The Pacific Way: A Memoir 9780824851118

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The Pacific Way

My wife and I attend a function at Travelodge, Suva, 1975.

The Eight Honourable

Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara CGMG, KBE, CF, KStJ, MSD

The Pacific Way A MEMOIR

CENTER

FOR

PACIFIC ISLANDS U N I V E R S I T Y OF

PACIFIC

STUDIES HAWAl'l

ISLANDS

DEVELOPMENT EAST-WEST

PROGRAM CENTER

U N I V E R S I T Y OF H A W A l ' l HONOLULU

PRESS

© 1997 University of Hawai'i Press All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America 97 98 99 00 01 02

5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Mara, Kamisese, Ratu Sir. The Pacific way : a memoir / Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara, p.

cm.

Includes index. ISBN 0-8248-1880-6. — ISBN 0-8248-1893-8 (pbk.) 1. 3.

Mara, Kamisese, Ratu Sir.

2.

Fiji—Politics and government.

Presidents—Fiji—Biography. I.

Pacific Islands Development

Program (East-West Center) DU600.M327

II.

Title.

1997

996.11—dc20 [B]

96-25815 CIP

Except where noted, all photographs are from the Fiji Ministry of Information. A Cartography by Manoa Mapworks, Inc, Honolulu University of Hawai'i Press books are printed on acid-free paper and meet the guidelines for permanence and durability of the Council on Library Resources

T O T H E LEADERS OF T H E PACIFIC NATIONS W I T H W H O M I WORKED T O ESTABLISH T H E PACIFIC ISLANDS P R O D U C E R S ' ASSOCIATION, T H E PACIFIC ISLAND LEADERS' F O R U M , T H E S O U T H PACIFIC BUREAU F O R E C O N O M I C C O O P E R A T I O N , T H E PACIFIC ISLANDS DEVELOPMENT PROGRAM, A N D T H E AFRICAN, CARIBBEAN, A N D PACIFIC G R O U P

Contents

ILLUSTRATIONS FOREWORD PREFACE I 2

ix xiH

XV

ORIGINS

I

E A R L Y DAYS

9

3 THE MEDICAL BACILLUS 4

l8

BOLT FROM THE DARK BLUE

26

5 RETURN TO THE PACIFIC 6 7 8

F I R S T T I M E AT T H E C E N T R E

S4

TOWARDS SELF-GOVERNMENT

THE 1965 CONSTITUTIONAL AND A F T E R M A T H 9 IO

34

A COMMONWEALTH

62

CONFERENCE 74

ROUND

86

H O N O U R S AT H O M E AND A B R O A D

91

11

THE PATH TO INDEPENDENCE

96

12

INDEPENDENCE

10$

13 14 15

COUNTDOWN

FOREIGN AFFAIRS

II3

THE MID-SEVENTIES

122

B A C K IN H A R N E S S , I 9 7 7 - I 9 8 2 16

COMMONWEALTH

HEADS

GOVERNMENT MEETINGS vii

138 OF

I4S

Contents viii 17 18

SUGAR

IS9

PACIFIC REGIONAL ORGANISATIONS

168

PROPOSALS F O R A G O V E R N M E N T OF N A T I O N A L AND T H E 1 9 8 2 E L E C T I O N

l8l

20

FORWARD FROM 1982

186

21

MILITARY TAKEOVER 22

23

REBUILDING

UNITY

IÇ4-

201

MISSION COMPLETE

213

APPENDIXES I 2

CHRONOLOGICAL RECORD

229

T E X T OF T H E WAKAYA L E T T E R

233

3 T H E S E C R E T A R Y OF S T A T E ' S D E S P A T C H 4

23S

ADDRESS TO THE UNITED NATIONS 5 C U R R E N T S IN T H E P A C I F I C 6

GRADUATION

243

ADDRESS

TO F I J I C O L L E G E OF A G R I C U L T U R E 7

T R I B U T E TO THE LATE

261

GLOSSARY AND FIJIAN P R O N U N C I A T I O N

269

2SS

PRESIDENT

RATU SIR PENAIA GANILAU

INDEX

237

26S

Illustrations

FIGURES

1

Outline genealogical table from first ceremonially

2

Score card for Fiji versus West Indies cricket match

invested Tui Nayau

2 49

MAPS

1

Fiji

2

The Pacific Islands

10 169 PHOTOS

M y wife and I attend a function at Travelodge, Suva, 1975. frontispiece Following page 48 Student photo, July 1946. Otago University Capping Band, Dunedin, 1945. The tragedy of R o m e o and Juliet, Otago University, 1945. Wearing the Fijian traditional dress for

vakataraisulu

ceremonies, August 1955. Relaxing with my wife at the Taj Mahal, Agra, 1967. A family portrait at Veiuto, Suva, 1969. Meeting Sir Alexander Bustamente, former prime minister of Jamaica, 1967. A conversation with Dr Cheddi Jagan in Guyana, 1967. Addressing the Legislative Council for the first time as Chief Minister, October 1967. Relaxing at sea o f f Lomaloma, my birthplace, 1984. Council of Ministers at Government House, Suva, 1967, after the Alliance Party victory.

ix

Illustrations x Outside Holyrood House, Edinburgh, on the morning of 21 May 1969. On the eighteenth green of the Old Course, St Andrews, evening of 21 May 1969. Emerging from the waters after installation as Tui Nayau, July 1969. Vaka passes the yaqona cup backwards over his head, Nayau, 7 July 1969. In full ceremonial dress after installation as Sau ni Vanua. Drinking the ceremonial installation cup of yaqona as Sau ni Vanua. Church service of dedication as Sau ni Vanua, 9 July 1969. Following page 112 The Prince of Wales at the independence celebrations, 10 October 1970. The London Constitutional Conference at Marlborough House, 1970. Calling on Secretary-General U Thant of the United Nations, 21 October 1970. The new Fiji flag soars aloft for the first time on 10 October 1970. Addressing the United Nations, 21 October 1970. Listening to a debate at the United Nations, New York, 21 October 1970. Greeted by President and Mrs Richard Nixon at the White House, October 1970. Arriving by punt at Laselevu in Naitasiri Province, November 1970. The Duke of Edinburgh, Lord Mountbatten, my wife, and I are carried ashore at Tavuki village, Kadavu, March 1971Stages in a Fijian welcome ceremony: presentation of tabua. Presentation of yaqona root. Serving mixed yaqona. Presentation of cooked food. Lomaloma cup bearers in Lau. Adi Lady Lala at dinner with British Prime Minister Sir Edward Heath, Singapore, 1971. My wife and I enjoy a joke with President Sir Seretse Khama of Botswana and Lady Khama, Singapore, 1971.

Illustrations xi Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting, Singapore, 1971. Greeted by Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew at the Commonwealth Conference, Singapore, 1971. A visit to the Singapore War Cemetery in 1971 to honour the graves of Fijian soldiers. Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting in Lusaka, Zambia, 1979. Following page 144The 1972 Cabinet after the first elections under the 1970 Constitution. With a multiracial group of women at a Lautoka mayoral reception, 31 January 1976. Prize Day for Ravindra Kumar, April 1968. With Ratu Sir George Cakobau and Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau in Lakeba for a meeting of the Great Council of Chiefs, 16-18 May 1978. A portion of the yams and dalo presented at the meeting of the Great Council of Chiefs, Lakeba, 1978. An example at Nayau Island of the devastation a hurricane can cause. Being garlanded after being awarded an honorary degree at the University of the South Pacific, Suva, 11 December 1980. Leading the Cabinet on one of our periodic visits to the country districts, 1981. Cutting a cake to mark the twenty-first anniversary of Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna Memorial School, 1981. The Cabinet of 1977. Casting my vote at the Suva Grammar School polling station during the 1987 General Election. Being sworn in as Prime Minister of the Interim Government, 10 December 1987. My wife and I are welcomed at the airport, Beijing, 19 June 1978. Talking with Mr Gough Whitlam, former Prime Minister of Australia, 10 February 1981. With my wife, greeting Prime Minister Indira Gandhi of India at Nausori Airport, September 1981. A gracious welcome to Her Majesty from Adi Koila, my grand-daughter, at Suva wharf, 30 October 1982.

Illustrations xii Presiding at a joint meeting of the European Union and the African, Caribbean, and Pacific countries in Suva, April 1984. The Governor-General, my wife, and I meet the Prince and Princess of Wales at Nadi Airport, 1985. The Governor-General and I meet Prince Edward at Nausori Airport, 8 June 1983. A Fijian ceremonial welcome for Pope John Paul II, 21 November 1986. A meeting with President George Bush at the White House, 1989. Meeting with President Lee Teng-Hui of the Republic of China and Minister of Foreign Affairs Fredrick Chien, Taipei, 25 November 1994. With my grandchild and namesake, Ratu Kamisese at the Fiji Mission, London, 1992. The Guard and Band of the Fiji Military Forces perform the ceremony of Beating the Retreat, 10 October 1995.

Foreword

It is a privilege and honour to publish the memoirs of Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara. Far too few Pacific Island leaders share their reflections and visions about their lives and the times in which they lived. In the case of a leader of Ratu Mara's stature, such a record is of particular value. He has left his mark on the entire Pacific region as well as on his own country. As a leader of his people, he has followed in the footsteps of his uncle, the legendary Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna. On the occasion of Fiji's independence in 1970, Ratu Mara became the first prime minister of his nation, a post in which he served for almost two decades. Ratu Mara has also been the most significant figure in Pacific history during the latter half of the twentieth century. He both identified and gave name and substance to the concept "the Pacific Way," and he provided much of the leadership that brought control of the direction of regional affairs into the hands of Pacific Islanders. He was instrumental in bringing reforms to the South Pacific Commission and was largely responsible for the founding of the South Pacific Forum and the Pacific Islands Development Program. In the international arena beyond the region, Ratu Mara has been the Pacific's most distinguished and well-known leader and spokesman, particularly through his contributions at Commonwealth Heads of Government meetings and in chairing meetings of the African, Caribbean, and Pacific countries with the European Union. Today, as President of the Republic of Fiji, he continues his life of service for his people, which has now spanned a period of well over four decades. The Pacific Islands have experienced enormous change since Ratu Mara began his public career, and it is unlikely that any island leader will ever again enjoy a role of comparable influence in the region. Ratu Mara's reflections inform us about the forces and perxiii

Foreword xiv

sonalities that shaped his life, his leadership style, and his philosophy of governance. While the account is of interest as a life story in itself, it will also be of considerable value to Pacific historians and others who have an abiding interest in the region. Sitiveni Halapua, Director Pacific Islands Development Program East-West Center Robert C Kiste, Director Center for Pacific Islands Studies University of Hawai'i

Preface

People have been urging me for a long time to write my memoirs, and I have resisted or at best been lukewarm towards the project. For a long time I was too busy, and then I have felt rather like my distinguished mentor, Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna, who thought it would be an exercise in egotism he would find distasteful. However, constant dripping wears away stone, as the saying goes, and, in particular, friends said, rather engagingly, "You should do it while you are still alive." This ultimate flattery has got them somewhere, hence this volume. I must stress that this is not an autobiography or a history, but some of my own personal recollections and views of events as they seemed to me of significance in the development of Fiji. It does, however, also give some account of my origins and early days, because I find myself constantly referring back to lessons and experience I gained from them. I had envisaged that on my retirement from active politics in 1992 I would have more leisure for this task, and indeed I do have more than before. But my appointment as President for a period of five years has to some extent limited my freedom. I was therefore very grateful when the Republic of China offered to fund the project, enabling me to have the assistance of Sir Robert Sanders, who joined the Fiji Service only a few days after me and has worked with me through independence and beyond. Among many others who have helped me have been the late Mr A C Reid, CMG, CVO, whose book Tova-ta, on the eastern islands, will be clearly recognised as the source for the first historical chapter. He established warm empathy with both the Fijian and the Tongan people, and it is sad he died before he could see this book. Sir Leonard Usher, KBE, has been a fund of information and, like Mr Semi Ketewai from Nawai, another source, has a most retentive xv

Preface xvi memory. Mr Malcolm Brain has produced records of the Alliance Party that have refreshed my memory of its establishment and progress. Mrs Sofia Raddock has reminded me of some of the friendly times our families have spent together. Hansard Reports, government records, especially the National Archives, and the Fiji press have been invaluable, and some recollections are based on interviews I have given to various publications. There have been many others whose contributions, whether they know it or not, have helped me in writing this book. I am grateful to them all and hope they will understand the omission of individual mention. For the account of events and comments thereon, the responsibility is, of course, my own. In Hawai'i, I have been very fortunate in the enthusiasm with which Professor Robert C Kiste, Director of the Center for Pacific Islands Studies at the University of Hawai'i, has embraced and forwarded the project, the association of Dr Sitiveni Halapua, Director of the Pacific Islands Development Program at the EastWest Center (both of whose organisations have generously sponsored the publication), and the meticulous, expeditious, and sympathetic editing of Ms Linley Chapman. All this at some stage has had to be committed to paper, and I must mention with sincere appreciation the work of Mrs Jean Brown and Mrs Merewalesi Nabainivalu, who, with their computers and word processors, have coped admirably with all my efforts and corrections. Finally, I have called this book The Pacific Way. I coined the phrase more than twenty-five years ago, and it has been my touchstone ever since. I am still confident that therein lies the realisation of Fiji's future.

I

Origins

If you sail from Suva, Fiji's capital on the island of Viti Levu, and beat into the south-east trade winds, two long tacks can take you to the reef passage at Lakeba, 160 miles to the east. Lakeba is the chiefly island of the Lau, or windward, islands, where I was brought up, though I was born in the village of Lomaloma at the southeastern end of the island of Vanuabalavu to the north. A further 270 miles east-south-east lies Nuku'alofa, the Tongan capital. Tonga too will have a part to play in this story. Fairly recent archaeological investigation has revealed that the occupation of Lakeba probably encompasses some three thousand years. I do not propose to start my memoirs so far back. However, it is necessary to go back some way to establish some important relationships, particularly those between Lakeba and Tonga, as a way of introducing some of the main players and their roles in the history that is my heritage. I believe they have provided significant influences and lessons I have absorbed, perhaps only subconsciously. In pre-Christian days, the first man to be ceremonially invested as Tui Nayau and Sau ni Vanua (the titles of the high chief of Lau) was Rasolo. He had four sons, of whom the eldest was Roko Malani and the youngest Roko Taliai Tupou. Both these men became in turn Tui Nayau and Sau ni Vanua (Figure 1). Thereafter, 1835 was a very significant year. In that year, only two years before the young Queen Victoria succeeded to the throne of England, two European missionaries, David Cargill and William Cross, arrived in Lakeba. They first approached Roko Taliai as Tui Nayau, but he delegated the role of receiving them to his nephew and heir apparent, Roko Viliame Vuetasau. The two missionaries prayed with their host and prophesied that he and his descendants would be leaders of Fiji. Roko Taliai Tupou lived to such a great age that he was quoted 1

Rasoio

Tui Cakau

Roko Malani Roko Taliai Tupou

Roko Viliame

Vuetasau

Roko Eroni Loganimoce Ratu Tanoa Visawaqa = Adi Talatoka (Vunivalu) Ratu Tevita Uluilakeba Adi Loaloakubou = Ratu Mara Kapaiwai

Ratu Alifereti Finau Ratu Jone Madraiwiwi = Adi Litiana Maopa

Ratu Tevita Uluilakeba Ratu Josefa Lalabaluvu Vanaaliali Sukuna

Ratu Kamisese Kapaiwai Tuimacilai Mara = Adi Litia Lalabalavu Kaloafutoga FIGURE I Nayau

Outline genealogical table from first ceremonially invested Tui

Origins 3 by an Australian reporter as saying that Methuselah was an infant to him and he believed death had forgotten him. He was still being carried about at the time of the negotiations before the Cession of Fiji to Queen Victoria in 1874, and died soon after. Sadly, Roko Viliame Vuetasau had died some eighteen years before, drowned on an expedition with the Tongan Chief Ma'afu, who had arrived in the Lau Group in 1848. He never succeeded to the supreme chiefly title. However, his son Ratu Tevita Uluilakeba became the Sau ni Vanua, though he died in 1876, before he could be installed as Tui Nayau. At the time it was the custom for this tide to be formally bestowed at Nayau. By the late 1860s, the powerful and charismatic Tongan Chief Ma'afu was well established in Lau, with his base at Lomaloma. In 1869 he established the Lau Confederacy, with himself as its acknowledged head with the title of Tui Lau, the first so designated. Ma'afu is often represented as a conquering usurper, but this is to ignore the history of past kinship ties and relationship. A formal Treaty of Friendship between the King of Lakeba and the King of Tonga was not made till 1865, but freedom to move and settle in either territory had been exercised for many generations before, and ancient and respected bonds existed between the parties. Tui Nayau, who signed the treaty for Lakeba, was head of the Vuanirewa clan and also descended through his mother from the Tu'i Tonga and Tu'i Kanokupolu lines—the families of the high chiefs of Tonga. For Tonga, the signatory was Ma'afu, and he was the son of a former Tu'i Kanokupolu but regarded by the Vuanirewa as one of their own through descent from an eighteenth-century chief of their lineage. He also had kinship ties with the island of Totoya to which Tui Nayau was vasu (a relationship through the female side conferring special privileges). By the time of the Lauan Confederacy of 1869, kinship ties were clearly an important factor. Perhaps the last word was spoken by Ma'afu, when, on his death-bed he asked that his body be taken back for burial by Tui Nayau, whom he said he had come to serve—hardly the attitude of a domineering overlord. He was actually buried at Vatanitawake, the Sau Tabu or burial ground of the high chiefs of Lau in Lakeba. A footnote on the intriguing character of this many-sided man is provided by an extract from a book by John Home, A Tear in Fiji. He wrote of how in 1871 he saw what was almost certainly Fiji's first botanical garden:

Origins 4Maafu, the Roko of the Lau province, has granted the use of a few acres of land, which the inhabitants have laid out as a public botanic garden. Of course I paid a visit to it, and was much pleased with what I saw. It is highly creditable to the settlers and natives, and says much for the energy and zeal of both, for I believe the latter take a lively interest in their garden. Those involved in the Lau Confederacy were the Tui Cakau, Tui Bua (whose mother came from Peu in Tonga), Tui Macuata, Ratu Tevita Uluilakeba, and Ma'afu himself. Under the agreement, the chiefs of Lakeba retained control of their own local government. About this time, Roko Taliai called a meeting of his chiefs and nominated Ma'afu as leader of the states of Lakeba, Vanuabalavu, and the Moala Group, with authority to appoint a Tui Nayau after he, Taliai, died. Ma'afu generously, but perhaps also prudently, appointed Ratu Tevita Uluilakeba to be in charge of the Lakeba division of Lau. In this capacity, Ratu Tevita held the title of Magistrate-in-Chief and had full powers in the absence of Tui Nayau. He was even for a period Governor of Lau, when Ma'afu, who had joined the Fiji Government under Cakobau, lost his position consequent upon a charge of conversion. During this period, a state visit was paid to the chiefly island of Bau, off the east coast of Viti Levu when the hand of a daughter (Adi Asenaca Kakua) of the paramount chief (Ratu Seru Apenisa Cakobau, the Vunivalu) was successfully sought in marriage for Ratu Tevita. This made his son va.su levu to Bau, a very potent relationship, and, combined with his own high chiefly position and his senior government appointment, rendered him a very powerful figure. Of the four children of this marriage, Ratu Alifereti Finau was to become Tui Nayau, and his sister Adi Litiana Maopa was to marry Ratu Jone Madraiwiwi (Figure i). The eldest son of this marriage, my father's uncle Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna, was born in 1888. He would become the second Tui Lau and fulfil the missionaries' prophecy in spectacular fashion. During the five years following the formation of the Lauan Confederacy the well-documented, various, and sometimes tortuous manoeuvres took place that led to Fiji's Cession by the chiefs to Queen Victoria in a ceremony at Levuka, the old capital, on 10 October 1874. In the provisional government set up during October of that year, Ma'afu regained his official position in Lau, with the title of Roko. This position as a Fiji government official was

Origins s deemed sufficient to debar him from the Tongan royal succession, which under their 1875 Constitution would pass to the King's son and continue by primogeniture. In 1882 Ratu Cakobau, the Vunivalu, died, and in 1898 Ratu Kadavulevu, who was the leader of the country in the 1890s, went to Lau and made Ratu Alifereti Finau, my grandfather, Sau ni Vanua and Tui Nayau. Ma'afu had died in 1881 without making the nomination as charged by Roko Taliai. There had been a rival candidate for the title, Ratu Salesi Kinikinilau, head of the tokatoka Vatuwaqa of the mataqali Vuanirewa (the senior mataqali on Lakeba), and it was he who brought me up. It is said that Ratu Kadavulevu only made his decision on the Tui Nayau as his boat entered the passage at Lakeba, hence the chiefly name Adi Sivoidaveta. I daveta means at the passage, and in this context sivo, which usually means dismissed, probably means eliminated from the contest. Ratu Finau's story has a romantic episode. As the first grandson I was highly favoured, and he used to take me riding with him on a mare he called Taququ. The name intrigued me and I endeavoured to find out what it meant from the people around. There were so many conflicting accounts that eventually I asked Ratu Finau himself. He explained it as meaning "tenacious, holding firm, and not to be dislodged." The story behind the name is of Ratu Finau himself, as a young chief, finding himself in Bau and falling in love with a beautiful Bauan lady of rank, Adi Ateca Moceiwaqa. The match was not smiled on by the Bauan hierarchy, and when my grandfather persisted, he was incarcerated on the mainland of Vid Levu. But my grandfather was not to be denied; eventually the marriage took place, and he brought his bride to Lakeba. Ratu Kadavulevu's eventual consent is presumably evidenced by his selection of Ratu Finau as the Tui Nayau, coupled, as commonly happened, with dynastic extensions of power. Because of Ratu Finau's time spent in Bau and his Bauan wife, the Bauan influence in Lakeba became very strong, and I think standards were raised—standards of cultivation, food preparation and diet, and traditional customs and culture. My upbringing in Lakeba was encompassed by this atmosphere, and I had the opportunity of observing and absorbing Fijian life in a highly developed and refined form. It set standards for me that I have always tried to emulate and uphold. Ratu Finau was usually respected for his strictness in the observance of customs and traditions. Our traditional craftsmen from

Origins 6 Kabara were building a new bure in our compound one day. The leading builder was aloft amongst the beams and rafters, when Ratu Finau called and said he thought the roof was raised too high. The leader took a long look at the Tui Nayau, the highest chief in Lau and said, "Sir, when you build your own house you can do what you like with the roof. When I am in charge, I make the decision." Ratu Finau burst out laughing, saying, "You wait. I will build a better house than you one day." That lesson on the division of responsibility I have remembered and practised to this day. The most significant feature of Ratu Alifereti Finau's roko-ship was his promotion of Ratu Sukuna's education overseas. Feeling was widespread among Fijians that they needed a powerful and articulate spokesman in government and in the councils of the nation to combat the increasingly aggressive promotion of their own interests by the Europeans and Indians. Ratu Sukuna was not only clearly the best candidate, but the only one. The Tui Nayau is entitled to levy one ton of copra from every Lauan adult male, and this right is enshrined in the Tukutuku Rumba (register of landholders' rights and customs) and was the basis of the funding for Ratu Sukuna's education. In addition, funds collected in Tailevu for a provincial school but returned to the province by a reluctant government were also allocated to Ratu Sukuna, and in 1913 he went up to Wadham College, Oxford. In 1921, after distinguished war services that have been well chronicled, he returned to Oxford, where he gained a degree in law, and then read for the bar, eating his dinners in the Middle Temple. In 1922, after his return to Fiji, I first met him at Lakeba. He ruffled my hair, and I think I asked "Who are you?" for a chief's head was not to be touched. Thereupon he ruffled my hair again, and this was interpreted by bystanders, perhaps with prophetic hindsight, as conferring his blessing on me. But I am anticipating my own birth—and indeed my father's. Ratu Tevita Uluilakeba, my father, was born in 1898. From all I can learn, he was much cherished and spoiled in an environment where his every whim was indulged. However, in due course my grandfather Ratu Alifereti Finau sent him to Queen Victoria School, where the atmosphere would certainly be different. From there he went to be a clerk in training in Suva. While there, he met Vilai, later to become aide-de-camp to Her Majesty the Queen of Tonga. Because of this friendship and under this influence, he fell in love with Tonga, and in 1918 he composed the famous Fijian song of farewell, "Isa Lei." Fittingly, the first time it was sung (by a trio of

Origins 7 Ulaiasi Vosa and Savou, secretariat colleagues from Lau, and himself) was as a boat left for Tonga. A lovely Tongan girl aboard was ever after known as Isa Lei Tupou. "Isa Lei" is still the best-known Fijian song, both in Fiji and elsewhere. Soon after this my father returned home and was posted as a clerk to the District Commissioner Lomaloma. Here he met my mother, Lusiana Qolikoro, and fell in love with her. He fully intended to marry her and sent off a boat to Lakeba with the notice of intention to marry. He then stayed with her until another boat came from Lakeba to take him forcibly back home, where his proposal was clearly not smiled on. He must have been reluctant to leave, for Ratu Sukuna, no mean judge in these matters, wrote in 1922 that Qolikoro was just as beautiful as before. The highest government position my father achieved was Roko Tui Lau during the depression years, when often months elapsed between boats bringing official salaries. Meanwhile the officials had to live. One such boat arrived unexpectedly, bringing auditors who proceeded to check the cash and books immediately, to find my father had advanced money to officials and indeed himself from the provincial funds. It was very different from the benign regime of a later Commissioner, Mr A C Reid, who took the view that salaries were due to officers by the government before anything else, and always paid out before he checked. However, my father lost his job. I don't think he minded too much. Later he was Buli Cicia, and last, Buli Lakeba. He held this post while I was District Officer Maritime and Viliame Makasiale was Roko, and I think we both rather deferred to him in our work. I didn't really get to know my father till 1944, when my grandmother died and I came home from Otago University for the Christmas holidays. At that time my father had just come home from the Solomon Islands, where he had served in the Dock Company of the Fiji Military Forces. Later, once I had become a District Officer, I took my leave in Lakeba and organised the cleaning up of his plantation. For the first time, he got a return from it, and I think my efforts were appreciated. After my experience as District Officer in 1957-58, I had become very keen on pine planting. I wanted to carry on at Lakeba, but my father's response was "Plant when your time comes, son." After his death in October 1966, I began pine planting at Lakeba at Easter 1967. There is a barren hill inland from Tubou village, and when the enthusiasm for pine planting looked as if the whole island would be covered within a foreseeable period, I had to stipulate that, though I wished to see the whole island planted before I died, the barren

Origins 8 land should be left till last so that I should have a prolonged life. The hill is now slowly being covered by natural seeding, but I am hoping it will not be completely covered till the end of this century! My father was of a mechanical bent and brought back quite a lot of equipment with him from the army. With this he installed electric lighting in his compound and what became known as the "oneway telephone." This enabled him to telephone his kitchen, but the only reply was the muted clap and call outside his door announcing the immediate arrival of food. It was said that he never knew where his food was coming from and that it just appeared like magic—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This was true, and moreover it was always the best of everything, not only on Lakeba but also from other islands if, for example, some specially desirable fish was caught. He used to say to me, "You'll never be rich my son; you'll never have any money. Your resources are the people. If you look after them, they will look after you." This was borne out when he died, and his estate was valued by the Public Trustee at only $860.53. He tended to have his temper on a short fuse. I remember one notable provincial council when just before closing, and almost as a matter of form, the Roko announced that the next council would be at Lakeba. (The tikina [districts] took it in turn, and it would be Lakeba's turn). The fires erupted. Who was the Roko to say where the council would be held? The council was a chiefly matter and was for the chiefs to decide, and much more of the same. The people listened to this in silence, eyes on the floor. They knew this was the best response, and they had doubtless had practice. Then at the end, with a thump on the mat, "It will be held at Lakeba." Later in life he tended to drink rather more than was good for him. His people knew this too. So it was ironical that on one occasion at New Year, when he had deliberately refrained from drinking before the midnight church service, a visiting American guest was so redolent with alcohol that the fumes filled the church. My father got the blame. His sense of humour was Rabelaisian, and he is remembered as recounting with great glee the fate of one of his rather substantial Tongan guests whose weight proved too much for the toilet facilities provided. When he died in 1966, I organised his funeral at Lakeba and accepted as a genuine tribute an old woman's remark to me that the only complaint she had was that she couldn't find anything to fault.

2

Early Days

My passport records that I was born on 13 May 1920, which is the date recorded in the official documents. However, I learned from my mother that I was actually born at Lomaloma at 3 PM on Wednesday, 6 May. Thereafter the custom was followed whereby a chiefly first-born child is carried in the arms of the womenfolk without being allowed to touch the ground for a period of ten days. On the seventh day, it was suddenly realised that I had not been registered, and I suppose in the flurry the date was given wrongly. I was given the names Kamisese Kapaiwai Tuimacilai Mara. Kamisese derives from Tamasese of Samoa; Kapaiwai, I am told, is a Tongan word for unsinkable; and Tuimacilai means king of Macilai, a particularly rough stretch of water between the islands of Tuvuca, Katafaga, Munia, and Cikobia. These were the names given to and earned by Ratu Mara, the father of Ratu Jone Madraiwiwi and his sister Adi Mere Tuisalalo, who married a German coconut planter and trader and became Mrs Hennings. She was the one who gave me the names. She was living at Vanuabalavu at that time. Years later, at Tota estate, between Mualevu and Mavana on Vanuabalavu, I was shown a tamarind tree she had planted at the time of my birth, and I have always assumed this was in accordance with the custom of burying the placenta and umbilical cord to mingle with the earth of one's birthplace and marking it by planting a tree. I remained at the village of Mualevu, at the north-eastern end of Vanuabalavu, with my mother and maternal grandparents, and my great-grandmother, for the first year of my life. Then Ratu Salesi Kinikinilau came as head of the tokatoka Vatuwaqa in customary chiefly fashion to convey me to Lakeba. On arrival I was carried on a tctvata, a light platform, and deposited in Ratu Kinikinilau's house of Matanalailai at the gate of Vatuwaqa, the chiefly com9

Early Days 10

pound. N o t until the death of Ratu Salesi Kinikinilau, two years later, was I taken to my grandfather's house. I did not see much of my mother over these years, but her father was a Methodist minister and came to Lakeba annually for the church provincial meeting, so some link was maintained. We were able to spend time together again during my school holidays, when I visited Mualevu, and I remember the shirts and shorts she had sewn for me for Lau Provincial School. From my earliest years I remember being closely supervised. I was fond of bathing from the beach in front of the village and also sailing little coconut husk boats with dilo (beach mahogany) leaves

Early Days n

for sails, and there was always someone there to keep an eye on me. This was probably more essential when I graduated to a bakcmawa, or small canoe, which could be made to move remarkably fast, and I suppose I could have rapidly found myself out at sea. I have been asked when I realised that I was a person of rank. I have to reply that it was almost as far back as I can remember. I had plenty of playmates, but they were always being adjured, for example, not to touch my head. Hence my surprise when Ratu Sukuna ruffled my hair. One afternoon when I was just six I was put aboard the schooner Greyhound, bound for Levuka. This was a two-masted vessel whose master, Captain Harry Scott, plied between the islands picking up copra and setting down trade goods. Running before the wind, huge sails full, we arrived in Levuka, the former capital of Fiji, about midday the following day. Here I was entrusted to the care of a Mrs Vollmer from Lomaloma. She was related to a chiefly family of Lomaloma (Ravunisa) and had married a German. Whether that was the reason or not, she ran a very strict regime. I was given such tasks as fetching the milk, lighting the fire, and cooking the porridge. Nor did she hesitate to use her stick. One day I spilt the milk on the way home and decided the best thing was to go straight back and get a full can. But my lynx-eyed wardress had spotted me. It seems I should have reported to her with the empty can and sought instructions. I received one of my earliest beatings—for showing initiative. This new life was certainly a bit of a culture shock for me, after the respect and cosseting I had received on Lakeba. But when I look back, it was all part of the process that would help me to relate to all sorts and conditions of people. I also learned something of social interchange, as Mrs Vollmer used to make pawpaw pies from their orchard, and I was sent around to deliver them to friends. There was always some sort of return, and I enjoyed these expeditions. I must have sorely tried the old lady. For example, I used to be given sixpence on Sunday for the collection plate at the Methodist Church at the foot of the hill. Close by was an Indian food shop where curry and roti could be bought for threepence. I very honestly put the threepence change in the plate! This was one of my early lessons in the breakdown of money. However, from time to time my practical economics was observed, with the aid of binoculars, and it was the stick again. These same binoculars came into their own for me, for with them

Early Days 12 I could see far out to sea and became an expert at recognising ships by their outlines. Apart from playing marbles in the main street, near the butcher's and the curry shop, my main interest was the waterfront. A short jetty jutted out from the main wharf, and I used to enjoy watching people fishing, long before the days of the nylon line, using tiny dtrniva fish as bait. Here also came boats with fish, including canoes from Bau. I used to go along to the government station and look longingly at the fence marking an excellent swimming area that was denied me. It was reserved for the use of government officers. This may well have been the origin of my determination in later years that beaches should be kept accessible to the general public. The Sacred Heart Convent, where I was enrolled as a pupil, did not see as much of me as it should have. On my way there from Mrs Vollmer's I had to cross the Totogo creek, either near the Royal Hotel or over the bridge in front. The creek was ideal for sailing boats, and I would often spend a morning so engaged, watching for the return of the pupils from the convent at lunchtime and joining them. But again, from time to time, it was the binoculars and the stick. My memory of school is principally one of learning multiplication tables by rote, and otherwise not a very exacting curriculum. My only memory of extra-curricular activities is of a play in which I was supposed to prance on the stage on a wooden horse, and constantly contrived to muff the timing. Otherwise I remember Levuka as a very cheerful town. There were lots of dances, and as one walked about, nearly every house seemed to have a piano, and someone or a group would be singing. I was fortunate later on to spend two years in Levuka and could certainly echo the words of a favourite Fijian song: I always remember Levuka; And the happy times we all spent there Keep rising before my eyes in dreams It's that sort of place. Even now, when two people with a Levuka connection meet, all their talk will be of the old capital. In 1928, Radi ni Nayau, my paternal grandmother, became ill, and I was summoned back to Lakeba and entered the Lau Provincial School there, where I stayed till 1933. The school (for boys only) had been founded by my grandfather Ratu Alifereti Finau in 1908, only one year after Queen Victoria School on the mainland of Viti Levu. The policy was to recruit staff from the United King-

Early Days 13 dom, and we had a series of very good teachers, including A M Hocart, author of The Lau Islands, and a Scot, Mr Mason, who was a qualified agriculturalist. The curriculum was basic. History, geography, English, and arithmetic. We were also taught meke wesi (spear dance), meke i wau (club dance), and vakamalolo (a sitting dance, often of a humorous nature). There was quite a lot of manual labour, cleaning the compound and the like. School went on till three in the afternoon, when we were sent to the school gardens, where we grew tapioca, kumala, and dalo. All the boys boarded at the school, so food production was important. Despite all this work, when I was at home I was happiest when occupied doing household chores. I enjoyed mowing the lawn, collecting coconuts, or fetching firewood. I didn't like untidiness and would tidy up or organise others to help me. I must have acquired this attitude from Mrs Vollmer and her stick! I was also interested in the preparation of the lovo (earth oven) and food, especially if an expert in slaughtering pigs or turtles was in action. When there was not much to do at home, I would join those planting dalo or yams, or collecting and cutting coconuts for copra. Because there was nothing the servants did at home that I was not ready to do, I got to know practically all the services rendered by our household as I grew up. My interest did not wane during my life, as I always try to relate to what I have seen elsewhere and endeavour to improve those services. It was also of considerable benefit to me when I shared a flat in London on leave, and when I was attending a course at the London School of Economics. On this basis I have in turn had success as a farmer in agriculture and livestock, in forestry, as a builder and as a sailor, and more recently in commerce. I like to think of myself as a complete modern Fijian. But when I say modern, I do not mean abandoning all that I learned and came to value in my youth. These things are part of me and will remain with me always. I am what I am because of them. In adjusting to the demands made of me, I often draw heavily on the customs, habits, and ways of life that I experienced and developed as a young man. Ratu Edward Cakobau was my last headmaster at Lau Provincial School, and he gave very strong encouragement to cricket. Quite a number of players who were subsequently chosen for a Fiji national cricket team passed through his hands, including Ilikena Bula and myself. Ratu Sir Edward, as he later became, was the son of highranking parents from Tonga and Bau. H e was to have a distinguished military career, culminating in the command of the Fiji

Early Days 14 battalion sent to Malaya between 1954 and 1958 to assist in the campaign against terrorists there. Subsequently, he joined the district administration before later joining me in a political career. I missed quite a lot of school, because my grandfather used to take me off with him to the Council of Chiefs, in either Suva or Bau, and this could mean being away for up to two months. Of course I did not attend the council, but I learned a lot sitting around in the evenings with my elders. Some of my best informants were the staff of the council who served yaqona (the Fijian version of kava, the Pacific-wide drink prepared from a pounded pepper root). It was my first introduction to politics and a marvellous education. During the very first of those visits, in 1928, I was lucky enough to be present on the historic occasion of Sir Charles KingsfordSmith's arrival at Albert Park, Suva, after achieving the first transPacific flight from Honolulu. The distance of 3,290 miles took him and his companions thirty-five hours of storm-tossed flying in their Fokker aircraft, aptly named the Southern Cross. Word of the flight had spread around Suva, and we were all agog. My grandfather and I were lodged at a house lent by Ratu Sukuna, quite close to the park, and when we saw the crowds moving that way we joined them. At that time there were trees in Albert Park, but the line that ran down the centre had been cut down to give a clear landing. We stationed ourselves at the far end of the ground from the sea and must have waited well over an hour. Every small cloud was being taken for a plane. Then we saw it—for most of us our first ever sight of an aeroplane—coming in low across Suva Harbour. To make maximum use of the park, the Southern Cross landed and ran diagonally. Even then the length was scarcely sufficient, but it slewed round at the end and all was well. We rushed to see the plane at close quarters, and I have always been surprised—not to say disappointed—that I can never find myself in any of the photographs of the scene. However, the picture and the excitement are still vivid in my memory today. In fact my mental photograph is so sharp that it shows blades of grass stuck in the wheel struts. I thought they must have come from Honolulu, or even from California, where the flight originated. In some ways my time at Lau Provincial School was not the happiest period in my life, insofar as some felt it was an opportunity to behave badly towards me before I assumed the chiefly status that would circumscribe them. But I learned useful lessons and began to acquire a yardstick by which to evaluate people.

Early Days is In 1932 I passed the entrance examination to Queen Victoria School, but my grandmother thought, perhaps rightly, that I was too young and should wait another year. However, when Ratu Edward became headmaster he said I should sit the examination again and if I passed I should go. I did sit and went to Queen Victoria School in 1933. This school is known in Fijian as the Vulinitu, the school for chiefs, but the original intention of the Council of Chiefs was simply that there should be a high quality school for Fijians near Suva, and perhaps a better translation would be a school for leadership. Certainly many of its pupils ended up in high positions. For this we must thank the staff, for both their teaching and their example. They were leaders themselves, and they were all practising Christians. The headmaster was Mr A H Phillips, who set very high standards of dress, behaviour, and academic performance. His successor, Mr George Arthur, was rather more accessible, and I greatly appreciated his ready help when I approached him with difficulties in my studies. Among the supporting staff, Mr McGrath was a great agriculturalist, and his help and instruction have been an inspiration to me in my abiding interest in cultivation throughout my life. Joeli Ravai, who was later to become Roko Tui Tailevu and a member of Legislative Council, rather intimidated us all, but looking back, I attribute to my time under him much of my ability to face hardship and difficulty. Ratu Edward Cakobau, who had now moved on to Queen Victoria School, was a role model for us all in appearance, talent, and sporting ability. We all tried to emulate him, not only in cricket, rugby, and boxing, but also in style. His good nature and good humour shone through all. We were most fortunate to be there in his time, and I have yet to see his equal. It was very humbling in later years to find that he was to promote my leadership and serve loyally in my ministerial team. Fred Ieli was perhaps the most sympathetic master, always ready with a helping hand, whether it was mathematics, English, or even our own personal problems. From our woodwork teacher, Apisai Nabou, I'm afraid I did not absorb much in the way of skill, but I did learn an even more valuable lesson—to give of my best from start to finish and not leave any enterprise half done. Finally, the very important instruction in Fijian culture and custom was in the capable hands of Opetaia Dreketirua, who was an authority particularly on the Bauan tradition during his time.

Early Days 16 Though the curriculum was broader and more advanced than at the Lau Provincial School, there was still a lot of planting work to keep us fed. We had one afternoon of sports, but on all other afternoons we doubled off to the gardens with our tools—the last two boys there having to cart back firewood at the end of the task. Apart from vegetables, the food was not very good, sometimes tins of corned beef and the like. I was rather lucky because the cook, one Aisake from Namara, was my tauvu (a friendly relationship often of a joking kind), and I enjoyed many a little titbit on the side. We looked forward to our twice-monthly visits to Suva. We would save the bus fare by walking five miles each way on a gravel road. This left us with a shilling extra to spend, almost invariably on food. In addition we received instruction in meke, and Ratu Edward and Joeli Ravai were very keen on singing and pushed us along, some with more success than others. Josua Rabukawaqa, for instance, was already showing the gift that he was to develop successfully later. For many years he was the conductor of the choir of the Centenary Methodist Church in Suva, which was a Mecca for musical visitors. He once told me he had been approached after a service by a Welshman with tears in his eyes, thanking him for the choir's singing of the Welsh hymn tune "Calon Lan," for which Josua had written Fijian words, and saying it had taken him right back to the Rhondda Valley. Josua later formed a smaller and very talented group from two choirs that had been disbanded and called it the Phoenix Choir. It had an international repertoire and made very popular recordings, besides being in great demand for public performances. He was also a composer and in 1983 was awarded the R B Bennet Commemorative Prize by the European Union for his contribution to music in Fiji. He gave very distinguished service to Fiji as our first High Commissioner in London, and gained for us an enviable reputation. In sports, I particularly remember Ratu Penaia Ganilau, a year ahead of me and already a big strong figure. As well as being a rugby player, he was a powerful boxer. But what impressed me most about him, and what I have tried to emulate over the years— not always, I admit, with success—was his wonderfully equable temperament. His rank and strength were not things to boast about, much less to excuse an arrogant and petulant manner. These things were anathema to him and this benign calm stayed with him all his life. Ratu Sir Penaia, as he became later, was a scion of the mataqali Ai Sokula, the leading family in the province of Cakau-

Early Days 17 drove, and through his aunt was connected to the family of the Vunivalu of Bau. His career closely resembled that of Ratu Sir Edward's, even to the command of the Fiji battalion in Malaya. He later became Tui Cakau, the high chiefly title in Cakaudrove. After a distinguished civil service career and loyal service in a number of my governments, he became Governor-General in 1983 and President of the Republic in 1987. I have always felt very humble that, as with Ratu Edward, he consented to serve in my government and to promote me as leader. Three Vosailagi brothers were at Queen Victoria School during my time. They were subjects of considerable envy to most of us, for they went on to New Zealand to further their secondary education. Their father was a cane farmer in Nadroga and could afford fees that were beyond the rest of us. It was good to see that they made good use of their education in later life. One became an executive in the South Pacific Sugar Mills, and another a dental surgeon. At the school, I began high jumping, but there was no athletics coaching, and it would be years before I progressed beyond the scissors style. The last two weeks of the school term were spent in cleaning up the compound, and I usually avoided this by having to catch one of the not-very-frequent boats for home. At best, the voyage could be done on two long tacks and reasonably fast, but in a strong easterly it could take up to a week, with overnight stops perhaps at Gau, Moala, and Cicia. I was a bad sailor and relished the stops, not only to have a good sleep, but more important, to have a good meal. Food bulked very large in our lives in those days.

3

The Medical Bacillus

During my time at Lau Provincial School, a significant event affected my life. In 1931 a bacilli dysentery epidemic was passing through Fiji, and I was stricken and in hospital under Tomasi Mawi, who was the Assistant Medical Practitioner in charge. After I recovered, he kept me for a week or two to help him. I went around administering medicine he prescribed, because the patients would accept it from me when I gave it to them in a spoon. This experience triggered my interest in medicine and convinced me that a medical career would be a useful one to follow. In 1937 I commenced study at the Central Medical School in Suva. This was a school of medicine taking students from around the Pacific—Tonga, the Gilbert and Ellice Islands as they were then, Solomon Islands, Samoa, and so on. Though their qualifications were not fully registrable, the medical practitioners turned out by the school were of a very high standard. I found the work intensely interesting and gave it my all. In the first year I was awarded the chemistry prize, and in the second the coveted anatomy gold medal. Here too I came to dissection and to the practical acquisition of the most valuable knowledge that under the skin all people are the same. Chiefs were no different from the others. This reinforced the lessons that had begun with the stick and would be continued at university in New Zealand, where you were taken for your achievements, sporting or otherwise, and not for any social position. The result in later life was that when I came to ask people for their votes I found this a perfectly natural way of proceeding and felt no great gap between myself and the electorate. In 1938 a Dr Isaacs, from St Mary's Hospital in London, arrived in Suva by ship direct from England. I think he was perhaps working his passage as ship's doctor. He later changed his name to Ver18

The Medical Bacillus 19 rier, and as that is how he was generally known, I use it from now on. He visited the Central Medical School, where Dr Macpherson, the pathologist, was going on leave; Dr Verrier was invited to stay and act as pathologist during his absence. At the same time, Dr J A R Dovi, the youngest brother of Ratu Sukuna, returned from New Zealand, where he had qualified as a doctor. He shared a house with Dr Verrier. Dr Verrier had seemed impressed when, at the invitation of Dr Hoodless, the principal of the school, I had given a demonstration on brachial arteries; when I won the gold medal, he and Dr Dovi said I should go to Otago University to finish my medical training and gain a fully registrable qualification. However, Dr Hoodless was opposed to this course and said I did not have the capacity for prolonged and concentrated study. In 1939 I was sent to the Marist Brothers' School in Suva for one year to prove this point. I found a wonderful atmosphere at the school, where the staff and especially Brother Lambert were more like friends than masters. I'm sure this was one of the factors that influenced me in another very important decision in my life—to become a Roman Catholic. It was, of course, a big step for me and one I would not have taken without deep conviction, for it departed from a tradition and a history that went back directly to Cross and Cargill, the first Methodist missionaries. It caused considerable murmuring, but my decision was eventually accepted if not welcomed, and perhaps my faith was tempered in the fire. Certainly it has been the rock on which I have always been able to rely in good times and in bad, and it is the lodestone of my life. I had found myself between two religions at the Marist Brothers' School. The Methodist Church had seemed very closely allied to the chiefly system, almost identified with it. There seemed to be an unspoken feeling that rank would provide the way to salvation, whatever faults might intervene. I may have misinterpreted this attitude, but that was how it seemed to me at the time. From the Catholic Church I learned of individual responsibility, and that while the church would give all the help and guidance I might seek, the ultimate decision must be my own. It was a creed to which I felt I could give wholehearted allegiance. I was interested to learn later that Ratu Sukuna himself had considered becoming a Catholic when he was in England. However, he felt that this could have a disturbing effect back in Fiji, and he became an Anglican instead. Fortunately I was not of sufficient importance to make this a real factor. The Marist Brothers' School was also a microcosm of multiracial-

The Medical Bacillus 20 ism, and I look back on that period as one of the formative episodes in my own multiracialist philosophy. I was the only Fijian in a school of thirty-three. Seven were of a group who would later be called general electors (defined in the 1970 constitution as neither Fijians nor Indians), and the rest were Indians. After the year, I was pronounced ready to go to New Zealand, only to find that I required a matriculation certificate for entry to the university. So from 1940 to 1941, I attended the Sacred Heart College in Auckland and successfully matriculated. By now I could hope no one would doubt my determination to become a doctor, and I entered Otago University in 1942. I had made a good friend at Sacred Heart College called Frank Hall, and for my first year we shared digs at 253 York Place, above the town of Dunedin, where our hosts were the kindly Mr and Mrs Metcalfe. After that I was very fortunate to spend the next three years in rooms in Knox College, which later did me the honour of making me an honorary fellow. Frank had a girl-friend called June Donaldson, and through them I was introduced to the Donaldson family, who had a prosperous bakery business in town. Mr Donaldson was a man of great warmth and kindness, and he was so generally respected that we all called him "Sir Alec." I felt there was a specially close friendship between him and me. The hospitality of the family was unbounded. I could not number the invitations to lunch or dinner with them, either given well in advance or by a hurried phone call on the day to say they had something special for dinner and could I join them. They certainly knew how to cater for student appetites. But much more important for me was the welcome and the understanding I would always find in their company, so that when I was in Dunedin their home really became my home. I had a lot of friends among my fellow students but there are times when one feels a need of peace and quiet, warmth and intimacy, and this the Donaldson family provided. I was immensely grateful, and sad to leave them. The last time I saw Sir Alec was in a Wellington hospital, where he was suffering from a heart disease that sadly proved fatal. It was clear to me from the outset that my place and standing in the university would depend on my own efforts and my own achievements. Being the son of Tui Nayau meant nothing in Dunedin—and if it had, it would probably have been a drawback in that bastion of Scottish independence and egalitarianism. In the first place, I had to play rugby. That was something Fiji was known for.

The Medical Bacillus zi I made a lot of friends through participation in a wide variety of pursuits—athletics, cricket, football, billiards, and snooker. A house is still pointed out where one of my longer cricket drives on the university ground shattered a window. I even took part in college shows—on one occasion playing the triangle and on another highkicking in the chorus line. (This latter is captured in a photograph, which fortunately is not of sufficient quality for reproduction.) At one stage I held the inter-university beer-drinking record, downing a twelve-ounce glass in one-and-four-fifths seconds. In short, I took full advantage of all the benefits of a liberal education. Amidst all this, I took the three first-year subjects of chemistry, biology, and physics. But there was probably too much extra-curricular activity, for I failed by 3 per cent to reach the required standard in physics and would have to resit the exam. Meanwhile, I came back to Fiji for a holiday, because Dr Verrier had strongly recommended that I come back every year for Christmas and spend it in Lakeba to keep in touch. Quite apart from his help with my medical studies, including financial support for my course at Otago, I am greatly indebted to Dr Verrier for opening my eyes to Western culture and literature. Not only did he introduce me to the great English classics, but he readily lent me books from his own collection. And he opened my ears too, for at that time my knowledge of music was limited to the lali (Fijian wooden drum) and the derua (large hollow bamboo pounded on the ground), and, of course, songs. Dr Verrier took the time and the interest to explain to me about all the different instruments of the orchestra, and how the brain of a single composer could imagine and combine them into the most wonderful music. To me at that time it was a revelation, and I am eternally grateful. I had inherited from my father a love of music, and particularly of singing. My friends at Otago were always wanting me to sing island songs and I also learned some of the great Maori songs. Then when we were at Oxford, Ratu Penaia, Bogi, a Lauan from the Public Relations office, and I were persuaded by Mrs Lucille Iremonger, the wife of a district officer from the Gilbert and Ellice Islands, to sing a trio on the BBC. We gave a rather self-conscious rendering of "Isa Lei" and were relieved to learn it had not been relayed to Fiji. On a later occasion in the Great Hall of the People in Beijing, we had been listening to Chinese entertainment for rather a long time, when I noted that two of our number had detached themselves and were talking to the band leader. In no

The Medical Bacillus zz

time, he had picked up the tune they hummed, and I led the whole delegation to the rostrum and responded to the Chinese music with Fijian songs. They seemed to be a hit. I have composed only one song. On a plane journey to London my thoughts were with our soldiers on peacekeeping duties in Lebanon and Sinai. The idea for a song came to me, but I had nothing to write on till, rooting around, I found the usual sick bag in the pocket in front of me. On this unlikely manuscript paper, I put down my thoughts in a matter of fifteen minutes. The song tells of the thoughts of a Fijian soldier as he stands ready to give his life if need be. The chorus tells of the silvery sea ruffled by the cool surf, the bright sunshine followed by the light of the moon, his far away island with its long beach of gleaming sand. For that sacred land and its good name he would give his life, as his thoughts ever return to his island home. I asked our musician extraordinary Sir Josua Rabukawaqa if he would set it to music and give it a bass with the thud of the waves on the reef. As an original composer, he preferred his own style, but he composed a very attractive melody. Only a few performances by his own Phoenix Choir were required to popularise the song, and it has remained a firm favourite ever since. This is perhaps also the place to acknowledge that in both Dr Verrier and Ratu Dovi, I had friends and mentors who introduced quite a new outlook on my thinking, or perhaps I should say my attitude to thought. Previously, though Ratu Sukuna and his brother Ratu Tiale had been very understanding and patient, I always had the underlying feeling that if it came to the push I would be told what to do, and I would do it. With Ratu Dovi, their younger brother, and Dr Verrier, the relationship was more open, and I was constantly encouraged to contribute and express my own viewpoint. Under their influence, I began to think for myself, to have my views taken to be of some value, and therefore to gain confidence in my own thought processes and consequent decisions. This type of interchange was also encouraged at the Marist Brothers' School, as I have indicated, and I consider these to have been formative years in my development. When I myself reached a position of authority, I endeavoured to follow the same practice, though there were perhaps too many who were prepared, either from loyalty or laziness, to leave the thinking to me. The important thing was that they had their chance. After my Christmas holiday in Lakeba, picking up the threads as it were, and very enjoyable, I set off by sea on the return journey to

The Medical Bacillus 23 New Zealand. This meant an inter-island trip delivering freight and picking up produce. The night before we reached Pago Pago in American Samoa, the Japanese lobbed shells into the town, so we turned about and made a beeline south for a couple of days before resuming our voyage to both Samoas. The last port of call before New Zealand was Nuku'alofa in Tonga, and I made my way to the house of Vilai, my father's old friend. His daughter Va'ahoi played the piano very well, and she and her sister Fatafehi entertained us with dance and song, including "Isa Lei." I was claiming to be a Maori boy, as I did not wish to be involved in Tongan custom. However, Vilai suddenly said, "You're not a Maori. Where are you from?" "Fiji," I mumbled. "Whereabouts?" "Lakeba." "Your father's name?" "Ratu Tevita Uluilakeba." Within half an hour I was whisked away to the palace for a friendly welcome from Her Majesty the Queen, and then a short visit to her son Tungi, who was in bed with flu. Later I met an old man called Nuku, who was related to me on my mother's side, and he took me to his house on his cart (saliote or chariot in Tongan). I think we both wept all the way there. The Tongan connection was well and truly established. However, the delays around Pago Pago meant that I was eventually three days late for a special resit of the physics examination, and I had to spend another whole year—which I did as a physics demonstrator. It was some compensation that these duties earned me £5 a week, which was a real bonus at that time. I then sat the physics examination again and just made it, as there is a limited number, I think one hundred and twenty, allowed to continue into the next year. There was still time for sport however, particularly athletics and cricket. The high jump was my specialist event, and with proper coaching I was beginning to develop a more effective style. When I arrived at Otago I found that Louvatu Vosailagi was the athletics champion, and in the high jump he used the Eastern cut-off style. I, on the other hand, adopted the Western roll, which seemed to suit me. I had broken the record at Sacred Heart College, set by a man called Hackett, and with my new style I broke the record at Otago, which had previously been held by this man Hackett. And

The Medical Bacillus 24 in 1946 I broke the New Zealand Universities' record, once more held by Mr Hackett. Years later I met him, and he said I must have had it in for him all those years, breaking all his records. But we became good friends. I had played cricket for the university, and the only time I missed returning to Lakeba at Christmas was when I was selected for the Otago team. My first match was against Southland when I had the onerous task of opening the innings. I was determined to resist my normal cavalier style. So when the first ball came, I watched it very carefully as it pitched on the leg, and I continued to follow it with a watchful eye as it passed my bat and hit my off stump. Of course I bowled a bit too, but the result of this performance was to see me relegated to twelfth man versus Canterbury. As it was freezing at Invercargill, where the match was played, it was perhaps a good position. This ended my rather undistinguished career as a provincial cricketer. Through cricket I made more good friends, including Walter Hadlee. I can still see him standing up to Lindwall and Miller of the Australian touring side, without a helmet and hit all over the body, to make a glorious century. When I left Otago the Weekly News was kind enough to print the following paragraph, which I reproduce, I admit with a little pride, to show what made a reputation at Otago: Otago Athlete for Oxford Ratu Mara K Uluilakeba, or just Eatu Mara, as he has been known in athletic circles, left Dunedin recently to continue his post-graduate studies at Oxford University. Since he went to the Otago University in 1942, this tall, lithe Fijian has been one of the leading field athletes in the province, and his achievements at putting the shot, discus throwing, long and high jumping and the hop, step and jump have been outstanding. This year he cleared 6ft in the high jump. His form at rugby was also impressive enough to gain him a place as a lineout forward in the Otago side. He was a promising fast bowler and hard-hitting batsman at cricket, and in every branch of sport in which he participated he always conveyed the impression that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Ratu Mara should be popular at Oxford. Another important friendship I made was with Dr John Hiddlestone, who later distinguished himself as Director-General of Health in New Zealand and went on to be Chairman of the Execu-

The Medical Bacillus 2s tive Board o f the World Health Organisation. We were always wanting more Fijians with fully registrable degrees, but entry to the medical school at Otago was very limited. Indeed Dr Dovi was our sole fully qualified doctor. When I became Prime Minister I renewed contact with John at a class reunion, and he explained that a small number of places at the medical school was reserved for Maori candidates. These were not always filled, and they had recently extended the opportunity to Western Samoa. He put me in touch with the Dean of the Faculty, and through him an arrangement was reached whereby Fiji could also participate, on my nomination; through this scheme the number of fully qualified Fijians has increased. From time to time there has also been an Indian candidate. A very useful scheme. Call it the Old Boy Network if you like, but there seems no harm in it when it is used for the benefit o f other people and the country. Finally, and very important for me, was a visit to Dunedin by the three Samoan Chiefs Malietoa, Tamasese, and Mata'afa. When I heard of their arrival I felt I should go and pay my respects. They received me in a very kindly, friendly manner, and, perhaps because of our name relationship, I found Tamasese especially sympathetic. I was warmly welcomed in Western Samoa on my voyage round the islands once the Japanese had ceased attacking Pago Pago. These friendships have lasted through the years and been very valuable in the establishment and success o f our regional organisations, particularly in the early days when we were few in number. And I am sure this relationship contributed greatly to a generous and unifying gesture by Western Samoa in trading relations with New Zealand, which I shall come to in a later chapter. Meanwhile, I had gone on to anatomy and physiology and passed the first professional examination for MBChB.

