self reinforcing? This unenviable state of affairs is rendered more problematic when we realise that because of their ready-made nature, slogans and mantras, require very little critical thinking and as such are vulnerable to manipulation. Indeed there seems to be an ideological obfuscation involved requiring ‘democracy’ to be used as a portmanteau to ‘hide’ our problems such as racism, class disparities and the lack of ideas or political will to tackle these holistically given the simplistic way we have romanticised our democratic past. What then is the answer? From the discussion above this much is certain: the answer or answers cannot be found exclusively in either camp. In fact both groups need to reign in the totalitarian impulse that affects them in equal measure. This will allow them to reflect critically on their respective positions. As such ‘slogans’ must be adopted for their ‘applicability’ not just because they happen to be either correct or expedient in the political sense. Perhaps the best way forward from here is not so much about adopting ready-made templates or even speculate on a utopian ideal as to take stock of prevalent practises of democracy in our country from which we can create an index of what we do not want in our future. For this to start we need open minded citizens ready, yet gain, to engage with each other. This is important for the truth we are all searching for, for all we know, may well be found in the point of intersection between our respective perspectives. Let us not blindly follow the tunes of pipers just because it is soothing to our ears. For these tunes would be akin to the Fijian proverbial ‘Ua ni vakavodo’. The ancient Greek, Pericles, on his death bed reminded his contemporaries that the grandeur of the Athenian city-state lies not its achievements in times of war and peace but on the resourceful and resilient spirit of its denizens. These twin pillars of Athenian society are epitomised by ‘refinement without extravagance and knowledge without effeminacy’.

Dare we do the same?

The Fury of the ‘Righteous’

I recently came across the infamous clip that showed Esala Teleni berating a segment of his officer-corps for derailing the Police Force’s Christian Crusade. Contrary to the organisational slant that is being given as sole justification for this ‘dressing down’, it becomes quite apparent that there is more at play. Indeed, if one was to carefully consider Teleni’s polemic, one would not fail to realise that the implications arising from his outburst cannot be explained exclusively in terms of bureaucratic protocols. Apart from the oft-stated organisational dimension, the ethnic and religious overtones in his tirade are quite distinct. It is along these lines that I wish to interrogate his utterances further.

Organisational Dimension:
Teleni has in the past voiced his aim of ‘professionalising’ the police force. So, for him, this outburst could be classified as part of his programme of enhancing the efficiency of the organisation. Indeed Teleni and his superiors are of the view that what he did was appropriate given the specific nature of the institution that he leads. Even the vocabulary that was used that day is in no way ‘out of character’. The ‘discipline forces’, it is tacitly suggested, is where one must expect and accept those ‘expressions’. By alluding to the specific nature of the ‘discipline force’, Teleni and his supporters may have inadvertently collapsed the gulf that separates the army and the police. The frequency of his self referral as ‘commodore’ is highly suggestive of this. Hence the lay person may be led to believe that what was witnessed that day is a common occurrence within the police force when it may have been true only for the army. Teleni was in fact talking as if those facing him were military recruits instead of senior police officers. The implications are worth our while to consider. Let me spell out a few. Firstly, this will confirm, for many, the suspicion that the Police is being militarised once again. More troubling than this is the awareness that these supposedly well trained and highly qualified army officers may not have what it takes to lead civilian or para-civilian institutions. They are too ‘one-dimensional’ as opposed to the multi-pronged approach needed in institutions outside military parametres. Secondly, the fact that Teleni is a high ranking army officer whose actions were deemed acceptable by both his line Minister and the Interim PM, who at the very least would know the appropriate conduct befitting an army officer berating ‘wayward recruits’, casts a parochial imprint on the army itself. Is the army as an institution not supposed to be getting better each year due to the increasing quality of its new recruits? That this would necessitate a change of approach given the nature (qualification, psychoanalytical make up etc) of the new intakes? If the answer to both questions is no, then we as a society are nearer to the brink than we realise. However if the answer is yes on both counts, why then would Teleni and his superiors view the lexicons taken out of dated army manuals to be still applicable today within the army itself let alone the upper echelon of the police force? In short, Teleni’s outbursts run against the grain of contemporary organisational principles, disciplinary institutions included.

Ethnic Dimension:
Whichever way one wishes to look at it, the fact of the matter is that all present that day were of a particular ethnic origin. If one was to look closely at the Fijian words used by Teleni, one would realise that they are part of a greater repository of derogatory terms that Fijians stereotypically hurl at Indo-Fijians. What does this suggest in light of the Interim Regime’s stated objective of eliminating racism? Religious Dimension: To his credit, Teleni openly admits that he respects the religions of his officers which must, one assumes, be different from the Commissioner’s who, as we all witnessed, is a self-professed Christian. Yet one cannot help but call to mind those great Christian Crusades led by Knights in armour against the ‘heathens’ who dared to desecrate the holy land. History tells us that defiance against those crusades was paid for in blood. Of course, no police officer would need to forfeit his or her life today if she or he were ‘deemed’ to oppose Teleni’s crusade. If the commissioner’s words are anything to go by, they will instead lose their jobs as well as their sense of dignity and respect. In a land where a premium is still attached to humane values and where existence for most borders increasingly on a daily struggle, this loss amounts to almost everything. In light of this even the Commissioner’s assertion about respecting other religions looks suspect. George Bernard Shaw warned us to be cautious of the person whose God resides only in the skies. He was lamenting the all too common human foible of not seeing the affinities between our relationship with God and our ties to our fellow human beings. Put simply, a love of God without respect for the other person is a sham. Given the overall tenor of his tirade, the Commissioner is found wanting on all fronts when measured against his own yardsticks.

Tui Rakuita Lecturer – School of Social Sciences, University of the South Pacific Phone: 323 2473