4

Bolt from the Dark Blue

In 1946 I went to hospital for the clinical part of my training. Having passed the anatomy and physiology exams, I felt that I had overcome the main difficulty and thereafter it would be plain sailing, for my two years at the Central Medical School had been spent mainly on clinical work. Indeed, I expected it would be less exacting because at Otago, while one might speak to a patient and make recommendations, the patient was very much the charge of the sisters and nurses, who had a rather proprietorial attitude. At the Central Medical School we had actually been assigned individual patients and given their complete medical history, treatment, and so forth. We could examine them and then make recommendations to the doctor on his rounds. He would then either approve or point out where we had gone wrong. Then, without any warning, Ratu Sukuna, who was in London for the Victory Parade to mark the end of World War II, wrote to tell me that he had discussed and made arrangements with Dr Maurice Bowra, the warden of Wadham College, Oxford, for me to take a degree in economics. He said the term began on 13 October; he was sorry he would not be back before I left, but I should leave no later than August. The Bank of New Zealand would arrange for passages, funds, and similar details. I had no thought of politics at the time, and I assumed he wanted me to join Ratu Edward, Ratu Penaia, Ratu George, and Ravuama Vunivalu in helping him with his work. Of the last two, Ratu George Cakobau was the Vunivalu of Bau who would later become the first Fijian Governor-General, and Ravuama Vunivalu was a gifted politician and communicator who, sadly, died before he could realise his full potential. I was naturally very disappointed at not being permitted to complete my medical course. Dr Verrier, who had been most supportive through26

Bolt from the Dark Blue 27 out, said I would always regret it. However, I had no choice but to obey Ratu Sukuna's instruction, and that was that. In those days a Fijian with a degree was a rare bird, and I would become one of only six. I had been fortunate in my relationship with Ratu Sukuna in that I had spent two Christmas holidays from Otago in Fiji, during part of which I was lucky enough to have long talks with him. He allowed me to discuss matters quite freely, and I enjoyed this immensely and considered it a privilege. He was kind enough to comment on ideas I put forward and did not put me down too heavily when I went beyond the mark. I could only assume that possibly Ratu Sukuna thought, from those few conversations, that I had ideas worth nurturing. So I said to myself, " I am going to Oxford. I might spend two years on economics, and why should I not, at the end, go on to medical school and finish my medical degree?" Ratu Penaia and I boarded the New Zealand Shipping Company's vessel Rangitiki. He was going to attend a course for administrative officers of the Colonial Service at Oxford. I spent most of my time trying to learn something about economics from one or two books, and I thought I had just begun to get a grasp of it when I arrived in Oxford, only to be told by Dr Bowra that Ratu Sukuna and he had further discussed my future and decided I was to read modern history. Ratu Sukuna thought of a pass degree in two years, but Dr Bowra thought I should take a three-year honours course. My course was financed by the people of Lau, Ratu Edward, and Ratu Sukuna's brothers, Ratu Dovi and Ratu Tiale. I started my course in modern history at Wadham College when Ratu Edward and Ratu Penaia started the administrative officers' training course. That year Ratu Sukuna, probably using them as a precedent, was able to obtain a scholarship of £200 a year from the government for me. Two years later Ratu Dovi arrived in Oxford and asked me if I could give him some money. I said I was sorry I did not have any money. He said, "Yes you have. You have three hundred pounds in the Bank of New South Wales. The money has been deducted from my salary until 1948 for your education." I immediately said, "Well, take it all. It's yours." He replied, "Well, I would like to buy you something." So he bought me a dinner suit. Because of financial constraints I was unable to eat many restaurant meals, and I found that the college rations were insufficient for effective sport. I found myself crippled trying to play rugby on the college rations, and ended up having to have an operation on my

Bolt from the Dark Blue 28 knee. My weight had come down from 95 kilogrammes to 82. Part of my trouble was that the officer who was my "financial controller" at the Bank of New Zealand was not very sympathetic. He gave me the impression that he felt Fijians could not manage their financial affairs, and his whole attitude was very patronising. I would have been very pleased if I could have changed him. However, I was beginning to make some headway in the athletics world, and in June 1947 I went to the Amateur Athletics Association summer school in the hope of learning how to jump my own height. I learned how, but did not reach my target. Subsequently, I joined the Achilles Club of Oxford and Cambridge athletes on a tour of Germany. Travelling across Holland we could still see some evidence of bombing, but the recovery seemed ninety per cent complete. Germany was a different story. The ruin and devastation brought home to us the full meaning of war and overwhelmed and depressed us. People in rags waited along the railway line for someone to throw something to them. The children were pathetic, and most of the food we had went out the window to them. The Germans themselves were very docile, but I sensed a disguised underlying resentment. The frauleins were very forward, and I felt that even our women of lowliest rank would not have made a commodity of themselves like this. But then, our women had not had to go through the devastation of war. The athletics tour was very successful, for both the university and myself. We were based at Wuppertal, and from there we went to other venues. In Hanover we beat a team from the British Army of Occupation of the Rhine, and I won the high jump at 5 feet 9 inches. At Cologne we lost to the Combined German Universities, but I tied for first place in the high jump with 5 feet 7 inches. We beat the Combined British Services at Dusseldorf, and I reached 5 feet 8 inches in winning the high jump. It had been planned for us to go to Berlin, but just at that time the Berlin Blockade started and we were denied the opportunity of competing in the stadium where Jesse Owens and Jack Lovelock had triumphed in the Berlin Olympics of 1936. Throughout, we lived well on British rations, and whenever we could we would smuggle some of them out to the children. Back to Oxford at the beginning of the new term, and after all my expenditure, I found once again that my finances were very low and had to apply to Ratu Sukuna urgently. Sensing my desperation he replied by cable, but his generosity and prompt response made me rather ashamed of the burden I was placing on him—a burden

Bolt from the Dark Blue 29 he had voluntarily assumed—and I resolved to practise more stringent economy. Part of the reason for all this may have been that I was becoming affected by the materialism that was rampant in England at the time. I was dismayed at the general denial of God, especially in Oxford. In the end I found it a challenge. I was quite convinced that, much as I might fall short, it was only through a Christian faith and philosophy that I could dedicate my future to the service of others, which was surely why I had been sent to Oxford. I confided this in a letter to Ratu Sukuna, who wondered if rationalism would not do equally well. I compromised on Christian rationalism. Ratu Sukuna had been very disturbed by a comment of mine that I was still keen on medicine. But how could I help that, after several years of talking, thinking, and living medicine following my entry to the Central Medical School? It had, after all, been my chosen career. I was able to reassure him that I was now reconciled, even convinced, that I would be more useful to my people as a district officer than as a medical officer. I have already mentioned how my medical training had given me insight into the human condition and implanted lessons on rank which I would retain for the rest of my life, and for which I must be ever grateful. I was beginning to understand more fully the responsibilities, and indeed the sacrifices, required of chiefs, and one of the first had to be a divorce from medicine. It would be one step on my avowed course of following, however far off, the example of the greatest chief of them all, who was my uncle and my idol. I wrote to him quite often, partly as a humble duty and to keep him informed of how things were going, and I'm afraid partly as a safety valve and sounding board. I was very touched later to find that he had kept all my letters, and, of course, they have been very useful to me in writing these memoirs. At Christmas 1947 I was invited with Ratu Edward and Ratu Penaia to the home of Mrs Coles, a dentist who had been very kind to us. It was very warming to find English people who were so ready to invite us into their homes, not just for a meal but to stay. It makes a great difference when you feel lonely in a strange country, and Mrs Coles was a very kind mother to the three of us. Such was her kindness that when she noticed Ratu Penaia looking longingly at the postman's delivery, she sat down and wrote him a letter and sent it to him. I remember having tea at Balliol College one afternoon with the distinguished writer on colonial affairs, Margery Perham. My fellow

Bolt from the Dark Blue 30 guest was Seretse Khama from Bechuanaland as it was then, and it was the beginning of an enduring friendship, though I'm sure neither of us that afternoon envisaged seeing each other at Commonwealth Heads of Government Meetings. Our Fijian trio enjoyed some lighter moments. In one of the quadrangles of Wadham College was a large pear tree, laden with fruit. Ever hungry, Ratu Edward asked Ratu Penaia to shin up the tree and throw down some pears. He began to do this, and we filled our pockets. Suddenly, I shouted out "is dun sa butako pea! (Someone is stealing pears!)" In a trice Ratu Penaia was down the tree and ready to make off, only belatedly realising that no one else in the college would have known Fijian, and the caller must have been one of us. Early the following year, Ratu Edward and Ratu Penaia came up to Wadham to say goodbye, as they were returning to take up duty in Fiji. Despite their reluctance, I felt it was only right that there should be a small party of their friends and, perhaps more important, that the warden and one or two of the fellows should be invited. After all, in their chiefly positions, they might well want to sponsor students to Oxford themselves, and I felt it important that Fiji's name should be impressed. Apart from sherry, spirits were only to be had either from friends with connections or by paying through the nose. I used both methods and rustied up a creditable show of drinks and eats. The party was a great success, to the extent that Ratu Edward and Ratu Penaia actually wanted to contribute, but I had made it my show and left it that way. After it was all over, I thought I had been too presumptuous, but I felt Ratu Sukuna would have approved. Perhaps it was a very small example of what leadership is about. Later that year I had to have another operation on my knee, which I felt robbed me of an athletics blue that year and possibly also a blue for cricket. This was a pity, because there was no real fast bowler around, and I think I would have had a good chance of making the team on bowling alone. As it was, I had to be content with medium-pace bowling, and I was pleased to get an "Authentic" cap. I did take 41 wickets for 312 runs, including a hat trick and 3 wickets in 4 balls. If I had done better with the bat I might have made the team. But there I was, hobbling in the crease when I should have been jumping out and smothering the ball before it took spin. Later on I had the experience of playing against Warwickshire at Edgbaston for a team rather grandly called the British Empire

Bolt from the Dark Blue 31 Eleven, captained by Martin Donnelly of New Zealand. When I went in to bat I found myself facing Eric Hollies, the England slow bowler. Unimpressed, I struck at my first ball, and almost without any effort from me it sailed over the boundary for six. Clearly I had taken the measure of this much-vaunted bowler. The next delivery showed that on the contrary he had got the measure of me, as the rattle of the ball on the stumps behind me confirmed. But I had had my moment. My studies were progressing from medieval history to my special subject of British colonial policy, 1830-1960. This I found very interesting, perhaps because I felt it more relevant, perhaps because I had a first-class tutor for the subject. Meanwhile the social whirl continued. Among other engagements I was taken to a rather high class dance at the Hyde Park Hotel in London. Princess Margaret was on the floor when we arrived and was still on it when we left at 2:30 AM. The nearest I got to her was when I was trying to do a rumba and nearly knocked her and her partner off the floor. She just smiled nicely and carried on. The next time she came near she said very loudly, "If I were tall enough I could see where we were going," and smiled. But not so some of the other guests, who gave me hostile looks and told my partner that she was making trouble bringing me to such a dance. Later, she was told not to bring me to their dances again. There was no reason to shun my company, except on the grounds of colour. I have never admitted for a moment that those people were any better than I was in any way, though I always took care to remember that I was a guest in their country. However, when confronted with what I considered downright stupidity, I could react in a rather harsh and unfriendly manner. I expected— and intended—to calm down before I returned home. About this time I received a letter from Ratu Sukuna, in reply to one of mine, which is worth quoting at length: My dear Mara, You are due a letter from me since you are such a good correspondent. I enjoy hearing from you and am glad to get your last letter from Munich. Do you know I have kept all your epistles, demi-commands and letters which have been not only interesting to re-read but also useful in giving some idea of your likely reaction in a number of things. You have certainly grown up and I regard your performance in the Honours Schools as distinctly good. I said

Bolt from the Dark Blue 32 something of this kind in my last letter. It was a good thing you had Ravuama to talk to and to cheer you up about that time, for you were very much down in the dumps—the reasons I have not been able to fathom. That raises a problem. How is it, after so fine a record in schools, in sport and in the social life of the 'varsity, one can reach the depth of despondency that you did? In letters you frequently write as if Fiji as a whole has an interest in your career and that you have a high position to live up to. That attitude I can well understand your acquiring from your upbringing in Lakeba; but, with your reading and the levelling experience one gets abroad, it is surprising on the facts of your case and experience that you have retained the impression that the Fijian people (apart from places in Lau and your own close connections) care two hoots about you, until you have done something for them they can feel and understand. The question arises, are you going to setde down to hard work, as a very junior Administrative Officer, preparatory to greater things? I think you can though the going will be hard. You have seen something of English life at its best under post-war conditions and a Labour Government. You have travelled extensively on the Continent. Whether experiences of this kind are going to be helpful in the kind of work you will have here, among the people with whom you will be largely associated, depends entirely on your attitude towards native life. If you regard yourself as having courtesy rank only, if you confine to Lakeba your notions of what is due to you and if you mix freely within the boundaries demarcated by custom, shouldering obligations, you will do well and get a fund of amusement out of the clash of outlook and aims. I mention these things because two or three of those who have come back are tending to cut adrift. But there is really no clash between just pride and true humility. It was a salutary lesson for me and focused my thinking. I realised that when I talked of the Fijian people, on whose behalf I was trying to distinguish myself in all I did at Oxford, I was really referring to Ratu Sukuna himself. I tried to explain to him that the reward I looked for was not promotion but the thought that he might rub his hands in quiet glee, saying to the Fijian people, "Ah, my confidence is justified, and I have not spent my time on him in

Bolt from the Dark Blue 33 vain." I was so worried by Ratu Sukuna's letter that I sought a cabled reply, and again he turned up trumps, as once before, with an immediate response. I felt very fortunate. I had carried on with athletics, and in the end I did get a blue, which fulfilled one of the commendations Ratu Sukuna had apparently made about me to Dr Bowra. I also had the opportunity of touring some of the famous English and Scottish public schools with the Achilles Club. Looking back on it all, I really had a good time at Oxford. A lot of senior men there had returned from the war, and proctors would stop one of them engaged in some petty delinquency with the traditional courteous question, "Your name and college, Sir?" only to receive a reply like, "Colonel Macpherson, DSO and Bar, Balliol." Not surprisingly, the rules were relaxed. I had wonderful experiences there and made lots of friends, whom I still meet all over the world, and we had boundless and varied discussions, mostiy over beer, which helped to fill us up. The food, as I've said, was pretty grim, and one could only get a fiveshilling meal in a restaurant. I even had a short course at Cambridge, where I played cricket for my host college, Pembroke. I moved on to the course for colonial administrative officers and found its almost exclusive concentration on Africa very tedious, though that was what we were tested on. I also found the course supervisor rather unsympathetic and overbearing, perhaps to compensate for his short stature. He was from Africa. On this course, I came at last to the economics that had been the initial aim of my studies at Oxford. I found it a bit boring, the more so as we were given only eight weeks to learn the fundamentals as well as their application in the colonies. Quite the most interesting part was the application of economics in cooperative societies— something directly practical. It was now August 1950, and with my formal education and training over, I was looking forward to continuing it in the practical field and applying it in the real world.

5

Return to the Pacific: District Officer This is your sub-division or your job. These are the lines on which I want it to be run. Now go and run it. If you make a really serious mistake I shall have to overrule you. Otherwise I shall not interfere. If you want advice I am here to give it. If you want a definite order you are free to ask for it. But if you make a habit of wanting either you are not much good to me. Philip Mason, The Men Who Ruled India

I didn't realise it at the time, but I was appointed an administrative officer class II in the last year the government offered the exceedingly generous terms of United Kingdom leave, with forty days' travel leave each way to officers recruited in the United Kingdom— which applied to me. This was a real boon, especially in the early days when salaries were very low. (My initial salary was £350 per year with free quarters, though almost immediately there was a salary review.) It meant we had a month aboard ship with everything paid and the chance to save to cover the leave. Then we spent all our money, perhaps more, on our leave, but had another month's free board and lodging to recover. For those who entered the following year, travel leave was cut to twenty days each way, and, eventually to five days, based on air travel. I enjoyed the voyage back to Fiji immensely and looked forward to assuming duty as a district officer. But first was my marriage. You might say mine was a dynastic marriage. My grandmother, who had continually been a source of wisdom by precept and example, thought that Adi Lala, the daughter of the high chief Roko Tui Dreketi, would be a suitable wife for me. She was just a young girl at the time, and I was at the Sacred Heart College in Auckland, so my grandmother certainly could not be charged with taking short views. My aunt Adi Gadai was also a strong supporter of the marriage. It was a good year or two before Adi Lala and I actually met, 34

Return to the Pacific 3S but I think we both agreed my grandmother had planned well, and after that we began to correspond. Amusingly enough, in a letter I received from Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna at Oxford, he said that Adi Lala knew nothing about cooking or housekeeping, probably even less than I did, but there was some comfort in that. It would give me a longer life expectation. There were apparently some rumblings in his own household, but fortunately he himself took a neutral stance. By the time I received the letter I had already burned my boats by sending Adi Lala a ring—by the safe hand of Ravuama Vunivalu, who had been studying at St John's College, Cambridge. In early September 1950, I went with a party from Lau to Sigatoka to ask for Adi Lala's hand in the customary Fijian way. We were very well received by her father, who was Roko Tui NadrogaNavosa at the time, and the pledge was sealed. After a rehearsal the previous week, the wedding took place on 22 September in the Sacred Heart Cathedral in Suva, where Ratu George Cakobau and Ratu Vosailagi shared the duties of best man. Then a reception at noon in the Grand Pacific Hotel, and in the afternoon Fijian ceremonies and a reception at Draiba. We spent the Sunday at Deuba, and then it was back to work the next day. However, I did get a short leave soon after, which was our honeymoon. I come from a generation and a race that are naturally reticent about personal feelings and relationships. Perhaps then, it will suffice to say that Adi Lala has been a wonderful wife and mother, besides being a very gracious consort and ambassadress for Fiji. In 1950 there were three administrative divisions in Fiji—Northern, Western, and Southern, each headed by a senior district commissioner assisted by a number of district officers. Within the divisions were numbers of yasan a, provinces, subdivided into tikina, districts. My first posting was to the Southern Division where Joseph Sykes was commissioner. At that time all the district officers were stationed in the centres—Suva, Lautoka, and Labasa. I was very keen to be posted out, and I remember very well Sykes' instructions, which mirrored the quotation at the head of this chapter but put it rather more succinctly and directly: "You go to Navua. You are the Governor of Navua. If you do well, we'll pat you on the back. If you don't, you'll get a kick in the bottom." I don't remember getting too many kicks!

Return to the Pacific 36 I went to Navua, where the government station, Naitonitoni, is on the south coast of Viti Levu, close to the mouth of the Navua River and opposite Beqa, the island of the legendary fire-walkers. My district comprised the provinces of Serua, Namosi, and Kadavu, as well as Suva tikina and the island of Beqa in Rewa tikina. The station had been closed for some time, so I had all the business of reopening it. However, it was rewarding in that the people seemed glad to have a district officer on the spot again instead of having to take all their problems to Suva. My first job at Navua was to organise a filing system—that dreaded but necessary tool of colonial governments. As my diary shows, I spent as little time in the office as I could. And even when I was there, my diary entries showed a descending assessment of its interest, from the laconic "at office" to the more opprobrious "routine office work" and finally to "in office all day," as if committing a whole day to such a mundane environment was the end. When I attended administrative officers' conferences, however, I found that my views were almost universally shared, which was reassuring and at the same time prevented my feeling myself somehow unique. I can't say I found these conferences either very inspiring or very useful. We conducted very earnest discussions and passed pious resolutions, but to me the main benefit was that they gave us an understanding of one another's problems and a chance to exchange sympathy. I could not help comparing the conferences with the annual conference of the Liberal Party in England at that time. I notice in a letter of Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna a comment that he thought such conferences were quite a good arrangement from the government's side for letting off steam and so keeping the younger officers—and some of the older ones—quiet for the next year. Keeping and submitting diaries was rather a chore, and later on at an administrative officers' conference the issue of their abolition was hotly debated. Headquarters wanted to maintain them, and the outstation men to dispense with them. The issue was finally settled in our favour by a telling comment from one of our number, who reminded the meeting that Pepys went blind from writing diaries. However, I must admit that when it came to these memoirs I have been glad of those I have kept. I was gazetted as a third class magistrate, though I tended to obscure the innate honesty of the tide by referring to myself as Magistrate, Class III. The term simply indicated the level of cases I was entitled to hear, so perhaps I had some justice on my side. Cases tended to be dog licence offences, minor breaches of the peace, and

Return to the Pacific 37 suchlike offences. I also sat with Fijian magistrates in the provincial council, where a large number of the cases were petitions for divorce. We heard the cases, but the records had then to be submitted to the Supreme Court for judgment. A lot of the work of a district officer consisted of village inspections, and I had no sooner made out my first programme than I had a letter from the Buli (Fijian head of the district) asking me to postpone my intended visit till he was ready. I was not very impressed by this request. My view was that the district officer should see how villages ran normally, and not only when prepared for a visit. The desire to live in tidy and sanitary villages had to be cultivated, rather than the obsequious desire to please the district officer and the Roko (Fijian provincial head) during their infrequent visits. What was required was more frequent tours of inspection, with less of the transitory and festival character that did little more than give a fillip to the humdrum village life. It was also difficult and a bit embarrassing to be decisive and realistic in matters of administration in the midst of a ceremonial welcome and entertainment, though I note that on at least one occasion I summoned up the courage to tell the people immediately after the welcome ceremony how disappointed I was in their scruffy village, despite their good income from bananas. Eventually, I persuaded the people to arrange a tikina ceremony in one centre for the whole district, and then I could freely visit the villages without further rites. I thought it important to spend as much time with the villagers as possible. I was therefore greatly embarrassed on one occasion when a visit to Kadavu had to be radically curtailed because my senior had acquired other commitments. The people should never gain the impression that the district officer had no time for them and that it was not worth delaying other matters for them. I made a point of visiting every village in my district as soon as possible. Reverting to my medical training, I decided that if I learned the anatomy of my district first, I would then understand the physiology better. I was very disappointed in some of the villages close to Suva that were in very poor shape. They had more than enough planting land, which could provide them with an income and the people of Suva with dalo and tapioca. I began to wonder if it was ethical to protect and foster the way some of those people lived. They had seen all the amenities of Western civilisation close at hand, yet they still chose a life of lethargic ease. Amongst all this, I always found time for sport. I captained the

Return to the Pacific 38 Bau cricket side that won the Dewar Shield for the first time in twenty-four years (and unwisely accepted the responsibility for ordering photographs and trying to collect the money). I enjoyed sailing, and on one occasion took out Mr Dugdale, who was visiting from the Colonial Office. I found myself sole selector for the Southern District Rugby side. I watched Indian soccer, and I fished when I could. Proximity to Suva made all these enterprises possible. Being close to Suva also gave me the opportunity to maintain my links with Tonga. I was able to call on Her Majesty Queen Salote when she passed through Suva on her way between Tonga and New Zealand. I was also able to meet His Royal Highness Prince Tungi when he came to stay at the attractive Beachcomber Hotel at Deuba on the coast near Navua. I was clearly no longer the diffident boy who would have remained anonymous in Tonga. On 2 January 1952 I received a hurricane warning and alerted the district, but after reaching gale force the next day, the winds subsided. The full force of the hurricane hit us five days later and devastated the district. I tell its story in some detail, as a severe example of what hurricanes can mean in Fiji. But first and most important, we were fortunate that we had no deaths, though some injuries were reported. The amount of destruction showed that the force of the hurricane increased as it moved westward towards Suva. At its height, a gust of 213 kilometres per hour was recorded at Laucala Bay weather station, just before its anemometer was blown down. There was hardly a house left undamaged from Navua to Suva, and many, particularly in the Fijian villages, were completely wrecked. Namosi was worst hit, but more by a landslip and flood. On the day of the hurricane a village at the head of Namosi gorge was half buried by a landslip, and the Namosi River was dammed by the landslide and the debris brought down by the swollen river. At midday the water behind the dam broke loose and swept away three entire villages. The people had only time to run for their lives, leaving practically all their worldly possessions. Some neighbouring villages had more than half their houses wrecked, but they escaped the flood and with quick emergency repairs were able to house the Namosi villagers. The only building to survive the flood was the huge corrugated iron Catholic church, which was flooded to a depth of five feet at one stage. The mission station took in refugees from villages with all their houses ruined, and when I visited on the third day after the hurricane they were looking after two hundred and twenty souls. I recommended that these destitute villagers be supplied with rice and flour for the next six months to avoid starva-

Return to the Pacific 39 tion, as their food crops would not last beyond the end of February. Clothing and tools would also be required, and tents for temporary shelter. The villagers of Namosi agreed to rebuild their village on a new site, and I was grateful for the help of Tui Namosi in persuading the people to move—never an easy task. To the best of my knowledge, only two villages in Fiji have never changed their sites—Viseisei, the chiefly village of Vuda in the west, and Ucunivanua in Verata. Tui Namosi volunteered to tour the rest of his area to see whether lessdamaged villages could help with foodstuffs, mats, and cooking utensils. He certainly showed the stature of a chief throughout. Suva tikina suffered almost as badly as Namosi, but from wind velocity rather than flood. Even so, the six villages lost seventy-five houses out of eighty-nine, and tents were immediately supplied. I recommended that immediate planting begin under supervision, and, to encourage expedition, that a time limit be set on emergency supplies. Although clearly one had to improvise in emergencies, I felt that the sooner food supplies could be delivered in the form of Fijian foodstuffs the better. For one thing, the people would get a better diet; there might also be less clamour for continuing the emergency distributions. Rice, biscuits, flour, and tinned meat were perhaps too attractive luxuries. The way a Fijian Roman Catholic priest at Namosi experienced the hurricane is worth recording. On the morning of the hurricane, on returning from giving the last rites to a dying old woman, he decided to batten up his church at Namosi. He had just entered when the blow reached its height, and at midday the flood came down suddenly and prevented his escape to the station on the hill. He had to stay in the church while the flood burst in through the doors, and he soon had to climb onto the altar, which began to float around the church. As the water rose his "ark" began to be restricted by the cross beams, but fortunately the flood then began to subside. He soon recovered his sense of humour as the altar grounded, and remarked he had often told his parishioners the way to heaven, but never that they might try to get there on a floating altar. His story typifies indomitable Fijian reactions to a hurricane at their best. Hurricanes and floods were not the only natural phenomena we faced. One morning early in 1953 I was in the office preparing papers for the monthly meeting of the Navua Local Authority to be held at ten o'clock that morning. The District Officer Navua was the chairman as well as the secretary of the Navua Local Authority.

Return to the Pacifie 40 Just before nine o'clock, as I was coming to the end of my preparation, I was distracted by a noise of something being dragged along the verandah of the office. Before I could get up to find out what it was, one Peni from Beqa appeared at the door, sitting on the floor and moving into the room propelled by his hands. I knew Peni well and was annoyed by the intrusion. I told him sharply and loudly to stop where he was. At that moment the office started to shake violently, things rattled, and I thought the best thing to do was get out. When I got to the door, Peni grabbed my legs around the knees, crying, "Oh please forgive me, Sir. I did not mean to cause all this!" I struggled to loosen his grip, got outside, and told him to look at the sea, which was draining out, taking his punt with it. That brought him to his senses, and he ran to rescue it. I ran to the residence to see how things were, where I found our first-born, Ateca, being comforted by Tupou, her aunt, after a large jar had just missed her as it crashed to the floor. I told Tupou to take the child and run up the road away from the sea as the tidal wave began to roar in. I found my wife rather shaken and brought her to the office, where we stood fascinated by the tidal wave rolling in. It crashed through the bamboo fence by the beach and inundated the whole compound up to the level of the floor of the residence, which was three feet above the ground. My car was in the garage outside my office. In my state of mind at the time I didn't think of driving it out to higher ground, and it was inundated up to the window level. After six months, rust started to show up, and I applied for compensation, but the officials at headquarters wrote back that since the car was in the garage it was not being used for official purposes; therefore there was no case for compensation. Parsimonious bureaucracy! Another incident, recorded in my diary after the tidal wave, left a warmer feeling: I have a tabua which I hope the Fijian Office will treasure as one of greater significance than many it has seen. Actually, it is a fairly small one, only five inches, and its cord is worn and attenuated in parts. How it survived the tidal wave I did not ask. It was, however, presented to me as ai qaloqalovi or ceremony of welcome to land [literally, swimming ashore]. Never has ai qaloqalovi been so appropriately presented. I had just made a quick inspection over what was Nakasaleka village, and before I could begin organising any measures of relief the Nakasaleka chiefs insisted that the usual welcome ceremonies

Return to the Pacific 41 must be performed. I think it is truly significant of the Fijian character that, despite the ruin and desolation of their earthly belongings, the Nakasaleka chiefs of the yavu of Nabala, instead of moaning and bewailing and supplicating help, insisted they must pay their customary respects in their words "to the representatives in our province of the Governor who is the representative of the Queen in Fiji." This is to me the salient cord that has bound and will bind Fiji to the Mother Country for ever, come quake, come wave. Before I left Navua, I put down some thoughts on Fijian village life. Looking back, I find them reflecting the radicalism and impatience of youth, but if nothing else they show I was concerned and thinking. I noted that to prescribe development in my district was to presuppose at the same time an altogether new society involving drastic changes in our traditions and customs. While these customs were essential to preserving the social basis of the emotional makeup of Fijian society, they constituted formidable barriers to progress and development. The more a community bowed to tradition, the harder it was for wants to arise and be satisfied other than those within the customary pattern of life in the community. The scope for the individual was very limited. For example, in one village I explained that with proper livestock management they could have up to three hundred pigs in paddocks, only to be told that if they reached three hundred they would have to finish them off in three or four feasts. Otherwise the rest of the district would come and ask for them, a request which, by custom, they would find hard to refuse. The idea of investing money in livestock was as yet quite foreign. Much of the future in Fijian society was apparently a projection of the past. Increase of income meant multiplication of existing wants, whereas real increase of income would be achieved by diversification of the community. But in a tradition-bound community the predetermined roles of the individuals restricted the opportunity for diversified independent personal responsibility. Where groups threw off the previous pattern of activity there could be real changes in the economic structure of the community. The Indians in the district were showing healthy signs of economic prosperity, while they moved further and faster from their own traditions and customs than did the Fijians. I did not doubt that through the new Fijian Development Fund,

Return to the Pacific 42 based on a levy on crops, Fijians could accumulate funds for development, but unless they had a developed view of the future, most of the funds would meet the same fate as money once communally collected, and end up rotting and rusting in the shape of village churches and unhealthy iron-roofed structures. While the industrialised civilisation of the West had many sources of income, for most Fijians the only form of capital was land, and its exploitation the only means of livelihood. To change from subsistence economy meant to change from the subsistence way of exploiting the land to fit the money economy. It would mean new crops and new methods and would be hard to achieve without a transformation of the system of tenure. Land should become commercialised and the basis of land use changed from community and custom to individual and contract. It could mean wealthy Fijian capitalists and the operation of agriculture credit, with the corollary that some landowners became labourers on the land. Where the Native Lands Trust Board assumed the role of landlord, they had to engage in extensive schemes to educate Fijians on modern land use. (This method was to prove dramatically successful in later years on the Seaqaqa cane scheme.) Instead of arranging grazing leases for others on Fijian land, I wanted to see the Native Lands Trust Board encouraging Fijians to raise cattle on their own land with loans and advice. But this would also need some sort of tide to release them from the tentacles of the matctqali hierarchy. I further noted a lot of confusion in the minds of Fijians about economic development. While it was generally accepted that communal existence was still essential for Fijian society, the general trend of development schemes had focused on the individual. There was also scope for communal development if it were directed to develop specialised sections of a tribe in their natural, inherent, and traditional calling. Such development would find carpenters and builders amongst the Fulaga, Ogea, and Kabara people, for instance, and perhaps organise the natural fishing skills of the Kaba and Lasakau people. It would, one might say, endeavour to bring out the best finish in the material it produced by using the most appropriate polish. Gready daring, I proposed these ideas at an administrative officers' conference in the presence of Ratu Sukuna. I think he must have wondered about his Oxford investment! The clearest lesson I learned from the hurricane was that the days of the Fijian thatched bure as a must in Fijian villages were over. Of the houses which survived the hurricane, nearly all were bungalow

Return to the Pacific 43 type. The framework and the braces and supports give them superiority in time of stress. While not wishing to discourage good Fijian bures, I am convinced a good bungalow is far superior, entails less repair, and is much more stable during hurricanes. Moreover, after a hurricane, wood and iron are more easily obtainable than thatch, reeds, and creeper. Well-to-do Fijians with a well-built bungalow could have a bure as well. At the end of March 1952 I was posted to Nausori, the headquarters of the newly created Central Division, taking in part of the Southern Division. I left Navua with real regret. I felt I was just beginning to know my district after about eighteen months' reconnaissance. Had I remained a further two years I would have hoped to sort out the essential from the inessential jobs to which the District Officer Navua could devote his energies with some hope of achievement. It was probably part of the price that had to be paid for the generous leave conditions granted to officers recruited overseas, for posts were frequently reassigned following an officer's departure. One of the officers who arranged these postings was heard to say that apart from one or two posts, officers could be shuffled like a pack of cards. Clearly a joker! To Nausori I had to go, and on 1 April, appropriately enough, I experienced a rather sour finale to our efforts at hurricane relief. I went up the Waidina River early on my second day at Nausori because of a press report of starvation in the Waidina area. The report was given to the press by the Reverend Alan Tippet, who was informed by one Jone Roko from the Waidina area. I took with me six punt loads of relief foodstuffs. The next morning I harangued the villagers in high dudgeon. I told them I found it regrettable that I found myself escorted on my first official tour by a minister of religion. I had never heard of an administrative officer snooping after a minister of religion to see whether his sermons gave proper nourishment to souls or not, though there were vast areas of Fiji starved for religion. I impressed on the "congregation" that the relief food arrived according to plans laid down by my predecessor, and it was not brought any earlier because of the agitation they had engineered in the press. Ironically, on my way down river we caught up with four bamboo rafts heavily laden with dalo, destined for sale to the gold mine at Vatukoula. On enquiry, I learned they came from the very heart of the "starving Waidina." Perhaps it was a good put-down to me for overgeneralising on the resilience of the priest on his floating altar in Namosi, and there

Return to the Pacific 44 was further despondency and dependence among the Namosi people. There was clearly plenty of food in the gardens, and the longer food assistance was maintained the less the people would be inclined to work for recovery. The Buli and the priest agreed we should terminate food supplies at the end of the month. Other villages, by contrast, had put the loans they received to good use and had more gardens now than before the hurricane. They had even felled sufficient logs to sell for their provincial rates, the local government tax levied individually by provinces. The hurricane had actually revived greater industry amongst those people. A good note to end the hurricane saga. During this period I volunteered to join the Territorial Army and applied to Oliver Edwards, who commanded a Territorial Anti-Aircraft Regiment. I told him I wanted to start at the bottom and enter as a gunner. He told me he could not agree to this and explained why. It appears that at one stage my father had been a private soldier in the army, and at reveille the orderly sergeant of the day would kneel by the private's bed and entreat him to get out on parade; otherwise the sergeant himself would be in trouble. I saw the point and we compromised on an appointment as an officer cadet. In due course I was appointed a second lieutenant, but it is one of my great regrets that I never had the opportunity for action with Fijian troops. While I was a district officer in the Central Division, in September 1953,1 was sworn in as the fifth Native Member of the Legislative Council. For the first sitting I lay very low and looked about me to learn as much as I could before venturing to intervene. After all, it would be something quite new for me to stand up in such an august assembly and speak in English. I also tried to read as much as I could about the art of politics and came across a quotation to introduce my remarks in the next sitting. It was from Sir Charles Davenant's Discourses on the Public Revenues and on Trade in England, published in 1698. A great Statesman by consulting all sorts of Men, and by contemplating the universal Posture of the Nation, the Power, Strength, Trade, Wealth and Revenues, in any Council he is able to offer by summing up the Difficulties on either side, and by computing upon the whole, should be able to form a sound Judgement, and to give right Advice and this is what is meant by political Arithmetic. An early application of the computer. It seemed to contain a lot of sense.

Return to the Pacific 4-S I spoke briefly in the budget debate. Stressing the importance of the spoken word in driving home the message of good husbandry, I recommended higher rates of pay for field men in agriculture and forestry to attract the best recruits. They were, after all, at the sharp end of extension work, and its success depended on them. I also strongly recommended that more attention be given to the education of women, whose importance in the family was crucial. And finally I wondered whether bananas could not be shipped to New Zealand in bunches rather than depleting our forests to make the vast numbers of cases required. By the end of the sitting I felt confident enough to express strong opposition to a bill to introduce new forms of local government in Fiji. I recalled a comment that in 1871, when all Cakobau's ministers were Europeans, his government was based primarily on Western ideas and for that very reason collapsed. I thought the bill was an Anglo-Saxon model and contrasted it with Judge Coussey's Report on Constitutional Reform for the Gold Coast. The first thing he had done was examine the existing local government. He had a lot to say against it but made recommendations to improve it. It provided the foundation, and new ideas for local government were added to it, so that it would develop to suit the conditions of the people. But this bill made no mention of the Fijian administration, which already catered for nearly half the people. To my relief I was not a lone voice, and the bill was thrown out. It was a kindly baptism, and I noted that the Hansard Report for the whole year comprised 381 pages in one volume. By contrast, once we became fully political, the report for the year was in four volumes and amounted to 2447 pages (1973). After another short posting back to Navua, I was due for six months' leave after four years and I decided to take it in Lakeba. One of the tasks I undertook during my six months' leave at Lakeba was the organisation of the repair of the concrete wicket and a cricket competition involving four teams from the chiefly town of Tubou. During that time four boys from Tubou, who had been working as labourers in Suva for some years, came up for Christmas. I knew they were keen on cricket and gave them responsible positions in the teams. Those boys remained in Lakeba and decided to give up Suva, and I wondered how many Fijian youths could be drawn from Suva by making their villages more attractive. I also took a Lakeba team to Lomaloma, and this sparked interest on the islands of Totoya, Fulaga, and Ono, as well as the village of Mualevu on Vanuabalavu, who all promised to send teams to Lakeba for a competition at the time of the Lau Provincial Council. There is

Return to the Pacific 46 no doubt that sport attracts youth, and they were the troublesome element in Suva at that time. When I resumed duty it was to have what I considered the plum job in the service—District Officer Maritime in the Southern Division. Again I was fortunate with my commissioner—Archie Reid, a Scot, whom I mentioned earlier in connection with my father. He had a great empathy with both the Fijian and the Tongan people. At that time there were just the two of us running the whole of the Southern Division, which comprised the provinces of Tailevu, Lomaiviti, Lau, Kadavu, Naitasiri, Rewa, Namosi, and Serua. Archie had an elegant and rather flattering variation on the delegation theme. He said, "You're Commissioner and District Officer. I'm also Commissioner and District Officer." And that's how we ran it. I said flattering, but it was also very shrewd as it would be impossible to abuse such a trust as that. My responsibility as District Officer Maritime encompassed the island provinces of Lau, Lomaiviti, and Kadavu. I certainly could not complain of too much time in the office. I notice that at the very start of my time I was away from headquarters twenty-seven days in June and twenty-one days in July. In fact we both did so much travelling that Archie put out a circular, giving about three days in two months when those wanting to see him would find him in the office. He gave it very wide circulation and the Colonial Secretary sent a memorandum saying that he was not used to being told by commissioners when he could see them! He obviously had more time than we had. A cautionary tale of commercial exploitation: The reef six miles south-south-west of Vatoa Island in southern Lau (the only island of the Fiji group touched by Captain Cook) is one of the best beds for trochus shell in Fiji. An Indian trader used to visit fairly regularly, with people from other islands to collect the shells for him. He bought them at £ 4 0 a ton. The price in Suva and Levuka at that time fluctuated around £250 a ton. I later learned from the button manufacturer in Levuka that the price that month was £280 a ton. I distributed this information to every island where I called. But the Vatoa people were even worse off. Because Vatoa was used as the base for the operation, they were forced by custom to become hosts to the others. It would be difficult to put a complete ban on people from other islands being brought in to Vatoa, but with the cooperation of the buli of the various islands much could be done to discourage this type of enterprise. Vuata Vatoa is a dangerous reef. During the war a Liberty ship

Return to the Pacific 4-7 and a corvette were wrecked there. While I was District Officer Maritime I arrived there one day to find a Swedish vessel abandoned on the reef. One of the manifold duties of a district officer is receiver of wrecks. I inspected the vessel, which turned out to have a cargo of red cedar wood from Scandinavia. I reported to Suva and noted shortly afterwards that the timber was to be sold by tender. I was approached by W R Carpenter Limited and other firms and asked for an estimate of the value of the cargo. I suggested, in its sodden condition, it might be worth $7000-$8000. On reflection, I felt I might have underestimated the value and organised a consortium from Vatoa itself, Namuka, and the Vuanirewa Cooperative Societies to tender $9000, and they got it. They then sold it to Carpenters for, shall we say, rather more than they had paid for it. Beneath the timber they found aluminium blocks, and the sale of some of those increased the value of the coup. I suppose it might qualify as "insider trading" nowadays, but as far as I was concerned the gains went to worthy destinations. I have complained about dull office routine. Now in my brief visits to Suva and days spent in the office I found myself complaining about the variety! I found it exasperating and frustrating to interview a dozen different people on a dozen different subjects in a single morning. Most of the people seeking the advice of the district officer brought the pathetic side of the subject. One had to listen to them with sympathy and understanding while in one's mind scanning through the volumes of the Laws of Fiji, searching for an ordinance or a regulation or a legal notice or even just a publication in the Gazette that would solve the case. No sooner had one settled a problem on, say, an amendment to a section of the Market Regulations providing that no produce except fresh fish might be sold within a mile of an official market, than the next interview sent your mind clawing madly into the wilds of the Building Regulations and the Fair Rents Ordinance; next, one would be invited to have at least a nodding acquaintance with the Cinema Regulations or the maintenance of illegitimate children. It went without saying that if the advice was successful, that was the last I saw of the clients, but if the advice did not produce the desired result they would turn up again like the proverbial bad pennies. I found at the end of the year that I had only been in the office thirty-one days, but in that time I had conducted two hundred and fifteen interviews. They took up all the time, and letters had to be done out of hours. I made this the basis for a plea for a dictating

Return to the Pacific 48 machine. I also suggested a pocket dictation machine for use on tour, to save much time on return to headquarters. In the midst of all this, it was like a breath of fresh air to meet up again with Professor Eccles, a world authority on neuro-muscular transmission of nervous impulses, who taught me physiology at Otago. He was on his way to a world conference on neuromuscular transmission at the Hague, and my pleasure in his visit showed me that the medical bacillus had not yet been utterly eliminated. I was once asked what I would like to have done if my career had not followed the course it did. I had no doubt. In the old days, when both doctors and administrators were in short supply, men were sometimes appointed as joint medical officers and commissioners. I would have chosen to be Commissioner and Medical Officer Eastern. I would then have had the satisfying job of looking after my people's health as well as their economic and social welfare, not to mention the sailing and the fishing. Dreams. Thursday, 12 January 1956 was a notable day in the history of Fiji cricket. The West Indies team was passing through and spending a day in Suva. They very sportingly offered to play a Fiji eleven, although they had been a fortnight at sea. I was given the honour of captaining the Fiji side, and in the event Fiji scored 91 against West Indies' 63. Perhaps it is only fair to add that the West Indies batted after a superb Fijian lunch! However, Fiji's bowling and fielding were just too good for the West Indies. Fortunately for us, Weekes did not play, for if a single batsman had managed to stay, I am sure they would have scored freely. As it was, an excellent over from Jack Gosling, backed up by three miraculous catches, two by Harry Apted and one by Bula, removed three world-renowned batsmen— Atkinson, de Peiza, and Smith. One of the batsmen, on his first tour, smacked a delivery at full force towards Harry Swann—a rather indifferent fielder who had been tucked away as far out of sight as possible. He very sensibly turned away, and the ball hit him a resounding smack on his behind. Clutching at his injured part, he found the ball in his hand, and instead of a cry of pain, shouted, "How's that!" Out it was, and that was that. The batsman was the great Sobers—later Sir Garfield Sobers. In a way, I was sorry they did not bat better, for I had seen them during their victorious tour of England and knew what the spectators had missed. The historic score card is reproduced as Figure 2.

(Top left) This student photo was taken just before I left for Oxford University, in July 1946. (Fiji Public Relations Office) (Top right) Otago University Capping Band marched through Dunedin City to celebrate VE and V J Days, 1945. The two fellow musicians are from my medical class. (Private collection) (Bottom) The tragedy of Romeo and Juliet, Knox College ballet group, Otago University, 1945. (Private collection)

(Top left) Wearing the Fijian traditional dress for the vakatamisulu (lifting of mourning) ceremonies for Adi Arieta Koila at Lakeba, August 195s. (Top right) Relaxing with my wife at the Taj Mahal, Agra, on our Commonwealth tour, 1967. Behind are Robert Sanders, Secretary to the Council of Ministers, and our two Indian guides. (Government of India) (Bottom) A family portrait at Veiuto, Suva, 1969. Left to right, back: Adi Ateca, Adi Koila, Adi Kakua; middle: Ratu Mara, Ratu Tevita, Adi Elenoa, Adi Lala; front: Ratu Finau, Adi Litia, Ratu Jioji.

(Top) Meeting Sir Alexander Bustamente, former prime minister, at his home in Irish Town above Jamaica. Robert Sanders is on the left, and Lady Bustamente is standing by her husband, with my wife to the right. Commonwealth tour, 1967. (Government of Jamaica) (Bottom) A conversation with Dr Cheddi Jagan, Leader of the Opposition in Guyana, during my Commonwealth tour, 1967. (Government of Jamaica,)

Addressing the Legislative Council for the first time as Chief Minister, October 1967.

Relaxing at sea off Lomaloma, my birthplace, 1984.

Council of Ministers at Government House, Suva, 1967, after the Alliance Party victory under the 1966 Constitution, when I became Chief Minister. Left to right, front: Minister for Fijian Affairs Ratu Penaia Ganilau, Minister for Social Services Vijay Singh, myself, His Excellency Governor Sir Derek Jakeway, Chief Secretary G P Lloyd, Minister for Commerce Ratu Sir Edward Cakobau, Minister of Finance H P Ritchie; back: Secretary to the Council Robert Sanders, Minister for Works Charles Stinson, Minister for Natural Resources Doug Brown, Minister without Portfolio John Falvey, Attorney-General Justin Lewis, Assistant Minister of Education Krishna Samy Reddy.

Outside the Royal Palace of Holyrood House, Edinburgh, with Robert Sanders, on the morning of 21 May 1969, after investiture as Knight Commander of the Order of the British Empire. (Private collection)

On the eighteenth green of the Old Course, St Andrews, in front of the Royal and Ancient Clubhouse, evening of 21 May 1969, with my playing partner from the club, my caddy, and Robert Sanders. Note the time on the clubhouse clock. (Private collection)

(Top left) Emerging from the waters of the rock pool at Nayau on the morning after my installation with the chiefly title of Tui Nayau, June 1969. (The Nation) (Top right) In a unique part of the ceremony of installation as Tui Nayau, Vaka passes me the yaqona cup backwards over his head. Nayau, 7 July 1969. (The Nation) (Bottom) In full ceremonial dress after installation as Sau ni Vanua. Left to right: Tevita Loga (Vaka), Adi Alani Sovanatabua, myself, Adi Seinimili Takiveikata, Adi Lala, Tui Soso, Nukunuku, Tubou. Lakeba, 9 July 1969. (The Nation)

(Top) Drinking the ceremonial installation cup of yaqona as Sau ni Vanua. Note the salasiga, ceremonial masi turban. Lakeba, 9 July 1969. (The Nation) (Bottom) Church service of dedication as Sau ni Vanua. Left to right: Our children, Ratu Tevita, Ratu Finau, Adi Elenoa, Ratu Jioji; my mother, Lusiana Qolikoro. Lakeba, 9 July 1969.

Fiji v. West Indies 12 January 1 9 5 6 A Fiji X I H. Apted c de Pciza b Smith W. Apted c Goddard b Atkinson H. Swann c Ramadhin b Valentine I. Bula b Atkinson Satyanand c Goddard b Sobers H. Lestre c Goddard b Smith Tevita Donu b Smith Ratu K.K.T. Mara (capt) c Furlonge b Smith P.T. Raddock b Sobers A. Driu b Atkinson J.W. Gosling not out Extras Total

33 7 5 27 3 1 0 0 12 0 0 3 91

Smith 4 for 26, Sobers 2 for 19, Atkinson 3 for 14, Valentine 1 for 15 A West Indies XI H. Furlonge b Driu A. Binns c Bula b Gosling G. Sobers c Swann b Gosling C. Smith c Apted b Gosling C. de Peiza c Raddock b Gosling D. Atkinson (capt) c Apted b Gosling J. Goddard b Driu W. Edun not out F. King lbw b Gosling S. Ramadhin b Driu A. Valentine b Driu Extras Total

16 16 6 1 4 4 0 8 4 0 0 63

Driu 4 for 26, Gosling 6 for 25 Umpires H. King and G A. Robertson. Fiji won by 2 8 runs Score card for Fiji versus West Indies cricket match, 12 January 1956.

FIGURE 2

Return to the Pacific so In 1957 I was moved again—to the island of Kadavu this time. Apparently I had become regarded as an expert in opening or reopening stations. As often happened, at the last moment all was changed, and I was posted to Ba, in the heart of the sugarcane area in western Viti Levu. It was now settled policy that district officers were posted out to stations in the division, and the Divisional Commissioner Western's headquarters were at Lautoka, some twentyfive kilometres away. He had three other outstations spread around the division. When I arrived in Ba, it might as well have been an island, for it was under extensive flooding. I was stuck in the Ba Hotel for a whole day, till James Coode, the incumbent, could get across to hand over to me. My two principal memories of Ba are of feeder roads and tree planting. I was very proud that I had been able to organise the construction of over seventeen miles of feeder roads among the canefields. Quite apart from improving communication generally for people and materials, one of the major results was that it hastened centralisation for the field officers of the Colonial Sugar Refining Company, more of whom now came to live in Ba. Some of this was achieved by what I suppose would now be called gamesmanship. For instance, though I had a bulldozer allocated to me, the funds given me for the driver's wages only covered six months. As I was very keen to retain him—an excellent operator —I would lend him and the bulldozer to the Forestry Department for the other six months, provided they paid his wages. I got gravel from the river where the Public Works Department were working, without paying royalties from my allocation of funds, because that was taken care of by the Public Works Department, and they didn't seem to notice the periodic appearances of a "rogue" truck that was logged as one of their own. I also constructed what is now known as Garvey Park with the bulldozer I used for feeder roads. Finally, the work became too much for one government bulldozer, and I contracted out to firms that were springing up all over the place. Two of them went bankrupt! I found this work gave me an excellent opportunity to meet the Indian canefarmers, and I still have long-standing friendships with Indians that were formed during that road-building period in Ba. I was also to find the experience I gained of the sugar industry on the ground extremely valuable when I found myself involved in negotiating the purchase of the South Pacific Sugar Mills, and, of course, also on the international sugar scene. My tree-planting interest arose in a curious way. Every fortnight

Return to the Pacific si a man showed up at the sub-accountancy to collect what seemed quite a substantial wage. In addition, it appeared he was entitled to two saddles, two horses, and a subsistence allowance. He was the fire prevention officer. I thought I would go and see what he did. This took me into the hilly area, where I found the forestry department were planting numerous trial plots of various types of pine, as well as other species. I could see not only a vast untapped economic potential but also opportunities for conservation of the soil. I became a pine enthusiast—I still am—and later I was able through my association and friendship with Sir Keith Holyoake, Prime Minister of New Zealand, to get funds from that country to make a start on a programme. I organised the building of the Tavua market and a number of schools. I remember this because I ordered the corrugated composite roofing and found that quite the best quote came from the United Kingdom despite the distance. The Crown agents have received many brickbats, but in the late fifties they served Ba well. Ba district includes the Emperor Gold Mining Company's operation at Vatukoula, and I used to call in and talk with Mr Cayzer, the manager. I also used to see Nemani Waka, the general secretary of the Mineworkers' Union, and I was astonished to learn that he had never met the manager. I took him in to introduce him, and a much better two-way communication resulted. This went on for about a year, and they were beginning to make progress on matters like housing and the like. Unfortunately Nemani then became branded as a company man, and to maintain credibility with his members began to adopt a more truculent manner, and the good relations were marred. One final memory of Ba is that there I applied to join the golf club, run by the Colonial Sugar Refining Company. A magistrate who was going on leave from Ba introduced me to golf. I think his main interest was to sell me his clubs before he went on leave. I bought the set for £5 and never regretted it. The new magistrate and I joined forces and succeeded in obtaining a liquor licence for the Rarawai Golf and Social Club. O f course, we became highly popular and valued members. L E A V E IN T H E U N I T E D K I N G D O M A N D

EUROPE

By 1958 I was due for another leave and resolved to take advantage of my leave conditions to the United Kingdom, taking my wife and our two oldest children with me. We were very fortunate with accommodation in London, as Pat and Sofia Raddock had man-

Return to the Pacific 52 aged to lease a flat in Maida Vale through a Fiji connection and kindly invited us to share. Pat had become a good friend of mine through cricket. We played cricket in the Suva competition. He played for the Imperial Colts and I played for Lau, which I captained. But we had also played together for Fiji when his excellent wicket-keeping had contributed to many of the dismissals I achieved with my bowling. He and his wife were very good company, but much more than that they were staunch friends, good to celebrate with, and ready with sympathy when required. They were good people for sharing a flat, especially as we were a bit crowded. We did a lot of sightseeing together and shared in the chores of cooking, washing up, ironing, and so forth. It was a wonderfully carefree existence and seemed to me what a leave was for. Expenses had to be fairly carefully watched, and on one occasion our wives were at Harrods and for the first time noticed that it had a butcher's shop. Why not get the meat there as it was handy? They ordered eight nice-looking chops. The price staggered them, but they did not have the nerve to leave them. However, the slap-up meal for that night had to be stretched over two. All this was excellent experience for Adi Lala and myself, having to budget and make do on a Fiji district officer's salary in England. Sometimes we were able to buy fish-heads, which conferred the twofold benefits of a chiefly dish and a low price. Fiji had been very slowly expanding its cocoa production, and some of it must have found its way to Cadbury's at Bournville. At least I suppose that was why Adi Lala and I were invited to visit the factory and also to bring any friends we would like. Of course we took the Raddocks. We were just about to step out of the train at our destination when we looked along the platform and saw what was obviously a reception committee. They were standing by the first-class carriages and, of course, we had travelled third class. Only one thing to do. Quickly out of our compartment, we rushed along the train, fortunately a corridor one, and emerged through a firstclass door, thus maintaining the dignity of Fiji, ourselves, and probably the Cadbury's board of directors as well. Coming over on the ship we had made friends with an Australian couple, and on their arrival in England they bought a car and kindly invited us to join them in a continental tour. We put the girls into boarding school, then were off to Paris and down through France to the Spanish border. Here the customs and immigration controls were so difficult that we gave up the Spanish part of our trip. Only later did we learn that a few pesetas would have eased our way.

Return to the Pacific S3 However, it meant more time for the glories o f Italy and the Tuscan countryside. After a day or two in Nice, we were on our way to Rome, then the Adriatic and Venice and Florence. I was to visit many o f those places in much more comfortable style, but nothing will quite equal the thrill of that first European revelation. We had fulfilled and could concur with Dr Johnson's dictum that the grand object of travel is to see the shores of the Mediterranean. Then it was over the Alps to the Vienna and Salzburg o f Mozart and Beethoven, before going through Switzerland and into Germany—Munich, and down the Rhine into Belgium. Brussels had not yet gained for us the importance it was to have later, and Bruges with its canals was the city that took our fancy. We made no bookings and were always able to find rooms at reasonable rates, even in top-class hotels. It had been a superb leave, and we had just about enough money left to get us down to the ship at Southampton and then finish our holiday in the very comfortable—and, of course, fully paid—cabins o f the Northern Star, a Shaw Savill liner on its maiden voyage. On the way we visited Capetown and Natal, and I saw segregation of the races in the raw. Every public place and public vehicle had places for whites only, and others for blacks. In Capetown we visited, through the courtesy of a friend we met on board ship, the home of a coloured Muslim. The hospitable husband was of Malayan extraction. He had two wives in the house, and they both had young babies of the same age. The wives were quite friendly, and it was the first time I have seen two under the same roof living happily with a happy husband.

6

First Time at the Centre

When I returned from leave in 1959,1 was appointed Deputy Secretary for Fijian Affairs and found myself for the first time at the centre of the administration. I had had my brushes with headquarters officers. I felt they were not particularly sympathetic to the district view, did not know the districts, and yet were prepared to criticise. It was almost worse when one of them did know a district, as he often did not or would not realise that places and people changed over the years. I hoped my country experience would make me more sympathetic. The Secretary for Fijian Affairs was a very senior and gentlemanly Englishman, Charles Nott, who had returned from a spell as British Agent and Consul in Tonga. "Here's something to cut your teeth on," he said, handing me a paper with a short resolution of the Council of Chiefs. Did I say short? It was positively laconic. " A school shall be built to commemorate Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna." (He had died in 1958.) N o suggestions about money, no suggestions about site, no suggestions about staff. Nothing. Anyway, remembering my indoctrination with Joseph Sykes and Archie Reid, I felt I had simply to get on with it. O n my journeying around Fiji to preside over provincial councils, I asked them all to make provision in their estimates of one shilling per ratepayer for this purpose, and found a ready response. Then I had to find a site. With the District Officer Suva, Major Phillips, I must have quartered Nabua on the outskirts of Suva yard by yard. In the end we found an area near a tobacco factory, and a judicious word in the ear of the Governor sent the Director of Lands hotfoot to make the necessary arrangements. Then we had to recruit the staff, and in particular the headmaster. We were fortunate to be able to recruit Bill Donnelly, w h o had been a much-respected head of Lelean Memorial School and had retired in S4

At the Centre ss New Zealand. Amongst his pupils had been Ravuama Vunivalu and Rusiate Nayacakalou, Fiji's first PhD, who later became manager of the Native Lands Trust Board. Donnelly readily consented to start right away, and as we had no buildings he began classes in the board room of the Fijian Affairs Board. We then began construction with the available government building grants and loans, and within a year were able to move to the new school. I was chairman of the school board. The school is still doing well, and whenever I see good results I feel rather proud. I have set this down in some detail, because, with the fickleness of fortune, no one remembers me in this connection! In contrast, in my absence, the Lau Provincial Council voted to create a Ratu Kamisese Mara College. The following year I made a point of attending the council to stamp out this ridiculous idea. Did they want me to die? Schools were usually only named after people who were dead. But I was overridden. Everything was then, perhaps not unexpectedly, handed over to me to accomplish—land, temporary quarters, staff, and so on. I found a site about three miles from Tubou and an excellent lady teacher, Vasiti Renner, who gave the school a good start. But for me it was a burden. Whereas my very considerable efforts for the Ratu Sukuna Memorial School are completely forgotten, I would gladly have ended my association with the second school, of which I am constantly reminded. (However, only recently, on my seventy-fifth birthday, I took a renewed active interest in the school, and with an injection of funds, including offers of aid, and some new thinking, we hope to turn it into a school worthy of the province and better adapted to its needs. I am devoting royalties from this book to the school.) In 1958 we had a visit from Professor O H K Spate from the Australian National University, who had been invited to advise on the effect of their social organisation on the economic activities of the Fijian people. His recommendations were for a more individualised society, where a man could more easily detach himself from the tribal group and farm on his own, unhampered by the burden of communal duties, while nevertheless retaining links with his village. Professor Spate also criticised the Fijian Development Fund Board for authorising expenditure on social rather than economic projects. But the Fijians, particularly in my constituency, lived more in harmony with their environment than do people in the urban districts. The same principles of economic incentives did not apply. Too much emphasis on marketing and more economic processes of copra production could result in economic standards where they

At the Centre s6 would not use the local produce on which they had been brought up. They would depend on rice and flour, whereas tapioca, yams, and their wild variety, kawai, were more suitable food for them. And the sea-food from their own lagoons was infinitely preferable for their health and to their taste than the tinned foods from overseas they could buy because of the greater production of their crops. They would not necessarily be persuaded to produce more copra if they realised that they would have to change their way of life much more quickly than they would like. I felt that perhaps Professor Spate did not understand that through the profound knowledge of Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna the importance of social amenities as an incentive to higher production was realised, and that at the very outset of the scheme better housing had been one of the incentives that had persuaded acceptance of the proposal. In June 1959 we had another commission, chaired by Sir Alan Burns, a former governor of Nigeria, with Professor Alan Peacock, an economist, and Mr T Y Watson, an agriculturalist. Their task was to enquire into the problems posed by rising population pressure on fixed land resources, and to recommend how the development of the colony and its resources should proceed. Early on, I was asked to arrange for the Fijian Affairs Board to call on the commission the following day. With the members spread around the group, this was just not possible, and I said so. The chairman was deeply chagrined, and I found myself on the mat before higher authority. I think in the end Sir Alan realised he had been unreasonable, and had me over for a drink at his hotel. He said they had finished their report, that it was a good one, and he hoped I would support it. I promised to read it with care, a fairly cagey response. I did more than that. As Deputy Secretary for Fijian Affairs I went round all the provincial councils and discussed the report (which had been translated into Fijian). A lot of it was sensible and acceptable, but the strictures on the Fijian Administration and the recommendation that "it should not be abolished immediately" (implying that it should be some time in the future) were universally condemned. In the debate in the house, Ratu Edward as the senior Fijian member appropriately voiced the Council of Chiefs' opposition to a penal tax on unused native land, their support for the continuation of the reserves policy, and their firm view that in reserve demarcation, accuracy should not be sacrificed for the sake of speed. Under this policy, a careful assessment was made of native land throughout

At the Centre S7 Fiji and the reasonable present and future requirements o f the landholding units. These areas were placed in reserve for the units concerned, leaving the balance available for leasing. Ratu Penaia and Semesa Sikivou spoke eloquently on behalf o f the Fijian Administration. Indeed, Ratu Penaia linked it with the ability to marshal Fijians, who volunteered to a man for the service o f the Crown during World War II. He could not support its abolition, which would break up the organisation, tradition, and culture, and that sense of loyalty to the Crown that was deeply rooted in Fijian life. The same organisation was to carry the country through what might have been a very damaging cane strike that year. While I felt able to say that I thought it a good report, particularly on the agricultural side and the recommendations for financial aid for development, I did think it would have been better had it been a little less arrogant, or if it had been slightly more sympathetic to the Fijian people. I said arrogant, because they more or less stated that their report should be accepted lock, stock, and barrel. In support of my charge I quoted Professor Cumberland, a distinguished academic who had been interested in the affairs of Fiji and the Pacific for over twenty years. In his critique o f the report he said, "The report demands that the recommendations be accepted and implemented, all or nothing, but this could be dangerous. No commission is infallible, and no commission takes the final responsibility for its proposals. This is Fiji's job." I concluded with a quotation from C M Meeks, of a Nigerian chief who said, " I conceive the land belongs in a vast family o f which many are dead, few are living, and countless numbers still unborn." One little exchange during the debate is perhaps worth recording in the light of subsequent events: The Honourable B D Lakshman: "They [Fijians] have a fear in their minds in regard to the various kinds of domination, both in the economics field as well as the political field." The Honourable Ravuama Vunivalu: " I would like to assure the Honourable Member that there is no fear whatsoever in the minds o f the Fijian people about domination. They just will not allow it." It was an interesting spell in the Fijian heartland, where the aura o f Ratu Sir Lala still permeated the air. Until I began my political life it was my only experience at the centre of the administration, and it stood me in good stead. I had also tried hard not to show what G K Chesterton called "the blind side o f the heart."

At the Centre s8 Of course, I did all I could, even in this central office, to maintain links with the countryside. I visited every province and presided at their councils. It was an exhilarating experience. I felt the Fijians were alive. They were keen to improve their lot even though they did not want to lose their "perch." The debate about ¿fcilala (freedom from duties) still raged countrywide, but the improvement in the standards of living of Indians seemed to have become a potent argument for those who wanted to be free. The migration to the urban centres gathered pace, and those moving there from the villages voted with their feet for freedom in increasing number. Economic activities in the villages had improved housing, and new schools were being built. The enthusiasm for building schools was such that the education officers sometimes had to discourage the people from building schools within three miles of existing establishments. It was all very exciting and encouraging. On one of those trips in Lau, in the Katavatu, I had left Lomaloma when we began to receive storm warnings from the Marine Department and also over the radio. A hurricane had been identified moving down from the north, and it was expected to hit northern Lau in about forty-eight hours. At this point we were passing the island of Tuvuca, and the weather was fine, but we were surprised to see what appeared to be the total population down at the western end of the island geared up for fishing. We shouted to them that they had better return to their homes to take precautions against the hurricane. "Hurricane?" they replied. "There will be no hurricane. The fish are running." The hurricane changed direction —and the Tuvuca people were right. I too have noted that before bad weather the fish will give you two or three days' warning by refusing to bite. It is not only for the weather that our people have their own signs. There are also traditional natural indicators for the planting and harvesting of different crops. In determining the most propitious time for planting, many considerations need to be taken into account—rainfall, or the lack of it, temperature, hours of sunshine, soil properties, and other factors. Some plants can be used as what I might call biological computers—they automatically absorb and analyse all such information and respond accordingly. Plants selected as natural indicators, like the drain tree by its flowering, can tell when the conditions are suitable for planting, harvesting, or other agricultural activities. Rather than relying on human—or even mechanical—computations of all the relevant factors, it would be easier, and more accurate, to let such plants set the timing.

At the Centre S9 Perhaps this is sufficient indication of the application of traditional knowledge, which I am happy to call science. For what is the real meaning of science, other than knowledge? It is a subject that fascinates me, and for those who would like further exposition, I have included as Appendix 6 an address I gave at the graduation ceremony of the Fiji School of Agriculture in 1975. At the end of this period at the centre, to fill a rather large gap in my political education, it was decided that I should take a diploma in economics at the London School of Economics. I set off with my family in September 1961.1 stress with my family, because my acting administrative officer class I salary as Deputy Secretary for Fijian Affairs would enable me to look after them quite adequately. Imagine my dismay then, on being informed by letter on my arrival, that as I had only been acting for two years nine months instead of three full years, I was to revert immediately to the salary of an administrative officer class II. A correspondence immediately developed. But, alone and unsupported in London, I was no match for a system supported by colonial regulations, standing orders, precedents, and the like. From my viewpoint, the worst aspect of the whole incident was that I was not told till I arrived in England. Had I known before I left, I would have had the option of not going at all, or at least of deciding whether I might be better to go on my own. Even an offer of some advance pay would have mitigated the hardship, for hardship it was. I appealed to the Governor and then to the Secretary of State to no avail. There was really no adequate appeals procedure, and this experience led me to ensure that our 1970 Constitution made provision for a proper appeals system. Nor was the situation improved by the difficulty of finding accommodation. There had been a big influx of West Indians into Britain, apparently not all of the best type. Householders were therefore cautious and cagey about who was acceptable—particularly with a family, though I was assured that my difficulties had no racist aspect. I was getting a bit desperate when Henry Hall, who headed the Pacific Department at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, and his wife kindly took us in for a while, till with his help we found suitable accommodation. (Apparentiy Henry had a chance meeting with an air commodore who was to be away for about a year and was looking for tenants for his house. Henry told him he had them!) Adi Lala has often said that Margery Hall taught her how to run a house in England, and how grateful she was. It was a kindness we never forgot, and later Henry was to be extremely helpful with advice on negotiations towards independence. As a very small

At the Centre 60 thank-you we were very pleased to invite him as a guest to our independence celebrations in 1970. On the course itself we were a very cosmopolitan crew, with students from South America, the West Indies, Africa, the Philippines, and other places. As with my earlier Colonial Service course, I found the curriculum of the economic and social administrative course heavily biased towards Africa and particularly the large countries. The thrust of the course was on decentralisation, and the system being promoted was that of public corporations. The principle attracted me, but the means seemed hardly appropriate to Fiji, though our Indian and Philippines colleagues said the method worked well in their countries. I think we learned most on the course from each other. There were lectures on economics, but they were geared to students taking that as their main subject and besides being dull, they were not to figure in our exams. More interesting were visiting lecturers, and I particularly remember Professor Paul Samuelson, the distinguished American economist, and Sir Arthur Lewis, whom, quite rightly, my West Indian friends claimed as their own and boasted about for days. The course was primarily structured on seminars where we shared experiences, and when it came to the exam we were encouraged to range freely in our papers. It seemed to work, for we all passed. Perhaps because of the cricket connection, I found I got on best with the West Indians, and this was to be useful experience in later years when we teamed up with them in sugar negotiations. Perhaps not surprisingly, many of our discussions were conducted at Lord's Cricket Ground. My holidays I spent mostly in looking after the family. The girls had gone to school in Pinner, and we also much enjoyed the hospitality and association with the Halls, who were very kind to us all. I did not feel I had in any way distinguished myself on the course, and the nature of the institution, where one simply goes during the day to get out of it what one wants and leaves at night, means it is harder to engender a corporate spirit. But it does provide an environment where widely differing nationalities and social creeds can meet, and I think I perhaps benefited more than I realised at the time. At any rate I was honoured when in later years they invited me to become an honorary fellow. On my return from London in 1962, I was posted to Levuka as Commissioner Eastern. I had really reached a pinnacle in my career.

At the Centre 61 This was the district, comprising as it did Lau, Lomaiviti, and Kadavu, to which I had the closest affinity, and which I considered ripe for development. As had then become my custom, I endeavoured to visit every village in the three provinces of Lomaiviti, Lau, and Kadavu—213 of them in all. The long-delayed promotion to Grade I had come through, there was a new house, and there would be plenty of sailing, which for some time now had given me no qualms. Even with the memory of my previous enlightened commissioners, it was my first completely independent command, and I had great plans. Sadly, I could not bring them all to fruition, and the reasons will emerge in the next chapter.

7

Towards Self-Government

The early history of pressures for constitutional reform in Fiji is already well recorded and documented. The pressures consisted principally of calls by the Indian community for a common roll method of election and by the European community for an unofficial majority. As was the practice in colonial legislatures, there was an inbuilt majority of members drawn from officials of the government. Fijian political attention was focused on the Deed of Cession and the desire that Fiji should be preserved as a Fijian country. There was little Fijian interest in, much less support for, the proposals of the other races. When I first entered the Legislative Council in 1953 it was as a Fijian (or Native, as the term was then) Member, selected by the governor as one of five from a panel of ten nominated by the Council of Chiefs. Later there would be direct election by the Council of Chiefs, which did not greatly alter matters, as the governor, by convention, had always selected the first five names on the panel. Because of the limited number of qualified Fijians, we were allowed to retain our posts in the civil service, where we were employed without exception. There was a majority of 16 official members, with 15 unofficial—5 Europeans (3 elected and 2 nominated), 5 appointed Fijians, and 5 Indians (3 elected and 2 nominated). In this year, Her Majesty the Queen and His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh visited Fiji during a series of Commonwealth visits after the coronation. I had the honour of being appointed an honorary aide-de-camp during the visit, and obtained a personal insight into how much Their Majesties appreciated the arrangements and ceremonies accorded them. For our part, we were charmed by the young queen and her consort and also reassured by her pledge "to continue to watch over us from the country Fijians call the Land of Men." 62

Towards Self-Government 63 In 1954, in response to an enquiry by Governor Sir Ronald Garvey about election of the Fijian members to the Legislative Council, the Council of Chiefs moved a resolution to the effect that they would prefer to leave things as they were. The next political development of interest was the formation of the Fijian Association, which came about in response to the demands of Indian canefarmers, or at any rate their leaders, for electoral reform. In 1956 Ayodhya Prasad, a Punjabi schoolteacher turned farmer and politician, in alliance with a Mr Nat Chalmers, a lawyer of Sigatoka, had formed a new canefarmers' union called the Kisan Sangh and was adopting an overtly political stance and threatening a general strike. At a meeting at Lautoka on 14 February 1956, Mr Chalmers said, "Fiji needs electoral reform desperately. Too little has been done. We want justice and fair representation. If these things can only be got by striking, then strike we will." While advocating eight elected members from each race, he also stated that the Indians were the only real friends the Fijians had. The feeling among Fijians was that an early response was required, and only four days later, on 18 February, the Fijian Association was formed, led by Ratu Edward Cakobau, U K Koroi, I R Vatucicila, N Mocelutu, 1 1 Lesuma, Semesa K Sikivou, and myself. I found myself taking notes, and because I was the one to produce them at a following meeting and was sometimes the only one who remembered, I gradually found myself becoming chairman. We issued a statement stressing that the will of the people must be achieved by lawful and constitutional means only, and deprecating the threat to disrupt the colony and in particular the attempt to associate Fijians with it. Nor could we accept that Indians were our only friends. Our object was to advance the Fijian race and protect Fijian rights and interests. We were looking at the constitutional question, and if it were felt that certain gradual changes should be brought about, these would be placed formally and constitutionally before the government. But we would resist proposals unsupported by Fijians and not for their benefit. If the threat to the colony's progress were activated, Fijians were ready to take over the canefields. Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna was in full agreement with our statement. Chalmers nevertheless called for a strike, though in a letter to the Fiji Times of 22 February he withdrew anything to do with Fijians. He would from then on act only in the interests of the Indians and leave it to the Fijian Association to work out the salvation of their people.

Towards Self-Government 64 This was all we wanted to hear, but he followed up with a letter to the Fiji Times, in the course of which he impugned the reliability and honesty of Fijians and the behaviour and conduct of some Fijian women in towns "because their men did not support them." All this in a letter claiming to want to help the Fijians and inviting them to join him in a mission to the United Nations. Ratu Edward replied for the Association, refusing any association with the Kisan Sangh and strongly resenting the references to Fijian womenfolk. He ended by saying, "We suggest that you look after the Kisan Sangh, for we will look after Fiji." On 20 March, after talking with the general manager of the Colonial Sugar Refining Company, Chalmers called off the strike. It was all rather bitter, but the formation of the Fijian Association as a focus for Fijian political expression was an important step for which we may thank Mr Chalmers—or at least for its establishment sooner than otherwise might have happened. The Fijian Association would later be a constituent element in the Alliance Party. In 1959 Mr James Madhavan, Indian elected member for the Eastern Division, introduced a motion to the Legislative Council seeking an unofficial majority and that all unofficial members be elected, with six of each of the three races on communal rolls. He disclaimed at the outset that he had any intention of pressing for a common roll, but one of the later speakers, Mr A I N Deoki, who spoke at length, frankly admitted he supported the common roll. This was the main sticking-point for the Fijian members, though Semesa Sikivou supported the motion for constitutional progress in general terms. Ravuama Vunivalu put the point succinctly in describing the proposal as the thin edge of the wedge. I also opposed the motion, but I did say I felt all unofficial members should be elected by the people they represent, including Fijians, a view in which I was supported by Ratu Penaia. But as far as an unofficial majority was concerned, I imagined questions Fijians in the villages would ask. Would it put more money in their pockets? I thought not. Would Fijian lands be safer? I thought not. If their land would not be guarded as safely as it was under the present system, then I thought they would prefer the devil they knew to the one they did not know. Would an unofficial majority tend to make the introduction of the common roll easier? I thought the answer to that would be yes. I was not impressed by arguments about other territories—Ghana, Nyasaland, and Kenya. They were hardly admirable precedents. And I could not see how an unofficial majority could have a marriage of political and financial power

Towards Self-Government 6s

unless it were a political party. What would happen if they were defeated? The motion had not been thought through. However, we were informed during the debate that the new governor, Sir Kenneth Maddocks, was considering the question of a constitutional review and would be reporting to the Secretary of State after he had been in Fiji long enough to make a full assessment of the situation. Provided he did not rely on it too heavily, his experience in the more political atmosphere of Africa might well prove useful. With the motion lost on the voices, this seemed the best way forward, and it was good to see that a motion like this could be debated in such a temperate atmosphere. That in itself was almost an argument for the status quo, or certainly for caution and moderation. The good humour of the House had been further enhanced by the mover, in his reply, referring to the red herring of the thin edge of the wedge. Any complacency was rudely shattered in December, when an oil workers' perfectly legitimate strike for higher wages and other improved conditions turned sour. The leader was James Anthony, the part-European secretary of their union, who claimed he could shut down Suva; when he was refused a permit for a meeting near the bus stand, a crowd of about a thousand began to become restive, and by about four in the afternoon the crowd had swelled with the addition of bus passengers waiting to go home. There was a hostile anti-European atmosphere, and cars driven by Europeans were selectively stoned. When the police could not disperse the crowds, they used tear gas, and the crowd broke up angrily, but small groups then rampaged around the city, where there was evidence that European firms were picked on. A couple of days later, with other Fijian chiefs and B D Lakshman, an Indian Legislative Council member, I spoke to crowds at Albert Park, appealing for calm and countering suggestions from other Indian Legislative Council members that troops had been requested from overseas. By the next day, Anthony had collapsed and was under sedatives. In these circumstances Ratu Meli Gonewai, the more moderate president of the Oil Workers' Union, entered into negotiations to settle the dispute. In the inevitable Commission of Inquiry that followed, few parties emerged unscathed, though there was sympathy and praise for the police, whose commissioner, it was stated, was perhaps the only man who had foreseen such trouble. I did not make myself popular with the commission for telling them that if Suva were burned down, the Fijians would lose nothing except the record of their debts.

Towards Self-Government 66

In the end, I found myself conducting an arbitration tribunal with Mr Macfarlane and Mr Hassan, two well-known lawyers. We made an award that, as usual, did not completely satisfy everyone but to some extent met the claims of the workers. One of my memories, and a useful lesson, was of the press conference announcing the award. After the end of my statement, I was going on to make explanations, when a nudge from Mr Hassan dissuaded me. He was clearly of the school of Lord Mansfield, the eighteenth-century English chief justice, who told a friend, "Never give your reasons—for your judgement will probably be right, but your reasons will almost certainly be wrong." Reflecting on those events, I felt the basic cause was that education was advancing faster than the economy could provide jobs. School leavers felt frustrated; more and more of them moved to the towns, where there was insufficient development to absorb them. It was a lesson I was to remember when I became responsible for development plans. It may well be that the racial aspects of these disturbances caused the Governor and the Secretary of State to consider constitutional moves rather earlier than they would otherwise have done. In the following year, the Council of Chiefs had agreed to the representation of the industrial areas in its membership, and this had been endorsed in the Legislative Council. Realities were being recognised, and changes slowly but surely made to take account of them. Next was the agreement of the Council of Chiefs that three Fijians should be elected directly to the the Legislative Council, and a further recommendation from the Fijian Affairs Board that there should be votes for women. In Council Paper 10 of 1961, the Legislative Council was presented with proposals that mapped out a possible progression through a "membership" system to full ministerial government. However, in introducing a motion that the council welcomed the proposals, the Acting Colonial Secretary made it very plain that the government was not seeking approval or any decision, but simply canvassing views on a broad front. In the end the motion was, with leave, withdrawn. I need only concern myself at this point with stage one, which proposed a "membership" system. Under this scheme, a number of unofficial members would assume responsibility for various departments or groups and be paid an appropriate salary. They would not have executive authority, but besides taking a keen interest in the operations of their departments, they would be expected to take

Towards Self-Government 67 policy matters to the Executive Council, and also to introduce relevant bills and take them through all stages in the Legislative Council. They would also be expected to accept collective responsibility. While they could freely put their views in the Executive Council, once a decision was taken they would have to support it or resign. All pretty standard stuff, I suppose, to the Colonial Office and the outside political world, but new to us and much more so to our electorates. In opposing the motion, I said it was ill conceived and ill timed and that moreover it was clearly aimed towards independence, which was completely premature. We had just had the report of the Burns Commission. Surely we should first concentrate on its recommendations and get a stable economy, before thinking of constitutional change. The preoccupation of the people in their search for the necessities of life revolved around adequate accommodation, a square meal, and proper facilities for the education of their children, rather than constitutional change. Why not give the new proposals about Fijian voting a chance to prove themselves? I went on to say that the constitutional development of the colony had been laid down by the Fijian chiefs who ceded the islands. Further, the Council of Chiefs had decided that Her Majesty's title should be Radi ni Viti kei Peritania, Queen of Fiji and Great Britain. That was the direction I put forward for any constitutional development, and I pointed to the Channel Islands and the Isle of Man as examples of the relationship I envisaged. Generally speaking, the Indian members supported the motion, and the European and Fijian members opposed—none more vehemently than Ravuama Vunivalu. Even Semesa Sikivou, who had been consistent with his stand in 1959 in supporting change, talked in terms of from five to thirty years. In conclusion, the mover firmly denied they were discussing independence at all, and with that we had to be content. Then early in 1963, Under Secretary of State for the Colonies Mr Nigel Fisher visited Fiji to sound out the possibilities of further constitutional advance. He met a wide cross section of the population and felt he had been able to assess the feeling of people generally. In a final press conference, he said that nobody advocated independence, though some favoured internal self-government. He also said there was general agreement there should be no tampering with the Deed of Cession or land rights. He did comment, however, that with the Council of Chiefs meeting only once a year, there was perhaps some need for streamlining. Questioned

Towards Self-Government 68 about the Salisbury Despatch, which dealt with assurances to Indian immigrants (though it was not accepted by India), he said it was a general document of policy, whereas the Deed of Cession was specific to Fiji. In a press statement in London he said that the Fijians' fear of being swamped meant that the government could not proceed along normal lines in the constitutional process. Now the Fijians took a positive step. Off Levuka lies the historic island of Wakaya where Captain von Luckner, a German raiding pirate, was captured during the First World War. The island had come into Fijian ownership, and the trustees were the Fijian Affairs Board. We met there with our advisers on 17 January 1963 and submitted a letter to Mr Fisher. In the Legislative Council Debate in 1965, which followed the London Constitutional Conference, Semesa Sikivou read the letter and prefaced it with these remarks: " I maintain and advocate that people who are really interested in understanding the attitude and the feeling generally of the Fijians in regard to vital questions such as their land, the link with the Crown and other matters relating to them should read the letter carefully." I agree with him, and for that reason include the text of the letter in its entirety as Appendix 2. The salient points were that under the Deed of Cession the Fijian people envisaged their country as an integral part of the United Kingdom attached to the Crown. We felt the closest parallel to this special relationship was the link between the Channel Islands or the Isle of Man and the United Kingdom, as I had suggested in the earlier debate. We envisaged a new constitutional instrument safeguarding Fijian interests, precisely restating guarantees of Fijian land ownership, and forbidding any change in the Native Lands Trust Board legislation without prior consent of the Sovereign and agreement of the Council of Chiefs. All legislation regarding Fijian rights and interests should continue to be referred to the Fijian Affairs Board or the Council of Chiefs, and the government should continue to work toward racial balance in the civil service. Subject to satisfaction on these points, we would be prepared to initiate, in cooperation with the other principal races, further moves towards internal self-government. And we again insisted that such initiative should come from the Fijian people. An election was to be faced in April—the first when, building on the previous proposal, four out of six Fijian members of the Legislative Council would be directly elected by the Fijian people at large, and the first in which women were enfranchised. Similarly,

Towards Self-Government 69 there were to be four elected and two nominated European and Indian members. Of course, the number of official members was increased to maintain their majority. Ratu Edward and Ratu George Cakobau, the Vunivalu of Bau, were the Council of Chiefs' elected members, and Ratu Penaia, Semesa Sikivou, Ravuama Vunivalu, and I stood for the Western, Central, Northern, and Eastern Constituencies respectively. These constituencies coincided approximately with the four administrative divisions. All candidates were invited to set out their platforms in the Fiji Times, and mine was quite simple—communications in Lau and Lomaiviti. I would work for the widening and deepening of entry passages through the reefs, small jetties with storage sheds and rudimentary feeder roads, more radio and telephone stations, a freight subsidy, and a school for boat building. It sounded a bit like parish-pump politics, but I was convinced that the future of the islands and their copra industry, coupled with the return trade, would amply justify what was, after all, very modest expenditure. Though we had been pressing for such projects for years, I felt that if I became an elected member, this popular vote would give me considerably more clout. I also hoped that it would somewhat mitigate the charges of elitism and privilege that still tended to be levelled at us when we were all elected by the Council of Chiefs. In the event, Ravuama and I were elected unopposed, Ratu Penaia had a majority of nearly six thousand over Apisai Tora, and Semesa another large majority over Livai Volavola. There was an 84.2 per cent turn-out of voters, which we thought very satisfactory. Next, the Governor received a despatch, dated is August 1963, from the Secretary of State, written after consultation with Mr Fisher on his return from Fiji, and aimed in the direction of internal self-government. This important constitutional document is included as Appendix 3, immediately after the Wakaya letter, to which it is a partial reply. Then the blow fell. Governor Sir Derek Jakeway came to visit my district, and I arranged a tour for him. We were travelling on his vessel, and one evening when we were anchored outside the reef at Tuvuca, he dismissed our two wives, saying he had confidential matters to discuss with me. The burden of his conversation was that while it was not possible to forecast the pace, constitutional changes were surely coming. In this situation it was necessary that Fijians should be strongly represented. He therefore wanted me to leave Levuka and come in to Suva and take up a full-time political

Towards Self-Government 70 career. H e went further and said he envisaged that in due course I would probably become one o f the members mentioned in Council Paper 8 o f 1961, though I had opposed it. M y first reaction was extreme reluctance. I was settled in my o w n " k i n g d o m " and looking forward to an uninterrupted period o f some duration to fulfil some o f my favoured projects. I felt a bit like Moses, w h o was just allowed to see the promised l a n d — t h o u g h I had at least been fortunate e n o u g h to see it and live there for two years. There were also the financial implications o f the move to Suva. I n o w had six children, and the political life was an uncertain one. However, I was assured by the Governor that I would initially be able to retain my civil service salary and conditions until an election, and then if I were unsuccessful I could resume my civil service career. This was at least a partial reassurance. But overall, put the way it was, and by w h o m , I realised this was an obligation I could not refuse, particularly for the Fijian people, but I hoped also for the country as a whole, and particularly in the light o f the terms o f the Wakaya letter, which claimed political initiative for the Fijian people. T h e die was cast. THE MEMBERSHIP

SYSTEM

N o w we were moving, and the despatch from the Secretary o f State was the occasion for a series o f discussions among the unofficial members chaired by the Acting Governor. By the end o f the year we had sufficient agreement on the terms o f the despatch to enable it to be put to the Legislative Council early in January. I was given the honour o f introducing the motion, which I gladly accepted as this accorded with the Fijian undertaking in the Wakaya letter, to be the initiators o f further moves towards internal self-government. I admitted that the Fijian members would have preferred a more specific reply to the Wakaya letter. However, recognising our responsibilities as leaders, together with our trust in the honesty o f the British Government, and in the hope that all races would settle d o w n to labour, sacrificing if need be community interests for the benefit o f the whole, we had agreed to weigh anchor and set sail on this mission o f goodwill to all in the colony and create peace for the future. I stressed the need for peace and goodwill. O u r watchword should be that o f the late Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna, that w e should g o for the things that unite rather than the things that divide. In general, the debate, which was short, maintained the tone I

Towards Self-Government 71 had tried to set in opening it, and though some reservations were expressed, the vote, which was left to unofficial members, was unanimous. So the membership system was born. I was now in Suva, where I was given the portfolio of Natural Resources, comprising Lands, Agriculture and Fisheries, and Forestry and Mineral Resources. At the same time A D Patel became Member for Social Services—Health and Education predominantly. (He was a Gujerad lawyer who had come to Fiji in 1928, become an Indian elected member of the Legislative Council, founded the Maha Sangh Canefarmers' Union, and become leader of the National Federation Party.) John Falvey, a Suva lawyer, was Member for Communications, Works and Tourism, which explained itself. Thinking back now, I realise that here we had an embryo government of national unity (some people called it the Troika), which was a vision I was to pursue in later years with very little response. The three of us worked together well—indeed there was a friendly rivalry to see who could do the job best. I have yet to be convinced that in a South Pacific island context, and particularly a multiracial one, the confrontational Westminster system is the best, or even appropriate at all. But more of this later. We were all given senior and experienced civil servants as our permanent secretaries, and I was fortunate in acquiring Bob Major, who had been Deputy Secretary of Finance and could supplement my somewhat sketchy knowledge of economics acquired from the course in London. Further help came from a United Nations economist and an agricultural economist from the Food and Agricultural Organisation of the United Nations. With this team, I could be fairly confident that any plan I proposed would be subject to rigorous examination, and that eventual decisions would have a sound economic basis. In the early days we travelled widely in the divisions, setting the pattern I followed throughout my political life of getting out into the country as much as I possibly could. From what I saw, and from my discussions with people on the ground, I was confirmed in my belief that we had to plan on a regional basis. It was necessary to establish a land use policy and then, by central planning, allocate resources to achieve production targets in accordance with the needs of the various divisions. I set up local development boards presided over by the divisional commissioners and including all elected members for the divisions. There was a wide representation of local interests, and I felt the

Towards Self-Government 72 whole set-up could well be another base for the multiracialism that I was convinced was the way forward for Fiji. We would have to sort out which decisions would be taken locally and which centrally. But we would leave as much locally as we could, and even the central decisions would at least have a local input and thus attempt to avoid too much feeling of imposition from the top. It was to be rural development by the rural people themselves. I had been disappointed with our banana quota and the price we were receiving from the firm of Fruit Distributors in New Zealand, so I decided to visit New Zealand. This was their first visit from a politician from Fiji, and it was probably my first visit to a commercial concern. The meeting was presided over by old Harvey Turner, Fruit Distributors' chairman, who started off by saying he first went to Fiji fifty years earlier. I said, "Well, you were there before me," which got the meeting off to a good start. Their chief executive was Ross Walker, who was about fifty at the time but was constantly referred to by the board members as "Young Ross." We made the most of the congenial atmosphere and got both an increased price and a bigger quota. However, I was convinced that we needed an improved overall banana production plan and also possibly an insurance scheme against hurricanes if it were not prohibitively expensive. The need for a joint Pacific Islands approach to New Zealand would soon become apparent, and I shall deal with it in chapter 18. It also became apparent to me that there was a need for alternative crops like coffee or cocoa to supplement farmers' incomes. Another project I took up enthusiastically was pine planting. I had been rather a lone voice in pushing pine planting, in particular the encouragement of individuals to have their own wood-lots, but I now had more clout and proceeded to use it. However, I still preferred to lead from the front, and the slopes around Tubou at Lakeba began to sprout pines, limited only by the risk to Tui Nayau if I planted too high. The copra industry too was very close to my heart, and earlier there had been a coconut industry survey by Lord Silsoe, who had produced the Sugar Industry Report after the troubles in that industry. It was fascinating to see how a highly trained and skilled legal mind could approach something like the coconut industry, of which he had no knowledge or experience at all, and come up with recommendations that would give the industry the chance to set its house in order and advance to a better future. Many of his suggestions, such as a substantial price differential for good copra, were

Towards Self-Government 73 not new, but his authority and exposition had more effect than a succession of departmental recommendations. Lord Silsoe's recommendations had to be embodied in a bill to the Legislative Council, which was quite a complicated one. Again, I decided to get out and listen to the producers and explain the bill, taking with me Don Aidney, who had been appointed a member of the coconut board under the chairmanship of Geoff Nichols, a dynamic senior official from the Colonial Sugar Refining Company, whom Lord Silsoe had persuaded the company to make available. We spoke to the Lau Provincial Council and others, we spoke with Savusavu and Taveuni planters, and we even went to Rotuma (where, incidentally, we listened to the Cassius Clay-Sonny Liston heavy-weight tide fight). These meetings were certainly helpful to me, and I hope they were helpful to my audiences. I think they probably were, because when the bill came up in the Legislative Council a number of members referred to them with appreciation. At all events they probably contributed to the easy passage of the bill.

8

The 196s Constitutional Conference and Aftermath

Early in 1965 we had a visit from Mrs Eirene White, MP, Parliamentary Secretary to the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. She had come to gauge the situation in Fiji under the membership system and the new arrangement of extended voting, including the enfranchisement of women and a greater number of elected members. She travelled widely and consulted a very broad spectrum of opinion. In one amusing incident she was introduced to S B Patel, who was a quiet but influential adviser to the National Federation Party. She said to him, "Oh, you're the man who makes the bullets for A D Patel to fire." "Who told you that?" he asked. "The Commissioner Western, Mr Thomson." Sir Ian Thomson, as he now is, still tells the tale with a wry smile. One of her more lively meetings was with the women's groups, where there was a clash between conservative views and those who recommended the common roll and even the abolition of the Council of Chiefs, though it was later claimed this was not intended. Mrs White gave them the classic advice, " I would say to the older generation, 'Don't be too rigid,' and to the younger, 'Don't be too impatient'." However that may be, she clearly reported back to London that even if there was no tremendous general enthusiasm for further advance, there was recognition that in a rapidly changing international climate some move was inevitable. The Fijians, after all, had eventually agreed to the proposals for all their members to be elected. The attitude generally shared by the Fijians and Europeans was the crucial one, as the Indian members would doubtless have opted for full democracy immediately on a common roll voting system. When a conference in London was proposed and accepted, it was 74

The 196s Constitutional Conference 7S agreed that all elected members of parliament should attend. However, we clearly understood that the conference would be concerned with further moves towards internal self-government, and on that basis we held meetings with our supporters before we departed. We were left in no doubt that there should be no concession on the subject of a common roll, the conference was not about independence, and there should be no diminution of our link with the Crown. It became clear fairly soon that the Indian delegation went to London in a very different frame of mind, and in this situation it is perhaps remarkable that we achieved as much as we did. We had hoped to have joint talks before we left, but the Indian members declined, merely submitting their views on a common roll. Prior to the London conference a series of significant interracial meetings occurred in Suva, culminating in a meeting on 19 July attended by representatives of the Fijian Association, the Fiji Congress Party, the Rotuman Association, the European electors, the Solomon Islands and New Hebrides communities, the Fiji Minority Party, the Chinese community, the Tongan community, and two independents, Sukhu Rahiman and Vijay R Singh. There was unanimous agreement that while the common roll was an ultimate ideal, it was highly undesirable for it to be introduced in Fiji at that time. The Indian participants in particular were dismayed by the regrettable atmosphere created by the termination of preconference talks by some Indian delegates to the conference, and this was one of the principal reasons why they themselves had joined the meetings—to maintain multiracial dialogue. The whole atmosphere of the meetings was one of goodwill, which augured well for the future and would decrease tension. It was certainly an encouragement to us as we set off for London. As such conferences go, we were rather a small number, consisting of six Fijians (Ratu G KCakobau, Ratu Edward Cakobau, Ratu Penaia Ganilau, Josua Rabukawaqa, Semesa Sikivou, and myself), six Indians (A D Patel, S M Koya, A I N Deoki, James Madhavan, C A Shah, and C P Singh), and six Europeans (CDAidney, F G Archibald, J N Falvey, R A Kearsley, R Q Kermode, and J A Moore). Governor Sir Derek Jakeway, Attorney-General Justin Lewis, and officials from the United Kingdom also attended, and the conference was chaired by Mrs Eirene White. It is sad to think that I am the only survivor from the Fijian delegation, and there are large gaps among the others too. The conference started inauspiciously with Messrs Patel and

The 196s Constitutional Conference 76 Koya asking that the appointment of the governor by the United Kingdom Government should not be dealt with till it had been decided how far self-government would go. This was strongly opposed by Fijian members. It had been discussed at many meetings, and not once was any other view expressed, except that the United Kingdom Government should appoint the governor. The lawyers, as usual, had a field day on the legal aspects of the Constitution. It was agreed that a judicial services commission would be useful for appointments up to chief magistrate level, but then the Indian members wanted it to be obligatory to consult the commission on judges' appointments as well. This seemed incompatible with appointment by royal prerogative. In any case, Governor Jakeway pointed out that the appointment of the governor and the chief justice by the Crown had already been agreed in preconference discussion in Fiji. And Josua Rabukawaqa strenuously asserted the Fijian people's wish for the link with the Crown to be retained and strengthened—not weakened. Meanwhile, the debate on this and the Public Service Commission rumbled on till the next day. Next day we got down to the nitty-gritty of the composition of the Legislative Council. Mrs White said she would like to see the three delegations separately to gauge their views before proceeding. She declined an invitation to give the United Kingdom viewpoint and also my proposal that she see the Fijian and European delegations together to save time, as their views were identical. I suppose this was an example of the old "divide and rule" technique. We told Mrs White that we had little to add beyond our briefing from our constituents, and for the very first time she floated the proposal of cross-voting, with each voter having the opportunity to vote for a member of each race in newly created larger constituencies. Next day we started with qualifications for electors, and A D Patel suggested that Europeans should have a seven-year residence qualification. This collapsed when Sir Hilton Poynton asked if they should also have a seven-year tax exemption on the grounds of no taxation without representation. We had no problem in abolishing all literacy qualifications for voters, and arrangements for the Speaker were agreed, as were five-year parliaments. However, I note from the record that not till we came to finance did it include the words "an amicable discussion followed," as even Mrs White smilingly conceded. The next day Mrs White announced that the Federation Party

The 196s Constitutional Conference 77 had asked permission to bring their legal adviser into the conference. She said it was not an unusual precedent, but it should have been raised at the outset. I registered a strong protest, and Mr Falvey suggested that participation should stop short of actually attending sessions. Both Messrs Deoki and Singh said they knew nothing of the proposal. I felt the whole procedure was most unfortunate, to put it no higher, and there is no doubt it soured the mood of the conference. Ratu Penaia asked at this stage that it be recorded that independence was not the aim of the conference—a continuing link with the Crown and some measure of self-government was the basis of the meeting—and challenged Mr Koya to say whether in the peculiar circumstances of Fiji he really wanted full democracy. Though Koya said yes, I think he realised the implication of Ratu Penaia's remarks. By now it was the ninth day of the conference, and we had just reached the nub—as Mrs White had called it over a week before. To my astonishment I found Mr Deoki putting forward what he called a compromise proposal, including an element of the common roll. I think Mr Falvey spoke for all our side when he said he felt it would be a fruitless exercise to discuss it. Our delegation had spent many hours discussing the British cross-voting proposals and were near acceptance. This bolt from the blue from the Indian side was a bit much. Mrs White did her best to push discussion of the paper, but her heart wasn't in it. I think it was as much to help her out as anything else that we agreed to consider the matter. But half an hour was enough to report that there was no agreement. At this stage I wondered with amusement what the British officials would think of a telegram addressed to me in care of the Colonial Office, London, saying, among other things, "Drive home into thick skulls of Colonial Office wallahs determination of Fijian people on important issues. Suggest you and European delegation walk out of conference if one man one vote proposition not completely dropped. Drastic measures demand drastic counter measures especially when future of Fijian people at stake." I registered my regret that we were not informed in Fiji of the cross-voting proposals so that we could have consulted our people before we left. We had come with a definite mandate to stand firm and go no further. I could not help feeling that the proposal had been deliberately held back by the British in case its premature disclosure would result in our arriving at the conference with a mandate to oppose it. I would, however, stand by my commitment to

The 196s Constitutional Conference 78 try to sell the proposal in Fiji. Various other members of our delegation made it quite plain that the proposals would need the support of constituents and the Legislative Council, and Mrs White said she understood that. Mr Koya then tried to put the blame on the United Kingdom that both sides would return to Fiji unhappy, but it was pointed out that he had had every opportunity before and during the conference to make his points instead of complaining now. Finally, all members of the Indian delegation opposed two extra seats for Fijians and the requirement for a two-thirds majority to enable the constitution to be changed. It had been a sour beginning and a sour ending and indeed a thoroughly bad-tempered conference. N o wonder poor Mrs White said, " I am fully aware that the results of this conference are not universally satisfactory, and I am sorry that this is so. I hope, nevertheless, that now we have reached our conclusions for the time being at this stage in the affairs of Fiji, everyone will do his best to get the best out of the conclusions we have reached." On a lighter note, Ratu George as paramount chief was to be received by Her Majesty. He was nervous about dress and wondered if a sulu would be all right rather than trousers. Carl Hughes, who was secretary to the delegation, was reported to have come back with the message from the palace that Her Majesty "would be pleased to see Ratu George without trousers." Too good a story to discredit, and indeed Ratu George always kept Carl Hughes' note and said he should frame it. In view of all the talk at home, both before we went and apparently while we were away, I thought it would be fair to send a short message of reassurance to our people, which I did, saying they should not worry as we had won (Moni vakacegu sa noda na qaqa). I think I am right in saying that this constitution of ours was the first and only one in the decolonisation process that had no mention of a common roll. Hence my message. I was sorely tempted to add "Thick skulls penetrated." Perhaps I should further explain that the cross-voting seats, which were later called national seats, were for large constituencies amalgamated from smaller ones. For those, a member of each race was elected, and each elector could cast one vote for each of them. The composition of the House then was 4 Official members, 14 Fijians (9 communally elected, 3 by cross-voting, and 2 elected by the Council of Chiefs), 12 Indians (9 communally elected and 3 by crossvoting), and 10 members, described as "persons who are neither Fijians nor Indians," (7 elected communally and 3 by cross-voting).

The 1965 Constitutional Conference 79 The conference was followed later in the year by a thoroughly bad-tempered debate in parliament on a motion that the United Kingdom White Paper published in October on the outcome of the conference formed a satisfactory basis for future political progress. There was no sign of compromise from A D Patel, just as there been none in the 1943 and i960 sugar disputes. He adopted an arrogant attitude about the Council of Chiefs, and I wondered how he could hope to lead a united nation. He also adopted a very hostile attitude towards Europeans, attempting to drive a wedge between them and the Fijians, and I had to assure the House that I had personally prepared the case and the paper that set forth our joint views at the conference. I said that if we removed the buffer of European culture, there would be a conflagration. Compromise was the solution for the country, and people who did not believe in compromising were not fit to lead this country. Both Semesa Sikivou and Josua Rabukawaqa waxed quite hot. Even the usually quiet and reserved Ratu Penaia said that had the London conference decided to introduce a common roll, he was quite sure there would have been an uprising to show the dissatisfaction of the people. In the course of a very moderate speech, C P Singh upheld Ratu Penaia's words and went further, saying it would have created racial strife and probably more than that, "it might have led to bloodshed." In the event, the motion was passed by twelve votes to five, with seven abstentions. However, it might be argued that constitutional progress had been made, and cross-voting was a step in recognition of and support for multiracialism. I felt we had shown leadership in going beyond our brief in London and coming home to explain it to our own people and persuade them. The future would tell. The 1966 election was held on this constitution, and it turned out to be the first and the last before subsequent changes. In furtherance of my ideas of multiracialism, I wanted to fight the forthcoming election on a broader basis than campaigning for the Fijian Association on its own. While I was just as strongly committed to Fijian interests as ever, I could see clearly that the only viable future for Fiji was as a multiracial nation. Our Constitution was already giving representation to all races in our Legislative Council, and it was essential that this pattern be paralleled in our political party. Early in 1966, therefore, we had a meeting attended by representatives of the Fijian Association, the General Electors' Association, the Fiji Minority Party, the Rotuman Convention, the Suva Rotuman Association, and the Tongan Organisation to consider the for-

The ip6s Constitutional Conference 80 mation of an all-races political alliance. It required only the inclusion of an Indian body—the Indian Alliance—to give Fiji its first, and perhaps only, genuine multiracial party. We called it the Alliance. Our next step was to issue an open welcome to the Alliance to every group in every race in the country who believed in racial tolerance, understanding, and harmony. As a shorthand elections manifesto we undertook: to see landlord and tenant legislation on the statute book; to hasten localisation but not at the expense of efficiency; to encourage investment both from overseas and locally to develop secondary industry; to maintain wide-ranging market research for sales of primary products; to support the establishment of a university of the South Pacific; to promote tourism vigorously; to improve communications by road, sea, and air, if possible with overseas aid; and to support closer trade association with South Pacific territories through bodies such as the Pacific Islands Producers' Association. This would later be expanded into a full-scale manifesto, but we concluded by saying we sought to accomplish a true partnership between the people and their government. The government alone could not forge a united progressive Fiji. National regeneration had to mean the release of energy in the whole people, so that the drive forward came from the vitality and self-confidence of the community itself. The next step was to write the party's constitution, but there were lawyers aplenty, and this was not hard to achieve. Among provisions of particular interest were that not only parties and organisations could join, but also individuals could become associate members, plus a firm statement embodied in the party constitution that men and women had equal status in the Alliance. The three constituent bodies were the Fijian Association, the Indian Alliance, and the General Electors' Association. The Alliance was officially founded on 3 February 1966, at the Masonic Hall in Suva, by approval of the constitution, and we began raising funds for the election, whenever it would be. At this stage, my old friend and patron Dr Verrier surfaced again. He had retired from the medical service and now wanted to enter

The 196s Constitutional Conference 81 and help the Alliance Party, which he did. He worked very hard on the election campaign, and, in an area where he excelled, produced an impressive if somewhat flattering photograph of myself to adorn our posters. He called it "The Father of the Nation"! He was also very useful organisationally in the party, and took a lot of the detailed work off my shoulders. When he won the Northern General Electors' seat I gave him a post as Parliamentary Private Secretary. This may have been a mistake, as he then tried to run a regime where I could only be approached through him; I later felt that he was trying to run my life. He even claimed that in my absence he was responsible for heading the government. Sadly, he had to go, whereupon he turned himself into the one-man Liberal Party. He became even more capricious and increasingly captious over the years. However, I could never forget my indebtedness to him in so many ways, and when, near the end of his life he was diagnosed as having cancer and had to have an operation, I made the arrangements for him to go to New Zealand. When eventually he came home, we looked after him till the end. May he rest in peace. Standing on a multiracial platform, we won the 1966 General Election handsomely on a programme of "peace, progress, and prosperity" for the nation, and "share and care" for the redistributive philosophy of the people. We won twenty-three seats, to which could be added the support of two Independent and two Council of Chiefs' representatives, leaving the Indian members with nine communal seats. The Federation Party, which predominantly represented them, did not assume the tide of National Federation Party till 1969, when they were joined by a small Fijian group, the Fiji Democratic Party, under the leadership of Apisai Tora. I think we were successful in the cross-voting seats because very few Fijians supported National Federation candidates, whereas we received a good number of Indian votes. I had been Leader of Government Business since the introduction of the membership system, but from 1 September 1967 I became Chief Minister, the penultimate stage before independence. Executive authority still rested with His Excellency the Governor, advised by the Council of Ministers, but more and more he became an adviser and left it to us. I had to choose a team from the members of the council. The Chief Secretary, the Attorney-General, and the Financial Secretary were still official, but I did not find great difficulty in choosing the remaining members. Ratu Edward Cakobau was a natural for Commerce, Industry and Tourism. He was an archetypal multiracial man, with friends in

The 196s Constitutional Conference 82 all areas and at all levels. He would later bring his qualities of conciliation, moderation, and tolerance to the Ministry of Labour, and ultimately as Deputy Prime Minister. Throughout it all he was a wonderful model of loyalty and support to me—his former pupil. As I said in a broadcast on the sad occasion of his death in June 1973,

He was the very embodiment of goodwill towards all men, and his contribution to harmony in our country has been immeasurable. All his life he has had friends of all ages in all walks of life, in every section of our community in Fiji, and in many countries throughout the world. And yet, though he walked with the great in the capitals of the world, he never lost the common touch. He was above all, a lovable man and a staunch friend. Likewise, the ever-dependable Ratu Penaia made an admirable Minister for Fijian Affairs. Charles Stinson, who had stood as an independent candidate in Suva, defeating the Alliance candidate, rallied to our cause, and his practical business sense as an eminently successful commercial figure meant Communications and Works was in safe hands. Doug Brown had been principal of the Methodist Farm School at Navuso and was a straight-talking down-to-earth Australian who made an excellent job of Natural Resources. That left Social Services, to which I appointed Vijay R Singh, a young Indian lawyer who had stood out against cane strikers in the north, which took considerable courage. He also impressed me as a man with ideas, and I wanted to give him opportunities to develop. One of his early tasks was to pilot through the council a motion endorsing a proposal that a university to serve the territories of the South Pacific be established at Laucala Bay, Suva (the former Royal New Zealand Air Force base). We had had very thorough reports from Lord Morris and Sir Norman Alexander, both distinguished educationists who had held posts as vice chancellors, and we felt able to proceed on their recommendations. The United Kingdom had offered £1.25 million (sterling), and New Zealand had offered without cost the Royal New Zealand Air Force buildings and installations at Laucala Bay, valued at £1.5 million. The United Kingdom also said it would pay a supplementary allowance to its own nationals employed at the university, which would help recruitment. A regional university has its problems. I remember once saying that it was a fact of life that the university had to be sited in one of

The 196s Constitutional Conference 83 the countries of the region. It could hardly be placed in limbo halfway between Tarawa and Honiara—though sometimes I felt that might be the most attractive site! Consequently, the university was fully exposed in the chosen country. There was no distance to lend enchantment to the view. If things went wrong they were on our doorstep, and if we missed them, our friends in the media took care to remind us. All that said, the University of the South Pacific has been a success story. In 1994 there were three thousand residential students and nearly five thousand doing extension courses, of whom 43 per cent were women. Thirty-seven different nationalities were represented among the students, and thirty among the staff. As evidence from my own experience, within five to seven years' of the university's establishment, I had had three of its graduates working in my office. I ran the Chief Minister's Office on a very small staff: Robert Sanders, who had moved with me from Natural Resources, was permanent secretary and secretary to the Council of Ministers, later the Cabinet; Mrs Joy Perks was my personal assistant; and Mrs Fong Toy was personal assistant to the permanent secretary An assistant secretary, a filing clerk, a couple of typists, a messenger, and a driver made up the complement. They were a devoted band for whom, like myself, fixed hours had no meaning, much less demarcation lines. They did all I asked and more, and the very fact of being so few welded them into a team that was ready for anything. Among a succession of assistant secretaries, one would become Permanent Secretary for Foreign Affairs, another our Ambassador in Kuala Lumpur, another Director of Ethnic Affairs, and a fourth Registrar of the University of the South Pacific. Later on, we had to expand on both the Cabinet and Private Office sides, as well as for Foreign Affairs, but my memories of these early heady days are happy and grateful ones. In the meantime, as a result of very long discussions among a multitude of interested parties, and particularly with the Fijian Affairs Board and the Council of Chiefs, a very important piece of legislation was introduced in the July session of the Legislative Council. This was the Landlord and Tenant Bill. Its purpose was well put by the Attorney-General in moving it. He said it sought to destroy a pernicious system where we had short tenancies, low rents, and little if any security for tenants. It meant there was little encouragement to develop agricultural land, and a tenant would bleed the land white in relation to the short term of the tenancy; could obtain little if any compensation for the term, and could not

The 196s Constitutional Conference 84 remove buildings erected as part of the tenancy in question. Ratu Edward put the objectives even more succinctly: assured rents, reassessment, compensation, restitution for dilapidation, and a definite time when the leases expired and the owners had the opportunity to make their choice. I spoke in support of the bill and stressed its potential, indeed necessity, for the development of the country, as well as the government's responsibility in the matter. I reminded the House that although, on my urging, the number of Fijians on the Native Lands Trust Board had been increased, Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna had made it quite clear that the Act of 1940 was designed to hand over to the Crown, as represented by a board of control, all native land. The Board was therefore an instrument of the Crown for land use and development. I also reminded Fijians in particular that government action had preserved for them much unused land that the Deed of Cession would have permitted the Crown to assume. There would clearly be anomalies and hard cases, but it seemed to me as fair a piece of legislation as we could devise. I felt able to conclude my contribution to the debate by saying, "It is with malice toward none and with charity to all and with firmness in the right that God gives us to see the right, that I support the bill." In September we had another bitter debate on the Constitution. Before it was over, the nine Federation Party members walked out, followed by cries of "Cowards!" and "Shame!" from some of the more vociferous members of our party. However, we considered this a matter for them to decide, and it would not deflect us from our purpose of providing sound progressive government. By-elections were not held till the following year, 1968. I had been advised not to contest the elections and to let the defecting members come back with their tails between their legs. It was good advice, but I wanted to test my Indian support. In the event, all the opposition candidates were returned with increased majorities, though our vote was not so much down as it might have been. There was, of course, great triumphalism among the opposition. I had asked our people to accept the verdict of the ballot box and refrain from demonstrations of hostility, but without success. Large-scale demonstrations and marches took place, with placards such as "Indians go home." Tempers were becoming frayed, and irrational feelings and attitudes were supervening. As the Nation, a lively periodical edited by David Seidler for the Alliance, said in its January issue, "The National Federation Party had vastly underestimated the Fijian ability to get dangerously angry and their resolve

The 196s Constitutional Conference 8s not to be dominated in the land of their heritage. The Alliance, on the other hand, had vastly over-rated their charm and culture with the Indian community." I began to think that if we were to move forward with any hope of a peaceful transition to independence, there would need to be some hard thinking, discussion, and conciliation. Just at this point, one afternoon A D Patel poked his head round the corner of my office door and asked if he could have a word. It turned out that he too had read the signs, and that was the beginning of discussions between us that would lead to the 1970 Constitution.

9

A Commonwealth Round For my own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men. William Shakespeare

When I became Chief Minister in 1967, it was decided that it would be useful if I did a tour of recendy independent Commonwealth countries to study the working of the ministerial system in the countries that had gone ahead of Fiji in this direction, and also to see how countries with racial situations similar to ours had dealt with them. Matters like this cannot be learned from books, and no university course covers them. They are best studied at first hand and in discussion with those who have themselves met such problems. I was also interested to see methods of agricultural and industrial development. We were a small party—just Adi Lala and myself with Robert Sanders. He would also take the opportunity of conferring with secretaries to Cabinet in view of his new responsibilities. Our first country was to be Jamaica, but on the way we had a brief stopover at the State Department in Washington, DC, where I had talks with senior officials. The only memory I have of the meeting was that when I explained my itinerary and the purpose of the tour, an official of the State Department said, "Oh, so you're going to be visiting all the old British colonies." I could not resist replying, "Yes, that's why I'm starting right here in the United States of America." After that we went rapidly on to Jamaica. There I was quickly introduced to all the gaiety and generosity of West Indian hospitality, and also to the extraordinary fluency of their speakers. I well remember Prime Minister Hugh Shearer at a parliamentary dinner, reeling off phrases like "Parliamentary democracy," "the rule of law," "natural justice," and the like. However, with a mixed population, and sugar and tourism featuring prominently in their economy, there was much to learn, and after only five years of independence 86

A Commonwealth Round 87 with a considerable element of miscegenation they did seem to be achieving a national identity and unity as Jamaicans. I also had the privilege of meeting the former leader, Sir Alexander Bustamente, in his cool retreat in Irish Town in the hills above Kingston. He was by then very frail, but was particularly taken with my wife, whom he continually called his Fijian princess. He admired her Fijian dress, with the long underskirt to her ankles, and she replied it was her personal protest against the mini-skirt. Low-cost housing was another area I inspected, and in due course Jamaica was one of our examples for our own programme. Perhaps my main impression at the time was that Jamaica was an open society and was trying to run a democratic government, responsive to the views of the people. On to Trinidad, which was a different picture, with a substantial Indian minority in a predominantly African population. I had a call in my hotel room from a doctor who later turned out to be a member of the opposition. The first thing that Prime Minister Dr Eric Williams said to me when I called on him was, "I hear you've been having talks with my Opposition." I think I managed to convince him that we were "innocents abroad," but it was hard to penetrate the face, dark-spectacled, and fitted with a hearing aid. I learned later that he had a habit of switching off when he became bored or did not want to listen, and I often wonder if he had done that with me. Certainly some of his conversation seemed distinctly obtuse. But there was no doubt he was in control of the country. He showed his penetration and wisdom on the subject of race in remarks that are the basis of my summing up of the tour at the end of this chapter. Our next stop was Guyana, where I saw a sugar industry organised on a company basis, and management who were very interested in our system of tenant farmers. Indeed, wherever I went I found great warmth and curiosity about our country—and not a litde envy. The flamboyant Forbes Burnham and his wife, Violet, entertained us informally in his house and introduced us to some Guyanese delicacies. He also explained their electoral system, based on proportional representation on a "single list" system, each voter casting a vote for a party list of candidates. He supported the system because it gave him the majority he wanted, but the racial divisions between those of African and Indian origin, reasonably closely balanced numerically, became very apparent when I called on Cheddi

A Commonwealth Round 88 Jagan, the leader of the opposition, and his European wife, Janet. They were very bitter and anti-Burnham. Interestingly enough, Mrs Jagan was the more vehement of the two—a committed socialist, if not Marxist. All in all, Guyana did not seem a very happy country, and I think I learned some of the pitfalls to be avoided if we were to build a successful multiracial nation in Fiji. The next country was Malaysia, where we were very warmly welcomed by virtue of the help given by our troops during the Emergency. Prime Minister Tunku Abdul Rahman Putra had been known as a bit of a firebrand before independence, which dated to 1957, but by now he had become a genial father figure, who quite frankly declared that he left the government to his deputy, Tun Abdul Razak. Needless to say, this was far from being the whole truth, and the Tunku's unifying influence was clearly very significant, although he certainly did not go in for administrative detail. One of his remarks, etched in my memory, was—"Young man, if you want to live long, play golf every day." One of the areas that particularly interested me was their rural development, and here I saw the drive of the Deputy. We were taken to the National Operations Room, which had maps and charts of all the development activities and in many instances also targets. At regular meetings, all involved senior officers attended, and Tun Abdul Razak expected full reports and indeed results. If those were not forthcoming, he wanted to know the reason why. All the schemes were based on the wishes of the people themselves, within the bounds of feasibility and finance, and this may explain the continuing enthusiasm of the settlers. We were entertained by the Commissioner in charge of Kuala Lumpur and its surroundings, which was considered better administered in this more direct way than by normal local government process, as I noted for the future of an expanding Suva. However, it remains stored in the tablets of my memory, except for a period when the City Council was sacked. Then a civil servant, Bill Cruickshank, with two of his colleagues, ran it most successfully—to the extent that the citizens had to be dragged protesting back to "democracy." Another feature was that the government was not afraid to enact legislation that accorded favourable treatment to the bumiputm, or people of the land, to help them catch up economically with other races. In India, too, though unfortunately Mrs Gandhi was away in Ceylon, I had a long talk with the president and senior ministers,

A Commonwealth Round 89 discussing Fiji's position, policy, and aspirations, and receiving a sympathetic and understanding hearing. Our final port of call was Singapore, where I met the redoubtable Lee Kuan Yew for the first time. Our introduction to Singapore had occurred when we hurtled in from the airport at high speed, preceded by motor cyclists who waved other traffic to the side of the road. It was impressively efficient, but I thought not for Fiji. The Prime Minister (it was to be quite a few years before he was "Harry" to me) explained that in a small land area of just over 250 square miles like Singapore, it had been necessary to progress far beyond its previous economy, largely based on the sale and distribution of raw materials from surrounding countries and on entrepot trade in finished products. Fiji was an object of considerable envy, with nearly thirty times the land area of Singapore. To attract overseas capital, it was also necessary to display efficiency and reliability. All this required strong discipline, and discipline was a word constantly on his lips, though what he aimed at most of all was self-discipline in the people. To achieve all this he was prepared to enact strict laws and see them rigidly enforced, right down to on-the-spot fines for litter offences. Certainly, travelling round the city and seeing hotels rising, manifold and diverse manufacturing enterprises, and clean streets and pavements, one received the impression that here was a vibrant state. It must all derive from that small, quiet, but completely determined figure at the centre, whose poise and stillness clearly concealed tremendous dynamism. Lee Kuan Yew's view on race was that there needed to be cooperation and tolerance between the big and the small, the hardy and the gentle, the intense and the easy-going, so that time and circumstances could slowly reshape these community groups into viable societies, each moving at a tempo that suited its own particular temperament, character, and aspirations. In all these countries, the golden thread I found running through the policies was, first, the recognition that ethnic differences exist between peoples, that they cannot be ignored, and that they should not be ignored. And second, if the government sets out broad enough principles to ensure that they accommodate the rights and aspirations of all the people in the country, then a basis is provided for harmony and progress. Altogether it had been a fascinating and educational journey. However, I had seen nothing to make me think Fiji could not find its own solutions to its own problems in a way adapted to its own cultures, and I said so at the airport on arrival. The Fiji Times

A Commonwealth Round 90 headed their report "Fiji can do it." It was good to be home and to begin addressing myself to the issues before us. One small footnote: The Fiji Times, though recognising the real benefits of the tour, suggested I should never again be subjected to the strain of such a long trip. I have been doing them ever since— the most recent being six weeks visiting our troops in the Middle East and holding talks in London in 1995.