The Interstice between Value Spheres and Legitimacy

A recent ‘survey’ on who is on which side in the unfortunate saga unfolding in Fiji left me rather bemused as on one side I see two of my cousins at the forefront of overt resistance against the interim regime and its programmes. On the other I see another close cousin spearheading one such programme. By looks and purposes, all believe deeply in the work they are currently engaged in. The preliminary question that comes immediately to mind is: Whose claim is more legitimate? This question encapsulates the dilemma we are facing in Fiji today – that of legitimacy.
The din surrounding the High Court judgement on the legality of the President’s actions and later, Justice Jitoko’s order on the NCBBF-sponsored charter as well as Justice Byrne’s subsequent stay order on Jitoko’s ruling until further deliberations, brings into sharp relief the way in which supporters and detractors alike, of both the interim regime and its opposition, tend to define the concept of legitimacy increasingly in legal terms.
What is legitimacy and how is it determined?
Legitimacy, in a modern sense, is a state of being that is achieved on the reasoning that certain validity claims have been vindicated based on their rational content. Validity claims are the ways in which legitimacy can be grounded and are derived from the differing value spheres in society.  As such these claims are always contested and are usually couched in the disciplinary lexicons of discourses such as science (including for example history, politics and jurisprudence), universal morality (e.g. religious doctrines) and group ethics (e.g. cultural values). Indeed proof of the legitimacy of a claim is constantly attained through the contestations between validity claims.
If legitimacy is generated by the contestations of competing validity claims grounded in different value spheres, then this suggests that there is an inbuilt moment of indeterminacy that defines the relationship between legitimacy and validity claims. Phrased another way, there is a ‘gap’, or an interstice between Legitimacy and the various ways it is grounded. This interstice is the site of contestation between competing validity claims whose rational contents are put up for scrutiny. The nature of the contestation between validity claims effectively transforms the interstice into a ‘force-field’ of both opposing (negating) and corresponding (empowering) impulses. When impulses correspond, validity claims are said to be in agreement thus legitimacy becomes stronger. When they contradict, a new mandate has to be found.
When a validity claim has been overwhelmingly undermined by contradictory impulses in the process of contestation, it becomes self reflexive. That is, it turns ‘inwards’ to re-examine its rational kernel, the metaphysical assumption being that, the ultimate rational grounding of that kernel is the same one that informs other validity claims from other spheres. Therefore a validity claim loses its currency only by the misrepresentation of its own rational intent. In clear contrast to what postmodern currents would have us believe, the contested nature of these claims presupposes the idea of an absolute value still existing in today’s modern world. The presence of a concept of the absolute in our rational world, in fact, makes concepts like legitimacy and justice possible. It is only the structural differentiation of spheres that accompanied modernity that has made it as if there is no absolute value that defines the ways in which validity claims are represented, thus making out as if these contestations consist of incommensurable claims.
Another problem we encounter is when legitimacy is internalised to a particular discourse at the expense of others. Historically this came about in Fiji as a result of tribal warfare, Christianity, Colonisation, Capitalism and Statehood. A close scrutiny of these examples highlights the fact that the internalisation of legitimacy to particular discourses always involves some form of coercive power.
A more contemporary example of how legitimacy is increasingly internalised to a particular discourse in Fiji today can be seen in the tendency of people to view the legal system as an antidote to all social ills irrespective of their specific natures. This suggests a disturbing lack of faith in mediation processes that lie outside the ambit of legal procedures to solve problems peculiar to their own respective spheres. One of the reasons for this can probably be attributed to our recent history of coups and their concomitant constitutional crises. Rightly so problems of this nature are for the courts to decide. However one must also be aware that these kinds of problems can also have a ‘spill over’ effect on other value spheres. Yet instead of a solution intrinsic to the value sphere in question, people increasingly prefer to take recourse within another value sphere, in our case, the legal system. Naturally this gives rise to a contest between the validity claims derived from the two value spheres in question. This is not bad in itself, as long as impulses ensuing from the force-field within the interstices that link the value spheres and their respective validity claims with legitimacy correspond. In other words, the strength of a legitimate judgement is contingent on the degree of correspondence between the competing validity claims. What is often glossed over today is the fact that, in instances of these nature, legitimacy relies in equal measure on the ‘support’ of the validity claims derived from the two value spheres in question even though this may be articulated in the language of only one.
The problem begins however if we were to have predominantly negating impulses characterising the contestations within the interstices. This would mean that the ensuing legal judgement will suffer from a lack of legitimacy. This lack would subsequently manifest itself primarily in two ways: in the divisiveness between people affected differently by the judgement and the increasing disempowerment of processes intrinsic within the non-legal value sphere to deal with questions of legitimacy within that realm. A combined effect of such a situation would be the indifference and passivity that arise within our midst.
Let me give an example. Increasingly we see chiefly title disputes ending up in the court of law as if this was merely a legal matter. The reasons for this basically fall within two interrelated categories. It could be either there is acute disagreement between the validity claims within the same cultural value sphere or, secondly, the socio-cultural mechanism that deals with these internal validity claims are not sufficiently geared to mediate between claims. To put it in very simple terms, the cultural yardsticks in which these matters are adjudicated are too inconsequential or ineffective for mediation. Both reasons suggest that the claims cannot be articulated fully by the mechanism available within that particular sphere. This in turn would spur the move to find legitimacy in the legal sphere, with the tacit hope that once the dispute is couched in legal terms, the impulses generated by the legal sphere would dovetail with one of the competing validity claims within the cultural value sphere. This would lend legitimacy to the ensuing legal judgement. It also shows that legitimacy is a product of mediation and cannot be relativised. Based on this scenario, it becomes apparent that legality is just one way of achieving legitimacy.  This brings us back, finally, to those court cases that were cited in the beginning of this paper. How are we to view them in light of the discussion above?
It has become apparent given the plethora of conflicting opinions on the recent court judgements that there is a crisis of legitimacy that is blighting our political landscape. However the root of this crisis lay not so much in the legal realm as in the social and political spheres of our collective existence, notwithstanding the fact that there is a lot of interpenetration between these spheres. In light of this the view that the recent court judgements on President Ratu Iloilo and on the NCBBF, does not in any fundamental way solve our problems is consistent with the discussion above. This view still applies even if the learned judges in question had ruled differently.
The dilemma is not so much a question of legality as it is a question of ethics and morality. It is about how we relate to each other in this country and no legal judgement can fully solve this dilemma. Constitutions may point to legally enforceable rules and regulations that may help but that is where they end. As I see it, the spirit of our Constitution is yet to be fully appreciated at that level in society that is made up of the minutiae of the existential process that we call ‘living’. More work in the sphere of social relations needs to be done if we are to change this lamentable status. In fact the constitution will only factor in the everyday lives of the people of Fiji if it is successfully transcribed into the values that people use to relate to each other. Otherwise it will always be vulnerable to the machinations of people whose value spheres speak of a different message than that enshrined in the constitution.

For instance the Qarase government though legal was notorious for its more controversial policies; all done within the banner of constitutionalism. A democratic mandate to rule, derived from an election can, in this way, be transformed into a ‘tyranny of the majority’. A crisis of legitimacy ensues from such situation. The government could be perfectly legal but lacks legitimacy in the eyes of those who have been adversely affected by it. This is the double edged rapier that all forms of popular rule have to grapple with. Understanding legitimacy in this way underlines the point that a democracy is more than just elections, indispensable as these may be. It is also highlights the limitations of the law in the particular context of our crisis.
The law deals with legal constitutional logic derived from precedents whereas our problem is rooted within that part of the human psyche in which the validity claims of ‘group ethics’ and ‘universal morality’, are in a perpetual contest. The former is embedded within group psychology (cultural values, outlooks etc) while the latter finds expression in our common humanity and includes transcendental questions on the conduct of ‘the good life’. From here, one begins to see the bogus nature of the view that legality and legitimacy are one and the same. Indeed the current tendency of unproblematically identifying legitimacy exclusively with legality has put an ideological caveat on our ability as well as our freedom to view our national predicament in a way that transcends (not bypass) the legal/illegal divide. It is as if we have, for some unfathomable reason, voluntary put on mental blinkers in a time where the challenges that face us are at their greatest; challenges of attaining the basic necessities for a meaningful life in a daunting national and global environment. In Fiji’s context, this is about the legal dimension and much more besides.
For our democracy to work we must first realise that our lives are tied irrevocably with each other on an elementary level. As such we need to have common normative outlooks as to what is important to our well being. The ‘conditions of possibility’ (to phrase it in Kantian terms) of a new horizon that is the product of our collective dreams for our nation must be enabled. For this to happen we must have leaders from all walks of life initiating a vision that will unite us. An important part of this process must also be about giving each other hope in a shared destiny, for such a thing in the face of the despair that currently confronts us is no simple optimism but courage itself. For all this to begin, however, we must get off our haunches and work towards it. No ‘cargo’ is going to fall from the heavens without us willing and working for it. Indeed we must all start believing in ourselves and our capacity to transform our country. Only then can we finally have the resolve to test the resilience of our spirit, as individuals, a community and as a nation, in the face of these seemingly insurmountable odds.

Tui Rakuita
Lecture – School of Social Sciences
University of the South Pacific

Multiple battle lines: Who is winning?

What we are witnessing now is not the normal ethnically bipolar political contestation between indigenous Fijians and Indo-Fijians, a scenario we are used to and bored to death with, but a multi-dimensional political vortex with intersecting fault lines, never seen in Fiji’s history. This has the potential either to lead to more fractures in an already volatile situation, or create a situation of calm as the competing forces reconfigure to create new alliances. 

So where on earth are we heading, or rather, appear to be heading? 

The indigenous Fijian anti-coup axis
No doubt the most visible fault line is between the anti-and pro-interim government power blocs. Beyond this simple dichotomy, the situation becomes murkier and outright confusing.

The anti-coup alliance consists of an array of diverse groups, some of which are sworn enemies of each other. Perhaps the largest and most powerful group in the anti-interim government alliance is what we may call the indigenous power bloc, consisting of the Great Council of Chiefs (the former, not the new version), Provincial Councils, Methodist Church, SDL Party and an array of indigenous Fijian groups.

Paradoxically, many in these groups supported the 1987 and 2000 ethno-nationalist coups on ethno-political grounds. However, they were opposed to the anti ethno-nationalist 2006 coup on the grounds that it purportedly undermined indigenous interests.  

But things are more complicated here. Not all indigenous Fijians support the political ideology of the mainstream indigenous bloc. There are intra-communal differences in terms of interpretation of national politics as well as diversity of political interests and loyalties.     

Some indigenous Fijians who do not support the mainstream indigenous power bloc are not necessarily supporters of the coup, but nevertheless are attracted by the coup’s claim for non-ethnic and progressive reforms. However, some of these people, disillusioned by the aggressiveness of ethno-nationalism and the extra-legal excesses of the military, have turned inwards and now see themselves as guardians of “impartiality” and middle of the road politics. 