IO

Honours at Home and Abroad

In the year 1969, highly valued honours came my way, in both the United Kingdom and Fiji. Earlier, in 1963, I had been humbly proud to be made the third Tui Lau, after Ma'afu and Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna. This tide follows the historic links with Tonga. There is a Tongan community at Sawana, on Vanuabalavu, who trace their origins to the days when Tui Cakau gave Ma'afu rights on the island; they are the people who make the recommendation for the appointment of the Tui Lau. The old links are further emphasised insofar as the recommendation is made to the head of the Vuanirewa clan on Lakeba for final approval. This was my father, and he graciously approved. I was certainly following a distinguished line. In the New Year's Honours list of 1969, Her Majesty the Queen graciously approved the award to me of the KBE, and in the same year I was ceremonially installed as Tui Nayau and Sau ni Vanua, Lakeba. Because I was to be in Britain in May, I enquired about a possible investiture date at Buckingham Palace. It turned out that the only investiture in May would be at the Palace of Holyrood House in Edinburgh, an occasion normally reserved for Scots. However, Her Majesty kindly said she would be very pleased to see me in Edinburgh. I therefore repaired to the north, having first equipped myself with the appropriate trappings from the admirable establishment of Moss Brothers. I was allowed two guests, and I invited my brother George, who was doing a course in Manchester at the time, and Robert Sanders who was accompanying me on my visit to Britain, and in his kilt would add a Scottish dimension to our entourage. In Edinburgh I passed between files of the Royal Company of Archers of the Queen's Bodyguard for Scotland, clad in green and carrying their traditional bows, and I wore morning dress. Less

9i

Honours at Home and Abroad 92 than two months later in Lau, I would move along ranks of painted warriors armed with clubs, and my dress would be ornately stencilled bark cloth, with my shoulders shiny with coconut oil. Whereas the ceremony in Scotland was over in an hour, the ceremonies in Lau took more than two days and were abbreviated at that. One small incident of the Scottish investiture reveals the type of dilemma I often have to face as I commute between the Western and the Fijian way of life. I fully intended to observe Fijian custom and show respect for the Queen and the honour she was conferring on me by kneeling and performing the cobo or soft clapping of cupped hands. But just before all those to be honoured left the anteroom where they had been under instruction, one of them, rather panic stricken, said he'd forgotten the ritual and could they run through it again. The Gentleman Usher said he was sorry there wasn't time, but I was to be the first and they should all do exactly as I did. With visions of some sixty Scottish worthies stepping back from the Queen to kneel down and perform what might well appear to be muted self-applause, I refrained. But I sometimes regret it. This story greatly amused Her Majesty when I told it to her on a subsequent visit to Fiji. After the ceremony we were rushed to St Andrews, with a splendid picnic on the way, and played a round of golf on the Old Course with two venerable members of the Royal and Ancient. After a rather undistinguished round, I nearly drove the last green, and was told by the caddy that it was farther than Jack Nicklaus had reached with one of his big drives not long before. I believed him implicitly. That certainly called for two whiskies in the clubhouse, and it was a thrill to sit at that big window looking out on the scene of so many triumphs and disasters. There was a sporting tailpiece to my Scottish experience. I used to play golf every morning in Suva as soon as it was light. On the first day after my return, I teed up first, out of the normal order, only to be asked by one of my playing partners, John Falvey, "Who gave you the honour?" "The Queen, of course," I replied. A month or two later I was back in my Fijian world. After twenty hours' very rough sailing, I arrived off the island of Nayau in the Lau Group where I was to be installed as Tui Nayau. The cavu i kclekek or invitation to land was performed aboard with the presentation of a tabua (whale tooth), and then I went ashore with those accompanying me, to the village ofNarocivo. The pathway was carpeted with a broad length of beautiful bark cloth, which must have

Honours at Home and Abroad 93 represented months of devoted work. Then we entered the chiefly house of Narocivo and a full chiefly ceremony of welcome followed. In the early afternoon a lali (drum) sounded to indicate the start of the installation ceremonies and to enjoin quietness till it sounded again. It was also the signal for those who would be performing the ceremonies and for those who would be watching to make their way up the hill to Maumi below the towering cliffs of Delaiwawa. This is the traditional site for the installation of Tui Nayau—a small area of flat ground resting under a cliff. Legend has it that the first Tui Nayau gained his tide in competition with several other candidates when he accepted the challenge to leap from the top of the cliff and live. His fall was broken by vines, and he ended up in the branches of a tree. Happily this ordeal is no longer part of the installation, but it is symbolised in part of the ceremony. By now in full Fijian dress, my wife and I were led up the hill, over yet more bark cloth carpets, by Vaka (the chief master of ceremonies). From the sounding of the lali I would receive no tide of rank, but simply be addressed as Mara until my installation as Tui Nayau was over. On our arrival at Maumi, we were conducted to our appointed places under a palm-frond shelter, and Vaka placed on my head a turban of bark cloth called a i salasiga. Then the yaqona was mixed in an ancient bowl, and the attending minister said a prayer. With the eloquence that comes naturally to so many Fijians and rises to oratory on great occasions, Vaka spoke of the title of Tui Nayau, its history and its responsibilities, solemnly charged me with the care of the people, and promised undying fealty. Then Vaka tied a strip of fine white bark cloth on my right arm and offered me a bowl of yaqona. Uniquely in Fijian ceremony, the cup was passed to me backwards over Vaka's head as he sat with his back to me. Neither the origin nor the meaning of this custom is known. But the next, when the bowl of yaqona is followed by a bowl of water, may simply be the Fijian equivalent of the "chaser." After I had drunk, all those present performed the cobo, and Mara had become Tui Nayau. Next to drink was Vaka, then Adi Lala— now Radi ni Nayau—and she was followed by Matakicicia. The other chiefs then drank in the order ordained by Vaka. I then spoke briefly, stressing that rank involved duty, and duty involved work, and that we all had our duty and our tasks. Our duty was not only to each other but to our tribal groups or our village, to help them prosper. After this I mounted a decorated chair

Honours at Home and Abroad 94 with an awning, as did the Radi ni Nayau, and we were carried back to the village on stout shoulders. This bearing up on a chair symbolises the vines and trees that upheld the first Tui Nayau in his hour of trial. After an installation feast, I retired with my tapa armlet still firmly affixed. Normally, it would have remained for four days, but the demands of government precluded this long period, so the next stage in the ceremonial took place the following day. Soon after a dawn yaqona ceremony, I was carried along the beach on my chair at low tide to Muaituraga, to a small pool where fresh water wells up. Here Vaka removed the arm-band, and I shed my ceremonial garments to bathe. I then followed a forest path to a rock pool, where I bathed again before returning to the village. On my return the lali rang out, and there was a wild upsurge of shouting, singing, and dancing. Drums, biscuit tins, and cooking pots were frenziedly beaten, as the signs partly of joy, and pardy I suspect, of relief from the long period of enforced silence. More formal dances followed, still inspired with the infection of the occasion and Lauan gaiety. I was then presented with a feast, which was carried aboard to be taken to Lakeba for my installation as Sau ni Vanua. I had given instructions that such offerings should be moderate, but I was only partly successful. The sun was setting as the ship made its way through the winding reef passage. A glorious double rainbow lit up the scene and seemed a propitious omen. It was nearly dark when I reached the shore, borne aloft on a platform by blackened warriors to the chiefly house for the welcome ceremony. Next day there was a solemn religious service of simple dignity according to the Methodist rite, and there was a place too for the Roman Catholic priest, though he was unfortunately prevented from coming by rough seas. After a ritual anointing and dedication, the service ended with a triumphant Hallelujah Chorus. In the afternoon the Radi ni Nayau and I were seated on a dais, and after ceremonial making of yaqona, two chiefs of Lakeba, Tui Tubou and Ramasi of Nasaqalau, tied strips of bark cloth round each of my arms. Thereafter Vakavanua placed a tapa turban on my head and I drank the coronation cup to become Sau ni Vanua. Adi Lala followed. Then another more general yaqona ceremony where the principal high chiefs drank in turn and I conferred titles on Colonel George Mate, Commander of the Third Battalion Fiji Infantry Regiment and Chairman of the Native Lands Commission, my son Ratu Finau, and Inoke Yalimaiwai. I then crowned

Honours at Home and Abroad 9S Daulakeba head of the fisherman tribe with a special hat, and another chief held up for all to see a large model silver saqa—a fish to be caught only for chiefs. Finally there was a great presentation of tabua, mats, and food, and spirited dancing by a hundred men and women in bright red and white. The morning saw the removal of the arm-bands and the ritual bath. I returned to the work of government in Suva, refreshed and inspired by the solemn communion and mutual trust with my people. I might add that the nature and order of the ceremonies had involved long talks with the elders over the yaqona, bowl, far into the night. When it was all fully researched and agreed, I had every detail recorded and printed in programmes for the event. This will ensure that the customary usage for those great ceremonies is known and preserved. Perhaps I myself have been the first to benefit, when it came to writing this account!

II

The Path to Independence

The exchange between A D Patel and myself (mentioned at the end of chapter 8) led to a series of meetings beginning on 12 August (the opening of the grouse season!) under the chairmanship of Ratu Edward. It was a tribute to the universal regard in which he was held that he was the automatic and unanimously acceptable choice for this testing task. Our team was, initially, Ratu David Toganivalu, Vijay R Singh, K S Reddy, Messrs Barrett and Yee, and myself, and it was accepted that Ratu Edward too was on our team though he was in the chair. The opposition were initially just A D Patel and S M Koya. Both groups were enlarged as time went by. The Alliance's starting point was that we were prepared to continue with the 1966 Constitution, which we considered worked well, and we sought the views of the opposition. A D Patel replied that they were at total variance with the Alliance Party on the 1966 Constitution and were instead aiming at independence. They considered the only way forward was by a common roll method of election, and they blamed the Colonial Office for keeping them, as he said, "on a racial hook." They considered we should have a unicameral legislature with perhaps forty to sixty members. The opposition also made the suggestion that we should have a republic, transferring the sovereignty of the country from the Queen to the people. This view was later modified, to the extent that, as a first phase in constitutional change, dominion status on the lines of New Zealand or Australia would be acceptable. It was also accepted that the Deed of Cession should be part of the preamble to the Constitution. We further agreed to use the 1966 Constitution as a basis and go through it step by step to see where we agreed and what areas should be reserved for further discussion. Clearly there would be some taxing areas 96

The Path to Independence 97

ahead, but we felt we had made a reasonable first step along the road. Sadly, before we could discuss further, A D Patel died suddenly. He had been a brilliant lawyer, an eloquent speaker, a charismatic leader of his party, and a doughty opponent. But it has to be admitted that political negotiation with him had proved difficult, and on occasion impossible. In particular he was irrevocably committed to the policy of a common roll as a first step, not as an aim for the future, which we were prepared to concede. Therefore, sad as his death was, and a great loss to the Indian community, it did seem to open up for our negotiations a spirit of compromise that might have been hard to achieve otherwise. Then a chance conversation in the Legislative Council with Mr Koya, the new Leader of the Opposition, began the establishment of a rapport and mutual respect that would have far-reaching consequences. From this point on, negotiations became, if not easier, certainly smoother, and there was more give and take. The compulsory acquisition of land for land settlement and development purposes was a problem, and we agreed additional safeguards were necessary. There was no difficulty about the complete independence of the judiciary. I think it probably would have been accepted without all the long arguments in favour! In one of the December meetings, Mr Koya referred to the troubles in Mauritius during pre-independence elections and said it would greatly help in a peaceful transition to independence if we had no election at that time. He proposed that I should be the first prime minister of Fiji. It was a generous gesture, which he glossed over by saying "better to deal with the devil we know." Or, as Ratu Edward put it, "instead of going through the normal birth pangs we would have a Caesarean." Another gesture from the opposition was that safeguards for Fijians on land and kindred matters should be handled by the creation of a second house (Senate) with an inbuilt Fijian majority. It was then up to me to put the proposal to the Council of Chiefs, and I had two pretty torrid days with them. They agreed to the proposal for an upper house, though they would like to nominate the members, who should be only chiefs by birth. I found myself being pilloried at one moment for dragging my feet, at another for steam-rolling, and for not keeping the council informed. I was very nearly impeached. We also had a long debate on a name for our nationals. I had previously proposed "Fijian" on the basis that it was not a name of

The Path to Independence 98 Fijian origin. It was a Tongan version of the name brought to them by Captain Cook, who had been told the country was called Viti, and the Tongans had called it Fisi. The indigenous race could either be called taukei (a proud title meaning owners of the land) or "native," which was used prior to 1948 and, as I have mentioned, my first seat in the Legislative Council was as a "Native Member." Clearly the Council of Chiefs would have to be consulted, and others as well, but we felt, as Ratu Edward summarised, that the majority agreed that the name "Fijian" be accepted. Then it would be necessary to distinguish between the races—possibly as EuroFijians, Indo-Fijians, and so on. We are still waiting for a resolution of this problem today. We were fully agreed that we should not allow dual citizenship. We wanted total and undivided commitment to Fiji, though we would provide ample time and opportunity for people to make up their minds. In the event, 98 per cent of Indians elected to be Fiji citizens. The discussions were now progressing satisfactorily enough for the arrangement of a visit from Lord Shepherd, Minister of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, from the United Kingdom. The last thing we discussed before his arrival was the common roll, to which the Indians were so attached and the Fijians so opposed. I said that fears of the common roll were like the devil. Many people could prove there was no devil, yet people were still afraid of devils. The Fijians were the weakest community economically, and on a common-roll basis they were the ones who would want to shake the foundations unless they were adequately represented and had an appropriate voice. It was at least some progress that the Council of Chiefs had been prepared to discuss common roll for a whole day. Ratu David Toganivalu said the common folk thought an Indian who joined the Alliance was a traitor, and likewise a Fijian who joined the Federation. I wondered what would have happened in the previous election, had an Indian stood against a Fijian. Even when there were two Indians from different parties, we almost had bloodshed. The discussion ended on the note that Mr Koya said he did not think his party would want to impose common roll on the Fijians; I said if they could convince me on common roll they could assume I would try to sell it. Over and above all the discussion, I remember the constant recurring ground bass from Ratu Edward, "Don't rush it. Give it time."

The Path to Independence 99

We met Lord Shepherd for the first time on 26 January 1970. He said he had come to ascertain that there was a genuine wish for independence, and the United Kingdom Cabinet had empowered him to make his own assessment. He also asked that there should be a resolution of the Legislative Council on what was agreed. As he had to get a bill through parliament before the summer recess, he was prepared to leave his legal advisers behind in Fiji to assist with draft legislation. This was very welcome news to us, for it was the unanimous wish that this London conference should go well beyond the customary broad generalities and produce something close to a final constitution. I had been warned by a member of the British Foreign Service that in dealing with the Wilson government it was advisable to get commitments in writing. Accordingly, I said we would want notes on defence, security, external affairs, aid, Crown Land, Rabi,* and the United Nations. In a brief preliminary response, Lord Shepherd said that defence treaties were normally negotiated after independence, that no country had received less aid on independence, that British consular services would help throughout the world, that Crown Land status would not change, and that as far as Rabi was concerned he had to meet the Banabans on British political grounds as the British Government had separate matters to discuss with them. He said the United Kingdom would neither hold us back from independence nor push us into it. He wanted to be satisfied of a general wish, but concord among political leaders would be enough. There was no need for either a referendum or elections. Not quite compatible with his first sentence, but we accepted it. He suggested we define "Dominion status" by saying the Queen would become Queen of Fiji; Fiji would be a sovereign independent state and would apply for membership of the Commonwealth and the United Nations. Ratu Edward opened the batting by suggesting we build on cross-voting, which Lord Shepherd thought had merit, though he wondered whether a reduction in the number of European seats would help. On this point we felt the Europeans had already been cut down to eight, which was the bare minimum. With only three communal seats, they had far more voters per member than some of the Indian and Fijian seats. *Rabi is an island north of Taveuni, bought for the resettlement of the Banabans after World War II, when the phosphate deposits on Ocean Island (Banaba) had been fully worked out by the British Phosphate Commission.

The Path to Independence 100 When Lord Shepherd suggested we might have to deal harshly with the Rotumans, we reminded him that it was Britain that had a treaty with them, so it was for Britain to deal with them. As usual, the main debate was on common roll, and as a compromise the opposition suggested they would voluntarily make their cross-voting seats common roll. We felt this would impose common roll on the Fijians and, after all, we had to foster the harmony of the nation. As Ratu Edward put it, the beauty of the common roll would be when it was accepted by all. We maintained our view that we were not opposed indefinitely to common roll, but then was not the time. After all, 1963 was the first time the Fijians had voted. Then in 1966 they had accepted crossvoting, and had it not been for the reaction from the by-elections they would probably have been happy to have the whole House cross-voting. That reaction had put us back a long way. The Fijians felt that cross-voting was the biggest concession they had ever made. There had been no mention of it till the London 1965 meeting. We were certainly prepared to agree to a Royal Commission to re-examine the system at some time after the next general election and before the second election. We were now ready for the special meeting of the Legislative Council where, apart from the customary courtesies, it was stated there was agreement on the establishment of an upper house with some members nominated by the Council of Chiefs, one Rotuman, and some members nominated by the prime minister and some by the leader of the opposition; that we should go to independence without elections; and that there should be recognition of the special position occupied by Fijians in the country. Lord Shepherd added that if there was no agreement on the electoral system and qualifications, then the first election after independence would be held under the new constitution on a formula approved and settled by the United Kingdom that would reflect the provisions of the existing constitution. It was particularly satisfying to hear the desire for the maintenance of strong links with the Crown voiced on all sides. In the meantime we had set up various committees of the House to study individual matters, and their chairmen reported back. We would have to decide how long we would maintain Commonwealth trade preferences, because in general we would look forward to a single-line tariff. Newly independent countries were usually given at least five years to decide whether to join the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade. On the important financing of Development Plan VI there would

The Path to Independence 101 have to be a mixture of grants, soft loans, exchange loans, and technical assistance. However, Lord Shepherd assured us that grant aid would be favourably viewed. We also stressed our own aid to the region, which we gave because of our past association with the United Kingdom. The United Kingdom also undertook to pay British civil servants compensation for loss of career, and the pensionable part of an inducement allowance, to work in Fiji. Perhaps our biggest worry was the preferential treatment of our main crops, and we urged that it should be a condition of British entry to the European Economic Community that Fiji could continue to export sugar to the United Kingdom on terms no less favourable than currently existed under the Commonwealth Sugar Agreement. We also had to consider what sort of association Fiji itself should have with the European Economic Community, and the various alternatives were examined. In this area we were particularly fortunate in due course to have the advice of Uwe Kitzinger, a fellow of Nuffield College and an expert on the European Economic Community. In a short visit he grasped our problems, related them to the Community, explained its operations, and gave us firm recommendations. These we have followed ever since, to our great benefit. We all signed the report, apart from the Liberal Dr Verrier, and were ready for London. I have covered these debates in some detail, because in them the real ground work for London was done. Apart from the continuing contentious matter of the common roll, the work in London was largely crossing the t's and dotting the i's and codification. We made it clear at the very beginning in London that we wished to leave with the drafting of our constitution well under way. That was why we had come in such force, but we also wanted to ensure that all members felt involved, that all shared the responsibility, and that all would be in a position to go and explain the results of the conference to their constituents. I do not think any country can have attended such a conference better prepared, for we had studied constitutions from all round the world, noted their effects and defects, and, as it were, picked the eyes out of them. We went to London as a well-briefed delegation, with clear ideas on what we wanted. I don't think we were disappointed. THE I 9 7 0

CONSTITUTIONAL

CONFERENCE

In London, we were lodged in the St James Hotel and had a very pleasant walk across Green Park every day to Marlborough House. After the customary courtesies of the opening addresses, we

The Path to Independence 102 briefly met the press, but thereafter very limited communiques were issued daily. I found this disappointing, because we would have liked to have kept our people at home better briefed, but it is apparently the practice at these conferences, particularly where there are tricky issues to be resolved. If I was disappointed, one of our advisers, Len Usher (later Sir Leonard) as a media man himself, was horrified and made his objections clear. He had been one of the earliest public relations officers in the Fiji Government, and later editor of the Fiji Times, so had grounds for his attitude. Lord Shepherd chaired the conference, and he certainly jollied us along, particularly with his loud half-question half-statement, "Agreed?" But he also had the sensitivity to see when more time was needed, when an adjournment would help, and when private talks with the leaders might yield a solution. It was "agreed" from the outset that thorny questions would be referred to a constitutional committee or a general committee, and this system worked well. We gradually dealt with the various items, many of them already agreed in Fiji between the parties—fundamental rights and freedoms, citizenship, the public service, general provisions relating to parliament, and so on. We also agreed on a Senate of twenty-two members—eight nominated by the Council of Chiefs, seven by the prime minister, six by the leader of the opposition, and one by the Council of Rotuma. The Senate would have special powers over legislation regarding the Fijian Affairs Ordinance and kindred legislation and in particular laws affecting Fijian administration. No such legislation could be enacted without the supporting vote of six of the eight members nominated by the Council of Chiefs. It was a powerful safeguard and owed much to the reasonableness and goodwill of the opposition. The nub of the conference, as in 1965, would be representation in the House of Representatives. Progress on this was very slow, though we had been told that the conference must end on 27 April, because Marlborough House was required for a Caribbean conference. Lord Shepherd made one abortive effort to push a solution, but quickly realised it would be counterproductive, and magically Marlborough House became available for a bit longer and room was found for the Caribbeans. I think Lord Shepherd also realised that an intervening weekend would be no bad thing. He was right. The atmosphere was helped by some typical Fijian entertainment. First there was a dinner by the Fiji Student Association, largely an Indian body where we were struck by their goodwill, understanding, and

The Path to Independence 103 eagerness for a satisfactory outcome. Then, on our return to the hotel we found a Fijian band installed, and in no time there were Fijian songs and tui boto (the Fijian version of the conga) embracing everyone. Mr Koya breathlessly gulped, "We should do more of this in Fiji." Mr Koya came out of the weekend very well, for the next day there was a tea party given by the Fijian Association. He hadn't been notified and was reluctant to go without an invitation, but on the other hand he certainly didn't want to be seen as staying away if he should be there. It turned out there had been some mixup with the invitations, and in the end all was well and a good time was had by all. But I admired Mr Koya's sensitivity. The weekend brought us to Monday with renewed goodwill, and progress began to be made. On Tuesday a couple of members from both parties suggested there might be merit in the two leaders sitting down without Lord Shepherd to try to hammer out a solution. We got a long way, and then it was agreed with Lord Shepherd that this was to be the crunch day and we should stay in Marlborough House until agreement was reached. The two parties gathered in separate rooms, and the Leader of the Opposition and I shuttled back and forth with Lord Shepherd. Eventually I felt we had got as far as we could, and I joined our party to wait for the opposition reply. Lord Shepherd had laid on apparently bottomless jugs of beer, though if he thought he could befuddle us he did not know Fiji! There were also tiny delicate sandwiches on silver salvers topped with parsley, which we were astonished to hear were supplied by the Savoy Hotel. Had they known the appetites of our people, hamburgers from the nearest snack bar would have been more welcome—and cheaper. There is a Fijian saying, talai vaka ton, which refers to a hen's eating along the way and is used of a messenger who does not deliver his message directly. That's what happened with Koya's reply, which arrived quite some time after the messenger had passed it in at the door. The result was that the opposition in their turn had a period of suspense. However, all was well and the deed was done. More beer and sandwiches and off to bed, well satisfied. There was a little tidying up to do the next day—in every sense. In particular, we formalised our request that the date of independence should be 10 October 1970, the ninety-sixth anniversary of the signing of the Deed of Cession. In another generous gesture, Mr Koya suggested that the two Council of Chiefs members in the

The Path to Independence 104 House of Representatives should continue to sit till the first elections after independence. Then came the formal signing and the formal speeches. I said at the outset: Today marks the end of a long journey—a journey of close on one hundred years of peace and war, of progress and development, of social and political change. Through it all, we have had the protection, help, and guidance of the United Kingdom. Many of her traditions are firmly grafted, not only on our political institutions, but on our whole national life. The rule of law, parliamentary democracy, respect for the rights of minorities, a sense of fair play, give and take, are all taken for granted in Fiji, but they are, in a very real sense, a legacy from the British. Should we ever wish to forget the British—which God forbid—it would not be possible. Your ways and your ideals are too much part and parcel of our own way. And concluded: As I said the day I left Fiji, the happy future of Fiji depends much more on all those we left behind than on those of us here in London. We may lay out the blueprint, but it is for everyone in Fiji to help us build the house, to build it strong and to build it to last. I am confident we can do it. It had been a good-humoured conference, and the Whitehall people had been constantly surprised at the intermingling of our members on social and other occasions. But we were all there for a shared purpose, we were not going to be hurried, and we had done our homework. As far as I can say it without too much presumption, I think we deserved to succeed. The ceremonies on our return were on a multiracial basis—very different from after the 1965 conference—and set the imprimatur on our work. There was much to be done before the tenth of October, but the foundation had been well and truly laid.

12

Independence Countdown

A VISIT TO THE D E C O L O N I S A T I O N UNITED

C O M M I T T E E OF

THE

NATIONS

I had previously called on the decolonisation committee of the United Nations fairly early on in our moves towards independence, and briefly my message had been, "Our aims are not very different, but leave it to us to choose the method and the pace." Now I paid another visit to the committee, this time accompanied by Mr Koya. From notes I made at the time, I spoke along the following lines: I am very pleased to meet you this afternoon and to have with me Mr S M Koya, the Leader of the Opposition in Fiji, who has played such a notable and constructive part in our moves towards independence. We have had the common objective of building one nation. He was not with me before because he walked out on me! Our political history to date shows in a very modest way one of the most rudimentary problems which confront and frustrate political leaders, especially in the multiracial countries of today The honourable Leader of the Opposition is an Indian by race, culture, and religion. I am a Fijian and differ from him in race, culture, and religion. We were both born in Fiji. We both went overseas for our education. The world and our country are dominated for better or for worse by Western civilization. Our parents in their wisdom or folly took it for granted that the best way they could discharge their parental obligations was to give us Western education, and then we would ourselves relieve them of their obligations. We each went to different higher institutions of learning, burnt our incense, and intoned our votive prayers to the West-

m

Independence Countdown 106

ern gods of philosophy and economic, social, and political heavens. After being initiated into the Western rituals and tribal customs, we returned home. Both of us then became disciples of the Western gods, mouthing their gospels and disdaining the primitive ways of our own people. Each of us has his own racial background and of course his own racial group, which, according to the writings we read overseas, are oppressed and downtrodden by the "white imperialists." We each find that we interpret the reactions of our own people in the way those "white imperialists" understand. We soon found ourselves on the floor of our Legislative Council arguing the case of our own race against the colonial government policy and against each other's race. As our political careers developed, we developed our own assumed enmity against each other. I say "assumed" because the gods of socialism and capitalism in whose temples we worshipped overseas taught us to struggle class against class to get to the top. And in the political forum you must divide yourself and develop, which is contrary to one of their common shibboleths, "United we stand, divided we fall." Although we had in our own individual ways a common objective, and that was to work and dedicate ourselves to better the lot of our peoples, we somehow found ourselves following the mob and as it were throwing political stones, bottles, and fire-bombs at one another. It was not until last year when my friend became the Leader of the Opposition that a new line of communication opened up. We found that our objectives were identical in their own separate ways. We found that they were in fact one for both our peoples, in spite of the differences in race, religion, and culture. We questioned the merits of some of the precepts of the gods we worshipped overseas, especially in the means of achieving our common objectives. We did not believe the class struggle was relevant. On the other hand, we considered that the first priority of our peoples' needs was understanding. We knew it from bitter experience. Without this understanding we cannot tolerate one another, and without tolerance we cannot create goodwill. Goodwill is essential for peace amongst ourselves, necessary for capital investment for our economic development, and vital for finding outlets for our exports. We know we must build our nation. We must build it

Independence

Countdown 107

strong, and for this we ask your help. We must build it to last, and for that we need your goodwill and understanding. If you find the edifice we are building somewhat untidy in accordance with democratic principles, please separate in your vision the scaffolding from the bricks and mortar. Our problems are many, and resources are few. Remember, the tower of Babel was condemned by the failure of communications. That is one of our fundamental problems. I hope and pray that my colleague and I have done a little today to improve the communication between us. Our joint appearance must have taken the wind out of their sails, for they had little to say in reply, save to wish us well. THE CHECK LIST Independence mek de people dance. But it can't mek bananas grow. Calypso at Jamaica's Independence

The Chief Secretary had provided us with what he called a check list. It was extremely useful, though its length brought home to me just how much had to be done in a very short time if we were to meet our target of the anniversary of Cession on 10 October. Some of our civil servants pronounced the task impossible, and they were right; but with their dedicated help we did it. O f course, the new Constitution was the foundation for everything, and there had been much hard work since the conference. Even so, the Fiji Independence Order 1970 was made by Her Majesty in Council at the Court at Balmoral only on 30 September 1970, to come into effect on 10 October. First, we decided that we would organise the independence celebrations ourselves and not employ any of the professional organisers some territories had used. Ratu Penaia chaired the committee. Indeed, he chaired every committee arranging state occasions for the next twenty years and did it quite outstandingly (though it left us off balance when it came to his own funeral in 1993). We were honoured that His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales came to represent Her Majesty the Queen. We followed normal Commonwealth practice by organising a thanksgiving service in London, for which some women in Fiji organised arrangements of some of our loveliest flowers and plants. Before that, much had to be done. The Fiji national flag had to be designed, and this was done by competition when two entrants

Independence Countdown 108 —-Mrs Murray Mackenzie and Mr Robi Wilcock—produced identical designs with the Union flag in the top left quarter and the shield of Fiji's coat of arms in the fly—all on a background of Pacific blue. At independence a visiting dignitary said to me, "I'm very disappointed to see that you as an Oxford man have chosen Cambridge blue for your flag!" A Cambridge friend of mine is convinced that I still believe he realised this all the time and never said a word. But in fact it differentiated us from the dark blue of a number of our Pacific neighbours. Our national anthem too was the subject of a competition. There was general agreement that the tune should be "Beulah" from the Alexander hymn book, which we use for the Fijian song "Me da dau doka ka vinakata na vanua—Let us ever honour and love our country," but we felt that English words would be more appropriate for our multiracial society. So, another competition, and a very enjoyable hour or so in the Civic Hall where Cabinet listened to the fine voice of Archie Seeto, Town Clerk of Suva, singing the various entries, and finally chose Michael Prescott's, which begins "Blessings send, O God of Nations on the Isles of Fiji." An enterprising salesman from the well-known London currency-printing firm of Thomas De La Rue arrived, and I think deserved to be awarded our order for passports, as time was of the essence and the normal process of tendering would have left us desperately late. Again, we chose what we were now calling Fiji blue for the colour of the covers. Some esoteric matters such as Colonial Stock Acts we were prepared to leave to the financial experts. Civil Aviation and Air Agreements were other complicated subjects, and we set up a committee advised by experts to consider them. Amidst all these changes it was a relief to be advised that our old seal did not require any alteration. When it came to the table of precedence, I also appointed a committee, but knowing it was a sensitive area, I had the prescience to ask Ratu Edward to be chairman. The result was an agreed list, which served us extremely well. Of course, there were always the odd persons who felt they should be higher in the list, but by and large we resisted, usually by saying, "Well, this was Ratu Edward's list." As the saying goes, the people who minded didn't matter, and the people who mattered didn't mind. A quick list of distinguished visitors had to be prepared, accommodation arranged, liaison officers trained and allocated, stamps designed and set in commemorative albums for guests, and so on.

Independence Countdown 109 The form of ceremony also had to be considered. I had seen films of independence ceremonies elsewhere, where the British flag had been lowered at midnight and the new independence flag raised, both to frenzied cheering. I did not think this appropriate to our relationship with the British Crown. We decided to have a final beating of retreat before independence, when the Union flag would be lowered with the quiet dignity and respect our long association warranted. It was a moving occasion. I quote from an editorial in the Fiji Times of 9 October 1970: The Union Flag will be lowered today in the ceremony of Beating Retreat. There is no element of running away or being driven away in the word retreat in this context. The ceremony is an occasion, in ancient military usage, when, at the end of the day, honour is paid to the flag, which is the symbol of loyalty and unity of purpose. "We have had a long and close relationship with Britain. We became dependent in a warm spirit of friendliness and trust, and we become independent in the same spirit," Fiji's future Prime Minister, Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara, has said. Behind these words lies the true significance of the ceremony today. The Union Flag will come slowly down, in honour—honour which is born of the gratitude and continuing friendship with Britain of the proud new nation whose own flag will fly from the same masthead tomorrow. Next morning proceedings began with swearing in Sir Robert Foster, our Governor, as our first Governor-General. He had been guide, philosopher, and friend throughout all the process to independence, and we were glad to have him continue with us for a while. Indeed, for a long time he had acted more in the manner of a Governor-General—always available in the background, but by and large leaving us to take decisions and govern the country. At Albert Park, our ceremony began with a bare flag-pole, and the people were able to show their unrestrained enthusiasm when the Fiji national flag was unfurled for the first time, and thousands of schoolchildren excitedly waved a forest of newly minted Fiji flags. His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales brought us a most gracious message from Her Majesty the Queen, and I was glad, in the speech with which I accepted the constitutional documents, to pay tribute to our links with the Crown and affirm our determination to preserve and strengthen them. At the same time I acknowledged our pride in assuming control of our own destinies and stressed our

Independence Countdown no resolve to build a strong and united Fiji, rich in its diversity and tempered with tolerance, goodwill, and understanding. Before speaking, I acknowledged the documents from His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales' hands in Fijian customary fashion by stooping and performing the cobo, symbolising the honour and regard Fiji had for Her Majesty and her royal representative. Among the many invited guests, I remember one in particular— Martin Carter, the Guyanese minister and poet, and a remark he made: "I have watched your people. They walk with dignity and they walk with pride." It is a treasured compliment. The following day was a Sunday, and we had decided to have an ecumenical church service. In one great united service we had representatives of all the Christian churches, the various branches of the Hindu faith, and of Islam. There were prayers and readings from the holy books in Hindi, Urdu, English, and Fijian. After each reading, the books were presented to me as Prime Minister, so that at the close I had before me the Bible, the Veda, the Gita, the Ramayana, and the Koran. Finally, I was asked to lead the vast assembly in an act of dedication to the service of God, to one nation of Fiji, and to peace. There seemed to me to be an atmosphere of solemn commitment, which I thought augured well for the future. Finally, in this spirit I would like to mention one incident I found very touching. The market vendors, predominantly Indian, visited my home with a great bundle of waka (yaqona root), a hundred pounds of dried yaqona, and a big roll of tobacco. I do not smoke tobacco, nor do I indulge in yaqona drinking enough to warrant that amount, but they came to me and said, "Sir, we understand at this time many people from other parts of Fiji, especially Fijians, will be in Suva, and they will be visiting you, and we think that by giving you this, it will gready help you in receiving them." I mentioned this in parliament because I could not find any better evidence that there was deep understanding amongst the people in Fiji. That understanding would tolerate the shortcomings of the other races, and would give the goodwill we needed to launch us forward into independence. It would be responsible not only for the peace and prosperity of this country, but also for all the aid we would need from our friends overseas. When I became Member for Natural Resources, I was given a government house at Veiuto, and we remained there when I became Leader of Government Business and subsequently Chief Minister. I must say I have never been demanding about houses,

Independence Countdown HI accepting all the government quarters allotted to me throughout my career in the civil service. Indeed, I have always been faintly amused at the manoeuvres expatriate officers and their wives were prepared to go through in competition for houses, to the extent that one secretary of the housing board described his job as like being at the wrong end of a sewer. However, though we managed, the Veiuto house was small for a family like mine, and there was the question of official entertaining. I was urged to have the house demolished and have a new, bigger place built on the site, which was a suitable one from the point of view of quietness and security. I was not prepared for such major works and suggested instead a Fijian bure alongside. Within a very tight schedule, the Ministry of Works made a splendid job of this, completing the work at about 9 PM on the very eve of independence. They certainly earned the beer we laid on for them. The bure had a large entertainment area, which was fully used. I transferred Cabinet meetings to there, we later held important meetings of the Tripartite Committee of Government, Employers and Trade Unionists there, and, of course, government receptions. It was ready to receive distinguished visitors at independence and has accommodated royal occasions for visits by the Prince of Wales and other members of the Royal Family. I became very attached to the bure and found it a useful working retreat—and an excellent quiet venue for my favourite game of Scrabble. Once the excitement of the celebrations was over, it was down to work again, and one of the first things to arrange was a course for our senior officers who were to become in due course the new permanent secretaries. We engaged an officer who had arranged similar courses in Africa. It had originally been anticipated that the course would last nine months, which was the norm in Africa, but on arrival, after a quick assessment, he told us that the calibre of our candidates was so high that three months would be quite sufficient. We were very proud, and they did us proud. The next task was to make orderly transitional arrangements for our expatriate staff. They had served us well, and it was important they should be fairly treated. Of course any who wished to leave immediately could do so, and some left for Hong Kong and other territories or retired to start new careers elsewhere. For the rest, the Secretariat did a careful study of each expatriate officer and his post, and submitted to me an assessment of how long it would be before we could provide a local replacement. The expatriate officers were then told how long they could count on serving and could make

Independence Countdown 112

their plans accordingly. I found this consideration was much appreciated by the officers concerned, and our parting took place on good terms, as it was right it should. Years later I took the chance to build on this goodwill by having a party in London to which I invited all the former Fiji civil servants who could be traced. Almost all of them were glad to come, and His Royal Highness Prince Edward graced the occasion. I thanked them again for all they had done for Fiji. In a world where individuals seem to count for less and less every day, I have always thought it worth while to maintain and strengthen relationships, especially when there has been some parting of the ways. In the same way, when eventually the Colonial Sugar Refining Company left Fiji, I made a point of inviting the officers of the company to a reception to show that, despite our differences, we recognised and appreciated the contribution they had made to the sugar industry of Fiji.

(Top) His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, on behalf of Her Majesty the Queen, bestows the Constitutional Instruments of Independence at Albert Park, Suva, 10 October 1970. (Bottom) The London Constitutional Conference at Marlborough House, April or May 1970, with our full complement of parliamentarians and staff. I am fourth from the left of the front row, with His Excellency the Governor Sir Robert Foster, GCMG, KCVO on my left, then Minister of State and Commonwealth Affairs and Chairman of the Conference Lord Shepherd. The occasion featured all four Toganivalu brothers—three Government members and one adviser to the Opposition. (Central Office of Information, London)

(Top) Calling on Secretary-General U Thant of the United Nations, accompanied by His Excellency Semesa Sikivou, Fiji's Permanent Representative at the United Nations, 21 October 1970. (United Nations) (Bottom) The new Fiji flag soars aloft for the first time on 10 October 1970, at Albert Park, Suva, after the declaration of independence.

(Top) Addressing the United Nations, 21 October 1970. At the presidential rostrum, left to right: Secretary-General U Thant, Acting President Major-General Padma Bahadur Khatri of Nepal, and Under-Secretary-General for General Assembly Affairs C A Stavropoulos. (United Nations) (Bottom) Listening to a debate at the United Nations, New York, 21 October 1970, I am clearly relaxed after delivering my address! Left to right, front: Counsellor of the Fiji Mission Ray Baker, Fiji Permanent Representative His Excellency Semesa Sikivou; back: Second Secretary Mrs Shri Nandan, First Secretary Satya Nandan, Secretary for Foreign Affairs and Secretary to the Cabinet Robert Sanders. (United Nations)

Greeted by President and Mrs Richard Nixon at a reception at the White House, October 1970. (United States Information Service)

Arriving by punt at Laselevu, at the headwaters of the Wainimala River in Naitasiri Province, north-west of Suva, November 1970. Ratu David Toganivalu, Minister of State in the Prime Minister's Office, is in the stern.

His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh, Lord Mountbatten, my wife, and I are carried ashore at Tavuki village, Kadavu, from the royal yacht Britannia, March 1971.

(Top right) Stages in a Fijian welcome ceremony: presentation of tabua. (Larry Bortles) (Right) Presentation of yaqona root. (Larry Borths) (Above) Serving mixed yaqona. (Larry Borths)

Presentation of cooked food. (Larry Borths)

(Top) Lomaloma cup bearers in Lau. The first offers yaqona, the second, water (the chaser!). (Larry Bortles) (Left) Adi Lady Lala at dinner with British Prime Minister Sir Edward Heath at the Commonwealth Conference in Singapore, 1971. (Singapore Ministry of Culture) (Bottom left) My wife and I enjoy a joke with President Sir Seretse Khama of Botswana and Lady Khama at the Commonwealth Conference in Singapore, 1971. Sir Seretse and I first met at Oxford. (Singapore Ministry of Culture)

(Top) Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting, Singapore, 1971. Prime Minister of Ceylon Mrs Bandaranaike is on my left, and British Cabinet Secretary Sir Burke Trend on her left. Attorney-General John Falvey, Secretary to the Cabinet and for Foreign Affairs Robert Sanders, and Minister for Home Affairs Ratu Penaia Ganilau are seated behind. High Commissioner Canberra Raman Nair, the other member of our multiracial delegation, is behind Mr Falvey. (Singapore Ministry of Culture) (Bottom) Greeted by Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew at the Commonwealth Conference, Singapore, 1971. On Mr Lee's left are Singapore Minister for Foreign Affairs Mr Rajaratnam and Commonwealth Secretary-General Arnold Smith. (Singapore Ministry of Culture)

(Top) A visit to the Singapore War Cemetery in October 1971 to honour the graves of Fijian soldiers killed during the Emergency in Malaya. Left to right: Army Chaplain Singapore, Mr John Falvey, myself, Sergeant Usaia Masiwale and his wife, Sergeant Akuila Vaniqi, my wife, Ratu Penaia Ganilau, Robert Sanders, and Mosese Buadromo. (Singapore Ministry of Culture) (Bottom) Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting in Lusaka, Zambia, 1979. President Kenneth Kaunda of Zambia addresses the meeting. Note the white handkerchief. Prime Minister Malcolm Fraser of Australia is on his right, and I am at the far left. (Government of Zambia)

13 Foreign Affairs

SETTING UP A FOREIGN AFFAIRS DEPARTMENT OVERSEAS

AND

MISSIONS

Among the more formidable tasks we had to assume on independence was responsibility for the conduct of our own foreign affairs department and policy. As a Crown Colony and as part of the Commonwealth, Fiji had attended many international meetings. Usually we attended as observers or advisers, but I think we made our mark. I remember that in 1950 Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna attended as an adviser to the United Kingdom's delegation to the Fourth (Decolonisation) Committee of the United Nations at Lake Success. In the South Pacific we had been attending meetings of the South Pacific Conference since the South Pacific Commission began. I myself attended meetings of the Commonwealth Sugar Agreement and also of the International Sugar Agreement, so that the concept of putting a Fiji view on the world stage and forwarding Fiji's case and interest wherever possible was not a new one. But none of this was quite the same as framing the policy and making the decisions ourselves. We had first to set up a department and overseas missions. To achieve this I followed a principle I strongly believe in—build on what you have and make use of the experience you have. I was the minister with the most experience in this field, and my office staff had been associated with these activities and attended me on some of my travels. I assumed the Foreign Affairs portfolio, and my Permanent Secretary added this subject to his schedule. In the formation of this small department we were immensely helped by countries like the United Kingdom, Singapore, Malaysia, Australia, and New Zealand. We also took opportunities for training further staff in Oxford, Canberra, and the United States. For overseas representation we had a modicum of experience in 113

Foreign Affairs 114 that we had a Fiji Government Representative in Sydney, and again I thought we should build on that. I asked him to visit and make a study of the various places where I thought we should establish missions. Limitation of funds and staff meant that we should start with the smallest number of missions that could achieve what we wanted. The first obvious step was to upgrade our representative in Australia to full diplomatic status. London was clearly a place for a mission. Besides being the centre of the Commonwealth, Britain still provided much of our aid and technical assistance. And finally, since we had become a member of the United Nations, admitted very shortly after independence, it was almost obligatory for us to have a mission there. In any case, though the expenses of such a mission would be very high, it would, at least initially, also service Washington and give us cheap representation to one hundred and twentynine countries for the price of one. Moreover, the headquarters of international agencies like the United Nations Development Programme were located in New York and could be more effectively persuaded by someone on the spot. I sent our Sydney man round the world, and everywhere he went he received tremendous help, especially from our friends in the Commonwealth. Quite a lot of the business of starting up a mission is, of course, housekeeping, or perhaps initially I should say househunting, for both office accommodation and somewhere to live. All this had to be explored and temporary arrangements made. On his return, our representative made a report to the government that included suggested scales of allowances and so on. It was a first-class job and was the basis of the arrangements we made for our missions. Staffing was not going to be easy. Under the constitution, I was responsible for making appointments, and I knew that officers fit to head a mission and represent Fiji overseas were likely already to be holding responsible posts in Fiji, so that they could not be released very long before going overseas. I chose Semesa Sikivou, a senior Education Department administrator, for New York, Josua Rabukawaqa for London, and Raman Nair, who had been the first Indian Administrative Officer, for Australia. With minimal training they were really pioneers, and they certainly did us proud. With each of them I posted an experienced civil servant, and these men played a quiedy efficient role in the establishment and administration of the missions. Our diplomats soon established themselves, and I found on successive overseas visits how highly regarded they had become.

Foreign Affairs us They were a little worried about protocol. I told them they should learn as much as they could about the local protocol and conform to it, but whenever they were in doubt they should revert to their own custom. I learned in due course that this advice had worked very well. Finally, in an independence message to Fiji nationals overseas, I said, "We are not having large diplomatic missions overseas and I ask that each one of you away from home regard yourself as an ambassador of Fiji, determined by your own conduct to uplift her good name and reputation." Diplomatic relations were not all outgoing, and I was pleased to welcome High Commissioners for the United Kingdom, New Zealand, Australia, and India, and an Ambassador from the United States to Suva, as well as a number of diplomatic representatives with dual accreditation from Canberra or Wellington. On their first visit these envoys tended to say they would like to do something for Fiji, but were usually rather vague on the nature of the aid they could offer. When the East German Ambassador made the same approach, I told him there was an area in which we would really appreciate help, which they were uniquely able to supply. Could they send us one of their sporting coaches? We had great springs of natural talent but lacked expertise. The Ambassador seemed to take this on board, and on the basis that the desire for kudos is not entirely lacking in most aid projects (witness all the photographs of presentations) I felt East Germany itself had something to gain from such a project. We therefore waited hopefully. Their aid contribution arrived three months later—a treatise on raising pigs, in three volumes, in German! Treaties are the foundation and pillars of international diplomacy, and we had to think about those entered into by the United Kingdom on our behalf. We could, of course, have adopted a "clean slate" principle and divorced ourselves completely from treaties previously made on our behalf, but as a new state we would have been severely handicapped in contemporary international society— a highly complex mechanism that functions through the treaty system. I was very fortunate in obtaining the services of Professor D P O'Connell from Adelaide University in South Australia, later Chichele Professor of Public International Law at Oxford; with his advice, and the able assistance of a United Kingdom officer from their treaties department, we embarked on a detailed examination of all treaties. First, by means of a general declaration through the

Foreign Affairs 116 Secretary-General of the United Nations, we declared that Fiji acknowledged inheritance of all treaties previously made on our behalf, but that because under international law certain treaties might have lapsed on independence, Fiji would examine all treaties and make a separate declaration about each. One interesting sidelight of this exercise was that it gave independent Fiji the opportunity to make contact, often initial contact, with nations of the world. It enabled Fiji to be seen as a nation that wished to be acknowledged and fulfil its international obligations— and whose government could carry out a lengthy and complicated task in an efficient manner. My Permanent Secretary was closely concerned with this process, and I was very glad that, through the Commonwealth Secretariat, he was able to return in 1985 to update and consolidate a treaty list that had simply mushroomed. FOREIGN POLICY AFTER

INDEPENDENCE

I have been asked what it was like forming a foreign policy on the hoof, as it were, but such a question does not reflect the true position. Admittedly, a new state does not expect to produce an instant and complete foreign policy. Such is only gradually evolved as a result of experience, study, interchange of views, and acquisition of knowledge. But we were not starting from scratch. I have always held that a cardinal element in Fiji's foreign policy is regional cooperation in the South Pacific, which had been going on long before independence. It is sometimes said that we are only now beginning to rediscover and reintegrate relationships that existed ages ago, before outside powers came and divided us into spheres of influence and control. We had long been interested in the South Pacific Commission, and I tell in chapter 18 how we moved to give the islands a greater voice in its deliberations; we were involved in the Pacific Island Producers' Association, more recently the South Pacific Bureau for Economic Cooperation, now the Forum Secretariat. But at that time the Forum had yet to be born, and its evolution is also described in chapter 18. We reaffirmed our links with the Commonwealth, becoming a full member, and in future through Commonwealth Conferences we would have another opportunity for regional cooperation and sounding a Pacific voice. It was possibly the pooling of ideas and the sharing of topics to put forward that led most direcdy to the Pacific Forum.

Foreign Affairs 117 We share much with the Commonwealth—parliamentary democracy, the rule of law, respect for minorities, and other basic tenets. But I also thought that Fiji had not only benefits to receive but a role to play; I felt, I hope not presumptuously, that Fiji was in its way a microcosm of the Commonwealth, with its multiracial society living together in unity and harmony. Likewise, through the Commonwealth, in common with other sugar-producing countries, we enjoyed advantageous prices and a secure market for more than 140,000 tons of our production. This relationship enabled us to take part in the London sugar talks in connection with Britain's entry into the European Economic Community (see chapter 17). I saw Fiji as closely linked with South-East Asia. Numbers of our population had their origins there, and it was an area of developing countries like our own. Fiji was already an associate member of the Economic Commission for Africa and the Far East and a member of the Asian Development Bank, and we applied for membership of the Colombo Plan. We found that for the purpose of electing people to offices, and for other purposes, the countries of the United Nations are divided into regional groups, and we chose to join the Afro-Asian group— with the accent on Asian. Then we had to determine our role at the United Nations. We are a small country, but there are many such at the United Nations. The great point is that the small nations, at least theoretically, speak on terms of equality with the larger nations, and there can be an opportunity to play a moderating role. I had coined the phrase "The Pacific Way" and felt we could speak from our own experience, insofar as Fiji was recommending continuing dialogue as a means of resolving differences on a basis of mutual understanding. We felt this most strongly in relation to racialism—a constant topic at the United Nations. The difficulty is that this issue is capable of arousing the deepest and, it must be said, the most sincere emotions. Unfortunately, these emotions often lead to a situation where it is impossible for any communication to take place between the parties to a dispute. This was the sort of situation where I felt we might be able to help. Because of our past experience as a colony of the United Kingdom, and a small colony at that, one situated in an area where there were several of the remaining colonies, I was glad that we would have the opportunity to take part in the deliberations of the Committee on Decolonisation. My own feeling was that this committee tended to be dogmatic and doctrinaire and would have every terri-

Foreign Affairs 118 tory independent immediately, irrespective of economic viability, or indeed the wishes of its people. I felt we could represent a view to the committee that each country must be approached with understanding of its own individual and special problems, and that the pace of constitutional change must be in accordance with the wishes of the people themselves. Here again, we would be speaking from experience. I naturally took a great interest in the forthcoming International Conference on the Law of the Sea. We are an oceanic people, dwelling in an oceanic archipelago. The sea and the land of Fiji are interdependent, and the Fijian word for land, vanua, includes the sea. We look to the one as much as to the other as elements of our environment. As an increasing population puts more and more pressure on our limited land resources, I felt we must look more and more to the development of marine resources, including submarine mineral resources, for the support of our people. Our aim was to establish territorial waters on a three-mile limit around a large polygon joining the outermost islands of the group, with a further nine miles of exclusive fishing rights. At the same time we had no wish to preclude the rights of innocent passage. I am very glad that at the end of prolonged negotiations, and with an able team, we achieved those aims. Indeed, our team did better than that. With the help of like-minded countries we ended up with a two-hundred-mile exclusive economic zone. All that remained was to find the economic minerals! As part of the developing world, we were classified as an aidreceiving country (though over the years, in our small way, we had been an aid-giving country as well). Our Fiji School of Medicine had trained not only doctors for the Pacific but also Pacific leaders. We readily send our professional officers to other territories in the region and receive officers for training, and we provide what are known in the jargon as "resource personnel" for seminars and courses run by the South Pacific Commission. Although we were glad to receive aid, I did not feel we should simply accept it because it was on offer. In framing Fiji's programme with the United Nations Development Programme, and with offers from other countries, I decided we should study our Development Plan VI and see what parts of it could be taken over by others. In this way, staff we had provided for in the estimates would not be taken away to be "counterparts"—more jargon—to some project never in our thinking. I further decided that we

Foreign Affairs up would expect those agreements we signed to be consonant with our position as an independent sovereign nation and not to impose conditions in conflict with this. Such, in brief, was the way I saw our foreign policy developing after independence, and, with modifications and extensions, we have followed its general terms to this day. THE UNITED NATIONS GENERAL SEPTEMBER

ASSEMBLY,

1970

Because of the visit of His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales and the independence celebrations, I was unable to be present at the United Nations for Fiji's admission. However, I took the opportunity of attending the first general assembly thereafter. First I called on Secretary-General U Thant, who warmly welcomed Fiji to the United Nations. He said he was always pleased to welcome small countries to the organisation, as they tended to give it a balance and perspective that sometimes eluded the bigger members. (Of course, he came from a small country himself!) He then came down from his eyrie on the thirty-eighth floor to join us at the raising of the Fiji flag among those of all the other nations. It was the first time I had seen it in a row of other national flags, and it proved as distinctive as we had hoped. I was very impressed by the sincerity and humility of U Thant, who struck me as a public servant who regarded his high post as an opportunity for service rather than self-aggrandisement. In his quiet way he was a great man. Our Permanent Representative and his staff were by now well established in an office, and we had all the facilities for working on my speech. We were accommodated in a hotel that was adequate, but only just, as I shall explain. My first caller was United States Secretary of State Mr W B Rodgers, who came to lobby for our support on their two-China policy. I was amazed at the brashness of the man—no sevusevu, no offering, no introductory niceties. Straight into his case, almost telling us what to do. I'm afraid I was perhaps less polite than I should have been, but I think he got the message and toned down quite a lot; then we got on quite well. My next caller was a very different sort of man, British Foreign Secretary Sir Alec Douglas-Home, and there was an amusing prelude to his visit. I had invited him for a glass of sherry, and Ray Baker, our First Secretary in New York, had with difficulty raked up

Foreign Affairs 120 six glasses from our hotel rooms. For good measure, he had procured a supply of big sticky buns, though I did not know this in advance. Robert Sanders went down to conduct the British party up, and imagine how he felt on discovering there were twelve of them. However, most of them turned out to be security men, and by the time two had peeled off at the door, another two at the bottom of the lift, and so on, we were left with Sir Alec and his private secretary, Sir John Graham, and another officer, and three on our side. The crisis of the glasses was averted. Sherry was produced, and then Ray produced his big sticky buns. Sir Alec looked at them, I think in vague incredulity, and then waved them away, I suppose keeping them at a safe distance. Thereafter, matters improved. Sir Alec began by congratulating Fiji on its independence and its membership of the Commonwealth and the United Nations. He then went on to say that the United Kingdom fully appreciated our problems with defence and security under our new independent status. He was pleased to be able to tell me that his government had approved a grant of £400,000 to help us in this way, including provision for a mobile police force. After that, almost incidentally, he mentioned the two Chinas and the British position, saying that if we wanted any help or explanations they would be very glad to supply them, but that, of course, in the event we would make our own decision. We then talked about cricket, and the whole meeting was an object lesson in diplomacy vakaturaga, in a chiefly fashion. The next big challenge was my address to the General Assembly, and I had three concerns—the content of the speech, the delivery of the speech, and finally the somewhat lesser one of the height of the lectern. In a brief reconnaissance of the auditorium, it seemed to me to be a bit low, and I knew my vision would not extend too far. In that case I would just have to hold my speech in my hands and hope they wouldn't shake too much. I worked on the speech with my staff for two days, and Ray Baker's wife gallantly typed and retyped and retyped till I felt it was about right for content and length. But I wanted to be sure that I got all the pauses and emphases correct, so I went over it a number of times with Robert as an audience of one and marking all the various important points, voice changes, and so on, until I was satisfied and as confident as I could expect to be. Came the third day and the testing ordeal. I was taken by the Chief of Protocol, a Russian, to the podium, and as I feared, it was really far too low. I was

Foreign Affairs 121 leaning over it to pick up my speech, when it suddenly shot up to the correct height and nearly caught me on the chin. Thereafter all went well, and many delegates were kind enough to come and shake hands and offer congratulations. I do not want to clutter these memoirs with too many speeches, but I have included this one as Appendix 4, because it marked a major milestone in Fiji's entry into the international community.

14 The Mid-Seventies

THE A L L I A N C E

GOVERNMENT

In 1972, in the first election held under the 1970 Constitution, the Alliance Party won 33 seats out of 52. In addition to strong Fijian and General voter support, I was particularly pleased that we were able to attract 24 per cent of the Indian vote. We were never to drop below 14 per cent over the years, and I have had as many as five Indian ministers in my cabinet. We can justifiably claim to have been the most genuinely multiracial party the country has had. From 1972 till 1977 was a period of solid achievement. I had a good team of ministers and made very few changes. The three Toganivalu brothers were always very supportive; Ratu William, Ratu Josua, and Ratu David were all members of the chiefly clan, the Masau, who linked Cakaudrove with Bau. They all had administrative or agricultural experience that added solidity to the government. For the rest, Doug Brown, Charles Stinson, and John Falvey, joined by Jonate Mavoa (a former clerk to the Legislative Council turned politician), Jone Naisara (who had been secretarygeneral of the Credit Union Movement), Sakeasi Waqanivavalagi and Mohammed Ramzan (both of whom had come up through the trade union movement), and James Shankar Singh (a big canefarmer from the west), all gave breadth and depth. Through the creation of assistant ministers, I also had the chance to bring on some of the younger members. As deputy in succession to the much-missed Ratu Sir Edward was the rocklike Ratu Sir Penaia— utterly dependable. Vijay R Singh, too, performed well in a number of jobs. He had made a good Speaker, after R D Patel, his opposition predecessor. On 13 June 1973, Ratu Sir George Cakobau was sworn in as our first Fijian Governor-General, and I quote briefly from what I said on that occasion. 122

The Mid-Seventies 123 Her Majesty the Queen, the Queen of Fiji and the Head of the Commonwealth, has been graciously pleased to commission as Her Representative here, the great grandson of Ratu Cakobau, the man who ceded these islands to Her great-great-grandmother, Queen Victoria, nearly one hundred years ago. The wheel has come full circle, and nothing could be a more fitting culminating symbol of the enduring friendship between our two countries. Although traditionally, conventionally, and legally this appointment is made on the advice of Her Majesty's Ministers, I think I can fairly say that in so advising Her Majesty, we were expressing the wishes of all the people of Fiji, and it was with great pleasure that we did so. The name of Cakobau is an honoured one in our country's history, and it is fitting that the first Governor-General appointed from Fiji should be the Vunivalu of Bau. He held the office with dignity and distinction for ten years before retiring in 1983, and then lived quietiy at Bau until his death in 1989. I am sometimes asked if any single event in my life has given me more satisfaction than any other, and perhaps the following incident is that one. On 9 December 1973, Fiji was struck by the violent Hurricane Lottie. The Uluilakeba, the Lau provincial vessel only recently acquired in Japan, had been at sea at the time, and on the tenth there was no word of whether it had survived, and no news of a wreck or survivors. That night, I found I could not sleep and felt a strong influence urging me to take some action. This was stronger because reports of the ship's whereabouts were between Vatoa and Fulaga—an area I knew very well. Ratu Penaia, who was Minister of Home Affairs at the time, had arranged through the government of New Zealand for an Orion aircraft to mount a search, and I was told they had been unsuccessful. However, I still made arrangements to fly very early the next morning, and rang from Nausori to tell Ratu Penaia. He said that the Orion had flown at a certain height, without achieving any radar sighting of the vessel or wreckage, and it was suggested that we should fly at round about five hundred to a thousand feet. I boarded the Beechcraft Baron of Fiji Air with Ted Beddoes, the General Member for the Eastern Division, and we flew out. On our very first survey we sighted some empty life-jackets and a life-buoy.

The Mid-Seventies 124 Although we could not make out the lettering, it seemed long enough to be Uluilakeba. This was at Ogea. We then flew around Fulaga. I remembered that there used to be a current that ran west of Fulaga towards Vatoa, where I used to have some success in fishing. At this moment the pilot told me he would have to start for Lakeba to refuel within ten minutes, so I asked him to use half of the time along this line, and by the grace of God we saw people on the surface of the sea. We immediately informed Suva, which passed on the message to the Soochow, a vessel that was in the area, and we asked that it remain there and switch on all its lights to encourage people to hang on. They should also send lifeboats. At the same time, I scribbled a message and put it in a film case with a bright yellow camera cloth, and dropped it on Ogea. I did the same at Muaicake, asking the people to keep a sharp lookout for survivors. In the event, forty-one people were saved. The successful rescue mission is an indelible memory, and I thank God for the guidance through which it was achieved. In a statement in the House the following day, I paid tribute to the plane pilots and the captain of the Soochow. The Uluilakeba had been trying to ride out the storm, which was apparently the instruction of the Marine Department at the time. But I remember being on the Mataisau in 1981 in a hurricane close to Moala at the village of Maloku. I suggested that when the hurricane struck we should make for the stream mouth and pull the ship onto the mangrove mud. But I was unable to persuade the skipper. So I put ashore, while the skipper said he was waiting for a tug to come from Suva and had been told to turn back. The tug never got near the ship, which despite dropping anchor was carried over the reef and ashore in the next lagoon, where sadly two men were lost. I am convinced a beaching in the friendly mangrove swamp would have saved both ship and men. In wondering why making for the open sea was the Marine Department tradition, I thought it might possibly arise from a notable incident at Apia in 1898 where five ships, including one from the United States, one from Germany, and HMS Calliope of the Royal Navy were in harbour when a hurricane hit them. Their anchors dragged, and two ships went aground, but HMS Calliope got under way and tacked out of the harbour, all the crew on the American ship cheering them as they went. Incidentally, it was claimed by the relevant colliery that the quality of the Greymouth coal was what gave them the power to escape! However that may be, I am still convinced that if there is a chance of grounding a ship

The Mid-Seventies 12s without damage as a refuge from a hurricane it is a sensible thing to do. On further enquiry I learned that the Marine Department advice is really for large vessels that need sea room, and perhaps some masters thought it a rule of general application. A few years before, we had had a large-scale disaster, when the Kadavulevu went down, losing nearly one hundred souls. It was grossly overloaded. The Uluilakeba had exactly the legal number of passengers. The loss of fifty-four lives was tragic enough, but I dare not think of the outcome had the ship been overloaded. It seemed a lesson had been learned. The first year after the election, 1973, saw the beginning of a much-needed transinsular road linking Labasa and Nasavusavu on Vanua Levu, and the start of the fully macadamised Suva-Nadi Highway, which would greatly improve communication and boost our tourist industry on the Coral Coast. In that year too, the Fiji Pine Commission took over the Forestry Department pine scheme, and this venture has gone from strength to strength. In following years we introduced a scheme of free tuition in primary schools, later extending it by one class each year. Other important developments such as the government's taking over of the South Pacific Sugar Mills and the establishment of the largescale cane development scheme at Seaqaqa are covered in chapter 17. A new hospital, built with aid from the United Kingdom, was opened at Lautoka to serve the heavily populated Western Division, and in March 1977 the new $3.2 million Lautoka Teachers' College was opened. I also opened a new fish cannery in Levuka, and Fiji's first flour mill in Suva. Two parliamentary debates stand out in my memory for 1975. The first was constitutional, and the second on a hot political subject. As committed by the 1970 Constitutional Conference, and embodied in subsection (4) of section 67 of the Constitution, the Governor-General had appointed a Royal Commission to "consider and make recommendations as to the most appropriate method of electing members to, and representing the people of Fiji in, the House of Representatives." A distinguished commission chaired by Professor Harry Street of Manchester University made proposals for retaining the existing communal seats, but converting the remaining twenty-five national seats to a common roll. Instead of a first-past-the-post system, they recommended a single-transferable-vote system designed to ensure that any party's share of seats reflected its share of the vote. They

The Mid-Seventies iz6 also recommended a single-member Rotuma constituency with the transferable vote system. We studied the proposals very carefully, and we did not consider as a government that the arguments put forward justified any changes in the method of election at that time; it was still early days, and the existing constitution seemed to suit our multiracial society very well. The opposition accused us of bad faith and said there was an understanding that the recommendations of the Royal Commission would be accepted. But how could that be, when nothing was known of the commission's proposals? Moreover, in the framing of the constitution itself, discretion had clearly been allowed for, in the provision "¿/Parliament subsequently makes any alteration." This settled the debate, and the quiet acceptance led me to believe that this was not an issue on which the opposition really felt strongly. The second debate was a different matter and arose on a motion from Sakeasi Butadroka, the leader of the Fijian Nationalist Party, that all Indians should be repatriated. He could not find a seconder, but eventually, to enable the motion to be dealt with, an Alliance member seconded it, making it clear he would speak and vote against it. Butadroka made his usual intemperate speech amid constant interruptions. He said I had sold the Fijians wholesale by the constitution I imposed on them, and more of the like. Early in the debate I proposed an amendment to the motion, "to reaffirm the credit due to Indians as well as Europeans and Chinese and Pacific Islanders for the role they have played and are playing, and will assuredly continue to play in the development of Fiji, and in particular their concern and willingness to support government's policy in helping the Fijian people to improve their economic situation as quickly as possible." I added the Europeans because Mr Koya was constantly wanting Messrs Stinson and Falvey out of the government. M T Khan, the minister for Commerce and Industry, made a telling speech, pointing out the effect of such antagonism on investment, and saying, "Butadroka says Indians should go home. Fiji is my home. This is the country where I was born, and this is where I am going to die. I have already marked my grave in Tavua where I am going to be buried." But Mr Koya made a very legalistic speech and called the second part of my amendment an attempt to get political mileage. He put up a second amendment, but when I wound up I said he had had a chance to change the amendment earlier and did not. I did not see

The Mid-Seventies 127 how I could put the case any more strongly. I called it a pernicious doctrine, a despicable doctrine. The motion was repugnant to all I had striven for personally since I had had the privilege of leading the country. I replied in kind to Butadroka's insults by showing that he could not even run a bus company or a piggery successfully—two of his ill-fated ventures. And finally, since Ratu George Cakobau and Ratu Edward Cakobau, senior Fijian chiefs, had urged me to be spokesman and leader for the party, I did not see how I could be accused of imposing anything on anyone. Eventually my amendment was passed, but not with the unanimity I would have liked. If there was ever a motion on which the whole House should have united against racialism this was it, and it was sad to see the opportunity missed. Although I was now at the centre of the administration, I was determined to maintain contact with the people and made a point of attending the Lau Provincial Council meetings and getting out and about whenever I could. I also had a regular monthly meeting with Lauans in Suva, which helped to maintain their link with the province, and at the same time kept me abreast of Fijian thinking in the urban areas and of the problems they faced. One of these was delinquency by young Fijians, and we were dismayed to find that a relatively high proportion of prisoners were Lauans, many of them recidivists. It was a real problem, and we made a number of attempts to tackle it. Lau Province had a property in Suva, and we tried to gather the prisoners there on release, but it was hard to get employment for them and they remained vulnerable. Then, through the generosity of Mr G P Lala, we were given a block of land at Naimasimasi where they were supervised by Dr Macu Salato, a Lauan of distinction and standing. But this too was not very successful because it was a bit remote, and then Dr Salato became ill. For a while we made a discreet withdrawal. I took some of the men back to Lau and let the others disperse. After an interval we resumed and tried to organise a group, both young men and women. However, it proved difficult to find one person who knew all the islands well enough to counsel them, so we decided it would be better if they were organised in small island groups. We hoped that emerging prisoners would be taken in by their relatives in Suva, but there was often mutual antipathy. However, we have persevered with small gatherings for church services and talking round the ya-qona bowl, and over a period of some three years the figure of ninety prisoners went down to fifty. This is not a tale of resounding success, nor of complete failure,

The Mid-Seventies 128 but perhaps it will give some idea of the sort of problems facing urban youth, as well as one of the reasons I have always favoured a national youth training scheme. Another scheme we tried was inspired by the creation of a rural development division of the army. The government proposed a scheme for a fairly rapid expansion of the division, perhaps up to the level of a thousand recruits. The object was that young men would spend a year with the division and then return to their villages with useful skills and the experience of a disciplined life. The army was agreeable, and funds were voted. But in the event it emerged that the military authorities used a lot of the money to continue in employment numbers of men who had already served their time. Clearly we still had a lot to learn about monitoring the execution of projects. However, I turn now to a success story. When I was in Singapore in 1971 I had visited a Boys' Town run by the Montfort Brothers of St Gabrielle. It seemed to me that the training offered was helping to provide a solution to the twin problems of youth unemployment, with its social consequences, and the shortage of semi-skilled and skilled workers, with its adverse effect on the economy. We sought the assistance of the brothers to see whether such a scheme could be run in Fiji. They responded by sending a team to Fiji in 1973 led by Brother Anthony Francisco, Provincial Superior of the Montfort Brothers in India, and later Montfort Boys' Town was established as a residential institute with financial help from MISEREOR in West Germany and CEMEMO in Holland, along with substantial government input. It was opened in March 1976 as a joint venture of the Montfort Brothers and the Ministry of Education. Entrants are boys aged fifteen to eighteen years, and preference is given to orphans, boys from broken homes, school leavers, and sons of very poor families. The subjects taught are essentially practical and vocational, including agriculture, fish farming, both of those combined as polyculture, furniture making, and metal working. The boys also share in multicultural ceremonies and dances and sporting activities. The Boys' Town continues active and successful to this day (1995), when fifty students graduated in November, and 1996 will see their twentieth anniversary. One of the innovations I introduced was to hold Cabinet meetings, perhaps once a month, in centres outside Suva. The meeting itself would be preceded or followed by an inspection of projects in the area—each minister following his departmental interests and

The Mid-Seventies 129 teaming up again for the bigger projects. On our arrival at the centre there was usually a ceremony of welcome, and at its conclusion there was a good opportunity for question-and-answer sessions. I also tried to hold a reception on one evening during the visit. I did not think it fair that all the official entertainment should be done in Suva and was glad to welcome the country people. Further, it was another good opportunity to meet the people and hear what was important to them. This was an extension of the way we tried to implement the rural development policy to which we were committed. Some of us had visited Malaysia and seen the extensive, centrally controlled development schemes. They had their origin in the Emergency, when large groups were lodged together within defensive perimeters and could almost be drilled into development. We did not feel we had the resources for this type of development, nor did it suit the temperament of our people. So we began by providing the infrastructure—roads, jetties, electricity, and so forth. We then sought the views and aspirations of the people themselves, and where there was a good project and a committed local input we would help them. But clearly this method was not one for systemisation. Our attempts to emulate, for example, the very efficient Malaysia National Operation Room were not very appropriate or very successful. But rural development went on, and the cooperative societies made a brave attempt, particularly on the production side. Though they were handicapped by the usual problems of lack of funds and markets, this was an area where the government could help. I had been obliged to do quite a lot of international travel since becoming prime minister. It could be wearing, especially when our destination was often halfway round the world. However, it could have its lighter side, as two incidents attest. On one of my early trips after becoming prime minister, we had to overnight in Honolulu. We had booked at a fairly modest hotel, but on arrival we found that Aaron Marcus, an old friend from the South Pacific Commission, had different ideas and had altered our bookings to put us in the Kahala Hilton. The Cabinet Secretary and I were whisked up to a vast suite at the top of the hotel. There were two quite separate suites, and the distance between the telephones at either end of the lounge meant quite a sprint to avoid missing a call. There was even a grand piano. I immediately told the Cabinet Secretary, "Don't unpack the bags. Go down and find out what this suite is going to cost." He came back with the word that

The Mid-Seventies 130 it was hotel policy simply to charge heads of governments the amount of their daily allowance. We did not have that system, so they ascertained the rate of our original choice and charged us that. Very generous, and we felt we could relax and enjoy it. The Secretary to Cabinet even played the grand piano. We had a spare Fiji flag with us, and the manager was delighted to have it and fly it, pointing out that, like ours, the Hawaiian flag also retained the British Union flag in the corner. In Brussels I had a rather chastening experience. We arrived for a meeting with people we did not know, and I knew I would need my brief-cases with all my papers. When I turned to check with my private secretary, he did not appear to know exactly where they were. I ordered a search of our cars and found them in the boot of the second one. By this time I was getting a bit testy and snatched them from the Private Secretary, saying I would make sure by carrying them myself. Fine, except that when we were met at the door, the receiving delegation made to shake hands with the Private Secretary, completely ignoring the bag carrier. A good lesson for me. One of the developments I most valued was the establishment of a Tripartite Forum of government, employers, and the trade unions aimed at achieving a balanced approach in matters of national interest such as industrial relations, job creation, greater flow of investment, and the general economics and social development of the country. I found it a most useful meeting ground, and when it lapsed its loss was felt. I was therefore glad to see in 1995 that it was being revived. All through, of course, farmers were benefiting from the guaranteed quota and the preferential prices from the United Kingdom, which we had negotiated as part of the Lomé Convention, described in chapter 17. A further beneficial aspect of the convention was STAB EX or Stabilisation of Export Prices scheme, though not part of the sugar deal. The bare bones of the scheme are set out in the articles of the convention. With the aim of remedying the harmful effects of the instability of export earnings, and to help the ACP states overcome one of the main obstacles to the stability, profitability and sustained growth of the economies; to support their development efforts and to enable them in this way to ensure economic and social progress for their peoples by helping to safeguard their purchasing power, a system shall be operated to guarantee the stabilisation of earnings derived from the ACP states' exports

The Mid-Seventies 131 to the E E C of products on which their economies are dependent and which are affected by fluctuations in price or quantity, or both these factors. STABEX aid is given to an ACP (African, Caribbean, and Pacific) nation when the price of any of that nation's agricultural products exported to the European Economic Community falls sharply. Grants to Fiji under the STABEX scheme have helped the government to establish and maintain a coconut price stabilisation fund from which growers' income has been supplemented when, as in 1980, coconut prices fell on the international market. The total amount transferred to Fiji under the scheme since 1975 is just under $3 million. But the achievement of the scheme had its own interest. The meeting was held in Kingston, and before lunch that day I had gone to see the Prime Minister of Jamaica. I left him not long before lunch and passed the English pub that was in the hotel. I say "passed," but I should say "reluctantly passed," because the draught beer looked very good and very tempting. However, duty triumphed, and I returned to the meeting. There seemed to be a lull of expectancy. Josua Rabukawaqa whispered to me aSa nomuni i tavi saka (It's your turn, Sir)" and trustingly started thrusting sheaves of paper at me. I realised I hadn't a hope of absorbing them and making any sensible use of them in the time, so I quickly asked what it was all about. "Oh," said Josua, "the stabilisation of export prices," as if, of course, I knew all about it. The only thing to do was to bluff. "Of course we must have a scheme for stabilising export prices. How could our farmers be expected to plan their production, much less expand it if they had no assurance on price? It was grossly unfair," and so on. I think my first-hand knowledge of all the problems and hardships of coconut farmers in my own province may have given force and authority to my presentation, if such it could be called. By then I was running out of things to say, so I had recourse to a threat of a walkout if we didn't get satisfaction. At this moment I saw French hands go up calling for an adjournment, which was immediately granted. When the meeting was reconvened after lunch it was to hear that the European Economic Community had agreed to the establishment of STABEX. Incidentally, during the adjournment, the West Indies queried my authority in threatening a walkout by the African, Caribbean, and Pacific countries. However, following the agreement after the adjournment, they kept

The Mid-Seventies 132 very quiet. The day was ours, and Fiji was given the credit for leading the charge. "Sa nomuni i taviv is now an in-house joke among those of us who know its ambience. THE 1977 ELECTIONS—OUT

AND

IN

There was to be a meeting of the European Community and the African, Caribbean, and Pacific leaders in Suva just after the elections in 1977. It was being held in Suva in tribute to Fiji's part in the Lomé negotiations, and it would be an appropriate opportunity for the electorate to show they shared their appreciation—or so I thought! For all these reasons we were quietly confident that people would acknowledge our efforts and want us to continue. We made a national multiracial appeal by contesting all 52 seats in the House, whereas the National Federation Party only nominated candidates for 35 seats, avoiding all Fijian and General Elector communal seats. The Fijian Nationalist Party fought 9 Fijian communal seats and 8 Fijian National seats. I opened the campaign with a broadcast over Radio Fiji, based on our theme of peace, progress, and prosperity, which we promised to continue. I reminded listeners of our achievements—including the Agricultural Landlord and Tenant Act, and a leading role in the Law of the Sea conference. I also outlined Development Plan VI, which I said was geared to make the whole country better off, aiming in particular at the rural areas and the outer islands. Above all, I stressed racial harmony and said, "We believe in harmony and maintain and promote it for its own sake, and for the happiness and well-being of our people." In the light of subsequent events, I should perhaps mention that I made it clear that the Alliance Party would not take part in any coalition after the election. The National Federation Party made their appeal to the Indian population, and said we had not given adequate assurance to them of their status as Fiji citizens when Butadroka brought his motion to repatriate Indians. The land issue was also pushed, and we were attacked on industrial relations, welfare, education, and the Emperor Gold Mine Strike. The one notable omission from their propaganda was a set of positive proposals. Butadroka's programme was predictable—paramountcy of Fijian interests, reservation of many senior posts for Fijians (GovernorGeneral, Prime Minister, Minister for Commerce Industry and Cooperatives, and so on), no common roll, more openings for Fijians in business, very strongly supportive of the Fijian Adminis-

The Mid-Seventies 133 tration, pensions for ex-servicemen, and a policy of Indians back to India. Butadroka could remind his hearers of the Indian refusal to join the forces during World War II, the cane strike in 1943, the later Indian predominance in trade and commerce, and the greed of Indian landlords in the towns while their fellows in the canefields demanded longer loans and paid rents late. We had a good campaign staff and organisation and were well prepared, and the National Federation Party were, as often, factionalised. The Fijian Nationalist Party's strength was an unknown quantity, but their financial resources on their own cannot have been great, and there were instances of collusion with the National Federation Party in the use of transport and the like, which in due course would make the latter's charges of racism ring rather hollow. Yet the end result was National Federation Party 26 seats, Alliance 24, Fijian Nationalist Party 1, and Independent 1. The most telling figure was that the Fiji Nationalist Party attracted 25 per cent of the Fijian votes, and this was what undid us. Time and again, though the Nationalists did not win the seat, or even come second, their votes were taken from us, and in a number of key constituencies were enough to topple us. Although one of the post mortem views of the election was that we had become complacent (and certainly I did find in my travelling round the constituencies that some members had not been very assiduous in visiting them), I think in the last analysis we were trying to promote ideas of racial harmony against aggressive racialism. In the end our opponents ran a campaign of fear and even hate —and won. One might have thought that our multiracial policy, contrasted with Butadroka's open racialism, would have increased our Indian votes. But no. Coupled with the issues raised by the National Federation Party at the start of their campaign, it became generally known that Fijians were being awarded scholarships at the University of the South Pacific with nearly fifty marks less than Indians. Although figures could be and were produced to show no gross distortion of balance between the races, the damage was done. The National Federation Party played the education card for all it was worth. They had a ready audience, for we all know that education is probably to the Indians what land is to the Fijians, and they readily succumbed to a campaign that claimed only an Indian party could safeguard their interests. They received an added boost when Indian students boycotted the university's Pacific Week in protest against the Alliance policy.

The Mid-Seventies 134 As a final blow, canefarmers, not long before the election received notification of income tax deductions—many of them for the first time. This was the result of increased sugar prices, but again it was fertile ground for our opponents. Without hesitation, I conceded and called on the National Federation Party, saying they had a right and a duty to govern Fiji. I prepared to vacate my official residence and was fortunate to be able to obtain at short notice, the lease of a pleasant house with a swimming pool. It was quite small, but we all said how much we enjoyed being close together as a family. Nothing was happening on the National Federation Party front as far as we knew, but the Alliance held a meeting in the Grand Pacific Hotel, and Ratu Penaia and I were re-elected deputy leader and leader. Meanwhile, there was a crisis of an entirely different kind. Fiji was due to host a meeting of the African, Caribbean, and Pacific group of countries who negotiated terms with the European Economic Community. I had been very closely associated with the group and the preparations, and had played a fairly prominent part in the negotiations. I had been expected to chair the meeting, but I felt that this was a matter for the new government—when there was one. However, in this rather difficult situation the National Federation Party eventually asked if I would chair the meeting, and I was happy to agree. The meeting was a resounding success. Not only did it go well and the delegates enjoy themselves, but they were amazed at the calm that prevailed throughout. Not a gun in sight. The Pacific Way! Secretary-General Konate kindly described me as one of the family—genuinely and totally, and I felt that way too. He and Edwin Carrington, his deputy, said they had been looking forward to this conference, and if Fiji had been on the moon they would have come! I invited Mrs Jai Narayan and Mr K C Ramrakha of the National Federation Party to attend as observers, a gesture that was much appreciated and again surprised our guests. I was rather enjoying my release from the political scene and actually had a week-day round of golf—most unusual for me at that time. The National Federation Party seemed to be dithering and reluctant to take office. They put out feelers to see if we would form a coalition under my leadership, despite my having clearly ruled out a coalition from the very start of the campaign. I have been asked why I did not enter a coalition. To begin with, I had said we would not, which is perhaps enough reason. But there was also a thought

The Mid-Seventies 13s that such a coalition would give Butadroka a powerful case with which to stir up more trouble, saying I was even prepared to ally with Indians to hang on to power. Why they hesitated to take power I do not know. However, Mr Jai Ram Reddy, the leader of one of the National Federation Party's factions, gave his analysis over Fiji Radio. First, he did not believe that a National Federation Party government would be viable at that time; second, there was more to forming a government than just appointing ministers; third, he wondered whether the National Federation Party would have the unquestioning loyalty of the civil service, the army, and the police; fourth, they had to remember there was a majority of Council of Chiefs and non-National Federation Party nominees in the Senate; and fifth, did they have a leader of the status to be able to claim truly to be leader of Fiji? While I deprecated his slur on the loyalty of the civil service, army, and police, I felt the rest of the assessment was not far wrong. The next step was an approach to form a caretaker government, with a projected meeting under the chairmanship of the GovernorGeneral. We nominated four members to attend the talks, but later I was informed by the Governor-General that Mr Koya had told him the National Federation Party could form a government, so that was that. I had been prepared to lead a caretaker government, but only as an Alliance government. Next day, I understand the Governor-General told Mr Koya to get on with it and form a government. He said he would, but it seems he had problems not only about the leadership, where on a first ballot it appears he tied with Atunaisa Maitoga, a former Roko in the province of Macuata, but also in the appointment of his Cabinet, which members insisted should be finalised before he left for Government House. Meanwhile, about four o'clock in the afternoon I was summoned to Government House, where the Governor-General told me that in exercise of his powers under the Constitution he was appointing me Prime Minister. It was a complete surprise to me, but I at once said, "Sir, I will obey your command," and was immediately sworn in. I felt it was my duty, and I did my duty—without question and without hesitation. I was not told, nor did I feel it was for me to speculate on the reasons for the Governor-General's decision. After all, section 73 (2) of the Constitution says, "the Governor-General, acting in his own deliberate judgement, shall appoint as Prime Minister, the Member of the House of Representatives who appears to him best able to command the support of the majority of the members of that House."

The Mid-Seventies 136 I went back to Government Buildings in a bit of a daze and met the Secretary to Cabinet at the entry to the lift. He told me he had been preparing notes for the incoming government. I told him I had just been sworn in as Prime Minister. He replied, "Well, you must be the first Prime Minister to be sworn in wearing a bula shirt." I asked him to summon an immediate meeting of my former ministers, gave them the news, and asked if they were prepared to resume their portfolios. Their response was very moving, and a government was formed in five minutes. In the evening, my staff had prepared a farewell feast for my wife and myself and invited some close friends. Instead of a wake, it turned into a celebration and went on a long time. A shrewd analysis of the reasons for the Governor-General's action was given by Chief Reporter Robert Keith-Reid in the Fiji Times of n April. He claimed Ratu Sir George probably knew that in certain circumstances a significant number of dissident National Federation Party members would not vote against the Alliance. Koya's supporters felt this view could have been fuelled by telephone messages to Government House during the National Federation Party meeting to elect a leader. Dissension in the party was well known. And there was Jai Ram Reddy's statement that they could not govern and that Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara was the only available man of the stature needed for leadership of the country. In any case, the "dithering" time was far too long for a party with governmental claims. Sadly, the Leader of the Opposition chose to introduce a racist note into his public statements, which I felt I had to rebut in a broadcast I made after accepting office. I said, I and my party have been accused of racialism at its worst and that whatever happens an Indian Prime Minister should never be installed. And it is even said that is why I accepted His Excellency's offer to form a minority Government. To me this is the most damaging racialist statement I have heard in this country. It is designed to appeal to racialism, and I am afraid its effects will last for a very long time. Nothing was further from my mind when I obeyed the command of His Excellency the Governor-General, the highest authority in the land and my paramount chief. I obeyed him in the same manner that thousands of Fijians obeyed their chiefs when they were called to arms—without question and with the will to sacrifice and serve. To accuse me in this way, who have been Prime Minister

The Mid-Seventies 137 of this country for ten years, and devoted myself to multiracialism and tried to lead the whole country along this road, is not only as I have said a provocative damaging racial statement. It is a deep personal insult and a gross lie. I hope on maturer reflection and for the sake of the future harmony of this country he will publicly retract this statement. He never did. But I had the opportunity of proving the sincerity of my own position in discussions at the Lau Provincial Council in 1982, when I opposed a Council of Chiefs' motion that had stated that the office of prime minister should be reserved for Fijians. I maintained this position in my submission on behalf of the Lau Provincial Council to the Constitutional Review Commission in 1995, which included the statement that the best person should lead the country, and race, colour, and creed should not be criteria. It had all ended on rather a sour note, particularly as I believed it was to some degree as a result of my multiracialism that we had lost the election. However, we were confident that the country would settle down, and from the number of Indian letters and messages I received, it seemed there was almost an atmosphere of relief in the country. We would do our best to justify this faith. We quietly carried on implementing the policies on which we had fought the election. The opposition were in poor shape and rent by divisions, and there was no sign of a motion of no confidence. After we had settled in for a few months, we ourselves put up a vote of confidence in the government in September 1977. Reluctantly, I think, the opposition could not but oppose, and we were defeated. I demitted office, and in the following general election we were returned, winning 36 seats out of the 52. That was 12 more than in April, and 2 more than we had ever won before. The general opinion was that the people had looked into the abyss and had not liked what they saw. However, reverting to my medical training once more, I said that much of the election campaign had got under people's skin and it should not be allowed to stay and fester. Much could be done on a bi-partisan level, and I would welcome any opportunity for this, as I had already shown by the invitation to National Federation Party observers at the EEC-ACP meeting. During all this excitement, when there was no government, the Secretary to Cabinet rather gleefully pointed out a comment in the editorial of the Fiji Times of 7 April, which said, "It is a tribute to our civil service that the routine machinery of government functions unhampered." So much for us politicians!

15

Back in Harness, 1977-1982

Our next spell of government would involve quite a lot of fence mending, but there were encouraging factors. My new small cabinet was generally welcomed, and the two new ministers, Tomasi Vakatora and Semesa Sikivou, proved good appointments. I also appointed a number of ministers of state who could gain experience with specific areas of responsibility. They were associated with individual ministers who could submit to Cabinet any proposals on their behalf, without enlarging the number at the top table. In July John Falvey, our Attorney-General since independence, finally decided he should resume his private practice, and though we would miss him greatly, I had to agree that he had given us sterling unremitting service for a long time and had earned his release. I fully endorsed the Fiji Times editorial that described him as "a straight man." In his place I selected Vijay R Singh as AttorneyGeneral, appointing him to the Senate. I anticipated, rightly as it turned out, a new era of cooperation with the new Leader of the Opposition, Mr Jai Ram Reddy. Towards the end of the previous parliament I had not even been able to get acknowledgment from Mr Koya of letters consulting him on appointments and other matters as required by the Constitution. There seemed to be no reciprocity. On one occasion on my return from Brussels, I found he had taken a room next to me in my Nadi hotel and wanted to hear all about the sugar talks, knowledge I gladly shared with him. Yet, with never a word to me, the next day he was out campaigning amongst the farmers against a proposed deduction from cane proceeds for a price stabilisation fund. Not much sharing there. In an address I gave on Fiji Day, I hoped to widen the new relationship, calling for veivosoti (mutual tolerance) among all our people, which seemed to strike a responsive chord. 138

Back in Harness 139 One step along this road was taken with the publication of the report of Doug Brown's committee on the unimproved capital value of land—directly related to land rents, of course. It valued top-class land at $700 an acre and low-class at $500 an acre. With a 6 per cent maximum rental, this meant that a farmer on the best land would pay a maximum of $420 a year on a 10-acre farm, which with cane at $20 a ton would yield $7000. Not only was this less than in many other sugar-producing countries, but Koya himself is on record in the Nation (volume 2, number 30) as saying that Fijians were leasing their lands for far too little. This did not prevent the farmers or their representatives from asking for more, to the extent that an independent arbitrator had to remind them that the company was not a welfare institution. Following the Law of the Sea Convention, where one of our diplomats, Satya Nandan, and our Solicitor-General Don McLoughlin had played such a notable role, we made a declaration of our archipelagic base lines and our consequent two-hundred-mile exclusive economic zone, and made regulations. We would in due course negotiate with neighbouring states where boundaries overlapped. We also decided to put in a bid for the proposed international seabed authority to be located in Fiji, produced a brochure, and began looking for support. It turned out we were too late, Jamaica having already conducted an effective and eventually successful campaign, but it was good experience and gave us a heightened profile in the United Nations. Moreover, I felt it was good for the Pacific. Eventually it probably helped to gain for Satya Nandan the post of Assistant Secretary-General, heading the United Nations Law of the Sea division. (His outstanding ability and experience received further recognition in 1996 when he was appointed the first SecretaryGeneral of the International Sea Bed Authority, to be established in Jamaica.) All this happened in 1977. The next year saw what I hoped might be a settlement of troubles at Vatukoula gold-mine. Over the years, the large numbers employed there, and the contribution of goldmining to our economy had led successive governments to grant concessions and loans to the company. Nevertheless, there was a continuing history of labour troubles and strikes. This year had seen a prolonged strike, and it was eventually decided that the government should take over the mine. The company was ready to negotiate, and the decision was welcomed by the mine-workers, who returned to work. We were fortunate to have the services of a team of consultants from the Commonwealth Fund for Technical

Back in Harness 140 Cooperation to advise us, and I put Vijay Singh in charge of negotiations. Unfortunately, negotiations ultimately broke down on price, when the gap between the sides was too great to be bridged. Later in the year we had to make arrangements for the resettlement of men leaving Vatukoula. At the outset there were 460 men and Minister of Labour Ratu David Toganivalu organised land, transport back to villages, loans, and so forth to enable them to start a new life. The year 1978 seemed to be a year for strikes, and the Nadi Airport workers' strike required my intervention, together with the Tripartite Committee. Since the early seventies I had been giving quite a lot of thought to the possibility of Fiji's participation in the United Nations' peacekeeping operations. In 19751 had asked Colonel Manueli, the commander of the Royal Fiji Military Forces, to visit New York to discuss and assess whether we could or should take part. Additional employment was always welcome, and our troops would benefit from active service experience. But an important motivation was my continuing aim of more youth training, and, with the rotation of servicemen that would be necessary, we could expect to give considerable numbers of our young men the chance of disciplined service. Therefore, when in 1978 the United Nations was setting up an Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL) for peacekeeping duties, I instructed our permanent representative in New York, Berenado Vunibobo, to urge our case to contribute. We were successful, and initially provided a light infantry battalion of about five hundred men, which later rose to 725. This force is still being maintained at a reduced strength of 650 men. It was probably a measure of our troops' performance that we were later asked to contribute to the multinational force for Sinai, consequent upon the Camp David Accord. This involved another battalion of 500 men. The force was later scaled down, but we still have 380 men serving there. We have since been invited to supply troops, observers, or police in Iraq or Kuwait, Namibia, Somalia, Cambodia (where the police contingent included four women), Rwanda, and Bosnia. Overall, by rotation, nearly fifteen thousand soldiers and more than two hundred and fifty police have served overseas, and at the height of our commitment we had about twelve hundred military and police serving worldwide. Sadly, this commitment has not been without cost and has extended to the ultimate sacrifice of thirty-seven lives

Back in Harness 141 over the years. We remember them with sorrow, gratitude, and pride. Apart from the advantage to Fiji mentioned earlier, there have been substantial financial gains. With up to a thousand job opportunities a year, it has been estimated that the service has generated over F$9 million of new income in a full year. Against this we have to set the inordinate delay of the United Nations in meeting its financial commitments to our government, which at its highest rose to F$22 million. However, as a result of steadily increasing pressure this has been progressively reduced, and by the time of a recent visit by Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali to Fiji in 1995 it had come down to F$2 million, which he undertook to clear. I have visited our forces in the Middle East on three occasions that I found eminently worthwhile, despite the taxing nature of such a tour in such a climate. I gathered that our troops were the envy of the other contingents, who apparently did not receive such visits. I always found our men in good heart and very highly regarded, and I have been very proud of them and the way Fiji has shown its commitment to the United Nations by this service. Two disasters struck within months in 1978-1979. In December 1978, Cyclone Fay hit Vanua Levu and Central Lau, with the loss of one life and homes and crops ruined, partly by tidal waves. It was only a foretaste. A few months later, in March 1979, Hurricane Meli struck. Kadavu and Nayau bore the brunt, and there were fortynine deaths including the gallant Nurse Kacimaiwai on Nayau, who sacrificed her life venturing into the open to help others. She was later posthumously awarded the Nightingale Medal. The bulk of the deaths came from flying debris and collapsing buildings, and it was estimated that in Lau and Kadavu some eight thousand people had been made homeless. As so often in the past, help from friendly countries was prompt and generous, and rehabilitation was soon under way. Then in May we had severe floods in the Veisari area in Viti Levu, and five more lives were lost. The year ended with an earthquake in Taveuni. While we licked our wounds, a film-maker was lamenting that he had waited two months for a hurricane sequence and left Fiji just before Meli. May saw the hundredth anniversary of the first arrival of Indian indentured labourers in Fiji, and great celebrations. I praised their contribution to the development of the country and their acceptance of and by Fiji, as evidenced by only a handful having taken advantage of return passage rights to India. They had shown an industry and a perseverance from which many of us could learn.

Back in Harness 142 On the political front, Charles Stinson retired. He had served with drive and energy since the first Alliance Government and had seen the first two major stretches of the Suva-Nadi road completed—something he could remember with pride. About this time, there was also what seemed to me a storm in a teacup involving James Shankar Singh, but the media blew it out of proportion, and he felt obliged to resign. To deal with these departures, I moved Charles Walker to the Ministry of Finance and made a few adjustments that the Fiji Times, not ineptly, called a "soft shoe shuffle." Later in the year I lost Attorney-General Vijay Singh. I had handed over the reins of government temporarily and was having a spell of recreation leave in Lakeba, when my Cabinet colleagues told him they no longer had confidence in him. There followed a very public debate, which the Deputy Prime Minister ended with an explanatory broadcast, quoting a judgment of the Chief Justice in a case concerning Fiji Flour Mills, that strongly censured the conduct of the Attorney-General for his criticism of the Director of Public Prosecutions. It was all very unsavoury, and in the end Vijay Singh left the Alliance and resigned from the Senate. I declined to intervene in the dispute, but in due course I was the one who would feel the backlash. His defection to the opposition was inevitable, and in the 1982 elections he was one of their principal propagandists. The year 1979 was also the one in which the maverick Mohammed Tora, apparently disillusioned by the splits in the National Federation Party with which he had allied himself, joined the Alliance Party, together with the chiefs and people of Sabeto, in a ceremony in the west. I had enjoyed a curious relationship with him, for when I was District Officer Ba he was my clerk and I found him so efficient that I took the rare step of recommending him for a double salary increment. A later successor as District Officer Ba expected him to serve yaqonct, and when Tora produced a copy of the General Orders and asked where such duties were required of a clerk, war was declared. It seems a minor incident, but I am convinced that this was the beginning of Tora's anti-government, antiestablishment stance, which reached its apogee in oilworkers' strikes and airport workers' strikes as he turned to trade unionism as an oudet. He was to be in and out of my Cabinet before he was finished. It was my duty under the Constitution to localise the public service. The Secretary to Cabinet, who had assumed various extra portfolios, as I did myself, had gradually over the years passed on

Back in Harness 143 the permanent headship of Foreign Affairs, Home Affairs, and Information, and in 1979 he retired. The senior remaining top post, then still held by an expatriate, was that of chief justice. I was advised that three local judges were now fully capable of discharging the duties of this high office, and the eventual retirement of Sir Clifford Grant gave the opportunity for our first local appointment, who was Chief Justice Timoci Tuivaga, later Sir Timoci. Altogether, taking into account the parallel localisation in the sugar industry, I felt this steady transfer of senior posts to our own people had been a very satisfactory achievement. Later I had great pleasure mid-year in opening our new National Stadium on the site of the old Buckhurst Park. We would now have a worthy venue for great occasions—national, religious, and sporting. Cyclones continued in 1980, the worst being Cyclone Wally, which claimed thirteen victims, though Cyclone Tia, which hit Vanua Levu, Taveuni, Qamea, and Koro, created widespread havoc to housing and crops. These national disasters deserve to be chronicled, for they are the darker side of the popular picture of the idyllic south sea island life. Despite it all, we were all still in good enough heart to celebrate our tenth anniversary of independence, graced by the presence of Her Royal Highness Princess Anne. Although it began with Hurricane Arthur, we could look back on the following year with a certain amount of satisfaction. The South Pacific Regional Trade and Economics Agreement (SPARTECA) gave the island countries duty-free and unrestricted access to Australia and New Zealand for almost all our goods. At the same time Australia and New Zealand would help with export development and trade promotion. In the following years we were to encounter snags in the way of rules of origin and the like, but the spirit of the agreement was generous, and we benefited from it. We at last took the plunge and established an embassy in Tokyo. Our annual sugar exports there were now over $30 million, and timber exports exceeded $1 million, and imports from Japan were about $56 million. Moreover, Japan had become a very generous aid donor. The case for an embassy was therefore strong, despite the inevitable high cost involved. Over the years it has certainly justified itself. Early in 1981, I had the honour of attending the Privy Council meeting where Her Majesty gave consent to the marriage of His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales and his bride to be. Then in July, my wife and I attended the glittering occasion of the wedding

Back in Harness 144 in St Paul's Cathedral. Fiji's wedding present was a set of gold cuff links in Fiji gold with a motif of crossed clubs, a gold brooch set with a Fiji pearl, and a matched pair of the rare golden cowrie shells encased in a yaka cabinet—very humble gifts, as we would say in our custom, but they would surely be unique. Later we had a memorable visit from Mrs Gandhi. Her continuing message to the Indian people of Fiji was the same as that of her wise father, Pandit Nehru, whom she called a prophet and practitioner of a timeless international morality. Indians born in Fiji should consider Fiji their home. Though social and cultural links were maintained with India, their first loyalty should be to Fiji. She stressed the parallel with India in our multiracial, multireligious society and said she was ready to share her experience with us. She referred to India as the "great salad bowl," as opposed to the "melting pot" of the United States, indicating that people could blend and yet retain their identity. Altogether, I thought it was a helpful and successful visit, which gave me a chance to get to know this great world figure. Much of our time and energy over the period had been spent on rehabilitation after disasters, and a proportionate amount of aid and national resources had been diverted in this direction. But there had nevertheless been steady if unspectacular economic progress.

The 1972 Cabinet after the first elections under the 1970 Constitution. Left to right, front: Minister without Portfolio Ratu George Cakobau, Minister for Urban Development Vijay Singh, Attorney-General John Falvey, myself, Deputy Prime Minister Ratu Sir Edward Cakobau, Minister of Finance Charles Stinson, Minister of Agriculture Doug Brown; back: Minister of Health James Shankar Singh, Minister of Fijian Affairs Ratu Wili Toganivalu, Minister for Home Affairs Ratu Penaia Ganilau, Minister for Lands Ratu Josua Toganivalu, Minister for Labour Jonati Mavoa, Minister for Education Jone Naisara, Secretary to Cabinet Robert Sanders; inset, Minister for Commerce Mohammed Khan.

(Top) With a multiracial group of women at a Lautoka mayoral reception after opening the Churchill Park Grandstand, 31 January 1976. (Bottom) Prize Day for Ravindra Kumar, April 1968. Minister of State Mr K S Reddy and Head Teacher Koroi Tuiloma are looking on.

(Top) With Ratu Sir George Cakobau, left, and Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau in Lakeba for a meeting of the Great Council of Chiefs, 16-18 May 1978. (Bottom) A portion of the yams and taro presented at the meeting of the Great Council of Chiefs, Lakeba, 1978.

An example at Nayau Island of the devastation a hurricane can cause. During Hurrican Meli, in 1979, the tidal wave reached a height of 45 feet. (Larry Bortles)

(Top) Being garlanded after being awarded an honorary degree at the University of the South Pacific, Suva, ir December 1980. (Bottom) 1981.

Leading the Cabinet on one of our periodic visits to the country districts,

(Top) Cutting a cake to mark the twenty-first anniversary of Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna Memorial School, 1981. Recognition at last! (See chapter 5.) (Bottom) The Cabinet of 1977. Left to right, front: Minister for Labour Ratu David Toganivalu, Minister for Urban Development Jonati Mavoa, Deputy Prime Minister and Minister for Fijian Affairs Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau, myself, Minister for Finance Sir Charles Stinson, Minister for Works James Shankar Singh, Minister for Health Edward Beddoes; back: Assistant Minister for Cooperatives Livai Nasilivata, Attorney-General Sir Vijay Singh, Minister for Transport Tomasi Vakatora, Minister for Agriculture Charles Walker, Minister for Education Semesa Sikivou.

(Top) Casting my vote at the Suva Grammar School polling station during the 1987 General Election. Mosese Qionibaravi follows behind. (Bottom) Being sworn in as Prime Minister of the Interim Government by His Excellency the President, Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau, at Government House, 10 December 1987. Centre is Secretary to Cabinet Mrs Lavinia Ah Koy.

(Top) My wife and I are welcomed at the airport, Beijing, 19 June 1978. In the right foreground is Prime Minister Mr Hua Guo Feng, Chairman of the Chinese Communist Party, in the left foreground is Vice Premier Mr Li Xian Nian, ViceChairman of the Chinese Communist Party. (Government of People's Republic of China) (Bottom) Talking with Mr Gough Whitlam, former Prime Minister of Australia, in the bure at Veiuto, 10 February 1981.

With my wife, greeting Prime Minister Indira Gandhi of India at Nausori Airport, September 1981. His Excellency the Governor-General Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau and his wife are on the gangway.

A gracious welcome to Her Majesty from Adi Koila, my grand-daughter, at Suva wharf, 30 October 1982. Behind, left to right: His Excellency the Governor-General Ratu Sir George Cakobau, His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh, Adi Lady Cakobau, and my wife.

Presiding at a joint meeting of the European Union and the African, Caribbean, and Pacific countries in Suva, April 1984. On my left is Chairman of Ambassadors Hugh Shearer, formerly Prime Minister of Jamaica.

(Top) His Excellency the Governor-General Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau, my wife, and I meet Their Royal Highnesses the Prince and Princess of Wales at Nadi Airport, 1985. (Bottom) His Excellency the Governor-General Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau and I meet His Royal Highness Prince Edward at Nausori Airport, 8 June 1983.

A Fijian ceremonial welcome for His Holiness Pope John Paul II, 21 November 1986. Left to right: Lady Ganilau, His Excellency Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau, His Holiness the Pope, myself, and my wife. Behind His Holiness is Archbishop Petero Mataca of Suva, the first Fijian Roman Catholic Archbishop.

(Top) A meeting with President George Bush at the White House, 1989. (Government of United States) (Bottom) Meeting with His Excellency President Lee Teng-Hui of the Republic of China, left, and Minister of Foreign Affairs Fredrick Chien, Taipei, 25 November 1994. (Government of Republic of China.)

With my grandchild and namesake, Ratu Kamisese, at the Fiji Mission, London, 1992.

The Guard and Band of the Fiji Military Forces perform the ceremony of Beating the Retreat at Government House, Suva, on the twenty-fifth anniversary of independence, 10 October 1995. (Private collection)

l6

Commonwealth Heads of Government Meetings The great baby you see is not yet out of his swaddling clouts. William Shakespeare, Hamlet

SINGAPORE, JANUARY

IÇ7I

Singapore was Fiji's baptism at meetings of the Commonwealth Heads of Government. It was quite a baptism, for I found myself invited to respond to Lee Kuan Yew's address of welcome. I thought I had better continue the metaphor and said I spoke with diffidence as "the baby of the family," but felt I spoke with experience of what had worked in our small country and what I felt was the Commonwealth ideal. I thought it appropriate that Tonga, Western Samoa, and Fiji, which had close ties geographically, culturally, economically, and linguistically, had joined the Commonwealth within one year. It was natural for Fiji to join the Commonwealth because the aims and objectives of the Commonwealth reflected the domestic policies of Fiji—policies that had brought our multiracial society to independence without competition and without rancour. While stressing our emphasis on harmony and tolerance, I said I could also be intolerant—of injustice, racial discrimination, and the yawning gap between the haves and the have-nots. I referred to the constant search for areas of agreement between political parties in Fiji and the efforts to reduce areas of difference, pointing out the need to maintain communication; when communication broke down, the opportunities to persuade, influence, or sometimes in humility to concede were lost. I had also reinforced my remarks by taking a multiracial delegation—Ratu Penaia, the Defence Minister; John Falvey, the AttorneyGeneral; and Raman Nair, our High Commissioner in Australia. The meeting began with President Kaunda's tabling of a draft Declaration of Commonwealth Principles. He introduced it by lauding the Commonwealth and how it accepted white people, black people, brown people, and he was sure it would be prepared I4S

Commonwealth Heads of Government Meetings 146

to accept even green people. Here I couldn't resist holding up my hand to say, "Here we are. That's us." I'm not sure he saw the joke, for he just gave a lordly flick of his trailing white handkerchief (a predecessor of Luciano Pavarotti in this regard) and carried on through the laughter. Despite efforts to the contrary, particularly by Britain, it was clear that the problems of South Africa would somehow dominate the conference, and in the end it was considered as a separate item. Many of the delegates took the expected extreme position, except Sir Seretse Khama, whose country, Botswana, was in a difficult geographical position relative to South Africa. Mr Heath, at his first Commonwealth conference, gave a masterly display, but it was a parliamentary performance—just as if he were winding up a debate in the House of Commons, speaking with few notes, taking up all the points in turn, glancing at the clock as if it were a debate closing at 10 PM. His main point, powerfully argued, was that Britain's defence role required the Simonstown Agreement with South Africa, and they had to fulfil its terms. He relied on the assurance of South Africa that it had no aggressive intentions and would not use any items of maritime equipment supplied except for the purposes intended. In the event of any breach, Britain would refuse further equipment and spares to South Africa. I met him shortly after and asked if he would mind if I commented on his speech. He said he would welcome it. So I said I thought its substance could not be faulted and I agreed with it, but he was perhaps too dismissive of some of the other leaders, and a few compliments would not come amiss. I was pleased later to see some fruit from this conversation, and there was a notable softening of attitude, if not views, by other leaders. As we were talking, Mr Holyoake passed and said, "I see you're consulting the baby of the family." "Yes," replied Mr Heath, "and he's talking a lot more sense than a lot of the others." However, the African question still raged, and at one stage some of us were having a coffee break and Milton Obote from Uganda was saying, "If only someone would tell Heath, I could settle this thing in ten minutes." I was determined that I was not going to be his message boy, and no one else seemed so inclined, so his next gambit was that he would stage a walkout. What did we think? Pierre Trudeau, the Canadian Prime Minister, immediately said he had been coming to these conferences for years and he wasn't

Commonwealth Heads of Government Meetings 147

going to start walking out now. Then I said, "Well, I'm not walking out. I've only just walked in." At that there was a general laugh, and the moment passed. But I felt strongly enough to affirm in the open meeting that this issue would not and should not break up the Commonwealth. It would be ironical if the reason any member should leave the Commonwealth family should concern South Africa's own example. For the rest, I felt the issue of arms to South Africa was only a side issue to the basic problem of racism, which had yet to be tackled. I had been convinced of Mr Heath's sincerity and honesty of purpose, as he genuinely strove to find accommodation between his own government's position and the strong feelings of other members. I then had the temerity to conclude by saying the issue had been satisfactorily dealt with by the meeting. To my astonishment, this was accepted, and we moved on to the next item. In the end, it was of course a fudge, and a committee was appointed, but perhaps that is what the Commonwealth is all about. Meanwhile, England and Australia were playing cricket, and I asked one of my staff on a Saturday afternoon to enquire of the Australian High Commission what was the score. He got the duty officer, who probably resented being on call and answered, "I don't know and I don't care." Their Prime Minister certainly cared. During the conference we were treated to a masterly tour d'horizon of world politics and economics by Lee Kuan Yew, and I welcomed the chance of renewing an acquaintance that over the years has developed into a warm friendship. I also found myself very much in sympathy with Sir Seretse Khama, who described himself as "a Queen's man," and we recalled our meeting at Oxford. Milton Obote was impossibly arrogant, and I think a lot of people thought he got his comeuppance by being deposed in Uganda during the conference. Because we were adjacent at the conference table, I saw a lot of Mrs Bandaranaike, the Prime Minister of Ceylon. I was tall, so she would sometimes ask me to catch the attention of the chairman. On one occasion, during the debate on the supply of arms to South Africa, she became very excited and said to me, "Please, I want to speak. I want to appeal to Mr Heath as a mother." "No good," I replied. "He is a bachelor." Julius Nyerere of Tanzania was always stimulating, but Kenneth Kaunda of Zambia tended to become too emotional, ready with the handkerchief before he even began. Forbes Burnham of Guyana and Hugh Shearer of Jamaica I knew already.

Commonwealth Heads of Government Meetings 148

I thought the communique was too long, but compared with what was to come in later conferences it was a model of conciseness. It included an interesting idea, put forward very quietly but persuasively by Pierre Trudeau, that heads of government might usefully discuss, informally, comparative techniques of government, how each of them ran their Cabinet, what was the level of cooperation with the opposition, how did they fit their legislative programmes into the time available, and so on. He echoed my own feeling that this type of thing could not be learned from a book. We could all learn a lot from each other. For my delegation and myself the conference had been a valuable learning process, with much of direct relevance to Fiji, particularly in the economic debates and those on the possible entry of Britain to the European Economic Community. Opportunities for aid would come through the Commonwealth Fund for Technical Cooperation, and the Commonwealth Foundation, too, would be useful to us. Kenneth Kaunda's Commonwealth Declaration was approved— much to his delight. I felt it rather a platitudinous self-congratulatory statement, but agreed, rather on the basis that if it didn't do much good it wouldn't do much harm. OTTAWA, DECEMBER

1973

The presence in Ottawa of Her Majesty the Queen, who saw all heads of government individually and entertained widely, gave the occasion a greatly added dignity and style. Here, it was New Zealand's turn to be first off the mark— this time with a draft Commonwealth Statement on the Tenth Anniversary of the Test Ban Treaty. It was rather a pious exhortation, couched in "UN-Speak," "recalling . . . , proclaiming . . . , seeking . . . , determined . . . , desiring . . . ," etc. Some held the view that behind-the-scenes pressure would be more effective than an overt declaration. However, I mentioned that I had raised the question of the tests in Singapore. We had banned all French goods, ships, aircraft, postal services, and telecommunications. Decisions taken in distant parts of the world had profound repercussions in Fiji and created difficulties affecting my political position and the implementation of my ideas. Our foreign policy was a reflection of our domestic attitudes, aimed at harmony, understanding, and tolerance. But the India-Pakistan conflict had serious effects on people in Fiji, as did the expulsion of Asians from Uganda. My reward for this contribution was to be accused by Lee

Commonwealth Heads of Government Meetings 149 Kuan Yew of seeking a Shangri-La! Because of our position in the Pacific, we might find it, he said. Others were not so fortunate. I was intrigued by Mrs Bandaranaike's delivery, which was made at tremendous pace with the rattle of a machine-gun. One morning she was scheduled to make a fairly comprehensive contribution, and her staff had been up half the night working on it. She started off in her usual style, but halfway through the machine-gun's rattle was interrupted by a loud bang. A cannon perhaps? No, her wretched secretary had tipped backwards, chair and all, and landed flat on his back, completely overcome by sleep after burning the midnight oil. I thought quite the most useful discussion was that on comparative techniques of government. Questions like the changing role of civil servants and the need to involve them in the mechanics of implementing the political programme of a country were aired. Civil servants could also turn into very useful ministers. The cabinet committee system was explained, as was the system of involving rural development committees in political decisions. Some countries had found it necessary to continue the high expatriate rates of pay to attract local people into the service, but there was then a disparity between their salaries and those of the legislature. The education gap between civil servants and members of parliament was growing, because the former were unwilling to take up politics at the prevailing rates. Prime Minister Barrow of Barbados came up with a useful idea to avoid losing civil servants permanently to the private sector, and at the same time to introduce cross-fertilisation between the private sector and the government. This was the establishment of a "single pension plan" whereby people could leave government service after five years rather than twenty without losing accrued pension rights. They could go into the private sector permanently or later return to the government. And it could work the other way. The last word came from Lee Kuan Yew, who said it was necessary to get away from the idea of having immutable and perfect models for government, as no such thing was possible. Flexibility was all, and the important thing for governments was to find a means of creating a cohesive society out of the systems they had inherited while at the same time providing a better life for their people. During the economic aid debate I stressed that we preferred trade to aid. For example, if European sugar-beet production were restricted, we could sell more sugar. Another method would be for

Commonwealth Heads of Government Meetings iso

developed countries to establish subsidiaries to manufacture components for larger products. With concessions, subsidiaries would come. Perhaps there could be a fund to enable developing countries to train for and take on some industries developed countries had found redundant, unproductive, or unremunerative in the context of their economies. I raised two other points that caused us difficulties. Aid agencies tended to want counterpart personnel, whom we could ill spare from our own limited resources of technical workers, and then some donor countries insisted that we purchase from their own manufacturers, who were not always the most competitive. Finally, agencies tended to take the overall per capita income of a country as a criterion for loans and repayment, whereas incomes within the country differed widely. It should be possible, for example, to tailor aid to specific sectors, such as agriculture, and take into account the ability of that sector to repay. In Fiji most of the agricultural sector lived close to subsistence level and earned well below the national average. It should be possible for donor countries to lend to that sector at a lower rate of interest. To my mind this was the Commonwealth at its best, with frank, personal discussion on topics of mutual benefit where no norms or textbooks exist, and without advisers. Lee Kuan Yew felt the same and hoped we would maintain it and not develop into assemblies like the United Nations. One final sidelight: Our hotel had an excellent dining room with a first-class wine list, including Chateau Latour at some fancy price. Night after night I resisted putting our hosts to this expense, till our very last evening when I felt we had something to celebrate. Too late. There had apparently been only two botdes left, and earlier in the evening Crown Prince Tupouto'a of Tonga and Secretary Iulai Toma of Western Samoa had between them sunk them both! Among the new members of the "Club," I particularly liked Norman Kirk from New Zealand, who seemed fully seized with the problems of developing countries and ready to do what a small country like his could. He had a very quiet and humble approach that was refreshing. KINGSTON, APRIL

1975

This was the first Commonwealth Conference to be held in the Caribbean, and our hosts were determined that their reputation for hospitality should be maintained if not surpassed. Perhaps the same could be said of their oratory, beginning with our welcome from

Commonwealth Heads of Government Meetings ISI Michael Manley, Jamaica's Prime Minister. He announced the great new theme of the New World Economic Order, and hoped we would find a way to deal with "wide disparities—too great to be tolerated." I had to say that I had never been able to understand what the old world economic order was, let alone the new. But the Lomé Convention, on which I did feel qualified to speak, had been built on the scaffolding of the European Development Fund, which would have to remain in place for a long time. But Lomé had involved only the countries concerned, and was not international. The STABEX agreement, which was an excellent arrangement for balancing prices over a period, I had to fight for very tenaciously, not to say aggressively; but again, it was applicable only to the countries concerned. By the same token, similar agreements produced by the Commonwealth could not qualify to establish international rules. The best we could do would be to formulate our ideas and then try to sell them to other countries. I found myself proposing a committee of officials (rather on the lines of the Lomé officials, who discussed for two years) who should establish relations with other countries. In the end it was agreed we should have such a committee and it would be chaired by Mr Alister Mclntyre, Secretary-General of the Caribbean Community. It would draw up a comprehensive and interrelated programme o f practical measures directed at closing the gap between the rich and poor countries. One o f the ways that had been proposed to improve the lot o f developing countries was the establishment o f a Commonwealth Development Bank. I felt, and said, that I had serious reservations. Such a bank would require capitalisation and contributions by members. Already the funds of the Commonwealth Fund for Technical Cooperation had increased by the contributions of a few members, though the number of contributors had not increased, and I did not see a financial basis for such a new bank. Moreover, such a bank would be unlikely to be of great help to subsistence economies. It was always incredibly hard to get small sums o f money from large organisations. Once again, we decided to leave thé matter to a committee, to study further and report to the next meeting of Commonwealth Finance Ministers. It was the Canadian Arnold Smith's last meeting as SecretaryGeneral, and he was widely praised and thanked. I had always found him efficient rather than sympathetic, and perhaps rather too assertive for his position. For example, he was in New Zealand

Commonwealth Heads of Government Meetings isz when we had a bad hurricane, and rang to seek advice on whether in the circumstances he should come as proposed. We suggested that it would be better if he did not. But he did. So why ask us? In the event there was nothing he could offer us. However, it was perhaps necessary to have a fairly abrasive man to start the show off and push it along, and he certainly left a developed—if perhaps over-expanded—organisation. His successor was Sir Sridath "Sonny" Ramphal, Guyana's Foreign Minister, whom I knew well from our joint efforts over the Commonwealth Sugar Agreement and the initial meetings in Brussels to deal with the European Economic Community over sugar. These developed to become the African, Caribbean, and Pacific group (ACP). But at first we were just three—Mr Sano from Nigeria (A), Sonny Ramphal from Guyana (C), and myself from Fiji (P). I struck a blow on behalf of women by suggesting wives might be allowed to attend our meetings to be in a better position to speak to women in their own country when they returned. This was readily accepted. My trouble then was to get my wife to attend! As was to be expected, the Jamaican, or I should say Caribbean, hospitality was overwhelming. At one cocktail party there must have been more than a thousand people, and it was extremely hard to get a drink. It turned out that the vast majority were supporters of Michael Manley's political party! One morning Julius Nyerere was explaining a cooperative society he had established in Tanzania, which seemed a completely altruistic project. I commented that it was Christian service at its best and that he should be made a saint. After lunch I was standing at the door of the hotel when he passed with a tail of about a dozen followers. I called to him, "Hey, Julius. I only made you a saint this morning. How is it you've already got twelve disciples?" One of the most pleasant features was that at the weekend each delegation was allotted a villa with staff and a swimming pool in Ocho Rios on the other side of the island, and we spent a delightful time relaxing and being spoilt. I don't remember much of moment being discussed. The final evidence of the Caribbean gift for oratory was when we received the record from the Secretariat—684 pages, against 386 in Singapore. LONDON,

1977

It had been decided at Kingston that, as this was the Silver Jubilee Year of Her Majesty's Coronation, our meeting should be held in

Commonwealth Heads of Government Meetings i$3 London, the heart of the Commonwealth. This would enable us to convey our congratulations and to attend the thanksgiving service in Westminster Abbey. What a magnificent occasion that was. The colour and the pageantry, the deep religious significance, and the superb music all built up to a ceremony of worship and thanksgiving that was truly memorable. It was a week of ceremonial. On the Saturday we all attended the Trooping of the Colour on the Horse Guards Parade before being whisked off by plane to Edinburgh and thence by road to the Gleneagles Hotel. There we spent a weekend of considerable luxury, eating Tay salmon and entertained by pipers and Scottish country dancers. During this break we discussed and approved a Commonwealth statement on apartheid in sport. Strangely enough, though there were four magnificent golf courses to choose from, our delegation was the only one to play. I did not see a single other delegation playing. I had the feeling that if there were more playing of sport and less talking about it, it would be understood better. The Gleneagles weekend ended rather farcically, as we boarded the train at the local station on the Monday, and the object was to show off Britain's new high-speed train. The sad thing was that as yet only a very short length of track, somewhere near Darlington, had been constructed to allow this speed. Of the total journey, only one hour was performed at high speed. However, it gave some of us less well developed countries the chance of a quiet chuckle. Before all this happened there had been a coup in the Seychelles, and Mr Mancham, the ousted premier, wanted to address the conference. Some were in favour; others suggested he speak informally during a coffee break. I took the view that it was a Heads of Government Meeting; Mr Mancham was no longer a head of government. This was generally echoed, and he was not admitted to our meeting. Meanwhile, as Mr Callaghan had said at the outset, amidst all the jollification there was work to be done. In particular we had to consider the Mclntyre Report, produced pursuant to a decision in Kingston two years earlier. It was generally considered a worthwhile contribution towards developing a specific action programme. It would be referred to the meeting of Commonwealth Finance Ministers, who probably held the key, and also brought to the attention of the wider international community. The problem with the Mclntyre Report was that it was based on a number of assumptions that did not seem to have been ques-

Commonwealth Heads of Government Meetings 154

tioned. The first was that all countries desired the same economic standard. But if the Commonwealth's wide diversity were recognised, it meant that different members might have to accept different standards of living according to their individual environments. There also seemed to be an assumption that every country was capable of achieving and maintaining a social and economic order commensurate with a uniformly high standard of living, and that all that was required were the right techniques, the right organisation, the right assistance, and, of course, the right money. That too was questionable. I had been disturbed to hear that the indexation of the prices of raw materials was not likely to be accepted. Without it, all the Common Fund would do would be to subsidise the importers of raw material. I had made a plea for building on what we had, and particularly the Lomé Convention. It was not mentioned in the experts' report, and yet through Lomé some Commonwealth countries were receiving prices for sugar well above world levels. Those who had suffered losses through price falls and natural disaster— for example coconut farmers—had been compensated through STABEX. Lomé had been a step forward, and the meeting should recognise it and build on it. I was wasting my breath, for Mr Callaghan, summing up immediately after, blandly said that as far as he could see indexation was not likely to become a practical issue in the next year or two! I was always diffident about intervening on African affairs, but felt I had to make it clear that Fiji was unable to support armed struggle in South Africa or anywhere else. I had tried to lead a multiracial country for eleven years on a policy of peace, understanding, and goodwill. Any attack on this principle anywhere was an attack on our principle at home. I had talked at a previous conference about the great setback it had been to our government when the Indians were evicted from Uganda and our people thought this had been condoned by the Commonwealth. I now had to contend with a party whose main policy was to evict everyone from Fiji who was not an indigenous Fijian. I wanted help from the Commonwealth and therefore could not support what was being advocated because it was completely contrary to the principles we held dear. I strongly supported negotiations, but not under threat. There were trade unions in Fiji, and I did not advocate that they should negotiate under stress. It was being said in the meeting that one should negotiate but at the same time hold weapons, or even use them. Our government could not subscribe to that, and I wanted to make that quite clear.