Often this group is caught up in a complex dilemma because they are perceived as both pro-and anti-coup at the same time by both sides of the divide.

Some “moderate” indigenous Fijians have openly embraced the coup for a number of reasons such as their disdain for ethno-nationalism, potential to extract benefits from the new order, attraction of the promises of the coup reforms and the perception that the coup is irreversible anyway and “it’s time to move on.”

Interestingly some moderates have also joined forces with the anti-coup bloc on the grounds that the 2006 coup had entrenched the dreaded coup cycle which they vehemently detested. They were opposed to the 1987 coups, 2000 coup as well as the 2006 coup. The cycle of coups has destroyed their professional ambitions and optimism for a stable country.

Many members of the emerging and expanding indigenous Fijian middle class, many of whom were products of educational affirmative action of the 70s, 80s and 90s, see themselves as victims of the anti-affirmative action stance of the regime and have shown opposition to it.

For many indigenous Fijians, the perception that the coup was anti-Fijian has had a deeply entrenched impact and has shaped their negative attitudes towards the coup. Interestingly the Methodist Church, which is one of the most powerful institutions within the indigenous Fijian community, has cleverly indulged in political semantics, publicly branding the coup “illegal” rather than “anti-Fijian,” although the latter seems closer to their hearts. This has provided the Methodist Church with the ideological and moral firepower to get back at the military, while at the same time mobilize local and international support.        

Within the Fijian power bloc there are age old and newly created political fault lines which have been sharpened and given a new sense of resurgence after the 2006 coup, and more so by the Charter process. Some traditional high chiefs are supportive of the coup and some are against it. Many of these are related by blood. The fault lines are shaped by an interesting interplay between traditional power struggle, kinship rivalry and modern power politics.

Fijian politics has never been monolithic. It has always been characterized by diversity and often a mixture of power contestation and strategic compromises, from the pre-colonial era to the present.

Non-indigenous anti-coup blocs

There are other powerful anti-coup blocs outside the indigenous Fijian alliance. While it is generally assumed that the 2006 coup was “Indian-supported,” the reality is much more complex. Some of the most vehement critics of the coup are from the Indo-Fijian community. Amongst these are the Indo-Fijian dominated National Federation Party (NFP) which, although has not been successful at recent polls, still maintains its claim to represent “genuine” Indo-Fijian interest-a claim which, for plausible electoral reasons, is seriously contested by the Fiji Labour Party.

Then there is an ensemble of Indo-Fijian coup critics ranging from lawyers, civil society organization activists, businessmen, academics, politicians and others. Their oppositions to the coup are based on different reasons. For some lawyers, it’s simply a question of legality. Their entire professional disposition depends on being seen to be supportive of the rule of law, although some may harbour political and ideological sympathy for the coup in private. 

For some Indo-Fijians, the coup is a politically evilish activity which has ruined this country since 1987 coups have to be resisted by all means and at all cost.   For Indo-Fijian businessmen, coups undermine investor confidence and the business climate.

By and large, the legality question is an outwardly pervasive one and provides the common ground on which the ensemble of anti-coup critics stand, at least in terms of their public utterances, although their private political motives could be somewhat different. It’s a morally strong ground to stand on, but the problem is that politically it does not allow for middle of the road engagement and compromise especially in this time of crisis when mutual dialogue and compromise is most needed. This is one of the reasons why we are still swirling around in a political vortex.

The pro-coup axis

The pro-coup axis could be represented as a series of concentric circles. The inner circle represents the Commodore and the military, the outer circle is the interim government, the circle outside that are the members of the NCBBF (many of these are independent with the aim of national unification) and outside that are the members of various civil groups and the general public who, for different reasons, are supportive of the coup.

As mentioned earlier, ethnic support is divided. The indigenous Fijian supporters of the coup are diverse in their justification. Some “moderate” Fijians see the coup as a vehicle to de-ethnicise the political discourse in the country as well as “cleanse” the country of what they perceive as undesirable leaders. Some, disgruntled with the developmental record of the previous indigenous governments, see the interim administration as a chance to fast track the development process by any means, legal or extra-legal.

The Indo-Fijian supporters of the coup do so for a number of personal reasons but by and large are united by the promise of political salvation and liberation from perceived indigenous Fijian threat of political exclusion and domination. To many Indo-Fijians (like other indigenous Fijians who suffered during the 1987 and 2000 coups), the 2006 coup was a reverse of 1987 and 2000 and provided just the perfect “sweet revenge.”    

Again, there is no single reason which makes people support the coup. Some are attracted by its initial promise of “clean up” and reform, some are lured by its anti-nationalist stance and some critics of the SDL Party see it as a good political omen. Some extreme indigenous nationalists even supported the coup because they were not happy with how the SDL maneuvered to destroy the nationalist Matanitu Vanua Party during the pre-2006 election merger. 

Some have resigned themselves into believing that they must support anyone in power, as long as the services continue and as long as order prevails. Some even think that opposition to the coup could lead to instability thus the best thing to do is to support the regime and hopefully, as in past coups, things will sort itself out.    

The Chaudhry factor and de-ethnicization

The Chaudrhy factor has complicated the situation and has blurred the fault lines even more. Chaudhry’s departure from the regime has reconfigured the fault lines in a significant way. Firstly he has taken with him his Indo-Fijian supporters who provided one of the initial justifications for the coup. Secondly, he has considerably weakened Bainimarama’s political fortress and at the same time strengthened the resolve of the anti-coup opponents, many of whom have never liked Chaudrhy anyway.

History has shown (as the Tupeni Babas, Kenneth Zinks, Atu Baines and Krishna Dutts have learnt) that whoever steps on Chaudrhy’s toes would eventually lose his or her own toes through Chaudhry’s sharp, vengeful and Machiavellian politiking. He’s an unrivalled master tactician in strategic maneuvers. Bainimarama has stepped on Chaudrhy’s toes, perhaps unsuspectingly, and now the Commodore needs to guard his own toes from now on.  

At the time of Chaudhry’s exit I predicted through the media that he was going to get back at the Commodore and even possibly link up with the anti-coup bloc.  Although there is no formal alliance yet and there doe not need to be one, the similarity in the political tunes of the two sworn political enemies, Chaudhry and Qarase,  is slowly taking shape and an informal linkage of views is in the process of formation. The fact that these old adversaries now have a “common enemy” in the form of the Commodore is a significant twist in the quickly unfolding political episode. 

Ironically, this has de-ethnicized the political scene in a significant way. The ethnic fault line which we have struggled over the years to eradicate is somewhat withering away as a result of an unintended political twist. This has reconfigured the cold war dynamics with Bainimarama on one side and Qarase and Chaudhry together on the other. But Bainimarama’s job will probably be made easier by the brigade of anti-Chaudhry troops in the form of the NFP and even Labour Party members revolting against their leader.           

For the first time in this country, since independence, the political fault lines no longer take an explicitly ethnic character.  Have we now achieved what we wanted to achieve all this time? 

The future hope?

Now that the ethnic fault line seems to be disappearing, half the job is already done. We can then take this as point of departure to converge into a new political consensus. As newfound accidental political twins, now Qarase and Chaudhry have a real chance to engage in their own dialogue to sort out their differences.  The NFP can now be roped in to complete the multi-ethnic political equation of peace.  They can then approach the interim government for further dialogue and as a multi-ethnic group, they will no doubt appeal to Bainimarama’s sense of multi-culturalism.

This process can take place informally at first and then transferred to the proposed political forum later for further engagement. Other stakeholders can then join in at this point and the process will then take its own course and dynamics, hopefully towards an achievable peaceful solution.  So nobody wins and nobody loses, in fact everyone wins. 

It’s possible to turn a situation of conflict into peace, of disagreement into consensus, of division into accommodation, of vengeance into humility. Let’s, as they say, turn swords into ploughshares.          

Dr Steven Ratuva is a political sociologist at USP and these views are is own and do not represent those of the institution. 
                            

Fiji’s Leadership Problem

The Greek dramatist Euripides (480 – 406 BC) was reputed to have befuddled his contemporaries with a request that he be buried face down upon his death. He anticipated that the world would, in a little while, turn upside down hence making him face the right way up again. As history would have it, the world did undergo this transformation beginning with the period that became known as the Renaissance. One of the more salient aspects of this epoch was how it changed conventional ways of knowing and thinking to one that was more in sync with the times.

It is my view that what we are faced with in Fiji today is not far off from what confronted the ancient Greek. We are indeed on the frontier of a new world; a world that has been looming large over our collective horizon since Independence. A world whose definitive features suggest, at the very least, that nothing short of a collective resolve will suffice to meet the new set of challenges that awaits us and which can no longer be held at bay.

 Yet despite all the political rhetoric towards this end, the leaders of this country are carrying on as if these were still the heydays of pax Britannica. The style of leadership that they bring onto the national arena is reminiscent of the ‘divide and rule’ that was predominantly used in colonial Fiji. One could even dare say that the impetus behind ‘divide and rule’ then is the same one that informs the leadership pattern that currently is in vogue with our leaders; that is the retention of power, through the deployment of exclusionary tactics, in the hands of the elite be they colonial administrators, planters, political/church leaders or chiefs. The politics of exclusion that has become the contemporary hallmark of our political affairs, at best, suggest a disturbing degree of ignorance, on the part of our leaders, to the ways our society has changed over the years. At worst, it reeks of malicious designs.

The latest episode between the supporters of the Interim Regime and those who are against it yet again highlights the lack of visionary leadership that is needed in these critical times.
On Wednesday the 27th of August, three prominent chiefs representing the three confederacies in Fiji presented a Tabua to the Methodist Church to show their support of the stance adopted by the church against the Interim Regime sponsored Charter. The main point of contention that both parties agreed on revolved around the Charter being an illegal document spawned by an illegitimate administration. If it was only limited to the question surrounding the legality or otherwise of the document and its sponsor, then one would happily come to the conclusion that our leaders, infamous for actively supporting the coups of 1987 and 2000, are finally on the road that leads to their Damascus. Indeed they raised important points pertaining to Fijian institutions that should be taken seriously if only to allay the fears of ordinary men and women in Fijian society. But the story does not stop there.

In their joint submission, they lamented the fact that the interim regime seems bent on weakening Fijian Institutions; that is, the establishment that perpetuates their chiefly influence all over the ‘Vanua o Viti’. They also pointed to the word ‘Fijian’ as a signifier for all that is sacred within the i taukei population. Honourable as their intentions may be, a rudimentary understanding of the contingent nature of the relationship between a ‘signifier’ and its ‘signified’ in the construction of meanings would have shown that to vehemently argue for the word ‘Fijian’, as if the identification of the entire indigenous population hinges on it, can be ill advised to say the least.

Their insistence that the English word ‘Fijian’ be reserved for the i taukei also suggests that these chiefs, contrary to their acknowledged status as chiefs of Fiji (a status they purportedly wanted to preserve, amongst other things, as could be evinced from their lamenting of the demise of Fijian institutions) have never moved away from their parochial preoccupations to embrace the plurality of our contemporary realities.

The term ‘Fijian’ which is at the centre of this never-ending controversy seems to me, by its usage, to be primarily an economic category. Like all categories it conceals as much as it illuminates. For instance it highlights the fact that all who belong to that category are resource owners but suppresses the issue of the growing disparity that divides Fijians economically. It clarifies the fact that Fijians on the whole rent out their land but hides the social exchanges that take place between lessor and lessee as a result of this contract. The list goes on. In fact groupings such as ‘Fijian’ or ‘Indo-Fijian’ work, as a rule of the thumb, on a categorical principle that suppresses differences within as well as commonalities between the communities concerned. It has been our unfortunate fate to use the categories delineated above as the basis from which to spawn an insidious form of politics that over time has filtered down to all levels of society. The fragmentation that we see today is the result of our own handiwork. All is not lost however. Indeed we can reverse this categorical principle in order to open up avenues for mediating between the groupings. Reversing this principle is not a new idea nor is it without precedent.

Jai Ram Reddy’s watershed speech to the GCC a decade ago readily comes to mind. The defining moment of that speech was when Reddy, the first Indo-Fijian to enter the hallowed halls of the GCC in more than a century of its existence, asserted that the council is not only for the Fijians but for Fiji. In other words its members are not merely chiefs of the Fijian people but of everyone else who has made Fiji their home.
That moment, so pregnant with historical significance remained a pipe dream for two predominant reasons. The first was because Fijian chiefs were not ready to extend the boundaries of their respective Vanua to include Indo-Fijians and other communities, while the second has to do with Indo-Fijians, long kept by their political leaders on a staple fare of fear and suspicion, placing their trust on bent narratives that basically reaffirmed their deepest anxieties in Fiji. This is to say that leaders on both sides of the ethnic divide are equally to be blamed.

The historical moment that was trumpeted by Reddy was not, by any stretch of the imagination, our only opportunity to unite.

The days of the Big Four, Ratu Mara, Ratu George, Ratu Edward and Ratu Penaia may have long gone but the lessons from that period are as pertinent now as they were then. Each was a colossus in every sense of the word, their mana reaching out to every man, woman and child irrespective of ethnicity or creed. They with their Indo-Fijian counterparts such as AD Patel and Siddiq Koya were able to forge a vision, of a unified Fiji, where everyone had a comfortable place in. Their struggle was basically to craft a vision that was to be a basis for a country where everyone would have the same entitlement to dignity, justice and, one would add, compassion. Fiji was really to be the way the world should be. Granted that this earlier attempt was not a perfect one, the seed of a plural society was nevertheless sown. The retention and harnessing of this vision that would allow succeeding generations of leaders to carry on with the important task of unifying the people of this country into a nation became an ideal worthy to strive for. Judging by what transpired last week during the Methodist Conference, our current crop of political, religious and traditional leaders have yet to learn this basic lesson.

On this count, it is hard to imagine these three high chiefs as belonging to the same anti-regime leadership provided by the likes of Ratu Joni Madraiwiwi, Shamima Ali, Tupou Draunidalo and Wadan Narsey to name a few. They are strange bedfellows, politically speaking. To know the differences between their political agenda is to understand why a lot more is needed than a simple return to the 1997 constitution with or without a charter. This is if we are to exorcise our ghosts from the past once and for all.
Fiji’s future has never been realised because we have allowed the past to overwhelm us time and again. What we need are visionary leaders who can forge a new dream from the ashes of the old one when faced with a set of unique conditions; leaders who are prepared to redraw the boundaries of their domain if the future of their society warrants it. As long as we have leaders who behave like ostriches when confronted by the unknown, our quest for democracy is doomed even before we start.

Tui Rakuita
Lecturer – School of Social Sciences
University of the South Pacific

This thing called ‘Hope’

A perusal of the dailies in Fiji throws up two major aspects of our attempt to refashion our society. On one hand we have the NCBBF and its charter whose stated objective is to ‘guide’ the process of governance within the state in a positive way in the hopefully not too distant future. On the other we have ‘market advocates’ who thinks that the priority of this transformation has to begin from the generation of economic building blocks. If we were to equate our endeavour in terms of a building that is to be constructed, then there is no doubt that both the Interim Government sponsored NCBBF and the Market advocates would imagine themselves to be the ‘foundation’ of this national edifice.

There is a third component that is missing from the equation above. It consists of families (children-parents), schools (students-teachers), churches (parish members-priests) and the community at large (community members – leaders/chiefs). The roles that these groups bring to the process of nation building are often not clearly articulated in the clamour for recognition from the advocates of both state and market driven reforms. It has always been tacitly assumed that they (families, schools, churches etc) supplement the roles of the other two. In other words, they play an important but nevertheless a secondary role in nation building. In light of our recent historical past, this may be the opportune time to reassess this conventional order of things.

If the state is generally understood to be the locus of the exercise of legitimate power or authority and the market to be the realm of the production and distribution of goods and services, then this third sector that I am referring to is where social values are engendered. If coordination/cooperation in the first two is grounded in contractual arrangements that are legally enforceable, what takes place in this third sector is usually driven by a trust internally generated between the leaders and the led. This third way may seem like an archaic arrangement given the times that we are living in, but is it really?

If, to paraphrase a renown political philosopher, the state stands for the production and the distribution of  power and the market is in the business for producing and distributing wealth, then the third sphere we have been discussing is there to produce and distribute hope. In other words, if power and wealth are said to be the ‘building blocks’ of society than hope would be the ‘nuts and bolts’ or if you like the ‘glue’ that will prevent the whole edifice from crumbling. This last variable has been theorised in terms of empowerment, solidarity, civil society and social capital. Central to these units of analyses is an examination of the relationships that inheres between individuals and with their respective societies.   The gist behind such arguments is that no society is possible without the coalescing of individual aspirations into a shared hope for ‘the good life’. The specific character of this ‘good life’ can take many forms and ultimately depends on our normative horizons.