Commonwealth Heads of Government Meetings iss LUSAKA,1979

Particularly because the Conference was held in Africa, it was inevitable that the emphasis would be on Rhodesia. However, for once there was actually a specific item on the agenda entitled, "Island, developing, and other specially disadvantaged members," based on an excellent paper by the secretariat. The report confirmed my view that it was easier to get five million dollars from an international organisation than five thousand dollars. Nevertheless I cautioned against establishing intermediate institutions. It was easy to squander aid money on large offices and staff. From the report of a meeting in Western Samoa I noted two very useful suggestions. The first was to use aid grants as seed capital for larger projects when approaching funding institutions for loans. The second was the provision of a price guarantee support at the outset of, for example, a mineral project. I said that adequate use was not made of existing administrative institutions. Development efforts demanded a degree of devolution of authority and decision making to local leaders and institutions that central authorities had not been ready to concede. Aid donors often ignored or were even unaware of such institutions, which had served the people well for generations. Those had inbuilt provisions for consultation, persuasion, and decision making, all of which were traditionally part of the social, cultural, and economic life of the people and aids to its enrichment. Moreover, they aided the process of self-realisation that was the essence of real development, for local communities know better than anyone else what their own needs are. I stressed the need for a formula on freight rates to ensure that distant island groups might receive a return commensurate with that of other countries selling the same produce to the same buyer. Though I was glad to see the idea of more reports from meetings to obviate attendance, the most important aim should be to have fewer meetings. In 1977 there had been 36 Commonwealth meetings; in 1978, 58; and in six months of 1979, already 41. I wished a similar growth rate could be achieved in other spheres. (Here there was a loud "Hear, hear" from Mrs Thatcher.) It was important that the Secretariat act only in response to requests and avoid the temptation of telling people what they needed, or even engineering requests. I made use of my intervention to stress the importance of the new International Law of the Sea Convention and the help the Commonwealth could give, both in surveillance and in exploitation.

Commonwealth Heads of Government Meetings is6 The hot topic was Rhodesia, though we also discussed Cyprus, Belize, Uganda, and South-East Asia. The real work on Rhodesia was done in restricted session, when we had been able to agree on a text for the way ahead. Thereafter, very wisely, Kenneth Kaunda proposed there should be no further debates on the matter and maintained this line. There was a tendency to put Mrs Thatcher in the box, as it were, and say that it was Lord Carrington who had worked the oracle, but she was the Prime Minister, and the ultimate decision had to be hers. Too often, the leader is left carrying the blame for failures, and not given credit for success. I had one reservation. Zambia at that time was in extremely bad economic shape, yet we were lodged with the utmost luxury. A German chef had been engaged to cater to our individual gastronomic whims, and we were consulted on menus every morning. Splendid wines were on offer, and black Mercedes were legion. Perhaps my comment is slightly ungracious, but I am sure we would all have understood and accepted less lavish hospitality from a poor country. COMMONWEALTH

REFLECTIONS

There were to be three more Commonwealth Conferences while Fiji remained in the Commonwealth, but perhaps the accounts of these first five I attended give the flavour of the meetings. In any case they have reached a stage when great care is necessary to ensure that smaller nations in particular do not feel themselves swamped by numbers. By and large they were very friendly affairs, and there was always a warm welcome for new members. We may have had a tendency to take ourselves too seriously and to pontificate in various "Declarations," usually given titles in compliment to the host country, but they were usually unexceptionable and the aims were honest and high. While they provided a stage for the fluent and eloquent, there was always a hearing for the thoughtful considered statement. When I first attended, nearly all the business was formal, and we sat there with a cluster of advisers behind and gave in our names if we wanted to contribute. Prime Minister Trudeau began to break this down, as I mentioned earlier. H e knew that all prime ministers could at times be rather lonely people, and that they had particular problems they could not necessarily discuss with anyone in their own country. The great point about these discussions was that we met without advisers and could let our hair down to discuss the

Commonwealth Heads of Government Meetings i$7 day-to-day running of government. Because such discussions could be extended to pleasant weekend environments like Gleneagles, the relaxed informality was a further benefit, as well as a chance to get to know colleagues better. It was surprising how many of the problems were similar, irrespective of the size of the country. I felt that these meetings enabled us to learn from each other how the same problem could be handled in different ways, and to some extent what had worked and what had not. There is no doubt that the Commonwealth made its contribution to the solution of some of the great problems of the day— Rhodesia and South Africa, to name only two cardinal issues. Like most international organisations, we have tended to become topheavy, measuring achievement by the number of meetings, seminars, workshops, and the like that are arranged. But over and through it all has showed the desire for peace, freedom, justice, non-racialism, and an equitable world order, and these have been displayed better by our actions in unity and common purpose than by some of our more grandiloquent statements. Over and above it all, yet very much a part of it, has been the Crown. Her Majesty does not attend the discussions of Commonwealth meetings, but in a very real sense her presence is a benevolent and unifying one. It stresses our membership of one family, even though our relationship with the Crown may vary. The view of how knowledgeable Her Majesty is, even about small remote territories, is widely shared among prime ministers. Of course, some of this comes from the excellent briefings she can command, but it must also come from the very deep and continuing interest she shows. There must be other countries, as well as our own, where her unifying interest can be a counterpoise to racial and tribal tensions. To conclude, I give a short summary of remarks I made in the House of Representatives in June 1970, when I introduced a motion seeking approval of the Report of the Constitutional Conference and asking the United Kingdom to seek the support of other member governments for Fiji's desire to become a member of the Commonwealth. I reminded the House that our association with the Crown was a long and precious one, and the benefits we had received since Cession were part of our history. We were glad that it was as friends that we were parting from the United Kingdom, and we would continue to act as friends. We all knew the benefit to our most important industry of the

Commonwealth Heads of Government Meetings 158 Commonwealth Sugar Agreement, and it was only one of the very practical and valuable measures that came from the Commonwealth. The Commonwealth Secretariat in London had already been most ready to help, and we intended to use its assistance in future to the full. A small country could not send large delegations to international conferences, but membership of the Commonwealth made available a vast body of knowledge with many varied contributors. Apart from its help in the machinery of government, the Commonwealth itself was a great family of nations and one of the greatest hopes of bringing together people of different races, cultures, and religions. Though a loose combination, it had endured the test of time and brought under its influence a large part of the world. The passage of time has only confirmed these views, and like so many other things in life, it was perhaps only when our membership was precipitately withdrawn in 1987 that we fully appreciated what we had lost.

17

Sugar

The sugar industry is so important to Fiji that it deserves a special chapter of its own. My earliest involvement with the sugar industry showed me that it was a sector that could be prone to problems and disputes while remaining the major engine of our economic production. That was when the Indian canefarmers went on strike in 1943, during the war. At one stage Ratu Sukuna intervened, on the invitation of S B Patel, and he kindly took me to Nadi with him, where he met A D Patel and Swami Rudrananda, the farmers' leaders. Among them they hammered out a formula, though in the end it was not accepted. Ratu Sukuna, both in the Legislative Council and elsewhere, made no secret of his views of people who would strike in time of war. I went with him again to the west when he spoke to the strikers of their lack of loyalty to the country that gave them their livelihood, and urged them at least to cut cane if they were prepared to give no more positive help to the war effort. As always, he was listened to in profound silence. He gave an impressive performance. From my conversations with him I gathered that he disagreed not so much with the economic grounds for the strike as the fact that it took place, as he said in the Legislative Council, "with the enemy at the gates." Ratu Sukuna's courage always rose with danger, and he had litde sympathy, indeed comprehension, of those who did not share his principles and act on them. My next experience of the industry was when I served as District Officer Ba in the west. The construction of feeder roads there was primarily for the benefit of the Indian canefarmers. I became friendly with many of them, and realised what hardship could be caused to tenant farmers who could not get renewals of leases. They were in an environment where they were members of a harvesting gang, and had their school and their temple. It would be very hard simply iS9

Sugar

160

to uproot them without making alternative provision. This experience was to inform my views when we passed the Agricultural Landlord and Tenant Act and later when I found myself presiding over the Native Lands Trust Board, considering amendments to the Act. In 1959 the Indian canefarmers went on strike for a better price, and at that time we saw the strength of the Fijian Administration, which organised yadra,, or watches, throughout the cane areas to protect the farmers and the cutters. With the support of some Indians, all the Fijian canegrowers were cutting, and their numbers had almost doubled to 12 per cent of the total farmers by this time. The strike was followed by a Commission of Inquiry chaired by Sir Malcolm Trustram Eve. He made an award that was not completely generally acceptable but lasted till 1970, inaugurated the Sugar Board and Advisory Council, and recommended that the Colonial Sugar Refining Company (CSR) in Fiji assume more of a local identity by renaming itself the South Pacific Sugar Mills. However, by 1970 it was time for another commission, and Lord Denning, the Master of the Rolls, accepted the job of chairman. He took a new look at the situation saying, "It is my duty to settle the terms of the new contract, as best as I can, without being controlled by the Report of the Eve Commission. Their findings and recommendations may have been suitable for ten years ago but they have become unsuitable since. If so, it is my duty to depart from this." The Alliance and the Federation made their own separate submissions. We were fortunate to retain the services of Australian Queen's Counsel Gerry Brennan, whom Ratu Wili Toganivalu singled out on a visit to Australia. (As he is now the Right Honourable Chief Justice Sir Gerard Brennan, Ratu Wili's turned out a prescient choice.) He presented the farmers' case brilliandy, and an analysis of the details of the award shows that in only one minor instance was the Federation's case preferred to the Alliance's, whereas the Alliance's case was preferred in many areas. The main feature of the award was a 65 to 35 per cent split of proceeds in favour of the farmers before the deduction of sugar-making costs. The minimum price would be $7.50 a ton, with any deficit to be met from the Sugar Price Stabilisation Fund. The CSR Company issued an analysis of the report, claiming to show mistakes in the calculations, and said they could not continue in Fiji. In response, we asked them to work the Denning contract for three years and then ask for a review if they felt it justified. We

Sugar IÓI said we had no intention of nationalisation, but that if South Pacific Sugar Mills withdrew we would acquire the industry for the nation. The company was clearly intent on going, and towards the end of 1970 we set up a bi-partisan parliamentary select committee on sugar, with a motion that: "Having regard to the expressed interests of the millers to withdraw from the sugar industry of Fiji, a select committee of the House be appointed to review the present position of the industry in Fiji generally, to consider how the industry may best be secured against disruption in consequence of such withdrawal, and to make recommendations." In its report the committee said, "It is our firm view, having carefully considered the alternatives, that the purchase and construction of new mills would not be practical. It is our firm view that, not having succeeded in persuading the CSR to accept our view as to a fair price for the shares, the price be fixed by arbitration." The CSR Company's estimate of a fair price was $18 million, which was too much for us. We therefore went to arbitration, which settled the price at $13.5 million, to include all fixed assets and the cattle ranch at Yaqara. In addition to the purchase agreement, we also negotiated a service agreement to ensure a smooth transition and the terms and conditions of employees. We also agreed that the CSR Company would continue to market our sugar until we had our own organisation. Then how to pay? Australia turned us down for a loan, saying it might be a precedent for an independent Papua New Guinea if it wanted to acquire the assets of Australian companies there. In the end the company itself provided debentures for half the amount, and we provided the rest. On 18 August 1972, Minister for Natural Resources Doug Brown introduced a bill in the House enabling the company to be called the Fiji Sugar Corporation Limited, and to continue to operate on the same terms as the C S R Company. The bill was passed with bipartisan support. We took over in April the following year, and the C S R Company, after helping us with skilled staff and marketing in the interim, finally left Fiji in 1975. We were able to get a first-rate chief executive—Gwyn BowenJones from Bookers—and over the years he ran a very good localisation programme. In our first independent season the production of 300,000 tons was almost equal to the previous year's, and the price of $10.60 a ton a record. I had been personally engaged in international sugar meetings since I became Member for Natural Resources. For many years Fiji

Sugar 162 had been a signatory to the Commonwealth Sugar Agreement, which offered guaranteed prices and quotas for sugar sales to the United Kingdom. Naturally we were always looking for improvements in price and quota, but nevertheless I think the agreement worked well and provided a good measure of stability and security for our industry, if one disregarded the effect of troubles whenever it assumed its role of political football, particularly at election times. The United Kingdom's accession to the Treaty of Rome in 1972 set alarm bells ringing throughout the sugar-producing countries of the Commonwealth. The United Kingdom then called a conference in London, and in view of the importance of the industry to Fiji as a whole, I felt the opposition should be represented, and R D Patel, a Nadi lawyer and backbencher (later Speaker of the House of Representatives), was their nominee. I also had the assistance of Bruce Dowling from the CSR Company, who was very experienced in international sugar negotiations, and Ian Thomson, the independent Chairman of the Sugar Industry—a post created by Sir Malcolm Trustram Eve in his report on the industry in 1963. First we had a fairly emotionally charged meeting of the sugar producers. There, for the first time, we used the term bankable assurances (coined by Sir Robert Kirkwood of Jamaica) as our requirement from the United Kingdom. Mr Lightbourne of Jamaica was selected as our opening spokesman, and he told us the sort of thing he proposed to say, beginning with, "You see before you a group of bewildered men. . . . " It was generally felt that his rather emotional approach might benefit from the assistance of a drafting committee, and I recommended that R D Patel and Ian Thomson serve on it. They told me later that their meeting, which was held in Lightbourne's bedroom, consisted largely of a bravura performance of what he proposed to say. It was therefore not too surprising to hear him open up the next day with, "You see before you a group of bewildered men." The meeting was chaired by Geoffrey Rippon, QC, who had special responsibility for E E C matters at the time. He was a rather brusque chairman, but that was perhaps required to push discussion along. In the event, there was a substantial measure of agreement, helped by the assumption of the chair, in Mr Rippon's absence, by Britain's Minister of Agriculture Jim Prior, who was a more emollient personality and well suited to that stage of the conference. The only major dissentient voice came from Barbados, but as they were represented only by their High Commissioner in London, the only delegation not to include members from their home

Sugar 163 capital, I felt their opposition was not tremendously significant. My memory is that their Prime Minister at that time was himself a sugar producer, and all he was worried about was the price. After the conference I had an experience of the way the media works. I was asked on the way out about the result of the conference. When I said it was generally satisfactory, I was immediately tackled on the stand taken by Barbados, to which I replied along the lines just mentioned. Perhaps I should not have been surprised to find that on television that night, prominence was given to the Barbados High Commissioner, and I was not even shown. As an aside, I found the BBC very surprised that I was not prepared to make an appearance at half past nine one evening. I suppose British politicians are all so keen to appear on the box that an opposite attitude takes the media men by surprise. I certainly pricked their assumption, or should I say presumption. In Part III, Protocol 22, of the Treaty of Rome, by which the United Kingdom was acceding to the European Community, it was stated: The Community will have as its firm purpose the safeguarding of all the countries referred to in the Protocol whose economies depend to a considerable extent on the export of primary crops and particularly sugar. The question of sugar will be settled within this framework bearing in mind with regard to the exports of sugar the importance of this product for the economies of several of their countries and of the Commonwealth countries in particular. The final press statement of the London conference referred to the protocol and gave the British Government's interpretation: The Community's proposals constitute a specific and moral commitment to the enlarged community of which the United Kingdom would be a part. The British Government and other Commonwealth Governments participating regard this offer as a firm assurance of a secure and continuing market in the enlarged Community on fair terms for the quantities of sugar covered by the Commonwealth Sugar Agreement in respect of all the existing developing countries. The developing Commonwealth countries will continue to plan their future production on that basis. The next stage in the sugar saga was another meeting of Commonwealth countries at Lancaster House in March 1973, conse-

Sugar 164 quent upon on the United Kingdom's accession to the European Economic Community in January of that year, and the meeting firmly endorsed and confirmed the previous agreement. A standing committee of Commonwealth developing sugar-producing countries was established to prepare a unified approach at all stages of the forthcoming negotiations on sugar with the enlarged Community. This is exactly the sort of work the Commonwealth excels at. A memorandum was prepared and delivered to the Community, harmonising quotas and prices with the African, Caribbean, and Pacific group. This was followed by a meeting in Brussels of the Community Council of Ministers and ministers from nineteen Associate and nineteen Associable states, which I attended on behalf of Fiji. After a day or two there, I found myself very much at odds, particularly with the West Indian delegation, who seemed to me to be making quite unreasonable demands. Accordingly I left, deeply disappointed with attitudes that could not conceivably lead to agreement. I returned home to Fiji and reported to the Cabinet, who supported my stand. However, I had only been home a day or two when I began getting messages from Brussels that other delegates wanted me to return. I was told that even Mr Wilson wanted me back in the negotiations. I got our London High Commissioner to verify all this information, and when he did so, I agreed to return. On my return I called on all the delegations, except that of the West Indies, and they were all in agreement that I should take the lead. The next day we called a meeting with the Community to discuss prices. However, they were only prepared to offer what we held to be an unacceptably low price. We held an African, Caribbean, and Pacific meeting the day after and agreed that we could not go along with the price offered. I then offered to fly to London to see Fred Peart, the United Kingdom Minister for Agriculture, whom I knew from previous associations. The West Indies delegate then said, "You're a Prime Minister. He's only a Minister. H e should come and see you." However, I told them I came from the Pacific, where the tallest coconut tree bends the lowest in a hurricane, and there were parallels with our present situation. Mr Peart was in Northern Ireland, but he returned for the meeting with me, which was held in his office close to Scotland Yard. I first explained to him that by our custom I should be presenting him with a kava root, from which our south sea drink is made, but that I had come unprepared. He said, "Never mind. Will this do?" and produced a bottle of whisky. We had a drink and got down to

Sugariós business. I explained that we were really seeking a price of about $600 a ton, while he said he would find it difficult to go above $400. Was there not an intermediate level? We had another whisky and got down to the nitty-gritty as it were. Eventually we settled on $520, which seemed a very good deal. He had, however, to clear this with Mr Wilson, who was in New York. I told him I would be at Heathrow next afternoon at 3 PM, and he could contact me there. The offer was confirmed by Mr Wilson, and I returned to Brussels. When Mr Peart arrived on the Saturday for the meeting with our group of countries, I had a preliminary chat with him to discuss tactics, and it was agreed that I would ask him what he could offer. He would reply. I would accept and adjourn the meeting. So it turned out. I opened the meeting by welcoming Mr Peart and said that we were hopeful that he was perhaps able to bring an improved offer. In reply the Minister spoke of the problems of offering more, saying that after all, the United Kingdom could produce a lot of their own sugar if they wanted. However, bearing in mind their long association with the sugar-producing countries and those countries' faithful fulfilment of commitments, he was prepared to increase the offer to $520 per ton. I immediately said that I was happy to inform him that we accepted the offer, and adjourned the meeting. As expected, there were rumblings from the West Indian delegates. However, I left Brussels and told our High Commissioner he could ring me in Singapore if there were any problems. If necessary I would return. I was beginning to feel that Brussels was getting too hot for me, and I did not really want to go back. However, there were no problems, and a couple of weeks later there was a sharp fall in the world price of sugar. I felt I would be able to return after all. The agreement was enshrined in the Lomé Convention, signed in the capital of Togo on 28 February 1975, and with its successors it has been the solid basis of the marketing of our sugar crop over the years since 1974, when the Commonwealth Sugar Agreement came to an end. For the first six years of the convention, Fiji benefited by an additional sum of $108.75 million, a figure that has continually increased. The favourable price that the Community agrees to pay also helps in negotiating prices for additional sugar that Fiji can sell to other countries under the International Sugar Agreement. I had just acquired a new speedboat, and as a reminder of the convention that means so much to us, I christened it Lomé.

Sugar 166 There have been successors to Lomé I, and it has been expanded to include development aid and hurricane relief, but the foundation was laid in Brussels in 1973, and we were proud that Fiji had played a role. Another feature of the African, Caribbean, and Pacific group that we appreciated was the chance to get to know African representatives, in particular those from outside the Commonwealth. The Pacific countries of course we knew, and the Caribbean countries had been closely associated with us in London talks. But countries like Niger, Ivory Coast, and Senegal were completely new to us, and we learned from them a new perspective that would help us at the United Nations and elsewhere. Under the Lomé Convention we were allotted a quota of 163,000 metric tons, nearly a quarter more than under the Commonwealth Sugar Agreement, and I was able to make a five-year agreement with New Zealand rising to 60,000 tons a year, and agreements with Singapore and Malaysia for 12,000 tons a year each. We had also had an increase in our quota to 46,500 tons under the United States Sugar Act, and we got a toe in the Japanese market. The task was now to produce the sugar, and in 1974 we fell down on our trade agreements with Singapore and Japan and were even short on our European quota. We would have to raise production, and we embarked on the bold and imaginative Seaqaqa scheme on Vanua Levu. The aim was to increase Fiji's production to 400,000 tons with 800 new farms averaging 250 tons of cane per year from 30,000 acres. We established the scheme with a loan from the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development of US$12 million. Loans to farmers would be made by the Fijian Development Fund Board, which added F $ i 2 million of their own and would also lend on to the Native Land Development Corporation (NLDC), to the Fiji Sugar Corporation for a tramline, and to the Drainage Board to improve drainage. Even with generous loan terms, including subsistence over the early years, it was not easy to get the 50 per cent Fijian participation we wanted, so the Native Lands Trust Board took 36 blocks to run for the benefit of the Fijian people, through the Native Land Development Corporation. The intention was that once established these blocks (each of about 50 acres) would be passed on to Fijians. In the first year the scheme produced 23,000 tons. Sadly, some of the Fijian farmers were not meeting their quota, and in 1983 I held a meeting of some three hundred at my farm, urging them to take

Sugar 167 advantage of all the government was doing to help them. Later on, as many as 24 Fijian farmers would produce no cane at all. By contrast, the N L D C estate was progressing well, but it did have the advantage of being fully mechanised, had the help of six Taiwanese agriculturists from the government, and had help from Ratu Penaia and myself in procuring cutters. Unfortunately, later on, with the wider diversification of the N L D C into other ventures, they became overstretched and had to dispose of the estate. The year 1983 brought Hurricane Oscar and a drought, reducing production to the 1975 level, but a very successful relief and rehabilitation campaign resulted in a return in 1984 to 85 per cent of target production. In 1975 I was told by Mr Henry Kissinger, the United States Secretary of State, that Fiji could ship as much as it wanted to thencountry, with no restriction of an individual quota. And in 1976 we were able to meet all our contracts for the first time in three years. Then I discovered that Australia was about to finalise an agreement with the United Kingdom to sell their sugar against ours, and this confirmed my view that we should now be marketing our own sugar. In January 1976 we set up the Fiji Sugar Marketing Company, headed by Eric Jones, my agricultural economist from Natural Resources days. We expanded our targets, trying Korea and Portugal, of which the latter eventually came good, and in 1980 we got a first entry of 30,000 tons into the Chinese market of many millions of consumers. Sugar is in a healthy state. But its future is uncertain once the present Lomé agreement expires and the World Trade Agreement begins to take effect. We must be ready, to adapt, to diversify, to seek new markets, to become more efficient, and if we can do all that, we shall come through.

i8

Pacific Regional Organisations

THE S O U T H PACIFIC

COMMISSION

The South Pacific Commission was established by the Canberra Agreement of 1947 by the governments of Australia, France, the Netherlands, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, and the United States, with the aim of promoting economic and social stability in the smaller islands of the South Pacific. The discussion of politics was very firmly banned by the commissioners, who represented the administering powers at the conference. The first South Pacific Conference I attended was in Suva in 1953. Crown Prince Tungi, the Premier of Tonga, chaired an economic group, and I chaired a social group. I felt it was a gathering of the tribes. We were happy to know each other, renew acquaintances, and recall our roots. That was the beginning, and I began to attend the meetings regularly. My interest in regional cooperation increased when I became Fiji's Member for Natural Resources in 1964. In that capacity I became associated with the Colonial Sugar Refining Company of Australia, which ran Fiji's sugar industry at that time, and I used to join their marketing team. I attended international sugar conferences in Geneva every year from 1964 to 1967 and got to know people from the Caribbean, Mauritius, and what is now Zimbabwe. Together we talked a lot about our economic problems, which were quite similar. At the same time, we in the Pacific formed our group, the Pacific Islands Producers' Association (PIPA)—because our main export to New Zealand was bananas. If anything really brought us together, it was that New Zealand wanted to give Western Samoa a more favourable price than Tonga and Fiji, presumably as aid to a former New Zealand Trust Territory. Samoa showed a true spirit of regional cooperation and indeed of sacrifice, saying they would not 168

Pacific Regional Organisations 170 take the preferential price, and suggesting we all go to New Zealand and argued for a common price. So we all went, and came back with an improved price, the same for all three countries. The producers' association was later formalised as the South Pacific Bureau for Economic Cooperation, and has since become the Forum Secretariat. For some time we had felt that the constitution and procedures of the South Pacific Commission were too rigid, and that the attitudes of what may be called the administering powers were at best too paternalistic, and at worst arrogant and autocratic. This feeling boiled over at the conference in Lae, Papua New Guinea, in 1965, over the ban on political discussion. In 1962 Western Samoa had become independent and Nauru was on the way. In Fiji we were trying to stem the tide of independence whipped up by agitation at the United Nations. We wanted to talk about it, to hear the views of the main countries in the South Pacific Commission. But we were not allowed. France was the most insistent on this, probably on account of its own vulnerable position in the Pacific, because of both its overseas territories there and its nuclear-testing programme at Mururoa Atoll. Economic and social issues, oui, politics, non. We decided that if we could not talk inside the conference room we would talk outside, and the island leaders talked politics far into the night. Eventually our patience inside was exhausted, and I found I was the one "to bell the cat." I walked out of the conference, and the rest of the Pacific delegates followed—Papua New Guinea, the Cook Islands, both Samoas, and Tonga. The next day, when the commission refused to meet us even on a non-controversial level, I said, "Well, it's no use talking to you people. It's the end of the conference as far as we are concerned." And we walked out again. (Little did the commissioners know that I had arranged to play golf that afternoon with Abdul Lateef, a member of our delegation.) The next day the commissioners agreed to sit down and talk. The next meeting was in Noumea in 1966, and the outcome was that I was invited to submit new draft proposals for amendment to the constitution of the South Pacific Commission. This was not a matter to be done in a hurry, though the request was a very welcome sign that our message was getting across. When it came to the 1967 meeting, Fiji was prepared with proposals. The main thrust was to provide an alternative to the old system, whereby the administering powers met and made decisions that were then communicated to the dependent territories. Under

Pacific Regional Organisations 171 our proposals, everything would be discussed in full conference for three full days before decisions were made, so that we also would have the opportunity of active participation. This was found acceptable, and in general it improved the standing and the effectiveness of the commission. By giving more sense of involvement, it made its operations more acceptable to the dependent territories. There has since been steady progress and increasing recognition of the importance of general participation, until in 1983 the commission adopted a resolution that the conference of twenty-seven governments and administrators should have full and equal membership. THE PACIFIC

FORUM

As a result of all the problems with the South Pacific Commission, the Pacific leaders decided we should have our own forum. In 1971 I was asked by Prime Minister Mata'afa of Western Samoa, Prime Minister Prince Tu'ipelehake of Tonga, Premier Albert Henry of the Cook Islands, and President Hammer de Roburt of Nauru to organise a meeting of self-governing or independent countries. I was hesitant about organising it in Fiji on financial grounds, and also because I did not want to be seen as pushing Suva as the venue. So on one of my visits to New Zealand I asked Prime Minister Sir Keith Holyoake if he would host such a meeting, and he readily agreed. A t the outset, possibly because of arguments with Australia about compensation for phosphate mining on his island, Hammer de Roburt was strongly against the inclusion of Australia. His arguments gained weight because he said he was prepared to fund the islands meeting. Further, the points were made that Australia and New Zealand were more developed countries and did not face the same problems as the islands; they would dominate the Forum and jeopardise the interests of the islands. We debated late into the night, and at first I was alone in arguing that Australia and New Zealand should join. Even at the first meeting it had not been clear whether they would become members. However, I argued forcibly for their inclusion on the grounds that the islands wanted to retain close relations with the two and hoped that better relations would be maintained in the future. The islands looked to Australia and New Zealand for leadership and help in finding solutions to their problems, political independence was meaningless without economic independence, and the islands needed coopera-

Pacific Regional Organisations 172 tion from Australia and New Zealand as the main trading countries in the region. Happily, this view prevailed, and Australia and New Zealand became members. In our early meetings we followed a rather curious procedure. In a three-day meeting one head of government would chair the morning meeting, another the afternoon meeting, and so on over the three days. Unfortunately, because I was the youngest I would be the last chairman, and I found that most of the decisions would have to be made at that meeting. The first five meetings were very jolly and happy, but the last—well! We had very good people to deal with at the beginning. These were New Zealand Prime Minister Jack Marshall, later followed by Norman Kirk, and Australian Foreign Minister Gough Whidam. Then we had Rob Muldoon. We had a problem with Rob that began outside and then reached the Forum. It was about Fiji's prosecution of New Zealand sailors who interfered with the loading of a ship at Lautoka and ended up in gaol. Rob Muldoon rang me up one evening and said he was having a big problem at home and it would really help him if I could get these people out of gaol. I said I was very sorry, but our judiciary was independent and I could not influence decisions of the courts. However, our talk ended with my saying that if he found any Fiji citizens breaking the law he could throw them into gaol. In general I found Rob a good man. He could be bombastic and try to demolish your arguments if you gave him the chance, but if he thought you were right he would stand by you and support you. In the end he and I became very friendly. Malcolm Fraser was the first Australian Prime Minister to attend the Forum. Previously they had been represented by their Foreign Minister. In contrast to Gough Whidam, who was genuinely interested and wanted to do what he thought was right, Malcolm Fraser wanted to do everything for us, whether it was right or wrong. We were importing liquefied gas from Australia but were being charged freight from Singapore. I asked Malcolm if he could help us by trying to change the attitude of the companies and persuade them to charge us just from Australia to Fiji, and he did. But there was no change in the attitude of the oil companies. From the beginning and for a long time we had a very good island team—Hammer de Roburt, Tu'ipelehake, Albert Henry, Mata'afa and later Tamasese, joined by Michael Somare of Papua New Guinea and Robert Rex of Niue. We used to have a meeting the night before the Forum—just the island leaders. We would go

Pacific Regional Organisations 173 through the agenda and more or less agree on our approach to each item. It made the Forum very easy to follow. The Australian and New Zealand leaders suspected we were ganging up on them, and in a way they were right. But overall I felt we were facilitating the progress of the meetings because once we were agreed on an item it could go through quickly and easily. There were usually only one or two items where we disagreed. I was usually detailed to start the arguments on our side. Tu'ipelehake had to stay out of the argument to the very end. If we were not doing very well, he would intervene. Usually he was not very eloquent but he would come down very firmly in a few words, and they would have more respect for him because he sometimes had difficulty in articulating what he wanted to say. Hammer de Roburt's role had been to argue against our arguments, but after Tu'ipelehake talked, Hammer would change, and Albert would float in and make us laugh. For instance, on one occasion we were discussing mineral resources and he said he had found a gold mine—the New Zealand Government! This procedure went on for four or five years. The discussions were very informal and wide ranging. In the end we had to make resolutions, and it was usually my job to try to formulate them. The most articulate at our meetings in the early days were Hammer de Roburt, Albert Henry, and myself. Indeed, the early days of the Forum were memorable to me because of the performance of Albert Henry. H e livened up the party, as indeed he livened up any party. Whenever he had perhaps been too convivial, two or three of us would have to take him to his room to help him with the problem of his wife. One of us would knock on the door and say he had talked late into the night in very happy mood. Albert used to feign heart attacks to hoodwink his wife. At Rotorua he had a real heart attack, and we had the greatest difficulty in convincing his wife. Amongst other later arrivals we found that Ieremia Tabai from Kiribati had his own mind and was not easily persuaded; we had to organise our arguments fairly well before he would come along. Walter Lini from Vanuatu was another free-thinker, but whereas Tabai would see your point and come along, Walter took his position and stayed there. Then we had Geoffrey Henry of the Cook Islands, and Bikenibeu Paeniu of Tuvalu, who could talk on any subject because of his international experience. The rise of New Zealand's David Lange as a Pacific leader was quite meteoric. He came from nowhere and went straight to the top to be the voice of the Pacific. I was a bit stunned. He was elo-

Pacific Regional Organisations 174 quent. I was still puzzling about how he would go on as a leader of the Pacific when, like a meteor, he fell. When the Solomons, Vanuatu, Kiribati, and Tuvalu joined us, discussions became more formal. Several of these countries had people who had attended the United Nations, and United Nations practices began to creep into our meetings. Long documents were produced by the officials for leaders to read, worded like presentations to the General Assembly. Indeed, I think the Forum is now run by the bureaucrats, and the leaders come to talk on the subjects they are allowed to talk on. I believe the leaders must have a free rein to talk on any subject they want, for after all, they have the overall responsibility. In a later development, once the Pacific Forum had been established, Papua New Guinea and the Solomons moved as a Melanesian group to call for the abolition of the South Pacific Conference. I was opposed. Membership of the Forum was limited to independent states, whereas the South Pacific Conference provided a meeting place for the territories that had not progressed to independence, and I felt that the independent states should stick by them. Even now, there are a number of such dependent territories, including those of the size of French Polynesia and New Caledonia. Later, in my opinion, we tended to become more easily divided. Prime Minister Tupuola Tamasese Efi of Western Samoa succeeded in breaking up our pre-Forum meetings. Rob Muldoon gave him a lift to a Forum meeting held at Nauru, and when we were holding our meeting in one of the houses, Efi invited Muldoon to come and sit inside while we were talking on the verandah. Halfway through the discussion he said, "Muldoon is listening and hearing everything we are saying. Why don't you invite him to join us?" From that moment the pre-Forum, islands-only meetings came to an end. Australia and New Zealand can dominate the Forum because they have the staff to prepare their case and they come very well briefed. They can talk on practically any subject that comes on the floor, whereas many of us do not have the staff for that, though some of us are helped by long experience. Fiji itself has been subjected to criticism from some islands on the grounds that everything put up by us at the Forum seems to be accepted. I think they probably did not like my raising questions during discussion of the draft communique. But the points I tended to make were not solely Fiji oriented. For instance, I pressed for support for the application

Pacific Regional Organisations 175 of North Korea and South Korea to join the United Nations, and urged those who had not signed the International Law of the Sea Convention to do so. It required only thirteen signatures to bring it into force, and it was vital to protect the fishing rights and environment of all our island countries. There was also a feeling that I personally tended to dominate. But on the basis that in general there had not been great changes in the subjects for discussion, and there were new members without previous background, sometimes I felt I had to come in at the outset and explain what I knew of the issue right up front. This was not always popular, but in the end I think it shortened and clarified discussion. When I look back to 1972, I find our final communique referred to the South Pacific Bureau for Economic Cooperation (now the Forum Secretariat) such questions as membership of the Forum and the Bureau, trade and economic cooperation, nuclear testing, the International Law of the Sea, the University of the South Pacific, recommendations for a regional development bank, regional shipping, tourism, birth control, and membership of countries in the European Community. There have been very few completely new subjects since then. Not only for this reason is Fiji felt to dominate, but also because of its strategic position and because it is the most suitable place for international bodies to locate their regional centres. Other countries would like a share of this. But expatriates, who by and large staff such centres, want a place where they can find good schooling for their children, good communications, and the ability to get in touch with home easily. On these grounds Fiji comes out on top. But at times I got the feeling that the others have ganged up to exclude Fiji—for instance in the allocation of posts. It was a very wise decision to have the Forum move around from country to country. It gives everyone a chance to see with their own eyes how others tackle problems and to ask us on the spot for our views. For example, when I went to Pohnpei for my last Forum, I had expected to see a far higher level of development. I had assumed that the Americans, with their vast resources, would have provided a better level of infrastructure than we saw. Otherwise, I would not be so concerned about the welfare of the Federated States of Micronesia. I think they need sympathy and help from us. I am sure they could meet their own requirements of root crops, taro, and yams. I believe they used to be self-sufficient in rice

Pacific Regional Organisations 176 under the Japanese. Something has gone wrong, but since they have joined the Forum they have had the chance to visit other countries and see how they have developed their land. What are the achievements of the Forum? Perhaps the biggest and most visible success has been the Forum Shipping Line. We were concerned about transport in the Pacific and thought we were not being treated fairly by the shipping companies. As I have mentioned, the freight rates from Australia were higher than from Singapore. The line had a very difficult time at the start, but it is now taken for granted that whatever must be sent to the islands, Forum Shipping is the most reliable. At the 1975 meeting I presented a paper on the Law of the Sea, proposing the establishment of a regional fisheries body in order that the region should be prepared to take a coordinated and harmonised position regarding distant-water fishing nations. After study of the proposals and recommendations from the Forum Secretariat, the 1976 meeting of the Forum in Papua New Guinea adopted a declaration endorsing the recommendations and decided to establish its Forum Fisheries Agency. This places the Pacific countries in a good position to implement in due course the provisions of the 1995 agreement on conservation and management of migratory fish stocks. The united voice of the people of the Pacific is also being heard, and heeded, in international bodies. Increased aid is flowing into the Forum agencies for regional cooperation. This aid is being rationalised and facilitated by the post-Forum dialogue with donors, which has become part and parcel of the Forum meetings. The University of the South Pacific has been supported by the Forum island countries, and they have used the university to train leaders. If asked for my thoughts on the future, I would say the Forum countries should do everything possible to increase cooperation with and come closer to the Association of South East Asian Nations (ASEAN), for this is the fastest-growing area in the world. It is important too to maintain and strengthen cooperation with the United States and the European Community. After all, the area of cooperation that has been established with the Forum is world wide, including Europe, through the African, Caribbean, and Pacific group in association with the European Community; Africa and the Caribbean, particularly through that grouping; and the United States, through our own efforts that achieved a meeting with its President. The most recent significant

Pacific Regional Organisations 177 advance has been the granting of observer status to the Forum at the United Nations through our Secretary-General. These considerable achievements can be built on for the future. THE PACIFIC ISLANDS DEVELOPMENT

PROGRAM

As the Forum continued and grew, I found I was becoming somewhat disenchanted with its atmosphere and procedures. Then in 1975 I was invited to deliver the Dillingham Lecture at the EastWest Center in Hawai'i. I chose as my theme "Currents in the Pacific" and endeavoured to show linking strands between individual island cultures and economies, regional cooperation, and international relationships (Appendix 5). I think this may have led to my later appointment to the Board of Governors of the East-West Center itself, particularly as Herb Cornuelle, whom I met for the first time, was the head of the organisation that invited me to lecture. He was a fellow governor on the board, and throughout my connection with both the East-West Center and, later, the Pacific Islands Development Program, I found him a staunch friend, ever ready with advice and encouragement from his own rich store of wisdom. I also became acquainted with Senator Fulbright, and others who shared my belief that the key to further economic progress lay with the private sector, but in close association with the aims and policies of the island countries. Through this connection I became aware of the facilities and potential of the East-West Center, the University of Hawai'i, Hawai'i, and the United States, and of the great fund of goodwill existing there, partly, of course, because Hawai'i is itself a Pacific island state. Those considerations led me to think that island leaders would greatly benefit from a forum where there would be opportunities for participation by a very wide spectrum of interested countries, including potential donors, non-governmental organisations, and the private sector. After discussing my ideas with interested parties, among whom I found Michael Somare of Papua New Guinea very supportive as always, I proposed a Pacific Islands Conference at the East-West Center along these lines. The initiative found a ready acceptance, and the first meeting was held in Hawai'i in 1980. From this inaugural meeting arose a resolution to set up a small development programme, named the Pacific Islands Development Program (PIDP). Initially, PIDP was set up in the East-West Center under James Makasiale, from Fiji, who had an agricultural and development background. When he was recalled to Fiji, Dr

Pacific Regional Organisations 178 Macu Salato, who had had a distinguished career in the Fiji Medical Service and later as Secretary-General of the South Pacific Commission, served as Interim Director. He was followed by another Fijian, Dr Filipe Bole, who had served as Fiji's Ambassador to the United States. With the facilities available through the East-West Center and the University of Hawai'i, it would be possible to commission applied research on the role of the private sector and to institute appropriate education and training programmes. A small standing committee that would meet annually to monitor progress was instituted. It consisted of eight island leaders, with myself as chairman, and I was pleased to find Michael Somare a member, along with others. Then, as always, there was the question of funds. One of the problems with normal aid programmes is that they tend to have strings attached, and the projects selected tend to be visible structures or institutions. These strings were to become painfully apparent to us in Fiji later, when Australia and New Zealand turned their backs on us after the military takeover. Our fledgling organisation received a boost when the United States Government agreed that the East-West Center should support us, and they have continued to do so, with both finance for staffing and, perhaps more important, counterpart funds for new research programmes. Then we had a most generous initial contribution of US$150,000 from Japan, whose example was followed later by New Zealand, the United States, Canada, and Australia— all, of course, with a Pacific geography and interest. In addition there were contributions from the island countries themselves, for it is essential to show such commitment when soliciting funds from outside, though unfortunately we have not all reached the levels agreed under a formula at a meeting in Rarotonga in 1985. But then, numbers of developed countries have yet to reach the United Nations aid target of 0.7 per cent of national income. I was very moved at the final meeting I chaired in 1987, when the French representative gave a grant of US$100,000 for the work of PIDP, "in recognizing the outstanding leadership role provided by Ratu Sir Kamisese.Mara and in view of his proposed retirement from being Chairman of the Standing Committee." PIDP itself serves as secretariat for the Pacific Islands Conference, which is a heads of governments organisation, and for the Standing Committee. The PIDP projects—requested by the Conference and reviewed by the Standing Committee—respond to the

Pacific Regional Organisations 179 development themes discussed at the Conference meetings. These were initially held every five years, but such has been the success of the enterprise that they are now held triennially. Among the projects we have tackled have been regional cooperation, appropriate government systems, agriculture, disaster preparedness, including the preparation of manuals, energy, development of faculty, nuclear waste disposal, and the role of multinational corporations in the Pacific. Energy was a subject that I considered of general interest as well as of particular interest to Fiji. More and more developing countries found themselves at a disadvantage when they did not control their own oil supplies. They were at the mercy of the overseas oil firms (see chapter 23). The biggest problem in this type of study is to find someone who has enough knowledge of the subject without being beholden to the oil companies. Closer association with Hawai'i and the United States received a dramatic boost in 1990, when President George Bush, returning from a visit to East Asia, stopped over in Hawai'i and wanted to meet the island leaders. In my discussions with him, I found a real sympathy for the Pacific and its problems and a great willingness to help. As the head of the greatest free-enterprise country in the world, his emphasis was, of course, commercial, but this was exactly what we wanted. Discussions and negotiations resulted in a formal memorandum establishing the Joint Commercial Commission to promote trade between the Pacific and the United States. The preparation of a Pacific data bank enabled information to be fed into the American network, both for the encouragement of investment by American companies and to find markets for Pacific Island products and identify required standards. In my view, the great advantage of the Pacific Islands Conference was that while it remained a meeting in which the island leaders were in control, there was recognition of and a place for donor countries such as Japan and Canada. Because there was no formal official representation, both mainland China and Taiwan were prepared to attend. Similarly, dependent territories like Guam, French Polynesia, and New Caledonia had the opportunity to present their own views, independendy of the administering authorities. Another area in which the Conference differed from the Forum was in its treatment of experts and their reports. In the Forum, any reports by experts were filtered to leaders through the secretariat. In the Conference, on the other hand, experts who had been com-

Pacific Regional Organisations 180 missioned to do studies appeared before the Conference, made presentations, and were questioned about them. This procedure, which led to very open, free-flowing, and informed discussion, was appreciated by both the Conference and the experts. THE I N T E R N A T I O N A L CENTRE FOR LIVING RESOURCE

AQUATIC

MANAGEMENT

Based in Manila, the International Centre for Living Aquatic Resource Management (a mouthful crying out for the acronym I C L A R M ) has, since 1975, provided advisory services and initiated various studies and research projects in the region, with emphasis on sustainable development. Among other organisations, I C L A R M has cooperated with the South Pacific Commission, the University of Papua New Guinea, and the Solomon Islands Government. Projects include the establishment of village-based giant clam farming in the Solomons and Vanuatu, as both a source of protein for islanders and an export crop, and assistance with international marketing. From hatcheries at its Coastal Aquaculture Centre in the Solomons, I C L A R M has sent shipments of juvenile clams to re-establish depleted or diminished populations in Fiji, Western Samoa, and elsewhere. They have encouraged cultivation of other marine resources such as pearl oysters and sea cucumbers (béchede-mer) in Vanuatu and Solomon Islands, using French Polynesia as a model, and they have assisted with fish stock enhancement and the development of fish management practices. In the Pacific, I C L A R M ' s advisory, educational, and training efforts have extended to Kiribati, Tonga, and Papua New Guinea. In all its aspects I have found regionalism one of the most rewarding experiences of my political life in the Pacific. To me it is an extension of the multiracial policies I have promoted in Fiji itself, and at the same time I found it presented outstanding opportunities for enlarging my own knowledge and experience.

19

Proposals for a Government of National Unity and the 1982 Election

In preparing for the 1982 Election, I felt that we were beginning to run out of steam, though the economy was up 6.6 per cent on the 1980 figures. This had been achieved by nothing new. There was a good climate for sugarcane, and tourism was rising. We had clamped down on strikes, but this meant that the unions were working together against us, and there seemed to be a lack of enthusiastic effort. We had talked of deregulation and duty-free areas for new industries, but we had been unable to introduce the measures. We allowed a lot of opposition from the large firms to discourage us. In contrast, the 1987 interim government took this on and had the measures through in two years. To me, with the two main parties fairly well balanced and on reasonable terms (which were likely to degenerate in the heat of the election atmosphere), it seemed an opportune time to promote once more my continuing dream of a government of national unity. I first floated this alternative to the Westminster system in December 1969, during the preparatory talks for the 1970 Constitutional Conference, and I had found that the membership system worked along those lines, though I did not fully recognise it at the time. I proposed it to a meeting of the Alliance Council at Sabeto in 1980, only to find that it was strongly opposed by some of my colleagues. I was disappointed, for they were people who were happy to use my name, and indeed my presence at their meetings, but they were unwilling to support this initiative. Were some of them fearful they would lose their ministerial positions? Perhaps that was the reason, for a unity government would certainly have had that effect. However, I pressed ahead with the proposal and, having secured a majority at the meeting, asked Dr Ahmed All, the practical academic of our party, to prepare a paper on a government of national unity that I could discuss with Mr Jai Ram Reddy, the 181

A Government of National Unity 182 Leader of the Opposition. The paper, which seemed an admirable digest of the proposal, pointed out that the foremost problems for solution in Fiji were: A fair share for Fijians in the cash economy, including their viable presence in commerce benefiting from it; Continuing security of leases for Indian canefarmers; Creation of bridges linking the various communities; and Equitable distribution of wealth, including a just wage. These would require the various communities to help one another, and if the government of the day did not have a national flavour, dissent from the communities outside it would be inevitable. The House of Representatives did have a reasonable racial distribution of seats. But representation at cabinet level was pivotal, for both policy making and public presentation. Past experience had shown that even when governments were able to give authoritative and reasonable explanations, the voters preferred to believe their own leaders. Just as an Alliance cabinet had small Indian representation, the same would be true, in the opposite way, of a National Federation cabinet. Fiji was too small to squander its limited pool of talent. Worse still, this division created an atmosphere of frustration that could fester and poison relations. As distinct from a government of national unity, a coalition tended to be a temporary expedient where no one party possessed a reasonable majority, and to last only long enough for a situation to emerge in which a fresh election might give a working majority. Such an election was likely to be acrimonious, with the various partners trying to claim all the credit for successes and to blame opponents for failures. By contrast, a government of national unity would have a cabinet that drew on the best talents and also provided adequate representation of the various ethnic groups in Fiji. Distribution of cabinet places could reflect proportions in the population and numbers of the various parties in parliament as a result of previous elections. It could even have a precise distribution, particularly of the senior offices. This would commit the members to support and promote cabinet policy, which then, hopefully, would be seen in national rather than racial terms. The proposal received a mixed reception from the press, I think because they confused coalition and my idea of a government of national unity. They were also firmly wedded by their tradition and

A Government of National Unity 183 upbringing to the Westminster system, which they lauded. Perhaps its confrontational character made for better copy. The important reaction I awaited was from Mr Jai Ram Reddy, the Leader of the Opposition, to whom I had handed a copy personally, asking him to read it with a view to discussion. He expressed very hostile views at a National Federation Party Convention at Ba, but I was not unduly disappointed because I thought he was possibly conducting a public relations exercise. However, a week or two later, the paper was quietly slipped under my door, and that was that. I think I am right in saying that now Mr Reddy is inclined to agree that it was an opportunity missed. In preparation for the forthcoming election, the Alliance Party decided to organise our campaign around local committees, based on polling stations. They would know their neighbours, who among them were our supporters, who were diehard opponents, and who were possible converts. They would also ensure that all our supporters were enrolled and turned out on polling day. We would also need central campaign management. For this we were able to employ Isimeli Bose, an officer of Burns Philp Limited, from September 1981, and we paid him during his secondment. On the suggestion of Len Usher, we initiated a regular newsletter, and the first number appeared in October. The campaign turned out to be a very bitter one, with wild accusations rife about Central Intelligence Agency and Russian involvement, dirty tricks campaigns, and the like—all unsubstantiated. We campaigned largely on our record, which was a good one, if somewhat unspectacular, and continued to show our faith in multiracialism. Against this the opposition had little to offer save invective and vituperation. The Leader of the Opposition and others revealed a lot of personal animosity that did not help the atmosphere, and their campaign was aimed entirely at their own people. I particularly resented the intrusion of an Australian television programme team who arrived at the height of the election. They pursued me to Taveuni where I was campaigning, and when they said they wanted my views on leadership I granted them an interview. Instead, I was plied with hostile questions and accordingly terminated the interview. The resulting programme, with its cuts and juxtaposing of interviews and references to cannibal practices, was extremely offensive and may even have rebounded to the disadvantage of the opposition. Very conveniendy for them, the programme was put out and videos made available to the opposition within the election period

A Government of National Unity 184 and widely shown around the country. Vijay Singh, the main operator in this publicity, doubtless felt he had taken his revenge. The opposition even tried to make an issue out of the employment of a Mr Clive Speed in the Information Ministry, attached under the Australian Aid Programme. He had been appointed following the recommendation of a committee set up by the 1979 Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting in Lusaka, which stressed the need for help with communication that countries like Australia could give to developing countries. An Australian public relations firm headed by one Alan Carroll was doing a commercial survey for one of our members and supplied us with a political survey as part of the deal. We found it quite useful and commissioned one ourselves later on at our own expense. By then we saw the form and did the third one for ourselves. As an official of the Australian Labour Party had been giving advice to the National Federation Party some time before, I found their indignation in this regard rather hollow. During the election campaign, I had perhaps rather rashly, though intentionally, said that I expected to get 30 seats and if I did not I would resign. In the event we won 28. I was therefore in a cleft stick when we did not reach my predicted number, and the opposition did not allow me to forget my words. However, when the figures were finalised, they showed we had polled 51.8 per cent of the vote, our highest ever. (In September 1977, 4 4 per cent of the vote had won us 36 seats.) We had also taken 23.8 per cent of the Indian votes. Those factors, coupled with pressure from the party, decided me to carry on. It was perhaps a good lesson for me to beware of giving such hostages to fortune. And perhaps the relationship of seats to voting should have set some alarm bells ringing. There had been so many accusations and counter-accusations that I advised the Governor-General to set up a Commission of Inquiry, and Sir John White came from Australia to lead it. Interestingly, Messrs Jai Ram Reddy and S M Koya made strong, and in Mr Koya's case persistent, approaches to seek to persuade me to try to have the whole inquiry called off. Was it because Carroll's survey gave some rather unfavourable accounts of some of their leaders, though these had been withheld from the versions given by the National Federation Party when they supplied copies to journalists? In the event, the hostile adversarial nature of submissions and crossexaminations did little to clear the air. The Commissioner described it as a bitter confrontation between two entrenched parties maintained throughout the hearing. He did not find any evidence either

A Government of National Unity iSs of CIA or Soviet involvement. Nor did he find involvement of "big business" or an "exercise in manipulation." He found that Mr Speed had not assisted the Alliance in their political campaign. On the other hand, he found that the Alliance "must be deemed to have commissioned the Carroll teams," but had not implemented any of their repugnant proposals. H e also found that the National Federation Party had not collaborated with the Four Corners television programme. H e was not asked to find on any other collaboration, direct or indirect. I think it was probably an inquiry that fully satisfied no one, but perhaps that is the nature of such exercises. Now it was time to put all this unpleasant business behind us and get on with the business of government.

20

Forward from 1982

We began our sixteenth year of Alliance Government, since our first election victory in 1966, with a need to move ahead and justify the people's confidence in us. The election results had not left much opportunity for Cabinet changes, but at least we had the advantage of continuity. This year Fiji was greatly honoured by the gracious presence of Her Majesty the Queen to open the Great Council of Chiefs on the chiefly island of Bau. On that island the seeds of loyalty and devotion to the Crown were first sown by the high chief Ratu Seru Cakobau, more than 108 years before, even though the Deed of Cession of 1874 was signed at Levuka. Her Majesty recalled that when the chiefs gave the sovereignty of the islands to Queen Victoria unreservedly, they trusted her to govern righteously and in conformity with Fijian systems of organisation and traditional leadership. Her Majesty herself had been delighted to watch the country develop, both before and after independence, and took great pride in visiting us as the Queen of Fiji. After this auspicious opening it was disappointing to find that one of the main topics on the agenda of the Council of Chiefs showed a backward-looking rather than progressive attitude. Arising from the attacks made on chiefs and the chiefly system during the election, a motion was before the Council that the offices of Governor-General and Prime Minister should be reserved indefinitely for Fijians, and that Fijians should have two-thirds of the members of the House of Representatives reserved for them. In prior discussion at the Lau Provincial Council, as I mentioned in chapter 14, I persuaded the members that they should vote against the motion, and discouraged the attitudes and remarks such a motion engendered, saying that Fijians should uphold Christian 186

Forward from 19821S7 doctrines and principles. But I had no similar success before the Council of Chiefs, who strongly supported the original motion. Side by side with what I suppose could be called an ultra-conservative motion, they approved a motion whereby the Council of Chiefs could choose their Senate nominees from outside the Council. This would allow for the nomination of professionals, like lawyers, who would be able to understand the intricacies of bills introduced in the Senate. The Council of Chiefs is almost always at least open to persuasion; when they dig their heels in, therefore, it is because the issue is very deeply felt. The next few years were to be difficult ones for the economy. With reduced prices for some of our long-term sugar agreements, and droughts affecting sugar and rice production, emergency action and finance for the benefit of these farmers became necessary. Cyclone Oscar hit Kadavu particularly badly. In the village of Rakiraki, for example, 26 out of 33 dwellings were destroyed, and 6 damaged. The main high school there was also badly damaged, and the headmaster was housing 56 children in his own quarters. In the periodical consultations with the International Monetary Fund, our difficult financial position was recognised, and they recommended strict control of the civil service wage bill and concentration on revenue-producing industries like tourism and forestry. We were already acting in those two areas, with a Project America scheme by Air Pacific aimed at increasing the number of tourists from the United States and the sanctioning of some log exports. The civil service problem was more difficult, as we had recently had a review by a team from overseas and were to some extent already committed by agreement with the unions. Under the worst scenario it could have cost us an extra $ 4 0 million. Charles Walker, the Minister of Finance, would have proposed severe cuts, but I felt that we were in a weak position to face industrial action, and Cabinet agreed I should take the matter to the consultation committee of the Tripartite Council I had set up in the mid-seventies. I don't think I could have got a better deal, but the Minister of Finance, who had urged draconian measures at the risk of confrontation, felt obliged to resign. I was sorry to see him go, as he had been an efficient long-term civil servant and minister in various roles. Over the years I had found that, as in my own case, civil service training was excellent preparation for ministers, because knowledge of the system was a great asset in using it to the best advantage; one also had the opportunity of remedying some of its faults, which were apparent only to those who had worked on the inside.

Forward from 1982 188 This was not the best time for the United Nations to approach us for an extension of our forces' spell of peace-keeping duty in the Lebanon, with over $8 million dollars owing to us. However, I saw the Secretary-General personally, and he gave a guarantee that the debt would be cleared. On that basis we agreed to one more extension. Our troops had distinguished themselves and had apparently made themselves so indispensable it was felt that without them the United Nations force there would collapse. Perhaps they say that to all contributing countries. In 1982 we also hosted for the first time a Commonwealth Heads of Government Regional Meeting, which brought delegates from as far as Singapore, Malaysia, Sri Lanka, India, and Bangladesh, as well as our more immediate Pacific neighbours. As always, Lee Kuan Yew was full of wisdom, saying that perhaps the biggest contribution places like Singapore could make to places like Fiji was to shorten the learning time. We could learn so much from their earlier mistakes. At the same time, he strongly stressed the importance of maintaining the social fabric. I was especially pleased, because it seemed that in this venue and atmosphere the island leaders felt comfortable, able to talk and speak out, and even to make the occasional mistake, and no one would take it up and throw it at them. Even those who had problems about expressing themselves in a different language felt they could relax in our friendly environment. These regional meetings tended to be explosive affairs, and I mean that literally. During the first meeting in Sydney a few years before, a bomb went off. It seemed that only Lee Kuan Yew and I slept through it. I was amused to learn that my wife and two daughters, who were awake in the sitting room next door, did not trouble to wake me up. (It was only a threatened explosion when Michael Somare and I, ready for golf on a Sunday, found we had nearly commandeered the car arranged to take the Crown Prince of Tonga to church.) At the Suva meeting we had planned a retreat at Pacific Harbour over the weekend, when there were rumours, emanating from a telephone call to the police, that there might be explosives at the Sakura Restaurant there. We suspected a media hoax. After the meeting, Sonny Ramphal and I gave a press conference, and we were asked if it was true that there had been a threat of explosives. I immediately singled out the questioner and asked him if he would care to repeat his question, as the police had a recording of the call made to them, and his voice seemed familiar. We heard no more from him, and he shordy slunk out. Needless to say, there were no explosives, and the retreat went ahead.

Forward from 1982 189 In 1984, we hosted another successful international meeting in Suva—the second Council of Ministers meeting of the African, Caribbean, and Pacific-European Economic Community. Though less dramatic than that of 1977, it had an interesting aftermath. A dispute had arisen between Denmark and Ghana over a contract covering the sale of Mercedes cars, which Denmark was exporting to Ghana, presumably as an intermediary. Business was satisfactory till Dr Nkrumah's wife was given the franchise for Volkswagen. Their sales boomed, either because they were cheaper or because their promoter had more clout. The corresponding reduction in sales of Mercedes led to the Ghana side defaulting on the Mercedes contract. Both parties met in Suva, and though the matter was not formally on the agenda, it was mentioned, and the suggestion made that I, as chairman, might use my good offices to resolve the dispute. On my next visit to Europe I went to Denmark, where I was graciously received by Her Majesty Queen Margrethe II, who completely charmed me. Her staff warned me I should not stay more than ten minutes, but to their astonishment I spent a most enjoyable half hour. She had been to Oxford University, and this provided a happy talking ground. I then saw various officials and others and apprised myself of the Danish position and the extent to which compromise might be possible. Next, I went on to Ghana, where I arrived just before sunset. A guard of honour was lined up in dress uniform, but I was greeted by an African minister in full traditional African dress. (I learned later that he had married the daughter of Sir Stafford Cripps.) He took me off to a small side building where he asked me on what authority I had come. I explained that I had no authority, but had been invited by the European Economic Community-African, Caribbean, and Pacific group through Denmark and Ghana to discuss with both parties the question of payment of compensation for the vehicles. He then said, "Oh, that's all right then. There's a guard of honour waiting over there." What would have happened to the poor guard otherwise, I don't know. I was lodged in a vast old castle that had been built by colonisers and had all the draughts and inconveniences that were part of such structures, but was at least cool. I had useful talks with interested parties, though I missed the President, Flight Lieutenant Rawlings. I didn't really feel I had produced a solution, but perhaps the talking helped, for I heard a year or so later that there had been a settlement. Among developments over the period, I would pick out the

Forward from 1982190 Monasavu Hydro-Electric Scheme, our largest project, which cost almost $234 million and replaced eight of the ten diesel generators on Viti Levu. The period also saw the establishment of the Fiji National Video Centre, under an agreement between the government and the German Hans Seidel Foundation. Earlier, I had made a visit to Germany and met the heads of various foundations and corporations. We were spending $650,000 a year on emergency water supplies and were interested in their experience with desalination plants. They also had considerable expertise in the use of helicopters and would advise us on that. Leading up to the 1987 election, the Alliance had grounds for reasonable confidence. We had a good record. Sugar farmers had continued to benefit from renewed Lome conventions, and there had been other benefits from the European Community; new industries were constantly being established; and two million acres of land had been made available to twenty-four thousand of our people, of whom eighteen thousand were non-Fijians. Foreign reserves were at their highest level ever. Inflation, at less than 2 per cent, was among the lowest in the world. Sugar production and visitor arrivals were at record levels. And in such areas as gold mining, forestry, and manufacturing for export, new high levels had been achieved. Farm income had been exempted from tax, and with my long-term experience and contacts, I was confident our government was best fitted to secure steady markets and guaranteed prices for our sugar producers. Against this emerged a programme of lavish promises—with no indication of where resources would be found to meet them, except possibly a national lottery—of widespread personal vilification, and charges of corruption of which no evidence was ever produced. Yet we lost, despite winning 48.5 per cent of the vote against just over 46 per cent. Perhaps we spent too much time among the canefarmers, thinking that when they realised what the government had done for them in enhanced and secure sugar prices they would show their appreciation at the ballot box. Perhaps I should have known by now that there is no gratitude in politics. We lost the four vital national seats around Suva. Mrs Jai Narayan was the victim of vicious personal attacks (presumably because she joined our side from the National Federation Party), and probably some of the venom rubbed off onto her running mate, Ratu David Toganivalu. She lost by about 650 votes and he by 550. In the other two national seats there, our candidates were defeated by some 800 and 900 votes. These seats were contested by the Fijian Nationalist

Forward from 1982191 Party, which polled nearly 2500 votes there, and over 5000 overall. The figures speak for themselves. Butadroka, their leader, instead of exulting in my defeat and performing a qusi ni loaloa in thanksgiving, claimed the defeat showed the defects of the 1970 Constitution, but more realistically might have been pondering the future to which he had contributed. Or perhaps he didn't care. The Coalition won only 9 per cent of those Fijians who voted and only 6 per cent of those on the roll. I think the difference in multiracialism between the two parties was shown by our winning more Indian votes than the others won Fijian. One more statistic, and I am done. The Coalition leader, Dr Bavadra, was elected on a national seat in the north-west, where there are twice as many Indians as Fijians on the roll. Yet in the corresponding Fijian communal seat including his own home village, his party polled only some 1200 votes, against some 8500 for the Alliance candidate. Again, the figures speak for themselves. In the events over the succeeding months, again and again the inevitable Indian influences would show. This was unfortunate because Dr Bavadra himself could be a reasonable man on his own. I give these statistics not to excuse our defeat, but to give some indication of the source of the feelings that influenced later events. Anyway, we had lost, and as I had done in 1977,1 acknowledged defeat in a statement I hoped would be helpful to the new government and the country: "Fellow citizens, we have come to the end of a long hard campaign. You have given your decision, and that decision must be accepted. While I am naturally disappointed at the outcome, I am proud that we have been able to demonstrate that democracy is alive and well in Fiji." I thanked my supporters and said we must put our disappointment behind us. The interests of Fiji as a whole must always come first. There can be no room for rancour and bitterness, and I would urge that you display goodwill to each other in the interests of the nation. We must now ensure a smooth transition to enable the new government to settle in quickly and get on with the important task of further developing our beloved country. I wish them well in their endeavour. Fiji was recently described by Pope John Paul as a symbol of hope for the rest of the world. Long may we remain so. God bless Fiji. Once again we moved out of our home as quickly as we could, though apparently not quickly enough for some of the new masters. Before we left, there was a touching ceremony by the Lau

Forward from 1982 192 people in Suva who wanted me to come back to Lakeba, though it was clarified later that they had not meant retirement from public life but increased time with them. I responded by telling them to do their best to ensure the success of the new government. A correspondingly moving ceremony awaited us at the house that was to be our temporary home by courtesy of the Governor-General till accommodation was found for us in the Domain. Meanwhile, there had been moves afoot to have a joint all-party meeting of Fijians, but in the end, though we waited an hour on the appointed day, Bavadra did not appear, saying he was too busy. The eighth of May was the day appointed for the swearing-in of members of the House of Representatives. To my surprise only Charles Walker, Ratu Wili Toganivalu, Militoni Leweniqila, who had held office in previous governments, James Ah Koy, a successful businessman new to politics, and myself were present from the Alliance Party. I heard later that the other members had been detained in the opposition office by a large crowd of anti-Coalition demonstrators. In a spontaneous gesture in the chamber that echoed my acceptance of the situation, my wife went over and kissed the new Prime Minister's wife, which I thought was a very touching moment. We had learned that the Coalition were approaching Ratu Wili Toganivalu to be Speaker of the House, thus conserving their majority and decreasing our voting strength. But we were able to persuade him to turn the offer down. We were therefore astonished to hear Militoni Leweniqila nominated by the Coalition, and I think this shows on our faces in a press photograph as he stalked by to take up office—gaze steadfastly averted from our benches. Perhaps comment should be limited to a few words of Leweniqila himself in the course of some remarks recorded by the Fiji Times of 9 May 1987: "It was a privilege—monetary gains and all the perks that go with it." At least it was honest. When nominations were called for Deputy Speaker I nominated Ratu Wili, only to be voted down in favour of Noor Dean, a Coalition member, despite a letter from Bavadra saying Ratu Wili had all the qualities required for a Speaker. Altogether, it was an inauspicious beginning to the new parliament to have a Speaker who had neither the support nor the confidence of the whole House. In these circumstances I thought it would be hypocritical to shake his hand and I did not. My words on demitting office were not taking root. Protest marches by Fijians were starting across the country, against what was perceived as an Indian government. It was pointed out that the

Forward from 1982193 Ministers for Finance, Foreign Affairs, Commerce and Industry, and Justice were all Indians. As one of the posters rather unkindly but accurately put it, "Reddy the Pilot—Bavadra the Boat," echoing K C Ramrakha's comment in the Fiji Sun of 13 April that Reddy was the architect of victory (he had been rewarded by a Senate seat and the Ministry of Justice). After all, even the leader, Bavadra, had been elected by Indian voters, and the Coalition had not won a single Fijian communal seat. Road-blocks were going up, and the atmosphere was deteriorating. Meanwhile, I had an engagement with the Pacific Islands Development Program in Honolulu that took me away from Fiji for a few days. On my return I found the Taukei Movement, as the new protesters were calling themselves, becoming more outspoken and aggressive, and I declared they were not part of the Alliance.

21

Military Takeover

The Pacific Democratic Union is a body founded in 1982 "to promote democracy, individual freedom and free enterprise throughout the Pacific by cooperation and exchanging views between its member parties on matters of policy and party organised development." It organises seminars and workshops in various Pacific countries to discuss matters of common interest. On 14 May 1987,1 was down the coast at the Fijian Hotel to cochair one of its meetings. The night before had been my birthday, and the manager had arranged a very enjoyable dinner with Brian Tallboys from New Zealand and Malcolm Fraser from Australia. The next morning our meeting began early, but shortly after ten o'clock I was called away to the telephone, to be told there had been a military coup led by Lieutenant-Colonel Sitiveni Rabuka— the third down in the military hierarchy of the Fiji Military Forces. I am told by those about me at that time that I visibly paled, and I myself remember swaying, leaning on the telephone table for support, and sitting down on a nearby bench, stunned by the shock. I could not believe it at first. I thought Tom Vakatora, who called me from the opposition office, was joking. He told me he was not joking. They were locked in the opposition room, and what should they do? I asked, "Well, what were you told to do?" He said, "We were told to stay here." I said, "Well for God's sake stay there." It seemed the safest place for them. I didn't know what to do. However, I recovered quickly and returned to tell my colleagues the news. I told them not to worry. People would be perfectly safe, and there would be no bloodshed. However, the meeting was adjourned, and the Philippines delegates and the South Americans took off immediately. Brian Tallboys of New Zealand came to see me to say that he knew I had worked hard to build up the multiracial edifice, and 194

Military Takeover 19s that I should have nothing to do with the instigators of the coup. At that moment it seemed sound advice. However at eleven o'clock at night I was in Beach Bure 4 when I had a telephone call from Rabuka. He indicated that he had with him Ratu Wili Toganivalu, Militoni Leweniqila, Ahmed Ali, and Peter Stinson and that if I didn't join them there would be a real mess. It transpired later that the information was not entirely accurate, but on that basis I realised that the government would indeed be in a parlous state. I said I would come, and I admit quite freely that at that stage my heart ruled my head. When I arrived next day I joined the group in the Cabinet room. Rabuka took the top chair, then Ratu Wili, and then myself. There appeared to be no agenda for the meeting so I asked Rabuka whether he had been to see Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau, the GovernorGeneral. When he said he had not, I suggested that we adjourn the meeting. Then Rabuka and I went to call on the Governor-General. I mentioned earlier that the Governor-General was a man of very equable temperament, and this was perhaps the first and only time I ever saw him really angry. I think prior to our arrival he thought Rabuka and I were in league, coming with an ultimatum. He soon realised this was not so, and after some inconclusive debate he announced he was off to his home on Taveuni, where he was to attend the funeral of Adi Makitalena, and would see us on his return. That afternoon Rabuka gave a press conference in the course of which he assured reporters that neither I nor any foreign elements had knowledge of the coup or had played any part in it. In the light of subsequent accusations, it is satisfying to be able to record this forthright statement—from the horse's mouth as it were. There was then a series of meetings of the Council of Chiefs at the Civic Centre, during which I argued for the retention of the basic 1970 Constitution. On the third morning I arrived at about nine o'clock for a half-past nine meeting, but could not find any of the governing group. They were having a meeting upstairs on the mezzanine floor, so I joined them. As soon as I entered, Rabuka said, " I have decided to declare Fiji a republic. If anyone disagrees, now is the time to leave." I immediately got up and made for the door, thinking there would be some echoing footsteps behind me, but there were none. I immediately went up to Government House to report to the Governor-General. He said, "Well, let's have a cup of tea." When the tea came, he said, "Well, we're finished. We'll be out." We con-

Military Takeover 196 tinued to discuss till his telephone rang. H e said, "It's for you." It was Ratu Wili, asking me to return. He said Rabuka had agreed not to pursue the republic idea. When I asked why none of the others had followed me, he said they had stayed to persuade Rabuka. The next step was the Governor-General's appointment of a Council of Ministers, chosen by Rabuka, most of us with experience of government. Rabuka was sworn in as Prime Minister, and I was given the Foreign Affairs portfolio. After the Council of Chiefs agreed their support, the other members of the Council of Ministers went up to Government House for a swearing-in ceremony. We thought it had all been arranged by the leaders, but after an hour there was still no swearing-in. The Governor-General had been advised by the judiciary that he could not swear in an illegal government. He would therefore head the government himself, and the rest of us would be advisers. I was invited, and agreed, to be the adviser on foreign affairs. Parliament was dissolved, and new elections promised in due course. The Council included Savenaca Siwatibau, a former Financial Secretary and Governor of the Reserve Bank; Filipe Bole, a former Minister of Education; Bill Cruickshank, a former Chairman of the Public Service Commission and innumerable boards and companies; Jo Cavalevu, a former Secretary of Agriculture and Ambassador to the European Economic Community; and others, including Colonel Rabuka, who would be responsible for Home Affairs, the Army, and the Police. We looked a reasonably competent group. It was then necessary to explain this proposal to the Council of Chiefs, and the Governor-General was not quite as clear and decisive as usual, possibly slightly surprised at the rather hostile reception outside. However he returned the next day and spoke very persuasively, including an announcement, later ratified in the Fiji Royal Gazette, of an amnesty for Colonel Rabuka and all the military forces who had taken part in the coup. This was well received. I was asked to speak from the balcony of the Civic Centre to the large crowd who were gathered below, and I explained why I had joined the Council of Advisers despite false and hurtful accusations that I had had a hand in the coup. I said I had to help, because if my house was on fire with members of my family inside, why should I wait? I had to try to rescue them. At our first meeting Colonel Rabuka had told us that he was a soldier and did not want to run the government. The sooner he got back to camp the better it would be for all. Colonel Rabuka had then appealed to me to look for ways and means of bringing about a quick return to nor-

Military Takeover 197 mal life. I had been his mata ni vanua to the Governor-General until both the Governor-General and he agreed that I should advise them, resulting in the compromise we now had. It was impossible for me to stand by and calmly witness the crisis the country was facing. I had to do something, for a lot of people were saying I was responsible for bringing about the crisis because there were a lot of loopholes in the 1970 Constitution. I had now done my best in trying to rectify the matter and I hoped that when the Constitutional Council proposed by Colonel Rabuka decided on something, it would be good for them and the nation as a whole. I was glad to have played a part in bringing about a solution to the situation. Judging from the reception, it seemed that this was the sort of message the crowd were happy to receive. Unfortunately Bavadra and Sharma, who had been nominated to the Council by the Governor-General, declined to serve—another opportunity for a government of national unity missed—and the Reverend Daniel Mustapha also withdrew, but reasonably enough, as he had not appreciated (indeed the terms had not been defined) the extent of his duties, which would be full-time and impossible to carry out in conjunction with his position and duties in the Methodist Church. Meanwhile Messrs Hawke and Lange, Prime Ministers of Australia and New Zealand, were lambasting us. It was hardly necessary for us to bother replying, as this was done most effectively for us by a joint statement from Messrs Wingti, Alebua, and Regenvanu, Prime Ministers of Papua New Guinea and the Solomons, and the Deputy Prime Minister of Vanuatu, respectively. They condemned the hostile statements, reminding Mr Lange that there was a consultation process in the South Pacific that he had simply ignored, with the opportunities it gave of acquainting himself with Pacific thought, feelings, and custom. They said Fiji should be left to work out its own solutions, and in particular they warned against armed intervention. The Australian and New Zealand politicians' reaction was particularly ironic, given that I was the one mainly responsible for their inclusion in the South Pacific Forum. On 26 May, I held a press conference and among other things I said that I did not propose personally to have anything to do with the review of Fiji's Constitution. After all, I had played a major part in framing the 1970 Constitution, and I did not see much wrong with that. I felt it was right, but I had consulted Mr David Butler, a constitutional expert, and he said that if the Fijians stayed united we would still have power for a long time. I hoped that this time

Military Takeover ip8

would be long enough for all the people of Fiji to weld into one multiracial harmonious group so that it would not matter about the racial mix. When I was asked why I did not condemn the military coup, I said to the journalists that I had in my concession statement commended the duly elected government. I asked people to support it and I urged the people to be responsible and keep the peace. I did not see what further I could say than that. I was, after all, no longer Prime Minister. It has been suggested to me that perhaps the force of my moral authority would have altered the course of events. I wonder about that. It didn't need any great powers of analysis to see that strong political currents were running in Fiji after the elections. A historic process was taking place; there was a groundswell of nationalism among the Fijians. It was far beyond the capabilities of one man at that time to reverse events and return the government to the Coalition. As to serving on Rabuka's Council of Ministers, I felt the country was being ruined and if I could do anything to help it, that was the time. I had been advised to remember my status, credibility, honour, and fame, but where would these have been if I had allowed my people to be killed and my country burned? (In any case, what were honour and fame compared with the obligation to serve and if possible restore?) I also made it completely clear that I would not stand for parliament again, whatever approach was made. There was no question of the Alliance being behind the coup. I knew nothing, as Rabuka had confirmed, nor did I hear a word from my party. I was sorry that Bavadra had declined to serve in the Council of Ministers, the more so since in the national interest I had myself overcome my reluctance to serve with him on the same council. I was also surprised that half of the police, who were Indians, had stuck to their posts and remained on duty, and I had received many messages from Indians sympathising with me and saying that they were very pleased I was here because they believed I would try to find a solution that would be good for all. My priority as His Excellency's adviser on Foreign Affairs was to get in touch with the countries that could replace Australia and New Zealand in supplying goods to Fiji, which was vulnerable to trade union boycotts. (We had once before shown Australian trade unions what we thought of them, when our women marched in protest in 1978. We would not be bullied.)

Military Takeover 199 I left almost immediately to do a round of Pacific nations, to explain our position and to explore alternative trading partners. This took me to Japan, Korea, China, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Malaysia, Singapore, and Indonesia, and I found them without exception friendly, understanding, and helpful. As always Lee Kuan Yew was very welcoming and gave me the benefit of some good advice. Amongst other points he made was that the first priority was to repair the economy, and this required a cooling-off period. There might later be a case for a visit from an eminent persons group from countries like Malaysia, Canada, the Caribbean, West Africa, and the United Kingdom. He also felt there was much to be gained from a study of the history of Sri Lanka, which was under the Dutch and then the British for hundreds of years, when the Sinhalese and the Tamils lived peacefully together. The Tamils developed faster and occupied the heights of the professions and the civil service. But Bandaranaike campaigned on religion and language and started racial animosity. Though Jawardene tried to recover the old understanding, outside interference was sparked by Sri Lanka's pro-American stance. Lee Kuan Yew later paid a visit to Fiji in November 1988, when he met members of the Interim Government and advised us to make use of our sole asset. Modesty prohibits disclosure of the nature of that asset! But Lee Kuan Yew went further and said if we treasured that asset and followed advice, Fiji would come through. To President Suharto I explained that I had joined the administration to stop bloodshed and to save the economy. This role had been deliberately misinterpreted by the Coalition and the press. Their charge that I had "masterminded the coups to cover up corruption" was a reflection on their sense of proportion. No evidence of corruption was ever produced, and it had really just been part of a not particularly creditable election campaign. But there was support for the deposed government from trade unionists in Australia and New Zealand, which was perhaps not entirely unexpected. The best advice of all I received was from the eighty-one-year-old Chinese statesman Li Xien. We were sitting together watching a basketball match between China and Fiji. He held my right hand firmly saying, "Young man. You be good friends with the Americans. If you stay good friends with them, you can forget all the rest. They are small fry, but America is the biggest democracy, and if you put a foot wrong with her you'll be sorry." I noted this comment, and it will emerge in due course how I acted on it. In our doubtful economic position it was reassuring to read a comment from Savenaca Siwatibau, no dreamy-eyed idealist but a

Military Takeover 200 very competent and experienced economist. He said, "Our reserves at $172 million are the highest in our history. And a country going down a slippery road and then pulling out of it might, I think, even end up better off, because it would be something unique. It's not every day that you have a coup and then suddenly this kind of arrangement can take place." It was not universal doom and gloom. Our reserves were to sink as low as about $112 million, and we were to devalue in two steps by about a third, but we had begun to rebuild. From independence, we had taken seventeen years to build up the nation to the position of prosperity and prestige that it enjoyed. A very short period had lost a large amount of all our gains. But I have said enough about that, and it was good to be once more on a constructive path.

22

Rebuilding

Over the next few months we concentrated on the economy, particularly the sugar industry and the tourist industry. We kept close control of civil service and military salaries, and made cuts across the board. But eventually we decided to devalue by 17.5 per cent, and raised the minimum lending rate and interest on deposits by 1 per cent, to 9 per cent and 6 per cent respectively. Meanwhile the Governor-General had appointed a committee to review the Constitution. It was chaired by Sir John Falvey, a former Attorney-General, and had a membership of nominees from the Great Council of Chiefs, from the Coalition, and from myself, in addition to four nominated by the Governor-General. I had already made it clear that I would take no part in the review. The terms of reference, which were slightly amended to meet Coalition misgivings, were: "To review the Constitution of Fiji with a view to proposing to the Governor-General any amendments which will guarantee indigenous Fijians' political interests with full regard to the interests of other peoples in Fiji." The committee began their task with commendable speed and kept the public well informed of their movements and of the nature of submissions coming forward. They travelled to various centres and received the views of a large number of organisations and individuals. In the end, as was perhaps inevitable, the committee was irrevocably split. The only issue on which there was general agreement was that Fiji should remain one of Her Majesty's dominions within the Commonwealth. Otherwise, the majority wanted changes giving various degrees of extra political power to Fijians. The minority, with the occasional variation, did not think any change was necessary, because they considered the existing constitution adequately protected Fijian interests and could not be improved. There followed a series of inconclusive meetings with the Governor-General, 201

Rebuilding 202 Bavadra, and myself. I even met Bavadra privately at Nausori, but could make no progress. On 1 September the Governor-General had announced the formation of a National Council of Reconciliation, with five sub-committees—constitutional, restitution of parliamentary government, economy, law, and society. On 5 September the Governor-General, Bavadra, and I had a preliminary meeting, but thereafter Bavadra pulled out as a consequence of an attack made on his spokesman, Richard Naidu. However, I pledged Alliance support to the Governor-General, said I would attend the National Council of Reconciliation, gave some names for the committees, and helped with terms of reference for the council. On the eleventh, Bavadra said he would attend the talks, though after disturbances in Suva it was decided to transfer the talks out of the capital. At a meeting at Deuba on 22-23 September, to which, against my advice, Rabuka was not invited, the result was a somewhat shaky accord, where both parties agreed to have an equal share in a Council of State headed by the Governor-General. The council would have twenty-two members, with equal numbers from the Alliance and the Coalition, of whom six would be engaged on a constitutional inquiry under an independent chair from overseas. At this point the unwisdom of not inviting Rabuka to the talks emerged. At 4 PM on 25 September, he staged his second coup. A few days later there were still attempts at talks, this time including Rabuka. But it was too late. He presented a series of conditions, including thirty-six Fijian seats in a parliament of sixtyseven, reservation to Fijians of the posts of Governor-General and Prime Minister, election on communal rolls, and a review of the Constitution every ten years. For the sake of supporting the Governor-General in his leadership of the government, I agreed to the conditions, but the Coalition did not, and so ended our efforts to find a compromise solution. On 8 October, at the request of the Governor-General, I had flown to London to explain the position to the Palace. On the way I had an hour at Melbourne Airport, and Prime Minister Hawke telephoned me at the VIP Lounge. I read to him a note I had prepared for the Palace and, perhaps rather naively, felt that he was sympathetic. On arrival in London I went to the Palace and saw the Private Secretary to Her Majesty, Sir Michael Heseltine, and conveyed the following message:

Rebuilding 203 What is going on in my country is the conflict of values— Western values on the one hand and Fijian indigenous values on the other. As the Times put it on 6 July 1987—"contentious majority rule on the one hand and consensual democracy on the other." The Fijians now realise that through Western values they have been swamped and economically subjugated by a migrant race who were brought over by an alien race for their sole economic benefit. All the highlights of Western democratic values —freedom of speech, association, religion, etc.—exacerbate the inferior position of the Fijian people in their own country. The Western media ridicule our leaders, insult, vilify and do violence to all Fijian customs and traditions. Customary and traditional freedoms have clearly defined boundaries. Western freedom knows no boundaries. The Governor-General and I are both traditional leaders, educated and brought up under Western values. Our chiefly status gave us the privilege to enjoy both cultures. In our indulgence we have become insensitive to some of the feelings of insecurity and anxiety of our own people. This insecurity and anxiety comes off second best in consideration of the good of the majority. We soon become immune to the sense of urgency that attends the solution of our own people's problems. The present crisis illuminates this crisis of values. I then described the sequence of events of the coup itself, which I have already recounted. The damage threatening the economy I had built, imminence of bloodshed and destruction and the intuition that I might influence events for the benefit of my people and my country, rushed my decision to join the coup council. I was then subjected to the full wrath of injured Western values—as "traitor to democracy, power hungry, corrupt, dishonest, the subverter of democratic values." It hurt and it maimed me psychologically. However, no life was lost, no burning or rioting. During the second Council of Chiefs after the coup the Taukei Movement in desperation came and asked me to lead the movement. Having been mauled and maimed by the Western media I declined and berated them on what I considered ["Western values"] their excesses. They sought guidance from their natural leader and were spurned by him. They consequently burned, looted and assaulted and were going berserk.

Rebuilding 204 The Army and Taukei Movement have now come again to the Governor-General and me to give them guidance and leadership. The choice before us is either to stand on our Western pedestal, spurn and berate them again and ignore the consequences, or to agree to meet and guide them to law, order, stability, peace and harmony. Through our insensitivity to their urgent cry they overreacted unreasonably and unnaturally. They are asking for help. My gut feeling is that we should respond. We ask positively not only for Her Majesty's permission but also for Her blessing. Hearken to our prayers, create a precedent by remaining our Head. Ratu Penaia should be allowed to be President of the republic, if asked by the Council of Chiefs, and I participate in the government. Sir Michael relayed the message, but unfortunately Her Majesty was leaving that day for Vancouver. However, it was suggested that there would be more time for discussion there, and with a broad spectrum of leaders. While I greatiy appreciated this suggestion, I had to regret that I could not go to Vancouver as I did not consider I would have any standing at the meeting. It would have been inconsistent with the stand I took in London in 1977, when the question arose of receiving the deposed Prime Minister of the Seychelles James Mancham. I then telephoned the Governor-General and reported to him the result of my visit to the Palace. I urged him to take no precipitate action till I returned, in short, not to resign. I felt that if a holding position could be maintained till after the Commonwealth Conference, it would be two years till the next, which would give time for a cooling-off period for thought, reconstruction, and development. I was therefore very surprised and disappointed when I learned that he had resigned the following day. He later realised this was a serious error and he never wanted to talk about it. The only comment I ever heard from him was a muttered alliterative objurgation on his adviser at that time. Although I later met Sir Michael Heseltine again in Bermuda by courtesy of Lord Dunrossil, the Governor, who had been British High Commissioner in Fiji and remained a staunch friend, it was now all too late. Though I was naturally disappointed that I had not fully accomplished my mission, I had found more goodwill—

Rebuilding 20s and indeed courtesy—in distant London than from our nearer neighbours to the south. I learned later that the main architects of Fiji's exclusion from the Commonwealth were Messrs Hawke of Australia (who in his memoirs seems quite ready to accept the responsibility), Lange (New Zealand), Mulroney (Canada), and Secretary-General Ramphal. The last, in a lecture at Leeds in November, showed his total lack of understanding of the situation in Fiji, saying that while Fiji was not South Africa the comparison was present in many minds. He claimed that the military intervention was most strongly felt within the South Pacific Region. Clearly he regarded Australia and New Zealand as the South Pacific. I have found his successor, Chief Anyaoku of Nigeria, a much more understanding, though perhaps more self-effacing, character. At Vancouver the dice were loaded against us, though we still had many friends in the Commonwealth. Papua New Guinea made determined efforts to keep Fiji off the agenda, and the Forum leaders agreed not to raise the Fiji issue at the formal conference. Mrs Thatcher, too, said that for many years the Commonwealth had tolerated and accepted a wide range of governments, and it was wrong to abandon countries in their hour of greatest need. She suggested that if diversity was one of the Commonwealth's greatest strengths, tolerance should be also. I later learned from Lee Kuan Yew, a statesman whose wisdom should surely have been given more weight, that he had said during the retreat at Lake Okanagan that the South Pacific was not Latin America or Africa. He thought Fiji should be given time to sort out its problems. He also said he supported the position taken by the Governor-General and myself, as we both had considerable experience of the wider world and were attuned to international attitudes and trends. But the tolerance Mrs Thatcher called for was not forthcoming from some other members of the Commonwealth, and once the Governor-General had resigned it became difficult. Meanwhile, Rabuka had declared a republic on 7 October, stating that Fiji wished to remain in the Commonwealth. On the following day there was a further devaluation of the Fiji dollar by 15.25 per cent. Rabuka had also appointed a twenty-one-member military government, with himself at the head, and stated that elections would be held within twelve months. One of his members was Mrs Jai Narayan, who sought advice from me. I said she should accept office, as she would have more influence from inside than outside the government.

Rebuilding 206 It is difficult to know what the military government was doing during this period, more particularly as their actions had forced the Fiji Times and the Sun to close down, though this gap was to some extent filled by a new weekly magazine, the Fiji Post. From this, one was able to learn that, to replace Chief Justice Sir Timoci Tuivaga and seven supreme court judges who had resigned, the military government had made a number of substitute appointments. Also, Papua New Guinea had been the first country to recognise the government. A visit by Malaysian Foreign Minister Abu Hassan was another sign of that country's longstanding friendship and support for Fiji. And visits by Foreign Minister Filipe Bole to Australia, New Zealand, and China showed that the international community had not completely cast us off. THE FIRST INTERIM

GOVERNMENT

The next development was that I was invited to a meeting at Government House on Saturday 5 December and witnessed Rabuka's formal handing-over of the government with an offering of a tabuct to Ratu Sir Penaia. Previously, on 17 November, in his capacity as head of the military government, he had dismissed his ministers and appointed Ratu Sir Penaia as President of the Republic. In a broadcast, he said that he felt he had accomplished his task, begun with the first coup and continued with the second. That task was to ensure, he said, a constitution that would guarantee the interests of the indigenous Fijians in their own country. He now realised that a return to civilian rule was vital, to enable the economy to pick up and for investors at home and abroad to have confidence in Fiji. From his speech to the nation explaining why he had accepted the appointment as President, Ratu Sir Penaia revealed that he had been in contact with Rabuka for some time to satisfy himself that he could agree with the sort of Constitution that was proposed. He was so satisfied, and asserted that what was required was a return to parliamentary democracy and the reestablishment of the link with the Crown. But he also stressed that the indigenous Fijians would be protected and he was in agreement with Rabuka on the maximum safeguards required. The people should therefore trust Rabuka and himself and not create trouble. This was a reference to the fact that the Taukei Movement and the Council of Chiefs felt that they had not been consulted about the new moves and were apparendy wondering whether the objectives of the coup would be fully realised. I was also conscious of this when I was invited by the President

Rebuilding 207 to form an interim government, and made the same plea in a broadcast: I realise that there are groups in the country who are not satisfied with the way things have gone. I say, "Help the nation and do not hinder it. I and my interim government will ensure that the birthright of the Fijian people, including their political rights, is consolidated. You have nothing to fear from us. Give us your full support so that we do not remain divided. United we stand, divided we fall. To the political elements in the country let me say that mine is just an interim government. Give it your full support so that we may be able to pave the way for general elections as soon as possible." To the rest of the world I say, "Let us avoid sterile rhetoric and pursue genuine dialogue and discussion to build bridges of understanding leading to normalisation of relations." I had thought long and hard before accepting the President's invitation. I consulted with my family. I took into consideration the pleas of the great many citizens of all races who wrote me, phoned me, called on me, and sent messages. I took into consideration the state of my health. I knew it would not be a piece of cake but rather the biggest challenge of my long political career. I accepted the challenge out of love for my country and its people, regardless of race, culture, or religion. The English statesman the Earl of Chatham is reported to have said when called on to take over the reins of government, " I know I can save the country and no one else can." In similar vein, but in rather less grandiloquent terms, I could not honestly say I could see anyone else with the experience for the job. The period of these interim governments is more fully covered in a letter I addressed to the President when I demitted office in May 1992, and it forms the next chapter. Here I just pick out a few events, particularly in connection with our foreign relations, that stand out in my memories of the period. France was proving most generous with a grant of 30 million French francs for a helicopter and vehicles for the army and the police, 2.4 million French francs for a closed-circuit security system for the Civil Aviation Authority and relief and rehabilitation equipment, and a loan of 30 million French francs for upgrading the Civil Aviation Authority's operations, Fiji Sugar Corporation equipment, and a radar system. All this though they had been left in no doubt about our opposition to nuclear testing in the Pacific, and about

Rebuilding 208 our views on independence for their Pacific territories. South Korea had established a loan fund of US$70 million for concession loans to developing countries, for which we could identify several projects. It was decided by Cabinet that I should make a visit to London to acquaint the United Kingdom at first hand with the situation in Fiji, our achievements to date, and our aspirations. Accordingly I visited London in March. At Number 10 Downing Street I was given what the London press described as "an unusually warm welcome" by Mrs Thatcher, who was waiting personally at the entrance to meet me on my arrival. I considered this an important meeting for Fiji, not only because of Mrs Thatcher's known sympathy and support for us, but also because any approach to the Palace would now have to be through the government, following the declaration of a republic in Fiji and the subsequent resignation of the Governor-General, which meant all constitutional links with the British Crown had been severed. I explained to Mrs Thatcher that I wished to convey personally Fiji's warm appreciation of the support the United Kingdom had shown at the Commonwealth Heads of Governments meeting in Vancouver; to reaffirm our desire to maintain the closest possible links of friendship and cooperation with Great Britain; to convey our sincere feelings of affection and loyalty to the British Crown; and to explore with the British Government possible future links with the Crown that could be taken into account in drafting a new constitution in Fiji. I told her that since the interim government had been appointed in December 1987, our first priority was the recovery of the economy and this was proceeding well. The interim administration was now focusing attention on the drafting of a new constitution. To be realistic, this would need to ensure the full protection of the fundamental interests and concerns of the indigenous Fijians, and also to accommodate on a fair and equitable basis the position of the other communities in Fiji. This would not be easy, given the realities of the situation. The Fijians would never want a return to the 1970 Constitution, which was why they supported the declaration of a republic. Their greatest fear was that their position and rights would be imperilled if they themselves were no longer in control of the government of Fiji. They had shared everything they had, including their land, with the other communities in Fiji, and though they owned 83 per

Rebuilding 209 cent of all the land, much of it was leased to members of other communities. Those communities had done well from their productive use of good Fijian land. The Fijians did not grudge them their economic success, nor did they desire that they should be disenfranchised or deprived of political rights. But they recognised that if legislative control of the country was also taken over by the other communities, there would be nothing left for them in their own country. This situation they would never accept, nor would they accept a Fijian-led government elected into office by the numerical majority of the other races. Fijians were determined to have a numerical majority in parliament. Giving the Fijians such a majority was not new and had been part of the 1966 Constitution; and this was extended in the 1970 Constitution, when eight members of the Senate were elected by the Council of Chiefs. On the question of links with the Crown, the majority of the people wanted to reestablish a more direct constitutional link than simply acknowledging the Queen as Head of the Commonwealth. There were various possibilities, but they would be guided solely by Her Majesty's wishes. Mrs Thatcher was good enough to say I had been very much missed at the Commonwealth Heads of Government meeting at Vancouver. She said there were many friends of Fiji at the conference, including the heads of government of all Pacific Island countries and the Prime Ministers of Singapore and Malaysia. Like her, they all took the view that Fiji was not South Africa and Fiji must be given time to resolve its own problems, and in the meantime Fiji should be allowed to remain in the Commonwealth. The President of Kiribati had gone so far as to say that if Fiji stayed out of the Commonwealth the other Pacific Island states would not know where to turn. As far as they were concerned, Fiji was the hub. Even Prime Minister Gandhi had not pressed the issue to breaking point, though I was sorry to have to report that in most of the countries I had visited, the Indian ambassador had already made an approach to that government to stop help to Fiji. But the situation changed when Fiji's membership lapsed, following the acceptance of the Governor-General's resignation and the declaration of a republic. The Prime Minister said that as far as the British Government was concerned, in their hearts the links with Fiji had not been severed and they were very anxious to do everything possible to assist. They had maintained their aid programmes and were pleased to see this had encouraged others to resume their own help to Fiji.

Rebuilding zio On the constitutional issue, Mrs Thatcher said that future links with the British Crown were entirely a matter for Her Majesty, but Mrs Thatcher herself from her heart wanted Fiji back in the Commonwealth and would help in any way possible. While Fiji had to work out its own constitutional future without interference from any country, clearly it would help to develop a constitution that would allow it to resume its place in the Commonwealth. The British Government would be ready to help in any way with legal assistance, and so on. At the end of the meeting Mrs Thatcher introduced me to the members of the Cabinet who were waiting for a Cabinet meeting and I was strengthened in my belief that in the British Prime Minister Fiji had a real friend. I was also touched by the warmth and sympathy she showed personally, and while she might externally be the "iron lady," inside the heart was of a very different material. Again the press described her response as "very friendly." I then had a fruitful meeting with Sir Michael Heseltine, Secretary to Her Majesty, followed by lunch and a tour of the library at Windsor, where the special collection of mementos of Her Majesty's visits to Fiji, including tabua presented to her in formal welcoming ceremonies, was displayed. It was very moving to see them so clearly treasured and looked after. The Palace view echoed that of the Prime Minister that now we were a republic, there could be no reestablishment of our special link with the Crown until we were re-admitted to the Commonwealth and acknowledged the Queen as Head of the Commonwealth. Thereafter perhaps consideration could be given to a special link. With reference to the Deed of Cession, it was mentioned that there was some resemblance to the personal treaties between the Crown and the Indian Princes, which lapsed on India's independence. Altogether, I felt it had been an extremely useful visit, and my report to Cabinet was received with obvious satisfaction. Among other countries visited was France, where I was warmly welcomed, and despite their preoccupation with the election campaign, Prime Minister Chirac and other ministers made time to talk and also to entertain us. We formalised the aid and loan agreements I mentioned earlier. France's goodwill and self-identification as a Pacific country was clear, and they acknowledged the problems of New Caledonia, where they felt they had to maintain a balance between major ethnic groups. They accepted that in Fiji the indigenous people were fighting to safeguard their birthright, and the

Rebuilding 211 only way was to be in a position of leadership in the government of their country. They also understood that so long as France could not adequately recognise this inherent right of the Kanak people in New Caledonia, Fiji could not support French policy in New Caledonia or defend it in the South Pacific Forum. And we would continue our strong opposition to their nuclear testing programme in the Pacific. Nevertheless, our talks were very frank and cordial and confirmed our increasing friendship. Visits to South Korea and Japan were similarly successful. In both countries I had talks with their Prime Ministers and other ministers and we were accorded a warm welcome and hospitality. South Korea confirmed their loan proposal and some of their businessmen expressed interest in agro-based joint ventures with reliable Fijian entrepreneurs. In Japan the principal object was to establish personal contact, as this was important in the Japanese way, but I was also able to thank the Prime Minister for their generous grant of finance for the new nursing school in Suva and the new fisheries port at Lautoka. I took the opportunity to say how much Fiji welcomed Japanese tourists, and that government help in forwarding Air Pacific's plans to commence air services to Japan would be appreciated. In Japan, too, I met with business heads of companies like the Tokyu conglomerate, Sony, and the Japan Shipbuilding Foundation and discussed hotel development and scholarship provision for post-graduate programmes at the University of the South Pacific. On my East Asian tour I also visited Taiwan on the invitation of the government. I met the President, the Premier, and other ministers. They greatly appreciated our decision to upgrade the representation of the Republic of China in Fiji to trade mission status while understanding that we could only recognise and have diplomatic relations with mainland China. The new status would encourage Taiwan investment in Fiji, and the government would encourage its business people to look at investment opportunities in Fiji. A trade mission would come to Fiji shortly. Aid and loan projects were also discussed. From the earliest days we had maintained good relations with Taiwan, and we did not allow the accreditation of the Peoples Republic of China to disturb this relationship. Mainland China has accepted our stance—perhaps our small size rendered us immune from undue pressure. I have visited Taiwan a number of times, most recently as President in 1994, and have always found a readiness to help Fiji with a wide range of projects. I was very satisfied with all my East Asian visits and the establish-

Rebuilding 212 ment of personal contacts, and the high level of reception showed our interim government was fully accepted. (Indeed in Korea, where I attended a banquet in honour of the President who was being installed, I was invited to reply on behalf of the guests.) However, I impressed on our various ministers concerned the importance of following up all the items in my reports to get the full advantages that were now established. In the midst of all this high-level action it is good to record that the environment and our national heritage were not being forgotten, for we introduced a ten-year total ban on the taking of clams and a size restriction on beche-de-mer. Sadly, in the course of the year, it emerged that Bavadra was very seriously ill and required treatment overseas. The government immediately offered to bear all the transport and medical expenses involved, but our offer was declined. It soon became clear that he was terminally ill, and he died while being rushed to Lautoka hospital on 3 November. I was still overseas and immediately sent off a message of sympathy, and the government offered a state funeral. Though this was declined, Cabinet performed a reguregu ceremony of sympathy, and Adi Finau Tabakaucoro spoke at the funeral on behalf of the interim government. It was a sad end to a short and sad political career, and I sympathised with the situation in which he found himself, a Fijian heading a government elected largely by Indian votes. However, he comported himself with dignity and sincerity in an untenable position, and for that he deserves to be remembered with understanding and respect.

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Mission Complete

In the previous chapter I noted some of the highlights of the interim government period. In truth it was a period of unremitting toil, as any member of it will testify. I can think of no better way of conveying this than by reprinting in this chapter my full report to His Excellency the President in May 1992. It also seems an appropriate point at which to conclude my memoirs. Ratu Sir Penaia K. Ganilau, GCMG, KCVO, KBE, DSO, ED Government House Berkley Crescent SUVA 15 May 1992 Your Excellency, As our nation goes into the first general elections under the new Constitution, the Interim Administration has completed the final phase of a mission which started more than four years ago. Its assignment is now over. We have discharged our duty to you and to the people. We have helped guide the country through the most trying and turbulent period in its history, a period which began with fear, suffering, and uncertainty, and ended in a spirit of hope and renewal. It is in this spirit that I submit to you this report on the administration's 1,605 days of service. I felt we owed it to the present generation, to posterity, and to yourself, Your Excellency, to offer a record of our work at this crucial turning point for Fiji. It was in obedience to your call that I took up the burden of government leadership for the final time. It is fitting, then, that one of my last acts as Prime Minister should be this account to you of the administration's stewardship. When you called me at Lomaloma in December 1987, and 213

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asked me to form an Interim Government to prepare the country for a return to parliamentary rule, I knew the task at hand would be onerous. Fiji had experienced the ordeal of two military coups. Society was fractured, the economy was tottering, and the country had been ostracised by some of its oldest friends and allies. There was no parliament and no properly functioning political system. Even institutions of state, such as the judiciary, were seriously weakened, to the extent that the citizenry justifiably feared a breakdown in law and order. The business community was hit by a slump in sales and confidence, leading to reduced earnings and loss of jobs. There were even worries about the army and its role and whether it would respond to civilian control. Nationalism, racialism, and extremism were on the rise and for the first time, religion was becoming a central factor in politics. We saw the face of intolerance. We heard the voice of bigotry and fundamentalism. Religion mixed with politics had produced a deadly effect in other countries. Was Fiji now threatened with that same danger? I was aware, too, that if I were to accept appointment as head of an unelected government there would be vigorous and angry opposition. I would be portrayed as yet another Third World tyrant, intent on suppressing the masses and consolidating power for power's sake. There were numerous people, here and overseas, who were saying the country was finished, that it was headed into an irrevocable decline leading straight to the rubbish heap of history. Would it be my fate to preside over the inevitable? Would I be attempting the impossible? How did one restore a country and its people when society was close to collapse? How did one turn Fiji away from anarchy and back to order and stability? Would a government hold, or was the political tightrope simply too narrow? Thoughts about all those questions came to mind, and I can tell you now that I was filled with trepidation. I did not relish the assignment. It was true that I had ample experience of government and leadership—but that had been within the context of a recognised and legally established framework. We had a constitution, organised politics, a legislature, and the other functioning accoutrements of a nation-state.