The hope that plays so vital a part in making all these grand visions possible are created, nurtured and distributed to individuals in families, schools, churches and communities via a process of socialisation. This is why the roles that parents, teachers, priests and community leaders play are so important to the nation. It also explains why there is much repulsion in society when there has been ‘an abuse of office’ concerning these positions. Consequently these abuses are always depicted as a ‘betrayal of trust’ with a concomitant loss of hope in the general population.

There can be no lasting relationship if there is no hope that is grounded in trust. In such a situation, there is a loss of respect for each other; friends become strangers, competitors become entangled in a ‘war of retribution’ with hope metamorphosing into an endless cycle of scepticism. That was what I was alluding to in an earlier article when I referred to a scenario where hope despairs hence losing its sting. This ultimately is why it takes longer for a country to rebound when hope and trust within a people are in tatters than say ‘contractual setbacks’ as a result of abuse in spheres governed by state and market dynamics. In democracies built on a capitalist framework like ours, hope is partially kept alive in notions such as social justice and parity.

In light of this, the question needs to be asked: where are the people entrusted with the production and distribution of our hope? Have they been silenced? Have their messages lost their currency in the face of modern fads and the pressures for a ‘quick fix’ solution? Are they complicit in the tragedy that has befallen our nation?

These are some of the questions that struck me as I look around and see the desperation on the face of our youths, the misery in the face of our parents and the loss of faith that governs relations between people; strangers and friends alike. The same questions come to fore in the face of an overwhelming reliance on the State to produce solutions to every problem that we have, as if the state is equipped to come up with a wonder drug that will serve as an elixir to all our problems. That kind of role is normally reserved for magicians if not lawyers. In the days of old, it used to be the alchemists that ruled this kind of stage-managed perceptions.

Contemporary problems, be they personal, communal or national cannot be allayed simply via assurances of a better electoral system, more investments and good governance although they do contribute in no insignificant measure towards it. These assurances are to be accompanied by a message that all is not in vain. This message is to be taught in the homes and schools, preached from the pulpits and reaffirmed in communal settings. In order for the messages to be effective, the institutions of the family, education, religion and tradition must be strengthened and not undermined.

In light of a culture of ‘normlessness’ that we see manifest in our nation, the question of hope ‘losing its sting’ is a real one and points to a bizarre form of complicity between this culture and those in whom we have placed our trust.

Tui Rakuita

HEALING AND RECONSTRUCTING SOCIAL MEMORY FOR THE SAKE OF FIJI’S FUTURE GENERATIONS

A talk given at the Pacific Theological College, Suva organized by ECREA in conjunction  with the PTC, DTC and St John’s Theological College
by Suliana Siwatibau
30 July 2008

“In resisting the miniaturization of human beings, —–we can also open up the possibility of a world that can overcome the memory of its troubled past and subdue the insecurities of its difficult present.”  (Sen. p. 185).

This quote from Amartya Sen reminds us of the marvelous complexity of the human mind.  At any given stage of life and at any given time and location it encompasses diverse interests and identities. It is like looking through a kaleidoscope of ever changing colours and patterns. However, our brain also likes to categorize multifaceted human individuals into simplified categories based on what we call ethnicity or religion or culture. Society supports this simplification and repetitious use of these categories for political or other reasons results in the entrenched belief that they exist as an external reality rather than convenient mental concepts. This process of simplification of our infinite diversity; which Sen calls miniaturization, becomes entrenched in our social memories and often leads to tragic actions of violence against each other.

The assumption that we each have a single dominant group identity and then to have it forced on a group of free individuals, as our ‘race’-based political system does, makes each of us less than human. It is dehumanizing. It assumes in its simplest form that within each racial group we are duplicates of each other and can  be manipulated by values imposed on us by the elites of each group.   

It is my understanding that this series of talks organized by ECREA and its partners was conceived as a response to widespread concern over the dominant emphasis on our ‘racial” identity for our sense of belongingness. This, according to Vijay Naidu – has “become our national past time. —- We have inherited electoral systems and politico-administrative arrangements that are based on dividing us racially”.

‘Race’ refers to a visual response to physical characteristics and then  grouping people by similarities like dark or light skin, curly or straight hair, tall or short, etc.  Our brain can react quickly to visual stimuli so this can be an easy way to categorize.  Ethnicity refers to a group that shares values and behaviours as well as history – that is, a shared culture.   Ethnicity is more invisible than ‘race’ and is based on culture, not physical characteristics. However, the ‘race card’ is more emotive  in power politics.

All humans make the assumption that the group of people we were born into and call our ethnic group is superior to other groups – or has more rights than other groups – or can be trusted to care for us more than other groups.  This assumption leads to a sickness of perception that we need to heal. Thus, far from being restricted to Fiji, this sickness is worldwide. But let us begin at home.
 
I was asked to talk on “healing and reconstructing social memory for the sake of Fiji’s future generations.” Earlier talks included a discussion of the research findings of Rakuita that imply deep seated perceptions that divide our society into groups based on “race” or ethnicity and on religion. Exploited by power seekers, these perceptions have become associated with negative values and destructive emotions that now underlie our stances across increasingly separated ethnic and religious divides. Like a dormant carbuncle, a negative perception can foment hostility and erupt into indiscriminate violence against innocent individuals and their properties because of identification with a target group.

To understand how our perceptions of reality are developed and our societies develop shared values, I read the work of some social scientists.  According to a science historian Anne Harrington of Harvard University, “the more deeply our sciences have probed reality, the less relevant concepts like compassion become.”  On the other hand she noted that “when one employs Buddhist methods of exploring reality, one apparently arrives at a very different reality”. In the Buddhist analysis of reality she explained that “compassion is basic, serves as a dominant framework for the dramas of life, and in which beings are all connected and not in struggle” (in Goleman 2003). As a follower of Jesus the Christ whose life was the very personification of compassion and as a Christian seeking harmony in our society I became interested in the Buddhist analysis.

Buddhists conceptualize negative emotions like ‘jealousy’ and ‘anger’ for example as ‘emotional afflictions’. These, like illnesses, can be diagnosed and healed through careful treatment. Emotional afflictions are a kind of ‘mental affliction’ manifest as emotions. Buddhist analysis also recognizes a second set of mental afflictions that are not displayed as emotions and are classified as ‘afflictive intelligence’. These have to do with theories or concepts that we hold along with their assumptions and expectations. I think that to heal our social memory we need to address both types of afflictions – not only the destructive emotions we store as individuals but also the theories, concepts, and assumptions that we hold about our society and relationships within that society. These afflictions are inter-related and re-enforce each other.    

Thus in this talk I would like to focus on the sickness in our social memory that needs to be healed..
Individuals in our society build up their own memories through perceptions that translate into learning and get stored as memory. This individual learning and memory is not constructed solely by the person since the environment over a lifetime contributes to it. His/her environment includes family, religion, schooling etc. Therefore, depending on the dominant forces in the individual’s environment the memory will include much that is shared with other people s/he interacts with. This shared memory is the group’s memory and can reflect the family – or the village – or the church – or the ethnic group the person is labeled with. Social memory thus includes all these different components that a society shares. However, even when the memory is shared the perception of that memory and the emotions that accompany it will vary from person to person. This is logical given that each person is unique and the combination of environmental factors and experiences are unique to him or her.

For example, many of us share the memory of the 1987 coup that might include the shared perception that it was staged to preserve national leadership in the hands of indigenous Fijians. However, within our ethnic groupings and even our families, the values and emotions associated with that coup differ widely. Some ethnic Fijians I know were angry at the perpetrators of the coup while others appreciated the action. These two main emotional reactions of anger on the one hand and appreciation on the other, divided families, villages, members of the same ethnic groups and the nation.  

Coup supporters identified with a sense of insecurity in the indigenous Fijians and gave this as the rationale for violence. Some carry this sense of insecurity in their memory to this day and, manifest it as a fear of domination by Indo-Fijians. Though individual ethnic Fijians may have empathized with the individual Indo-Fijian families and women and children who were direct victims of the coup; that empathy was not carried across to their perception of the Indo-Fijian group as a whole.

The hurt that we need to heal in Fiji has to do with deep seated negative perceptions and assumptions that we hold individually about ethnic groups, gender groups, social status groups and religious groups. Such perceptions comprise the sickness in our social memory. Interestingly, the groups of individuals who hold each negative perception or hurt memory in common do not coincide with the groups we have created around race, ethnicity, or religion. Even though the majority of those hurt by the coups of 1987 and 2000 were Indo-Fijians, many indigenous Fijians, Chinese and other ethnic minorities were also deeply hurt. To restrict the focus on one ethnic or religious group is to be unjust to the others.

Our Fiji sickness is amplified by powerful forces in our society such as the government information gathering system, the media, politicians, and community leaders who find it easy to describe and analyze our society in categories of race/ethnicity and religion that they treat as if they are concrete and unchangeable categories. ‘Race’ because it is believed that it is demarcated by a biologically based boundary – which it is not. Religion because the teachings of the different holy books are believed to be sacrosanct and unchangeable in their application- which they are not as evidenced by the multitude of interpretations that have given rise to well known divisions within each major faith.          

This human tendency to divide society into exclusive groups of ‘us’ who have this history and live this way and ‘them’ who have a different history and do things  another way is a worldwide phenomenon that all peace loving people struggle to address. No society is exempt though the dividing marker might be different with race and ethnicity visible in the USA, class differences in the UK, and the noble/commoner divide in Tonga.

An additional complication here in Fiji is the different perceptions of the rights of Fijians as indigenous peoples. The Reeves Commission noted in its report the common perception of Fijians in equating land ownership with ownership of the nation. (Reeves et al 1996).  Even today – 12 years later, I am told that some indigenous Fijians equate citizenship with membership of the Vola ni Kawa Bula or VKB (Yabaki –pers.com.). For most indigenous Fijians, non-indigenous people are guests – vulagi- who will be treated kindly but who have no right to make decisions for the running of the hosts’ home, the nation. This assumption that indigenousness is tied to national citizenship – or exclusion from equal citizenship – is powerfully reinforced and exploited by ‘racially’ based politics.  

When perceptions and assumptions are re-enforced by actions and pronouncements both by others and ourselves they become more deeply imprinted in our memories which -with repetitions through time and across sectors of our society- move into our subconscious as unconscious pictures of reality. We therefore create our reality. At the same time, we have the choice and the capability to create new realities that reflect our situation more closely and can contribute to our healing.

Social perceptions and social memories, in my understanding, are the sums of the different individual perceptions and memories of members of a society as a whole and not bounded by any grouping within that society.

To discuss social memory as if the different aspects coincide with specific ethnic groups or religious groups is to increase the affliction and confuse the diagnosis. I believe this is ‘afflictive intelligence’ in the Buddhist sense. To heal this:
• We need to stop talking of ethnic groups as if all those in that category were identical clones. They are not. Notice the wide differences between members of any of our ethnic groups.
• We need to stop talking of culture as if it were  associated only with a specific ethnic group. It is not. We need to recognize that in our society each individual is multicultural.  Fiji is a wonderful example of how we have added many cultural elements to our family culture as we love to eat and some of us cook dishes from each other’s ethnic group.  We also enjoy music, art, sports, literature etc across ethnic groups.   In addition, we have many citizens who belong to multiple ethnic groups via culturally mixed families.  Sadly, these are labeled as ‘others’ in our national categories.
• We need to recognize that culture itself is dynamic and evolving and not something locked in time and space.  Everyday we each recreate our culture as we practice it anew and change it with changing contexts and cross fertilization from others.
• We need to accept that each of us is a conglomerate of different interests, perceptions and practices that defy labeling or stereotyping.

Therefore to heal social memory is to heal the individuals’ emotional afflictions and to revise our misleading theories about our multicultural society. This needs to be accompanied by a reconceptualisation of language and labels that we use to describe ourselves both officially and unofficially as a society. That is – we need to heal our afflicted intelligence, including our assumptions of our reality. To continue to discuss the Fiji situation in terms of ethnic and religious divisions and emphasize cultural conformities within those divisions is to exacerbate the illness.  

Memory is a necessary component of our social body that we use to lubricate our social relationships. Its state can be an indicator of our society’s health. When that social memory is largely negative it gives rise to social disorganization and disturbed equilibrium evidenced by increases in violent crimes, rapes, child abuse and mental illness. Accompanied by widespread poverty, a society becomes fertile ground for power hounds whose hunger for individual power removes all sense of compassion for the vulnerable members of society. We must work never to let that become Fiji’s future.

To heal social memory and reconstruct it is to address the individual’s perceptions and assumptions. Perceptions can be destructive or constructive depending on the values associated with them and the emotions they elicit. This gives us hope. If emotional afflictions and negative values were to be replaced by positive emotions and values then there exists the real possibility that destructive perceptions can be transformed to constructive ones.

Let me illustrate with an example. Many indigenous Fijians are of the perception that Indo-Fijians are successful in life and business because they work hard and take life seriously. Some appreciate hard work as a positive value and therefore send their children to Indo-Fijian schools and encourage them to mix with Indo-Fijian children. This illustrates a perception associated with a positive value leading to a constructive action. Others however have a similar perception but associate hard work with greed for wealth and become envious of the associated success so they will not send their children to Indo-Fijian schools. This perception is associated with negative value and negative emotion and has the potential to entrench negative memories.

Both scenarios represent a similar process of categorization that leads to different actions. A positive perception is the first step towards acceptance of others as humans, that is, just like us. This means that we must also accept their, and our, weaknesses. We could then be able to dismantle the boundaries in our minds and perceive members of all ethnic groups as a single sea of humanity with characteristics shared across the whole.    

When we de-emphasise our ethnic categories and accept them as something artificially constructed, we are better able to perceive our common humanity as paramount. This is the beginning of healing. It begins in the minds and memories of individuals. A study of USA soldiers who fought in the Korean War showed that almost half of them never fired their weapons during combat. Once they came closely face to face with the enemy, they recognized what they were about to do and were incapable of doing it. They identified with the “enemy” as fellow humans. They remembered their humanity.

I believe for us that this kind of recognition has to be the beginning of healing. The recognition of the humanity of those wronged or those who inflicted the wrong has to begin in the minds of individuals in our society. Our common humanity within a multiethnic society, rather than our ethnicity, needs to become our primary identifying criteria as citizens of Fiji.  To bring about this change in perception will not be easy. We need to begin it by building a foundation for peaceful co-existence for Fiji’s richly diverse people.     
 
We as concerned citizens of this country can do much to heal and reconstruct our social memory. We can begin the process through our religious bodies, our civil society organizations, our school system, and our families.

As part of this series Professor Satendra Nandan earlier gave a talk on “The Role of Religion in the formation of citizens in a multi-cultural society” and issued a challenge for us all. I quote:
“The time has come for us to challenge parochialism, resist fundamentalism, demolish walls of exclusion, practices that diminish our people’s humanity for a fistful of dollars, or someone’s petty ambition. If we can do this in Fiji we can be blessed: more importantly we will learn to bless one another. Interfaith communication can lead to lasting friendships and deepening of our Faiths.”  (Nandan June 2008)

Religious Bodies:
The challenge to religious bodies I think is to re-examine the deep assumptions and perceptions within each body’s teaching and identify the underlying values in the process. This self examination may be difficult as “taken-for-granted assumptions are so powerful because they are less debatable and confrontable than espoused values.” (Schein 1985). Institutional self analysis for Christians could begin with the Theological Colleges leading the denomination in each case. Self analysis may then be followed by dialogue with groups of other churches and faiths. Such dialogues could include public discussions on specific topics facilitated through TV and/or radio. These discussions and dialogues, if deep and sincere, could lead to new perceptions and values resulting in a greater understanding and appreciation of our common humanity.  The transformative exchanges at this level address the healing and reconstruction of what may be equated with ‘afflictive intelligence’ – our perceptions and theories of reality impacting our world views.         

Civil Society Organizations (CSOs).
Civil society organizations have the potential to generate a tremendous impact given the will and resources. Many of them are in touch with people in their everyday situations. The CSOs who directly serve people and communities have potential to facilitate face to-face-meetings to promote greater understanding and empathy between members of different ethnic groups. Some years ago FCOSS organized a large national meeting of over 300 women in a village in Nadroga.  For the Indo-Fijian women in the gathering it was a new learning experience to share the home of Fijian villagers. The experience for them was unforgettable and transformed their perception of indigenous Fijians.
 
CSOs can deliberately encourage cross-cultural and interethnic as well as interfaith meetings through several means:
• They can ensure their membership is inclusive of our different communities. This will require not only that they actively seek out members from other groups but that their services and their practice do not discriminate against anyone. Discrimination can be subtle and drive away those who feel excluded because of insensitive treatment. For example, I often find gatherings with multi-cultural and multi-faith participants opening and closing solely with Christian prayers. While this may be acceptable when the gathering is a Christian one, it is not when it is a secular gathering.

• In practice and in many public discussions the two major ethnic groups tend to dominate. This practice reinforces an either/or perception of identity by contrasting only two ethnic groups with the possibility that perceptions evolve into winner/loser assumptions about the relative position of these two groups.  This practice also ignores members of minority groups and those of mixed ethnicity in many public discourses and aptly illustrates the weakness of our theory of reality. The two major ethnic groups must be sensitive and inclusive of everyone in Fiji. 

• CSOs can facilitate activities to bring about attitudinal changes that transform destructive perceptions into constructive ones. Organizing the sharing of homes through village stays or holiday exchanges of students in rural and urban homes can bring about much understanding and empathy. We do not share enough of our ceremonies and celebrations such as weddings or birthdays.  

• CSOs can organize workshops to raise awareness, share deeply and meet meaningfully. ECREA’s Peace Programme used to hold some effective workshops throughout the country.  These enabled people to come together and shed their burdens of hurt and confusion in a personal healing process. This can be repeated by many more CSOs.

• CSOs as well as religious bodies can help parents deal with changing values and perceptions through programmes to strengthen family units and support parents and their children. This may be directed through educational materials for parent-teacher associations for example.    

Schools and Families
While CSOs can work to facilitate healing of our social memory, it is in families and schools that the primary efforts of its reconstruction will take place. Here we have to put new emphasis on the cultivation of the values of empathy, compassion, loving-kindness and humility to replace the negative emotions of discrimination, hate, anger and superiority associated with our hurt social memory.

• Cultivation of positive emotions can be developed through parental encouragement. Many of us here no doubt have witnessed how babies and little children cry when they see others cry or hurt. Research results indicate that empathy is an emotion we are born with. This and other positive emotions can be further developed or thwarted through the interaction of the parents with the baby. Empathy develops in late childhood to identification with the plights of groups such as the poor and the oppressed. Empathy often leads to moral action for others (Goleman 1996 p 105).  

• Positive emotions can also be developed in schools along with academic and other skills of children. The complement of positive emotions that enhance interpersonal relations has been called emotional intelligence. It has become recognized by many educators as something that needs to be included in the learning programme of children.   

• For the home and schools we must revise our underlying assumptions of the reality of our multi-cultural society. No longer should we talk of ethnic or cultural or religious groups as though they are tangible divisible realities. They are not. We must develop our understanding of fellow Fiji citizens as first and foremost – fellow humans with whom we therefore closely identify.

• Friendship circles can be expanded in families and school activities can become more multicultural.   Schools can celebrate many ethnic events and families can include ‘different others’ in their celebrations.
     
The task of healing and restructuring our social memory is not easy but it must be done. The stakes are high. Our inheritance has been a beautiful and blessed country. Let us ensure that we bequeath to future generations the same harmonious Fiji we inherited – devoid of negative memories.

Thank you for your attention.

Gratitude
I am grateful to Mrs Barbara Pirie for the useful comments and editing made on this paper to greatly improve its clarity and thank Sr Vitolia for her supportive comments.  
  
I acknowledge the following useful references:
Baumann Gerd “The Multicultural Riddle – Rethinking National, Ethnic and Religious Identities” Routledge 1999
Goleman, Daniel “Emotional Intelligence Why it can matter more than IQ” Bloomsbury 1996
Goleman, Daniel “Destructive Emotions A Dialogue with the Dalai Lama” Bloomsbury 2003.
Katonivere, Ratu Aisea “Opening Address:  Seminar on Sustained dialogue on Identity and Belongingness in Fiji” ECREA Seminar in Labasa, 2007.
Naidu, Prof Vijay “Multi-dimensional ways of thinking about identity and belongingness in Fiji”. Paper for ECREA Seminar on Sustained dialogue on Identity and Belongingness in Fiji” Labasa, 2007.
Nandan, Prof Satendra “The Role of Religion in the formation of citizens in a multicultural society: Identity and belongingness in Fiji” Presented at the Public Forum at the Pacific Theological College, 18th June, 2008.  
Qalo, Ratu Ropate, “Na Mataveiwekani – Hum Lon ke Palwaar” Paper presented at the ECREA Seminar on Sustained dialogue on Identity and Belongingness in Fiji” Labasa, 2007
Rakuita, Ratu Tui “Living by Bread Alone: Contemporary Challenges Associated with Identity and Belongingness in Fiji” ECREA publication 2007 
Reeves, Sir Paul; Tomasi Rayalu Vakatora and Brij Vilash Lal “The Fiji Islands; Towards a United Future – Report of the Fiji Constitution Review Commission” 1996
Schein 1985 as quoted in Collins, Clare and Chippendale, Paul “New Wisdom II Values Based Development” Acorn Publications 1995.
Sen, Amartya “Identity and Violence The Illusion of Destiny” Allen Lane 2006

The relevance of autocratic leadership

There has been a lot of discussion and debate over the reformation of the GCC and other Fijian institutions. Most recently one politician has come out strongly criticizing the dismantling of Fijian institutions by the military. This reference to a military backed regime pushing through changes to these institutions is a serious matter if only because there is widespread agreement that it is not the military’s role to undertake such social engineering of any kind.

However, the past months have provided us with a good starting point for what is perhaps the most difficult discussion about democracy in Fiji and that is the autocratic use of traditional power within a democracy through these Fijian institutions that is arguably the greatest obstacle to democracy and which has until now gone largely undisputed.

Recently, Chiefs and Provincial representatives from a number of Provinces disallowed NCBBF information teams into their Province to speak to their people about the proposed People’s Charter or the proposed revision to the Great Council of Chiefs saying that they speak on behalf of their people about these matters. Even more recently is the example of the Lauan Provincial meeting where members were barred from attending by a senior military officer who is also a chief of that Province.

Autocratic use of traditional power by the Provincial chiefs has been accepted as part and parcel of Fiji’s democracy almost without challenge or discussion despite the fact that its use has primarily served to maintain the status quo – a status quo that has little to do with improving the situation of indigenous Fijians let alone the rest of the nation.

In attempting to work for the empowerment of the poor and marginalized, we need to acknowledge the structural injustice that has allowed the autocratic use of traditional power to limit the progress of Fiji toward a democracy. We need to raise questions around the capacity of our traditional leaders to lead – their motives, struggles and perhaps even their relevance.

To do this is not easy and is sure to upset a good many people, especially those who occupy positions of traditional leadership and power in this country. This is because the issue at hand is as much about the myriad of complexities that is the beauty of the indigenous Fijian culture, and its engagement with the globalized world, as it is about understanding power.

Yet we need to be asking these difficult questions for the simple reason that in Fiji our acceptance of this autocratic use of traditional power has created a nation where spaces for dialogue and sharing are stunted by the ruling elites who have learnt how to manipulate the structure and its values to suit their own agendas.

There is a need for us to recognize that an ideal such as the traditional structure, chiefly system or the ‘tutuvakavanua’ is above reproach, having evolved for the common good. Similarly the ideal of democracy is intended for the common good and in this ideal form is also beyond reproach. But, because of the humanness that we bring with us to these systems of governance, it is important to respect the ideal while continuously examining the reality as well as the relevance of historical ideals to a contemporary context.

It seems that while our traditional leaders appear to promote democracy they continue to demonstrate their ambivalence toward these ideals by using their position to exert influence over what has traditionally been termed ‘their’ people. In fact this tone of proprietorship from chiefs over the people is perhaps the aspect of the system on which other elements are grounded. This proprietary relationship is at its highest where it is accepted also by the people themselves, creating a culture of obedience and paternalism.

We observe this within some ‘vanua’ during election campaigning, where ‘vanua’ committees set up by certain political parties go through the Province informing the people who to vote for. In these places questions are not allowed and people are reminded of their place. The high chief of that particular area may also be present underscoring the need to respect cultural decorum.

More recently, a campaign has been started by the SDL party. The proposed Qoliqoli and Lands Claim Tribunal Bills are back on the table despite receiving wide-spread opposition from local NGO’s and various ethnic groups when first introduced. This political party has chosen to remind the public of these bills and frame them as issues of indigenous rights in an effort to gain the support of the indigenous community and its traditional leaders. This same party also announced the endorsement of the party by their paramount chiefs. While this endorsement of itself is not sinister, in Fiji this endorsement can tacitly be taken as pledging the support of the entire ‘vanua’ of the two paramount chiefs, especially if that ‘vanua’ is not actively encouraged by their esteemed leaders to make their own choices.

To be sure Fiji and Fijians have been undergoing a period of intense transition for the past few decades but little change has been made to this autocratic traditional leadership style. There is wide spread acceptance among Fijians that their traditional leaders continue to fail them in the sense that their traditional leadership style has not been effective in assisting their own people in moving forward.

Historically there was time when autocratic decision-making power was a symbol of strength and unity in Fijian communities. The Chief exercised unquestioned authority, not for personal gain, but for the good of the people. Structures evolved and resources were used for the common good and there was a reciprocal overtone to this relationship. In the modern context, the most valuable resource communities have is the people themselves – their experiences and their commitment to building a stronger and healthier life. The autocratic use of traditional power by the Chiefs is not making use of the wisdom and insights within all the people and it is hurting the ‘vanua’ and Fiji.

This is not to suggest that traditional leaders are no longer relevant in the global context. The role and existence of traditional leaders is important to many Fijian people. Because of this, the onus is on these traditional leaders to shift from simply managing the ‘vanua’ for the purposes of maintaining the status quo that benefit only a few male leaders to leading communities in making positive changes that benefit a nation.

This will require of our traditional leaders a deep discerning and assessment of the way they use their positions in relation to people, not just Fijians but all the people. It may also mean recognizing that some Fijian institutions effectively oppress and stop people from trying to improve their own quality of life. It may mean being courageous enough to sense that perhaps a time for change in leadership style is needed. As traditional leaders the first step must be taken by them. 

Much of Fiji’s development, from the colonial era, has been based on the idea that the Fijians must be very slowly and gently be led into the modern world. The culture has been treated as fragile and static, rather than robust and creative. Perhaps the time has come for traditional leaders to take an active role in empowering the people by encouraging their involvement and input in their own development.

Let us encourage our Fijian leaders to find spaces for awakening, challenge, stimulation and dialogue amongst themselves. And let pray that our traditional Fijians leaders are mindful that Fiji has, since independence, been a multi-cultural and multi-religious state; the duty of leaders in such a nation is the welfare of all its people – without exception.

*Chantelle Khan is the Director of the Ecumenical Centre for Research, Education & Advocacy (ECREA).

Subverting a culture of passivity and indifference

There is currently a perception in Fiji of a ‘culture of passivity’ existing within the indigenous population. This belief has been perpetrated by members of both the indigenous and non-indigenous communities in the country. As a result the label has conferred onto the indigenous society a gloss of mystique that is often impenetrable to the ‘outsider’; a form of ‘community closure’. Recently, this so-called culture has been called into question in relation to how it has been misappropriated as a haven to deviant and criminal acts as well as facilitating a form of servility that is disempowering to its members.

I am of the view that the perceived passivity and indifference within the Indigenous population has less to do with the ‘culture of silence’ that has been so often been attributed to us, and more to do with a diminishing pool of cognitive resources that allows us to critically analyse and voice our opinions about our contemporary realities as well as our places in them. An immediate consequence of this is shown by how our members are increasingly desensitized to the injustices wrought against our normative horizons. In a society bereft of these resources, the usual knee-jerk response to any mode of action that offends our sensibilities is a form of consternation that belies the turmoil of confusion that reigns within.

The nature of the problem that gives rise to this feeling of powerlessness within the indigenous communities can be attributed to both systemic and group dynamics; the former as a reflection of the alienating or disempowering effects of being caught in a socio-psychological grid defined by both state power and the imperatives of the economy. One disrupts tradition (in a way pulling the mat from beneath our feet) and the other ushers in a dependent mentality. Both enforce a conservative variant of a formalism that at times sits uncomfortably with the need to break out of our cognitive straitjackets. This unrealized need or ‘repressed intuitions’ in turn becomes a basis of contradictory forms of behaviour. This I suppose would be applicable to any society faced with the same set of challenges.

The onus, in light of the above, is for us to expand our frames of thought to include other matrices that would allow us to critically assess our contemporary conditions. It is imperative that this excessive formalism, which is a form of bureaucratic encroachment on our capacity to reason reflexively, be brought under public scrutiny for the adverse effects it brings on our ability to grapple with issues affecting us. Indeed our current form of life presupposes the existence of ‘experts’ who, without our informed consent, specialize in aligning our lives with the requirements of the gigantic system spawned by the complicity of state and capitalism.

It is in the face of this daunting spectre that we must reclaim our social spaces; only then will we be able to talk about things which are intrinsic to us in a meaningful way. We do not need academics, lawyers and politicians to do this for us. There is no doubt that what they have to offer our society is of great importance, but even these professionals cannot know the vicissitudes of our daily lives. What they do offer is just a little more than an outline of certain guidelines within which we may engage fruitfully.

In light of these challenging times, a new kind of thinking is called for. If this new mode of reason cannot be easily generated due to the stultifying effect of our current socio-economic and political environment, then perhaps we should turn to our respective traditions for some seminal lessons in the rejuvenation of our ability to think and imagine in a different way.

Let me give an example. There is a form of humorous double talk termed “Va’agerua” that is practiced in the Natewan peninsula. This verbal parleying also doubles up as a subtle form of interrogation that usually is directed at dogmatic propositions on a subject of interest. It is done as a way to shift attention away from a central topic by simultaneously coming up with an exaggerated version sometimes bordering on a caricatured remake of the original postulation. Executed with finesse, ‘va’agerua’ becomes a sublime form of critique in the way it seeks to redress the apparent asymmetry in dogmatic assertions without any loss of face on either side. A secondary effect of this humorous jostling is that it often lights up a tense moment in a serious discussion. More importantly however, the listeners would go back home remembering both the substance of the discussion as well as a trace of its alterity, that is, of what could have been otherwise. We do have these forms of dialectics within our own different Vanua. I was informed by a close colleague that ‘Vosa Muri’ could be a parallel phenomenon in other parts of Fiji.

The demise of this form of dialectics in my region has given rise to an extreme form of cynicism that manifests itself in ‘vosa vaka vereverea’. That is to talk nonsensically without due regard to the linguistic as well as the social etiquette that govern such exchanges. This, I believe, is a symptom of both the confusion that stems from, and the defiance at, the realisation that spaces for meaningful interchanges are rapidly diminishing; to say nothing of the profound implications this new development has on the well-being of my Vanua.

We must revive the notion of ‘va’agerua’ in our own different Vanua, in the form that is peculiar to our respective places with the clear understanding that this will not result in the miraculous emergence of a blanket elixir to our current dilemmas. That would be wishful thinking. What we are seeking instead, with this renaissance, are the vestiges of a beginning that will culminate with our liberation from mental incarceration.

Let us think and talk about it.

Tui Rakuita
Lecturer – School of Social Sciences
University of the South Pacific

Power contest based on ethnic, political identification

ETHNIC and political identities are not identical, an academic said.

Despite this, the two have been molded into inseparable components of communal politics, Professor Steve Ratuva, of the University of the South Pacific, said.

Speaking at a public forum on identity and belongingness in Fiji, he said the contest for State power continued to be based on ethnic and political identification and consciousness.

“While there is a clamor for a political identity at the national level there is also demand for distinctive ethnic diversity.

“The search for political equilibrium in Fiji’s communal democracy has been constantly subverted by indigenous ethno-nationalism, justified by the ideology of paramountcy of Fijian interests,” Professor Ratuva said.

The 2000 coup brought to surface a lot of contradictions of communal democracy, he said.

“But the State system has not in itself changed despite the change in ideological and professional focus of the military from being an institution of indigenous rights to one which serves national interest,” Professor Ratuva said.

The 2006 coup was an attempt to transform the identity of the State in a fundamental way through institutional reform and a proposed charter, he said.

“How legitimate the approach is and how workable this will be is subject to debate,” Professor Ratuva said.

Source: Fiji Times Online http://www.fijitimes.com.fj/story.aspx?id=92655