Mission Complete zis The prospect before me now was desolate indeed—like heading into a storm in a leaky craft, with only a handful of crew members and no navigation aids. But, as I reflected, I could not deny that I had been brought up in a tradition of public service and leadership. I had always been taught that I had obligations to the people and to Fiji. A sense of duty and loyalty had been instilled into me as part of my upbringing as a chief and this had sustained me many times during my long political career. I recognised, too, that the Fijian chiefly system—that centuries-old order of authority and social organisation—was intact and that within it lay strength and stability. The whole nation could draw on this for the process of reconstruction and renewal. I was certainly reacting to its influence when I responded to your call. You spoke to me as a fellow chief, with all the authority and prestige of the Tui Cakau. That weighed heavily in my thinking. I took comfort from the fact that most of Fiji's people were peace-loving and tolerant, and that many, many citizens from all our communities had asked me to come back into government. Finally, I acknowledged, in all humility, that after serving so long as head of government I was perhaps the person best qualified to provide national leadership at this time of crisis. There were two priorities, as I saw it. First we had to repair the economy and then we had to ensure Fiji had a new constitution. If the economic tailspin continued, the people would suffer further. Jobs and money would be even scarcer, creating social instability which could lead to chaos and violence. An army without pay was also a potential source of civil unrest and upheaval. So I felt we had to initially help keep bread on the tables— and then address the issue of formulating a constitution that would return the country to parliamentary rule. In the absence of a parliament, the main forum for decisionmaking would be Cabinet, the collective grouping of ministers who would decide policy, take executive decisions, and then make sure they were implemented by the civil service. Laws would be enacted by presidential decree. Clearly we would need a heavy schedule of Cabinet meetings to get government moving again and ensure policies were implemented. (My records show that from December 1987 to April 1992 Cabinet met 152 times. It dealt with more than 1,200

Mission Complete 216 separate agenda items and made decisions which resulted in the enactment of some 120 decrees). In my choice of ministers I had to strike a balance between the different centres of power, including the military, extremists and moderates, and the traditional confederacies. I was able to retain some of the ministers from the former Military Government. I knew it was essential to have highly qualified people in certain vital positions, and I am pleased to say that those I approached did not hesitate. One of the most able ministers, Mr Josevata Kamikamica, was assigned the portfolio of Finance and Economic Planning, which would have to provide a bold and dynamic policy direction for the revival of the economy. Mr Kamikamica would work closely with the Trade and Commerce Minister, Mr Berenado Vunibobo, another extremely capable leader with a vital part to play in bringing back confidence. Once I had assurances of support from the army, it became easier to concentrate single-mindedly on the task of rebuilding at home and abroad. It was obvious that if the majority of the population was against the administration there would be little chance of us accomplishing our objectives. I appealed directly to the people for their understanding, making it clear I had taken on the biggest challenge I had ever faced in my career. There was despair in the community—especially among the unemployed—and I pledged to do what I could to make work available again and to promote harmony and confidence. Thankfully the broad mass of the people gave us their endorsement in what one media commentator called a "groundswell of goodwill." Special expressions of support came from important groups and numerous individuals. The dissenters had their say too—as they would throughout our tenure of office. They were determined, well-organised, and outspoken. With the economy fast shrinking, we had to move quickly to identify the best ways of attaining and sustaining growth and increasing employment. Economic cures are usually painful, so I knew we would need strong nerves and a well-defined and consistent vision to guide us in the implementation of policy. I charged an Economic Strategy Committee led by Mr Kamikamica with the task of formulating recommendations for Cabinet and monitoring the state of the economy. A detailed analysis showed we needed to replace the import-substitution and tariff protection programmes of the 1970s and 1980s. The

Mission Complete 217 decision was, therefore, made to give freer rein to market forces, thus encouraging our industries to be more competitive and outward-looking. Production for exports, the financial lifeblood of any nation, became the centrepiece of the new strategy. We introduced measures for the establishment of tax-free export factories and began to promote the country hard overseas as an attractive location for investment. Business representatives generally were extremely responsive to the government, so much so that one of my first appointments as the new Prime Minister was with an overseas entrepreneur considering expanding his holdings in Fiji. After our discussion, the visitor finalised a new investment which gave a significant boost to tourism. The first concessions for a tax-free manufacturer were granted before the end of our first month in office. Within a year manufacturing was emerging as a substantial contributor to export earnings, especially in the garment sector. More than 11,000 jobs were eventually created and by the end of 1991, tax-free factories were selling goods overseas worth about $200 million. It was one of the most dramatic structural changes in the Fiji economy. We recognised tourism as a crucial source of employment and foreign currency earnings. There was, therefore, an early decision to give greater financial support to overseas marketing, and thus win back the vanished visitors. With confidence returning and a fresh sense of direction, the industry rallied strongly, and by 1990 had registered a record 278,000 arrivals. There was a surge of investment in renovations and additions to existing hotels and in the construction of additional resorts, mostly on the outer islands. The government worked closely with E I E , a Japanese company, on a proposal to spend up to $300 million to develop Denarau Island at Nadi into an integrated resort with several hotels, hundreds of villas and townhouses, and numerous recreational facilities. By early 1992 about $70 million had been spent on civil works, reclamation, and construction. Contracts valued at about $ 4 0 million were under way. A workforce of several hundred had been added to the 1,000 people already employed at the island, and E I E estimates 5,000 permanent jobs will be available when the resort is complete. I have mentioned the Denarau project because it represents

Mission Complete 218 a scale of private investment new to Fiji and the South-West Pacific. It demonstrates that even when there are political uncertainties, financiers and large investors will respond if they are convinced about long-term prospects and feel secure and confident about political commitment to certain policies. From day one, we were successful in communicating our serious intent about creating the right climate for business—the kind of business that produces jobs for Fiji people and many other national benefits. The result was that paid-employment figures over a fouryear period reached about 93,000—the highest ever. The unemployment rate came down from 10 per cent to 5.7 per cent— and this at a time when the jobless rate in many wealthy, developed countries was on the rise. From 1988 to 1991 Fiji had an average growth rate of over 4 per cent. In 1989 it was almost 12 per cent—one of the best in the world. To reflect its adherence to a market, commercially oriented economy, the administration decided that a number of government organisations should be corporatised. This would require them to improve efficiency, operate at a profit, and be accountable to their customers and the marketplace. Post and Telecommunications, Ika Corporation, the Fiji Pine Commission, and the National Marketing Authority all underwent the transformation to corporatisation. With the economy reviving strongly, our opponents began to claim that our policies did nothing for the poor and the working people. In fact the overall focus of our economic and financial initiatives was to generate prosperity which would be shared by all, especially those from the poorer sections of the community. Policies which result in new jobs help the poor. The administration introduced the first across-the-board tax cut, which put more money into the pockets of the workers. It was the only such tax reduction in Fiji's history. We allocated more funds than ever before to support the genuinely disadvantaged and needy, and increased our assistance to charitable and community welfare organisations. After listening to views expressed at a National Economic Summit meeting, we established a task force on poverty to identify the best ways of assisting the poor. As a result, the administration set up a $7 million poverty alleviation fund. It will be administered according to the philosophy that the most productive

Mission Complete 219 support a government can give the needy is to assist them to become self-reliant. I think Your Excellency might agree that considering the state of crisis which prevailed when we began our work, the government can take a little credit for helping to improve the lot of the ordinary people and further pursuing the ideals of social justice. The government's determination to institute reforms for economic change extended to the system of taxation. There were too many anomalies, distortions, and disincentives to effort. The system was unfair because a minority of workers— less than 20 per cent—were paying all the income tax. We decided, therefore, to spread the payment of taxation more fairly throughout the population by introducing a consumer tax—or value added tax (VAT). The tax would be charged at the point of purchase of goods and services, therefore ensuring a more even distribution of taxation payment. Everyone would pay a little, rather than less than one fifth of the population meeting the entire burden. Those who could afford to spend more would still end up paying more. The administration emphasised that VAT should not be seen in isolation. It was part of a package that included significant reductions in taxes and substantial increases in welfare payments to the needy. There was, predictably, a great deal of noisy opposition to VAT, including some from unexpected quarters. But the VAT package was also endorsed by many who represented important sections of the community. They agreed it was more equitable and broadly based than the lop-sided and unfair system of taxation on the minority. We realised a sound system of industrial relations would be a key to continued economic progress—but it was obvious that a militant, unrepresentative, and dictatorial group of union leaders was bent on confrontation and strife. They were in a position to badly damage essential parts of the economy. Indeed, the sugar industry had already been turned into a battleground, suffering severe losses in the process. Aggressive posturing, wildcat strikes, boycotts, insults, and threats were the preferred approach. The government believed those responsible had become a relatively well-paid elite, following their own agenda rather than that of their members. The check-off system gave them financial security, and that, in turn, helped produce an envi-

Mission Complete 220 ronment which gave them little incentive to relate to the needs of the national economy. They were experts at "manufacturing" issues, which they then claimed represented the views of the rank and file. The truth was that many union members were being deprived of their right to take a full part in decision-making. One move to stage a national strike was backed by only six unions—a classic case of the minority trying to impose its will on the majority. The government decided to act to protect the public welfare —especially the interests of the bulk of the population who were not union members but who could be hurt by the tactics of militants. New laws introduced at the end of 1991 returned power to the union members, thus making union leaders more accountable. Members were given the right to vote on important issues such as election of office bearers and strikes. Voting would include independent supervision of elections and postal ballots. Measures were introduced to remove legal protection against actions for damages, and members were given the option of withholding contributions to union finances if they disapproved of action taken in their name. Apart from ensuring union decisions and actions were truly representative, one of the main aims of the laws was to create the stability required for the continued growth of the economy. Our efforts would come to nothing if industrial strikes, promoted by those who showed every sign of wanting to wreck the economy, became prevalent. A local and overseas propaganda barrage was launched against the government, which was accused of all sorts of misdeeds and violations of rights. The accusers, of course, conveniently ignored the fact that our laws were in line with those in a number of other countries, including the United Kingdom and Australia. In fact the Fiji reforms are moderate in comparison with amendments to New Zealand trade union legislation. We decided to continue the practice of staging National Economic Summit meetings—and two were organised between the end of 1987 and 1991. For me the summits were an invaluable forum for public consultation and debate, with the government able to keep abreast, and take account of, a genuinely representative sampling of community views. They were of great assistance in the formulation of policy—and in the

Mission Complete 221 absence of an elected parliament gave the government direct contact with the opinions and desires of the people. Previously we had been too dependent on the unions for feedback about the aspirations of the workers and we discovered they were far too selective in what they saw as the issues. The summits provided a much broader spectrum of viewpoints from many sections of the community—unionised and non-unionised workers, including rural dwellers, the employers, and social welfare groups. In all the exaggerated rhetoric about the government's alleged anti-worker stance, my critics seldom choose to remember that there was a time when I was described as being biased in favour of the unions. That was because I did feel the system favoured the employers and I spoke up in favour of change that would bring more equality and fair play into Fiji's industrial relations. But I reject the kind of unionism that has brought the country to the brink of disruption. The coups had served to concentrate attention on many issues affecting the Fijian people. One of the most pressing of these was the need for greater Fijian involvement in all sectors of the economy. Fijians were feeling more and more insecure about their economic position, which saw them virtually excluded from key sectors of commerce and business. My previous governments had adopted a number of measures to accelerate Fijian economic progress, but we now decided to devote greater resources to this. We adopted a nine-point plan relating among other things, to finance, investment, incentive, and savings. A $20 million loan was made available to Fijian Holdings Ltd, an investment company formed in 1984 and supported by the Fijian provinces. Fijian Holdings was able to acquire significant additional shareholdings in established companies, thus enhancing its rate of return. Fijians were encouraged to invest in the Unit Trust of Fiji—and by the end of 1991 about 58 per cent of the unit holders in the trust were Fijian organisations or individuals. The Fiji Development Bank continued its role as a vehicle for identifying and initially assisting Fijian entrepreneurs. For the three years from 1989 loans amounting to $45.4 million were approved for 3,532 Fijians. The FDB's Eimcol store scheme was also training Fijians in retailing and merchandising. All this, and other aspects of the government's policy, gave new impetus to Fijian economic progress. But I think you will

Mission Complete 222 agree with me, Your Excellency, that there is no quick or easy answer on this issue and that our strategy must be for sure and steady advancement over the longer term. If our people are misled into believing that economic manna will simply fall from heaven because there is a Fijian government, then those responsible will have to answer to the country when the truth becomes evident. There was another area of the national economy that attracted my attention—the oil industry, which had been controlled by a multinational oligopoly for about fifty years. To me, it was a situation in which government intervention would be strategic—similar to the action we took in the 1970s with the sugar industry. The oil oligopoly's contribution to, or involvement in, the Fiji economy, outside its own immediate infrastructure, is virtually non-existent. There is not a single simple blending plant, or even a joint move by the oil companies to establish an oil refinery here. It appeared that whatever profits have been made over the years have been regularly repatriated out of the country. Developing countries, when moving into manufacturing and industry to complement their agriculture, find that control of their energy sector becomes more and more crucial in determining the direction and pace of economic advancement. In addition to investment in hydro-electricity, governments, especially in Asia, have set up their own national oil companies to help them exercise some control over a resource that is central to their growth and development. In my contacts with some governments in South-East Asia, I was encouraged to find that many petroleum exporting countries are themselves net importers of crude oil. In fact, Singapore, which has no less than five oil refineries, imports all its crude oil requirements. Our thinking was also influenced by our inability to persuade the oil companies to help us, an offer of crude oil for sale by some countries in South-East Asia, and trade boycotts by Australian and New Zealand unions in 1987. We therefore began to develop a strategy that would ensure better control of the country's principal source of energy and also provide potential for further development. With the ultimate objective of establishing a viable Fiji, or regional, oil refinery, the Interim Administration decided, as a

Mission Complete 223 first step, to establish Fiji National Petroleum Company (FINAPECO) to buy crude oil, refine it, and supply the refined products to the existing oil companies for distribution in line with current arrangements. Fiji will thus have some control over the source and cost of the fuel that drives the economy. Meanwhile, I hope the incoming government will study closely the viability of establishing a Fiji or regional oil refinery—an investment that would provide not only some security in a volatile industry but also give our economy extra capacity for growth. The formation of F I N A P E C O and the selection of Esso Singapore to be its initial partner after tenders were called internationally, attracted strong opposition from the oil lobby in Australia, New Zealand, and within the Pacific region. But I strongly believe our treatment by the companies was unjust and those in positions of government leadership have a responsibility to defend the nation's economic interests when they are threatened. I said at the outset, Your Excellency, that the pressing priority was to reverse the economic decline and set the country back on the path of sustained growth. When we were satisfied the economy was moving strongly towards recovery, we began to prepare for the difficult task of formulating a new constitution. I do not propose to go into great detail on this now because the country is well aware of the consultative and legal procedures followed in determining the constitution's final form. Suffice to say that citizens throughout the country were given the opportunity of making their views known, and eminent legal experts were called on for advice. The document you finally promulgated in 1990 was not perfect—and I have publicly expressed my own reservations. It is the centre of controversy during the current election campaign. However, I do feel that it at least represents a realistic framework for taking the country back to constitutional government. There are provisions for a review, and I am confident that negotiations between the different communities will be possible if goodwill and trust can be established among the political leaders. I can say with confidence that change will not be achieved in a climate of distrust and acrimony. I think it worthwhile at this juncture to recall some of the sentiments you expressed on the Constitution during your

Mission Complete 224 promulgation speech. You stressed that the concept of extra representation in parliament for the Fijians was not new. It was accepted by other communities in 1970 and embodied in specific form in the independence constitution. The new Constitution, therefore, simply provided for a continuation, and an enlargement, of an idea that had become an established part of power-sharing. It was never the intention of the chiefs who made the final decision on the Constitution to disenfranchise Indians or other non-Fijians, or to deprive them of their rights. That is why the Constitution places so much emphasis on fundamental rights, freedom and representation. I agree with you, Your Excellency, that some of the Constitution's provisions can be seen as a counter-balance to the dominant position enjoyed by non-Fijians in commerce, finance, and advanced education. It does seem only fair and just that the Fijian position should be strengthened in some areas to compensate for its weakness in others. As I mentioned at the start of this report, Your Excellency, we did not only have to deal with a crisis within the country Fiji also had severe difficulties with its international relations. There were attempts to isolate the country and portray it as some sort of pariah. Our two closest developed neighbours, Australia and New Zealand, were particularly hostile. Australia suspended its aid programme—and so did the United States in accordance with a congressional requirement. We lost our membership of the British Commonwealth—a significant blow because it gave Fiji a direct link to the British Crown, which had been an important unifying influence among Fijians. The British monarch was regarded by the indigenous people as occupying a role akin to that of paramount chief. When I felt confident the Interim Administration was firmly in place, with the ministers effectively managing their portfolios, I turned my attention to mending international fences. Our neighbours among the small island nations were familiar with the background to the coups and felt we should be left alone to solve our internal problems. I went to many other countries, including those of the ASEAN group, China, and the United Kingdom. I asked for understanding of our situation, stressing the historical, political, and social factors that had triggered the upheavals. In China I described the deterioration in our relationships with New Zealand and Australia—

Mission Complete 22s

which at that stage I thought might be irreparable. A senior Chinese leader advised me to cultivate our links with the United States of America. He felt that if we were friendly with America, countries like Australia and New Zealand could not afford to be against us. I thought this advice was sound, so I decided to contact one of Fiji's old friends, Fred Eckert, a former US ambassador to our country, who was at that time with the Food and Agriculture Organisation in Rome. I knew that Ambassador Eckert had been a friend at court of the Reagan administration and was also well connected with President Bush. He agreed to help us. Through Ambassador Eckert's good offices, I was able to meet with the President and begin the process of reestablishing a cordial relationship with the United States. It was a watershed in our international rehabilitation. Ambassador Eckert later became a consultant for Fiji in Washington and has continued to provide us with invaluable support in strengthening our bonds with the world's most powerful nation. Elsewhere I also received a friendly welcome. Mrs Thatcher, then Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, was sympathetic. With the exception of India and Mauritius, Asian nations also expressed understanding of our predicament. Two outstanding leaders, Dr Mahathir, Prime Minister of Malaysia, and Mr Harry Lee Kuan Yew, former Prime Minister of Singapore, visited our shores to indicate their willingness to help. I will be forever grateful to all those who stood by us in our time of trouble. The judgmental attitude and strident criticism levelled at us by some overseas leaders served as a reminder of the differences in approach which often separate the developed and developing nations. As a result we began to realign and reshape our foreign policy. I pursued the question of our Commonwealth status with several heads of government and international political colleagues. A common reaction was that it was unfortunate our membership had been terminated when other countries, which had experienced greater upheavals, remained in the Commonwealth fold. At the end of my discussions and lobbying we were gready heartened by support for our readmittance from many friends, including Singapore, Malaysia, Pacific Island nations, other members of the African, Caribbean, and Pacific group, and Britain's Mrs Thatcher. We remain hopeful that the process of consensus which has been used to decide issues

Mission Complete 226 within the Commonwealth previously will be applied to our case. We sincerely trust our position will be understood and accepted. In the final part of this report, I want to answer a question I was asked on several occasions: What were the most difficult periods of the last four-and-a-half years? The roadblocks instigated by fundamentalist members of the Methodist Church, to enforce their position on Sunday observance, created much worry and tension. Here was an action that touched on raw and sensitive nerves in a community that had already undergone the trauma of two military takeovers. There was an undoubted threat to public order, welfare, and freedom. I suspect the psychological pressure associated with that crisis caused the first mental black-out I had ever suffered. It contributed to a deterioration in my health that later required the insertion of a heart pacemaker. The torching of temples and mosques and politically inspired boycotts of the sugar harvest were also testing times. There were indications the sugar industry was being used to foment enough discontent and instability to create the conditions for a change of government. Through all these troubles we were sustained by a simple truth. The majority of the population, to greater or lesser degrees, saw the Interim Administration as the country's best hope. That is why stability prevailed, and it also explains why the country is now on the verge of parliamentary government. I think all the citizens of our country can feel pride in the way Fiji came through its ordeal. When turbulence ruled elsewhere in the world we managed to largely preserve the social order and harmony for which we are known. We came close to the abyss, but we did not fall. As you yourself said in your address this past New Year, the people of Fiji "looked at themselves, and found that there existed a store of goodwill and basic humanity which refused to turn neighbour against neighbour and friend against friend." It is my fervent prayer that this will always be there. Now, on the eve of my departure from office, I offer my deep thanks and gratitude to all those who have served with me so loyally. To my successors, who will take up the burden, I want to share this thought: Despite my own unhappiness about the response to my policies of multiracialism, there is only one way for this nation to go. We must all find a common

Mission Complete 227 path towards unity, a unity that transcends race and religion and recognises that we are all sons and daughters of Fiji. Finally, Your Excellency, I wish to pay a personal tribute to you for your steadfast, wise, and courageous service to our country and its people. It has been my honour and my privilege to serve as your Prime Minister and, though my term is now ending, I remain, Your obedient servant, K. K. T. MARA Prime Minister Sadly, and an irreparable loss to the nation, Ratu Sir Penaia died at the end of 1993. I add, as an epilogue, the state tribute I paid at the national memorial church service in Suva on 29 December 1993 (Appendix 7).

APPENDIX

I

Chronological Record of the Career of the Right Honourable Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara, G C M G , KBE, CF, KStJ, MSD

Born 6 May 1920 at Lomaloma, Vanuabalavu, Lau, Fiji Education 1926-1928 1928-1933 1933-1936 1937-1939 1939-1940 1940-1941 1942-1945 1946-1949 1961-1962

Sacred Heart Convent, Levuka, Fiji Lau Provincial School, Tubou, Lakeba, Fiji Queen Victoria School, Suva, Fiji Central Medical School, Suva Marist Brothers High School, Suva Sacred Heart College, Auckland, New Zealand Otago University, Dunedin, New Zealand Wadham College, Oxford, England London School of Economics, England

Academic Qualifications 1949 Master of Arts, Oxford University 1961 Diploma of Economics and Social Development, London School of Economics Honorary Awards 1969 Honorary Doctor of Laws, University of Guam 1971 Honorary Fellow of Wadham College, Oxford 1973 Honorary Doctor of Laws, Otago University 1975 Honorary Doctor of Laws, University of New Delhi 1978 Honorary Doctor of Political Science, Yonsei University, Republic of Korea 1980 Honorary Doctor of Laws, Tokai University, Tokyo, Japan Honorary Doctor of the University of the South Pacific, Fiji 1982 Honorary Doctor of Laws, University of Papua New Guinea 1986 Honorary Fellow, London School of Economics 229

Appendix i 230 Honours 1961 1969 1973 1975 1983 1995

Officer of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire Knight Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire Sworn of Her Majesty's Privy Council Grand Master of the Order of the National Lion, Dakar, Senegal Knight Grand Cross of the Most Distinguished Order of St Michael and St George Meritorious Service Decoration Chancellor of the Order of Fiji Companion of the Order of Fiji Knight of the Most Venerable Order of St John of Jerusalem Knight Grand Cross of the Pian Order with Star

Sporting Distinctions Athletics and Cricket Blue, Otago University Athletics Blue, Oxford University Rugby and Cricket, Otago Province, New Zealand Cricket, Fiji Military Training 1956 Lieutenant, Fiji Military Forces Government Service and Conferences and Meetings Attended 1950 Appointed Administrative Officer, Fiji 1953 Fijian Member of the Legislative Council 1959 Acting Deputy Secretary for Fijian Affairs 1962 Divisional Commissioner Eastern 1963 Member of the Executive Council 1964 Member for Natural Resources and Leader of Government Business 1965 Attended Constitutional Conference, London 1967-1970 Chief Minister 1970 Attended Constitutional Conference, London 1970-1987 Prime Minister 1971 Foundation of South Pacific Forum Attended Commonwealth Leaders' Meeting, Singapore 1972 Alliance Party won first General Election under 1970 Constitution

Chronological Record 231

1973

1975

1977

1979

Attended meeting of Commonwealth Sugar Producers, London Attended second meeting of Commonwealth Sugar Producers, London Standing Committee of Commonwealth Sugar Producing Countries established to unify approach to European Economic Community Chaired meeting of African, Caribbean, and Pacific group with European Community Countries, Brussels, which led to Lomé Convention Attended Commonwealth Leaders' Meeting, Ottawa, Canada Attended signing of Lomé Convention, Lomé, Togo Attended Commonwealth Leaders' Meeting, Kingston, Jamaica General Election lost; reinstated as Prime Minister by Governor-General Chaired joint meeting of African, Caribbean, and Pacific group and European Economic Community, Suva Attended Commonwealth Leaders' Meeting, London

1987

Attended Commonwealth Leaders' Meeting, Lusaka, Zambia Inauguration of Pacific Islands Development Program Attended Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting, Melbourne, Australia General Election won; Prime Minister Chaired Regional Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting, Suva Attended Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting, New Delhi, India Chaired joint meeting of African, Caribbean, and Pacific group and European Economic Community, Suva Attended Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting, Nassau, Bahamas General Election lost; demitted office

1987-1992 1992

Adviser for Foreign Affairs in Governor-General's Advisory Council Prime Minister of Interim Government Prime Minister of Caretaker Government, 20 April to

1992 1992-1994

29 June First Acting President, Republic of Fiji, June President and Commander in Chief, Republic of Fiji

1980 1981 1982

1983 1984 1985

APPENDIX

2

Text of the Wakaya Letter

Office of the Fijian Affairs Board, Suva, Fiji 17th January, 1963 Sir, We desire to place before you the following representations. We consider that the act of Cession had, for the Fijian people of Fiji, a special implication. It was this: they envisaged their country as attached to the Crown, an integral part of the United Kingdom. Her Majesty's title, decided by the chiefs after Cession is "Queen of Fiji and Britain—Ranadi ni Viti kei Peritania"—and the Council of Chiefs have from the beginning jealously maintained their right of directly addressing the Sovereign on the occasion of their meetings. It is the Fijian view that the possibility of severance of this link with the Crown—a link forged in the spirit of mutual trust and goodwill— would never be contemplated. This special relationship would appear to have its closest parallel in the constitutional links between the Channel Islands or the Isle of Man, and the United Kingdom. It is submitted that before any further constitutional change is considered, and certainly before there is any move towards internal selfgovernment, the terms of the special relationship between Fiji and the United Kingdom should be clarified and codified along the lines of the relationship between the United Kingdom and the Channel Islands or the Isle of Man. We propose a new constitutional instrument which would embody this understanding of the relationship and would make provision for the safeguarding of Fijian interests building on and strengthening the spirit and substance of the Deed of Cession. There would have to be a precise re-statement of the guarantees on Fijian land ownership. We visualise that the Native Lands Trust legislation should not be changed nor added to without the prior consent of the Sovereign and the agreement of the Council of Chiefs. 233

Appendix 2 234 We also stand by the expressed desire of the high Chiefs in the preamble to the Deed of Cession that Fiji should be a Christian state and that, therefore, no constitutional or administrative changes should take place that would deviate from that intention. The provision in the Fijian Affairs Ordinance that all legislation affecting Fijian rights and interests should be referred to the Fijian Affairs Board or, on the recommendation of the Board, to the Council of Chiefs, should be retained and likewise the Governor's directions through the Public Service Commission to work towards the balance of the races in the Civil Service. Subject to a satisfactory solution of the issues we have raised in the foregoing memorial, we would be prepared to initiate, in co-operation with the other principal races, further moves towards internal self-government. In this regard we wish to remind you of the terms of the resolution passed at the last session of the Legislative Council, which records the insistence of the Fijian people that the initiative for any constitutional change should come from them. The Hon Mr Nigel Fisher M.C., M.P., Parliamentary Under Secretary of State for the Colonies

Sjjd K. K. T. Mara Sjfd P. K. Ganilau Sjjd S. Sikivou Sj$d R. Vunivalu Sgd G. K. Cakobau

1st F.M. 2nd F.M. 3rd F.M. 4th F.M. 5th F.M.

Sgd A. C. Reid

(Chairman) J. N. Falvey

(Legal Adviser) R. M. Major

(Financial Adviser)

APPENDIX

3

The Secretary of State's Despatch

Reproduced here is the text of despatch number 388, of 15 August 1963: I have the honour to refer to the discussions about the constitutional future of Fiji which the Parliamentary Under Secretary of State, Mr Nigel Fisher, held with representatives of all communities during his visit to the Colony last January. Mr Fisher gave me a full account of those discussions, and I have studied carefully the letter dated 17 January 1963, which was addressed to him by the members of the Fijian Affairs Board and which was subsequendy published. 2. The British Government accept that the time is approaching when the future relationship between Fiji and Britain should be clarified and codified, and will be glad, in consultation with representatives of the people of Fiji, to work out a constitutional framework which will preserve a continuing link with Britain and within which further progress can be made in the direction of internal self-government. 3. The precise nature of this framework will require further study and consultation between the British Government and the Government and people of Fiji. I therefore have it in mind to convene a conference at an appropriate time at which the British Government and the leaders of representative opinion in Fiji would try together to agree upon concrete proposals. This conference might take place in London during 1964 or early in 1965. 4 . 1 note that it has been suggested that a form of constitutional relationship with Britain comparable with that of the Isle of Man or the Channel Islands might provide the basis for an enduring constitutional framework. The circumstances of those islands are of course in many respects different from those of Fiji, and their constitutional arrangements could hardly be adopted in their entirety. Nevertheless, the experience afforded by the working of their constitutions may be useful in deciding upon suitable arrangements for Fiji, and at the conference we should examine, among other questions, which features of them can be adapted to suit conditions in Fiji.

23s

Appendix 3 236 5. Although the precise nature of the future relationship between Britain and Fiji requires further study and discussion, I hope it will be agreed, in the light of the assurance which I have given in paragraph 2 above, that this need not prevent some advance meanwhile towards a greater degree of internal self-government than exists at present. I believe that Fiji has leaders well qualified to bear added responsibilities, and that a suitable step would be the introduction of the "Member system" on the lines described as "Stage I " in Legislative Council Paper Number 8 of 1961, modified to accord with the constitutional changes introduced last February. This will not involve any amendment of the existing constitutional instrument. 6. I shall be glad if you will lay this despatch before your Executive and Legislative Councils and seek their agreement to the introduction of a "Member system" at a convenient date, perhaps early in 1964.

APPENDIX

4

Address to the United Nations

Following is the text of my address to the twenty-fifth session of the United Nations General Assembly, New York, in October 1970: Mr President, and Distinguished Representatives, May I first express my sincere thanks for the opportunity you have given me to speak today. I am only sorry that it was not possible for me to attend in person last week, when you so generously and warmly welcomed my country into the United Nations. I am sure you will appreciate that my absence was not due to any discourtesy to your distinguished assembly. It was due rather to the traditional and compelling customs of hospitality of our islands. For we had in our midst the direct descendant of Queen Victoria, to whom our forefathers freely ceded our country, and he was the appointed representative of the Queen whose government was, at our request and similarly without reservation, giving us responsibility for our own destinies. But I am indeed glad that I am able to attend the General Assembly at this time of your twenty-fifth anniversary, and I bring you greetings and warm congratulations from all the people of Fiji. And I especially include greetings from the Leader of the Opposition, the Honourable Mr S M Koya and his party, who have associated themselves so closely and so constructively with our constitutional progress. I would also like to offer sincere congratulations to you, Mr President, on your election to your high office. Though we are such new members, we are already aware of your courtesy and high reputation, and wish you well in the discharge of your important duties. Conscious of your kindness in allowing me to speak so soon after our Ambassador has thanked you on behalf of my country for Fiji's admission into the United Nations, I hesitate to duplicate his remarks. 237

Appendix 4 238 But I would be ungracious did I not refer, even very briefly, to the most kind and warm words of welcome which have come to Fiji, both from our sponsors and from such a large number of other member countries. It has been a moving experience even to read the transcripts, and our Ambassador here has told me of the great warmth and sincerity of the occasion itself. I would like also to express sincere appreciation for the kind remarks which some members made about myself, and also about Mr Koya. Even the weather in this great metropolis seems to have smiled on our entry. We are all deeply conscious of the happy and peaceful way we have moved into independence with a united multiracial society. We are told this is a pearl of great price which can perhaps be shared with the world at large. We therefore look to the United Nations to help us to protect and cherish this, perhaps our greatest contribution to this distinguished body. The warmth of your welcome and the manifest goodwill shown to Fiji is evidence that we shall not look in vain. Many speakers have commented on our peaceful transition to independence, and we ourselves are deeply grateful for our good fortune in this way. But this is nothing new in the Pacific. Similar calm and orderly moves to independence have taken place in Western Samoa, in the Cook Islands, in Nauru, and in Tonga. We like to think that this is the Pacific Way, both geographically and ideologically. As far as we are authorised by our friends and neighbours, and we do not arrogate to ourselves any role of leadership, we would hope to act as representative and interpreter of that voice. Mr President, and Distinguished Representatives, it may be that for many of you the passage of time has dimmed the memory of the initial thrill of independence. Our experience is that the feeling of independence is rather like that of leaving the cramped compartment of a jet airliner. First the exhilarating and heavy gulps of fresh air, then the cautious steps down to earth, and suddenly and immediately the need for direction, the offered hands to help with the burden—and then, I presume, a place in the rat race! Our independence celebrations had many high points: the dignified customary welcome to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, where for the first time on such an occasion all communities joined together for an official ceremonial welcome; the handing over by His Royal Highness of the constitutional instruments of independence; and the soaring aloft of our own Fiji flag in a moment which overcame even the reserve of our own quiet people. But the event which

Address to the United Nations 239 will live in our memories beyond them all was our ecumenical service on the Sunday morning following independence. In one great united service we had representatives of all the Christian churches, the various branches of the Hindu faith, and of the Mohammedans. There were prayers and readings from Holy Books in Hindi, Urdu, Fijian, and English. After each reading the books were presented to me as Prime Minister so that at the close I had together before me the Bible, the Veda, the Gita, the Ramayan, and the Koran. Then finally I had the responsibility, which I undertook with humble pride, of leading the vast assembly in an act of dedication to the service of God, to one nation of Fiji, and to peace. It is in this spirit of harmony, tolerance, trust, and dependence on God that we go into independence. We believe that this service was for unity and faith for the future, and we are determined, as far as it lies within our power, to translate our promises into lasting reality. I would like now to venture a few comments on world affairs in this great forum, dedicated as it is to the peace and progress of all the peoples of the world. And I hope, in this instance, you will waive the precept that small boys should be seen and not heard. My remarks are made with great humility from a small country far away in the Pacific, but it may be that our very distance gives us a perspective that differs from that of many closer at hand, and for that reason our views may be of interest. First, I wonder whether we have not now, in our deep concern for personal liberty and freedom of expression, over-weighted the balance in favour of the individual as against the mass of people composing a society. I wonder if the over-indulgence of the angry young men, the "way out" people, and the small militant groups with their own ends has not reacted against the steady progress of society as a whole, and in particular against the large body of quiet, hard-working folk throughout the world. It might be that if we devoted more of our time and energies to the progress and betterment of the whole, our overall achievement would be the greater. Second, much of the effort of the United Nations has been concentrated on improving the material well-being of the peoples of the world, and I have just been reading the far-reaching and imaginative report of the Second Committee setting out a blueprint for the second decade of economic development. It may then sound ungrateful for a small country like Fiji, which has so often been at the receiving end of the bounty, to question this priority. But so many of these schemes, welcome as they are, are confined within the boundaries of one country. Spiritual and moral values, on the other hand, know no

Appendix 4- 240 frontiers, and by upholding and encouraging these, we are following a course which is truly international, and which is calculated more than anything else to give reality to the concept of one world. We do not live by bread alone, and it is only from the firm base of sound moral and spiritual standards that we can go on to meaningful economic progress. And finally on standards, and with some diffidence as the representative of a small country, may I put forward the view that quality should not take second place to quantity when we are estimating a society, its life, and accepted values. Quality is measured by standards, and these standards must be observed by larger nations as well as by smaller. The broad concepts we look for are effective government, education, and social justice. But it is for the United Nations to set the standards and to disseminate them widely. Otherwise false standards and wrong estimates of people and actions can so easily gain currency and become accepted generally. But the setting of standards must not assume that there are universal solutions to problems in all parts of the world. There must be particular diagnoses of the problems and special treatment for special cases. In general terms, tolerance, harmony, and justice must surely be universal standards, and they are certainly our aim in our small land of Fiji with its multiracial society. But to achieve these ends, we have had to work out our own particular solution and political framework. We have done this between the parties with give and take and goodwill, and, with the encouragement, understanding, and sympathetic assistance of the United Kingdom. The British have not been wholly immune from the failings inherent in the colonial system itself. As with other colonial powers, their policy has been based on their concepts, their values, and their patterns of behaviour. They have not always shown due regard for the feelings, customs, and way of life of the people. There has been superiority, and there has been arrogance. There has been too much direction and too little opportunity for participation. But when all this has been said, there remains British justice, a sense of fair play, respect for the rule of law, and a basic decency which have left their marks in Fiji and will be their finest memorial there. And it is for these qualities that we have retained the union flag as a permanent part of our new independent Fiji flag. But to return to my theme, it has been our success in achieving a large measure of those standards of tolerance, harmony, and justice that has enabled us to proceed to independence without competition

Address to the United Nations 241 for power and without rancour. And this is why as I said earlier, though we have clearly far more to gain than to give in this distinguished assembly, we nevertheless believe that our small country of Fiji has a contribution to make at the United Nations and we look forward to playing our part in forwarding its high purposes. Mr President, Distinguished Representatives, I thank you.

APPENDIX

5

Currents in the Pacific

On 30 July 1975 I delivered the Dillingham Lecture at the East-West Center in Honolulu, Hawai'i. The Dillingham Lectures were established by the East-West Center to provide an international forum for the discussion of issues and problems vital to mutual understanding and exchange between the Orient and the Occident. The text of my address is reproduced here with the permission of the East-West Center. Like much in the Pacific, this lecture has taken some time to come about. But also like much in the Pacific, it has come to pass in the end. It is also an example of that tolerance which we like to consider part of the Pacific Way. For your kind President has renewed his invitation to me no less than three times, and Sir Winston Churchill has a statistical definition which says that three times is a lot. Since he used it of an unsuccessful general, you may perhaps understand why I was so keen to come here before it became applicable to me! If I remember correctly I was prevented on the first occasion by illness, and on the second by a malady more recently introduced into the Pacific—I refer to a General Election! I am delighted to be with you today at the East-West Center. The East-West Center and the University of Hawai'i have been of the greatest value to our developing country, for you have received numbers of our young people for training and education, and you have provided advisers, consultants, and experts of high calibre over many years. You have also made the facilities of your University available for preliminary training for members of the Peace Corps who have made such a valuable contribution to our schools and other areas of activity in Fiji. Even now one of your professors is in Fiji engaged in compiling a new dictionary of the Fijian language. And I would be remiss if I did not take this opportunity to pay tribute also to another citizen of Hawai'i who is closely connected with this occa243

Appendix s 244 sion, though not himself of the University. I refer to Mr Aaron Marcus, who has given such distinguished service on the South Pacific Commission and has shown such understanding of and sympathy with the attitudes and aspirations of our peoples. We are all grateful to him. COMPARATIVE ISOLATION

I have called my talk "Currents in the Pacific" for various reasons. First, it reminds us that we are oceanic peoples, with all the advantages and disadvantages that this brings. We can harvest the seas and the reefs and lagoons for our protein needs—at least as long as we can avoid pollution of all the kinds that threaten us nowadays. We enjoyed comparative isolation for many centuries, but in the end the sea provided the highroads that led strangers to our shores, with all the good and bad they brought. And it also provided what I might perhaps call the low roads, which were the ways for the canoe journeys by which our island friends engaged in commercial and friendly interchange. It is surely one of the ironies of history that perhaps our communications were better in those far off days than they are today. For the utilization of these sealanes today is considered and implemented in the context of capital and profitable returns; and where these are absent, communications lapse. Again, we are exposed from time to time to the furies of this Pacific Ocean, which can wreak so much damage, loss of life and possessions. Yes, these currents are always with us, and our life has to be adjusted to accept them and whenever possible exploit them. This can cover a spectrum which ranges from learning new ways to build a fishing boat or catch skipjack tuna, to spending two years between Africa, Caracas, New York, and Geneva trying to gain acceptance for the theory of oceanic archipelagoes, and a measure of control over the wide waters which are so vital to us. Then again I have used the tide "Currents in the Pacific" to remind us that our life is a fluid and changing one—exposed to so many influences for good or bad, and this will really be the theme of my talk. If in discussing it, I refer rather more to Fiji, I hope you will forgive me—it is the country I know best. But I have also found in my travels throughout the Pacific, and from my own reading, that we all have very much more in common than things that set us apart. MILD ELECTRIC CURRENT

I might perhaps just mention in parentheses that it was suggested to me that I might speak on "New Directions in the Pacific." I did not

Dillingham Lecture 24s myself feel competent—or indeed presumptuous—enough to set up as such a pilot. And so the thoughts I shall be expressing are designed rather to initiate discussion than claiming to have solutions. In this respect they may act rather as a mild electric current. Before the advent of metropolitan powers in the Pacific, we enjoyed a life in the Pacific which might perhaps be called one of complicated simplicity. The simplicity was there for all to see. People were born, married, died; fished, hunted, and planted; made mats, boats, and homes; talked, played, and sometimes fought. The simple life par excellence—what those tired of the sophisticated Western way of life are always claiming to be seeking. But anthropologists and other social scientists have over the years discovered that every one of those "simple" activities has a highly evolved traditional and customary pattern, usually involving very considerable numbers of people. The people who were the subjects of their study learned this from their childhood—watching, listening, following. And just looking at a few of these activities I mentioned, it is quite plain that they could only be performed by groups, and quite large groups at that. A meeting house, or even an ordinary living house, involves bringing large quantities of materials together, sometimes from some distance. It involves the transport and erection of poles and beams, some of them very big and very heavy. This means numbers, and numbers have to be fed, and so the numbers grow. Some fish are best caught by means of a fish drive, and this again means group activity. The same is true of land clearing. RIGHT OR MIGHT

These activities in their turn predicate a need for leadership. And this leadership is not only required to achieve the harvest—be it of the land or the sea. Fish, and many crops too, are perishable in our hot climates. They cannot be stored. They therefore must be distributed immediately and distributed fairly. In our island societies, leadership has been the function of the chiefs. They held their positions by right or might and preferably both. But in general they were recognized, and their function in society needed and appreciated. They also controlled and allocated (though they did not possess) land. Other members of the society had their own very clearly defined roles and status, whether they were priests or spokesmen, midwives or undertakers. And then, in our society no one was ever forgotten. An evening of entertainment in the village would find the whole village present, from grandmothers to grandchildren. And if the latter ended up fast asleep in the former's arms, what did it matter? In the modern day

Appendix s 246

idiom it would be called participation. And of course it also applied to many of the activities I have mentioned before. But perhaps above all it was a disciplined society. Apart from normal childhood training and learning by doing, nearly all our societies in the Pacific used to have a custom which at one stage of their lives put all the young men to live together in one house. This had the dual purpose of providing education and discipline for the young men themselves, and supplying a service corps for communal work in the village. So that what seemed to the early Western explorers to be rather wild and haphazard groups of people, were really closely integrated and highly organised societies. They had traditions and cultures and a way of life which was well suited to their temperament and their environment and to the satisfaction of their basic requirements—food and shelter. They had the cardinal virtues of leadership, participation, and discipline. MILITATED STRONGLY

And after the explorers—long after—came the traders and colonists. Mostly in the Pacific the flag followed trade rather than the reverse. And there followed about a century in which Western commercial activities and Western values were imposed on our peoples. This meant in particular the acquisitive society. Our cultures and our heavy mutual interdependence on each other, coupled with the perishable nature of our foodstuffs, militated strongly against storage, saving, and accumulation. The advent of a money economy provided the means of accumulation, and the demonstration effect and the availability of imported goods provided the incentive. Apart from all the attractions of what that distinguished Fijian statesman Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna called "evanescent trifles," it rapidly became apparent to the indigenous peoples that the key to their future lay in education, and this had to be added to their basic requirements. And education cost money. To this day throughout the Pacific I would say that the provision of sufficient money to meet the educational needs of their families is the greatest incentive towards a cash economy. At all events, there was imposed on our society a scale of values which tended to estimate a man's worth and his success by his ability to make and to keep money. Now it is a well-known fact that money makes money, and big money is made by large-scale capital investment. The Pacific peoples were nowhere in this league. And so, though they absorbed Western values and practices, they were very much in the Alice in

Dillingham Lecture 24-7 Wonderland situation where they had to run at full speed just to stay where they were. Einstein's theory of relativity was just gaining acceptance, and in the terms of that theory they were, of course, going backwards in the Western values race. Means of capital accumulation and the contribution of land as equity capital are relatively recent developments. MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE

And yet paradoxically it was also an era when missionary enterprise was at its most active. The Christian faith, with its stress on mutual obligation and care for others, was one which made a wide appeal. It is a broad, unifying faith and cemented the Pacific social structure. But much of its teaching ran directly counter to the values being imposed on these societies. "Sell all your goods and give the money to the poor." "It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven." "Take no thought for the morrow." These sayings were strangely at variance with the ways of the Westerners—nor indeed did many of them seem to practise them. But as our peoples followed the two apparently incompatible creeds of materialism and Christianity, they also absorbed the ability of their prototypes to adjust and compromise. WINDS OF CHANGE

After the Second World War, in which many Pacific peoples contributed generously in men and money, the winds of change began to blow in the world. Western Samoa, Nauru, the Cook Islands, and Tonga preceded Fiji towards self-government and independence. I think, unlike events in a number of countries in other parts of the world, these moves were not made as a result of oppression by the metropolitan powers or in resentment of them. Indeed I think it would be true to say that every metropolitan country which granted independence encouraged the moves. Of course they could not be wholly immune from the failings which were inherent in the colonial system itself. The policies were almost inevitably based on their concepts, their values, and their patterns of behaviour. They did not always show due regard for the feelings, customs, and way of life of the people. Some administrators showed superiority and arrogance, and there was too much direction and too little opportunity for participation. But the truth was that we had reached a stage when we felt the urge and the need to control our own destinies, together with confidence in our own abilities to do so. But in assuming independence we were faced with a real dilemma.

Appendix s 248 Should we go right back to first beginnings, pick up the pieces, and start again? Should we follow the sort of example recently set by an African leader who wanted to reintroduce generally throughout his country initiation ceremonies of a very primitive nature? Or should we press on relentlessly along the lines of industrialisation and endeavour to emulate an economic miracle of the sort that has been achieved in Singapore? HOMOGENEOUS SOCIETY

Again, is the Western pattern of government necessarily the one best suited to us in the Pacific? Or are those African countries right who have tried the Western democratic pattern only to find that the real answer to their problems, and the way to progress, was through oneparty government? After all, what is called full parliamentary democracy only came to pass in Britain after hundreds of years of parliamentary and political experiences, and in a homogeneous society—with all respect to the Scots, Welsh, and Irish! But in the Pacific many of us have widely differing cultures within a country. It is not only a matter of racial differences. Some countries have people who appear to be very similar throughout, and yet from island to island there are very great differences of custom, culture, and language. To expect a minority to feel themselves adequately represented in an assembly composed entirely of people widely different from themselves implies a degree of integration which takes very many years to achieve. One has only to look at the representation of American Negroes in the United States to appreciate this problem. SO FEW OPTIONS

I recently attended the signing of the Lomé Convention in Togoland, and out of forty-six nations of Africa, the Caribbean, and the Pacific I was one of the very few leaders who had an Opposition. Not that I am complaining about my Opposition. I think I have a very good Opposition indeed, and I hope to have them for a very long time! But there is the argument, which so many Africans have found compelling, and which runs like this: "In a developing country newly independent, there must be such an identity of aims for the whole country, and so few options acceptable in the choice of a method, that all would be better working together for the common aim rather than engaging in the façade of two or more party government, much of which is sterile and unproductive." And it is interesting to note only recently in the United Kingdom that one of the government ministers engaged in the referendum campaign has found it such a

Dillingham Lecture 249 stimulating and rewarding experience to work together with members of other parties that he has been recommending the continuance of such cooperation after the referendum. The adoption of one-party government is, of course, frequently attributed by critics and outsiders to be a wish to stifle and suppress all opposition. But my friends among the African leaders tell me that their own back benchers provide quite the most efficient opposition they have ever experienced. And it may well be more effective from the people's point of view as well, since a government may well give more heed to opposition from its own ranks than to an officially designated one. Is all this relevant in the Pacific? Well, I said at the outset that I am not making ex cathedra statements here, and the idea of one-party government may be one of these mild electric currents I mentioned earlier to promote discussion, particularly in this bastion of democracy in the United States! MEASURE OF INVOLVEMENT

Another current in the Pacific of which we have all had to take note since independence is the measure of involvement in international affairs. We have seen in the United Nations some sort of repetition of what we have seen in our own colonial history. The foundation and earlier policies of the United Nations were laid by the developed nations, and they used their power to achieve their objectives. Perhaps they saw too late, as did so many colonial powers, that in the end the developing countries would live in the house they had built. Latterly in colonial government there was a theory that the colonial government was building a house and that for a while they would provide the scaffolding by means of expatriate administration. In due course this scaffolding would be removed, leaving the house to stand on its own. But this theory, admirably paternalistic and self-abnegating as it was, was found to have two flaws. It did not involve those who were to inhabit the house in its design and construction, and the sudden and entire removal of the scaffolding would leave the building without adequate support till it settled down. Near the end of the day this was appreciated, and some of the people themselves were incorporated in the administrative scaffolding. This meant that they were involved in the building and were still there in case some propping up was required. I'm not sure that this was really done by the United Nations, and therefore the developed nations can hardly be surprised if they find that the new inhabitants of the house follow their example. More participation in the building might have yielded a better result.

Appendix s 2S0 LUSTY EXECUTIVE INFANT O f course our predominant interest must be the Pacific. And we are cultivating that. The South Pacific Commission has been updated and still has one characteristic not enjoyed by other regional bodies— its universality. The Pacific Islands Producers' Association played its part in building for the future—rather like the coral insect—and having achieved its object, gave up its life. The Pacific Forum and its lusty executive infant, the South Pacific Bureau for Economic Cooperation, are thriving and virile bodies—if I may use that term in this International Women's Year! And it is good to see not only the interisland regional cooperation, but also greater realisation o f Pacific identity and Pacific responsibility by Australia and New Zealand and Canada and the United States. A federation o f the South Pacific? Well, I said I would be asking questions rather than providing answers. O f course once a country is established at the United Nations, one has to try to take an intelligent interest in all sorts o f questions which can only be o f minimal or peripheral interest. One does not want one's representatives or one's country to look fools—though indeed one sometimes wonders: (a) whether it would be noticed; (b) would it matter? and (c) how very different one would be from a large number o f others. But I would be less than frank if I did not admit that for a long time we found it very difficult to summon up much enthusiasm for, and interest in, African affairs and African countries. I think our interest began with contact made with their leaders at Commonwealth Heads o f Government Meetings, with men like General Gowan o f Nigeria, Dr Busia o f Ghana, and Julius Nyerere o f Tanzania. And then for the last two years we have found ourselves locked in the most complicated negotiations with the European Economic Community, alongside the African countries as well as the Caribbean. And indeed, despite the polished oratory o f the West Indians, it was the Africans who were the solid pacemakers. Mr Sanu o f Nigeria made a superb chairman and leader o f the ACP countries. I suppose at the end o f the day the Pacific countries would have got some sort o f agreement with the E E C , and I think we played our part in the negotiations, but without the dedicated work o f the African countries it would have been very difficult for us. I think incidentally that one o f the reasons we were welcomed in the negotiations, particularly by the Africans, was because we were able to take a fairly impartial role between the Anglophone and Francophone African countries, which from time to time found themselves with differences between their viewpoints.

Dillingham Lecture 2$i And I think when the real crunch came in the negotiations there was an almost spontaneous turn to the Pacific to demonstrate the effectiveness of the Pacific Way. However, all this experience has greatly broadened our contacts, and we have found much of interest and at the same time much to learn from the Africans. I was particularly touched to be invited to make an official visit to Senegal after the close of the negotiations. There I found the greatest interest in folk art and dancing and I was glad to invite their Prime Minister to our next South Pacific Arts Festival. THE CLOSEST CONTACT

So there are these broadenings of world contact and interest. The Law of the Sea negotiations have been another forum which has brought us into the closest contact with Indonesia and the Philippines. Protests against French nuclear tests in the atmosphere have found us friends as far away as Chile and Peru. And of course, we have always greatly valued our Commonwealth links. Nor do we forget that we have perhaps an American consul insisting on payment for his debts to thank for our long and happy association with the United Kingdom leading to independence within the Commonwealth! Though seriously, our links with America are strong and valued ones, and at this very moment we are engaged in negotiations with your government for the supply of vessels to enable us to patrol our territorial fishing waters. The United States has also helped us generously at times of hurricane disasters. Now all this is very fine. It means perhaps a wider recognition of the Pacific on the international stage. It means some very nice trips for people, who unfortunately tend to develop an appetite for them. But at the end of the day the question is still what sort of life style are we trying to evolve in the Pacific for our people. THE FULLEST DEVELOPMENT

I have mentioned the two extremes. It may be that the Pacific Way lies somewhere between. It is one of our favourite positions! Clearly there must be the fullest possible development of agriculture and fisheries. Quite apart from the income and employment it provides for our own people, I believe that in a hungry world there is a moral duty on us all to develop to the utmost the natural advantages we have been given in the way of fertile soil and benign climate, together with seas abounding with fish, always provided there is sound exploitation and wise conservation. The more self-sufficient we can be, the less food we have to import; the more we can produce for export, the more is available for the areas of the world where need is greatest. A

Appendix

s 252

recent forecast has said that unless over the next ten years w e can increase f o o d production by 35 per cent the o u t l o o k will be very bleak for large numbers o f the world's population. Care for others, and sharing, are an integral part o f Pacific custom and tradition, and w e have never limited this within a narrow selfish pattern. O u r general overall landholding pattern enjoins sharing, and as I pointed out the other day, everyone w h o enjoys a lease o f our land in our countries benefits from this sharing. A g a i n , there are urgent economic reasons for the development o f our tourist industries. B u t w e also want t o share our countries' beauties and attractions, and the friendliness o f our peoples. A n d w e d o n ' t want to see their attractions spoilt. So I think it is up to us to avoid the type o f development which attracts the worst type o f tourist; by this I mean the flashy world o f the casino and the sleazy nightclub. Conversely w e should concentrate o n the type o f attraction which will appeal to the best type o f tourists; by this I mean festivals and exhibitions o f the arts, music, and handicrafts, and healthy o u t d o o r activities.

PREMIUM OF HAPPINESS W i t h increasing numbers o f school leavers, commerce and industry have a role to play, and here w e expect that there should be opportunities for all to share in its organisation and benefits. B u t I hope w e will never forget w h a t was perhaps our most priceless asset, and that is the premium set o n happiness. Even the stern American revolutionaries included "the pursuit o f happiness" in their constitution. Writing recently in the Times o f L o n d o n , Mrs Geraldine N o r m a n said that she had a g r o w i n g conviction that the accretion o f wealth reduced the likelihood o f happiness and that there could even be a negative correlation between happiness and money. A m o n g some factors she listed as contributory t o the happy life were: 1. Understanding o f your environment and h o w t o control it. 2. Social support from family and friends. 3. Satisfaction o f drives contributory to physical well-being. 4 . Satisfaction o f aesthetic and sensory drives. 5. Satisfaction o f the exploratory drive (creativity, discovery, etc). O n these criteria she compared Botswana to Britain to the latter's disadvantage. O n these criteria our Pacific societies score well, and along similar lines to those Mrs N o r m a n listed for Botswana. O u r village and countryside environment are simple, and the means o f controlling it are a matter o f traditional k n o w l e d g e passed d o w n over the

Dillingham Lecture 2S3 centuries. On social support, the closely knit traditional village community provides a degree of social support not available in an industrial society where a young adult leaves home and makes his way, probably in another social world. On satisfaction of drives contributing to physical well-being, it might be thought we are at a disadvantage, but a village community, perhaps particularly one on the sea coast, has all the factors required for a good diet—and those of you who have had the good fortune to see rugby teams from the Pacific would certainly not call them undernourished. On the aesthetic and sensory drives, one has perhaps only to look at the beauty of our islands, but the wonderful Pacific Festival of Arts held in Suva in 1972 showed not only the kaleidoscopic variety of our cultural heritage but also the joy of those engaged in it. And then when we come to exploration, satisfaction there is in the variety of rural life and its opportunities for innovation and discovery. The job specialization in an industrial society, especially at the level of factory workers, leaves litde scope for exploration or creation. PRICELESS A D V A N T A G E S

All these are priceless advantages, and our peoples will lose them if they leave their villages in large numbers. But there are some amenities they must have. Good and readily available water is one, and electricity is another. It is curious what blind spots sophisticated people can have. I was speaking to a highly placed minister from a developed country a month or two back who had never realized just what a difference electricity could make in a village by extending the working day. All these improvements can be made—our society cannot be replaced. In conclusion, may I quote a few words used by one of our distinguished leaders on the question of survival in a modern energy world, short of energy. He said, " I f you believe in the survival of the fittest, consider the society that still knows how to cool its water in a running stream and how to cook its food with firewood, that can light its lamps with coconut oil, that can breed horses for transport, and build its houses of logs and thatch. Ask yourselves which society, yours or theirs, is more fit to survive in circumstances which, though unlikely to pitch us all back into the dark ages, may still force us to be more self-reliant and ingenious than the urban dweller has had to be for many generations." I think these thoughts may raise more questions than answers. That is what I promised. Where are the currents going to lead? Time will tell, but I am grateful to you for giving me the opportunity to think aloud about them, and I shall greatly appreciate your views.

APPENDIX

6

Graduation Address to Fiji College of Agriculture

The text of my address to the graduation ceremony at the Fiji College of Agriculture, Koronivia, on 27 November 1975, follows: I think you all know that I am really a farmer at heart—indeed if you could reckon up all the aches and strains I've suffered over the last years, I think you would agree that I am a farmer in body too! All those graduating tonight will shortly be going out to take up farming in some form or another, and I thought I might speak briefly to you on the subject of farming as a science. And let me say at the outset that when I talk of science I am not talking of test tubes and laboratories (though they have their place), but science in its broadest sense, meaning knowledge and also applied knowledge. And it is because it is one of my worries that such knowledge is perhaps not being applied, and if we are not careful it may become lost, that I have chosen to speak on it tonight. The particular science or knowledge I want to speak about is traditional knowledge and traditional application of it. This corpus of knowledge must go back a very long way. It must have evolved over ages and been passed down by word and example from father to son. This knowledge we assume was built up by trial and error, by astute observation over long periods, by selection of the most successful varieties and the development of appropriate agricultural practices. It was a system whereby the old farmers were able to assure themselves of an adequate food supply in various forms. A method of preserving the carbohydrate foods (dalo, breadfruit, vudi), in pits enabled the people to survive droughts, hurricanes, wars, and other calamities. Yams were, of course, a ready made crop for preservation. In order to preserve fertility and avoid pests and diseases, a system of shifting agriculture was practised. All in all, they lived in harmony 2SS

Appendix 6 z$6 with their environment, making adjustments as their environment demanded. The system was self-perpetuating, depending as it did on ecological equilibrium. The actual recording of many of the agricultural practices was done by early Europeans ranging from botanists to mariners, though they were in fact simply setting down what were established methods. For instance, the botanist Berthold Seeman noted that the general signal for planting is the flowering of the drain. The climate and soil conditions which caused the drain to flower had clearly been found to coincide with the time the planting of yams did best. Unless conditions subsequently varied a great deal from normal, the chances were that the crop would prosper when planted at this time. In determining the most propitious time for planting, many considerations need to be taken into account—rainfall, or the lack of it, temperature, hours of sunshine, soil properties, and other factors. It may well be that some plants could be used as what I might call biological computers, that is to say that they automatically absorb and analyse all such information and respond accordingly. Plants selected as natural indicators, like the drala, could tell when the conditions were suitable for planting, harvesting, or other agricultural activities. Rather than relying on human—or even mechanical—computation of all the relevant factors, it would in fact be easier, and more accurate, to let these plants set the timing. Some of these indicators are perhaps not quite so accurate. For example, some people say that when the breadfruit tree is heavily laden with young fruit there will be a hurricane. This could result from the fact that the breadfruit tree, like many other fruit trees, has a biennial habit of bearing a heavy crop, and hurricanes have been known to come at two-yearly intervals. Well, I never really liked breadfruit. In any case, a hurricane is perhaps rather a hazard of agriculture than an integral part of it, though it can also act as a stimulus. Another factor that influences flowering and bearing is the changing day length. In Fiji, June twenty-second is the shortest day and December twenty-second is the longest. Some plants (especially the category of grasses, reeds, duruka, sugarcane, and rice, for example) flower when the daylight reaches a certain critical level. These times are fairly consistent year in and year out and must have been fixed by observation over a long period. (One of the objectives in breeding a rice variety for double cropping was to do away with this photoperiodic response so that rice could be grown at any time of the year.) One has only to look at the names of the old Fijian calendar to see how life revolved round planting and fishing, but also how experi-

Address to Fiji College of Agriculture 2S7 ence over the years had given people the knowledge of the right season of the year for the various operations. These names also stressed the importance of yam cultivation. The year was divided into eleven months, and the only months bearing no names indicative of yam cultivation, were those during which the crop required no particular attention or had been safely housed. Before Western calendars came to Fiji, the year did not begin in January. The first month of the year was the Vula i werewere—June going into July, which was the month to clear the land of weeds and trees. One of the bad inheritances we derived from this time, is the practice of firing the bush, with all its dangers and its bad erosion effects. Perhaps it did not matter so much when planting land was abundant. Clearly it is important to avoid such a practice today. The indicators here were that oranges, kavika, wi, and daw a were ripe. But it was also the time for digging kawai and kaile (species of wild yams), and towards the end of the month large quantities of fish could be caught near the shore. It is, of course, most useful to know the times when fish can be expected in quantity in areas when bad weather can curtail fishing for perhaps two to three weeks at a time. First you can eat as much as you can while the fish is there, saving other protein, and also it can be smoked for the future. Next came the Vula i cukicuki—July-August, when patches of ground were broken up for yam beds, the ground being allowed to lie fallow till the ivi tree bloomed—another indicator. This incidentally was also known as the Vula i liliwa, not surprisingly. September was Vula i vavakada, when reeds were put to yams to enable them to climb up. It was the last of the regular planting months. Then came four months named after fishing. It is not clear whether the fish were the indicators for the land, or vice versa. Perhaps the scientist of today would coin a phrase like "mutually reciprocal indicators"! October was the Vula i balolo lailai: a small rising of balolo fish at a time when kaile and breadfruit were in abundance. For those who missed, in Vula i teitei there was a last chance to plant kawai. November was the Vula i balolo levu, when there was a large rising of balolo. Bananas were plentiful and tivoli were ready for digging. December was the Vula i nuqa lailai—self-explanatory, and a time when new banana and breadfruit planting could be done. The indicator was that the wi began to ripen. The next month, January, was the Vula i nuqa levu, when the nuqa fish arrived in large numbers off the shore. It is the month when reeds blossomed. February was in some ways the high point of the year—Vula i sevu —when the first fruits of yams were offered. Ivi were plentiful, the

Appendix 6 258 dawn ripe, and it was time for sugarcane planting. March was the Vula i kelikeli, when the vast bulk of yams were mature and stored. The leaves were dry, oranges ripe, and ivi put out new leaves. April was the Vula igasau, house-building month. For an occupation that takes numbers of people, possibly some of them coming from a distance, it is clearly good to be able to predict when materials will be at their best. May was the Vula i Aoi, time of the doi tree flowering, when tarawau were already ripe—signals for setting a few early varieties of yams and leading into the beginning of the clearing season again. I have gone through this at some length simply to show that throughout the traditional agricultural and marine year, activities were not carried on in a haphazard way but in what I maintain was a scientific way in accordance with my first definition. You would notice that throughout I used the past tense, regretfully, and I hope perhaps not completely accurately. You will all have the opportunity to put it positively back in the present. It may have been that the old planters could not give complete explanations for the reasons they planted, weeded, harvested, and did whatever else they had to do. But they did know that if they followed certain natural indicators they could not go wrong. All these indicators are still with us today, but they probably do not form part of an agricultural syllabus. It may be that modern agricultural science considers these too old fashioned. But it could pay dividends to take another look at some of this lore. There are lessons to be learned that have been forgotten in the march of progress. One has only to look at the new-found interest in traditional medicinal plants and the intense reexamination that is being conducted. I think I raised this at the South Pacific Commission close on ten years ago, and only recently have we begun to get results. One hears that research is being conducted into varieties of yams, dalo, kumala, duruka, and so on. Quite often, this work could be simplified and made more productive and economical if those doing the investigations took the trouble to find out from the old people how they did these things. In the process of finding out, much can be learnt of the reasons certain varieties are preferred in different areas. Usually, there are very good explanations (and scientifically based, when worked out) because of soil or climate, or topography or palatability, and so on. For example, researching into varieties of dalo or yam that have twice the yield of the present ones loses much of its justification if no one will eat them! The implication of all this is that agricultural practice, if successful in producing food consistently over the years as the old farmers did,

Address to Fiji College ofAgriculture 259 is scientifically correct. The science of the system was built up on accumulated observation and practical experience. For the people of the time, explanations were obtained from natural (and sometimes supernatural) phenomena. As modern science has added new information and interpretations, different rationales have become accepted. But this has not invalidated practice as it existed previously; it has merely given it a different explanation. So, I would urge you to make a real effort to avail yourself of and perhaps even help to improve and develop the science of farming that is there already. I am sure if you do it will bring many benefits to the people you serve, to yourselves, and to your country.

APPENDIX

7

Tribute to the Late President Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau

Following is the text of the state tribute by Acting President Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara at the national memorial church service for the late President Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau in Suva, Wednesday, 29 December 1993. O Lord support us all the day long, until the shadows lengthen and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then in thy mercy grant us a safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace at the last. The day the Lord gave to Penaia Kanatabatu Ganilau has ended. The shadows have lengthened into sunset, and his work is done. He has gone through the night into a new morning. And now we give thanks for the life whose ending we mourn, and, through our tears, we give thanks to God that he has found peace at last. The time has come when we must say farewell. We come, as individuals and as a nation to take our leave of a soldier, a politician, a sportsman, a chief, a Governor-General, a President and, above all, a friend. We have come to grieve for the passing of a man who these many years has served his country and all its people with courage, humour, dignity, humanity, and total dedication. We stand with his family in their time of great loss, as they commit their husband, father, and grandfather into the care and keeping of the Almighty. We have come, as the family of all Fiji's people, and with friends from far countries, to mourn the loss of a leader who stood for a future of peace and unity for all the children of this land he loved so much. We have come to say good-bye, And how hard it is. 261

Appendix 7 262 For as long as I can remember, Ratu Penaia has been a part of my life. We were close relatives, colleagues, and friends. There was never a time when I needed him that he was not there. As children, as students, as politicians, as leaders, and as men. We shared a common heritage, a common upbringing, and a common way of life. Like so many here and far away, I struggle to come to terms with my loss, and my country's loss. For Ratu Penaia cared for Fiji and its people with an abiding love. He served us in many ways for more than half a century. And he has left us with a belief in Fiji's promise and its future which will stand as his legacy. There have been many words said these past days about the man we remember today. We have recalled his achievements and his service, and we have paid tribute to his career and his life's work. And each one of us has remembered, with a smile or a tear, those many moments when he touched our lives. It is right and fitting that we should do so. But our challenge now is not merely to remember, but to dedicate ourselves to the things he stood for, and to fulfil his dream of a peaceful and united Fiji. He himself would wish for no greater memorial than this. As he lay dying, far from the place of his birth, he constantly sought news of Fiji and its people. Is there peace in Fiji? he asked. Are the people united? He had spent much of his lifetime seeking that peace and unity. During this nation's darkest hours and most testing days, he was the beacon that kept us from the rocks. By the sheer force of his will, he held us together. In his calm and measured way, without great fanfare or flourish, he reminded us of what we could become, and, in his last years, he exhorted us time and again to seek a common future. He was a chief of his people, and he cherished and honoured the traditions and the duties that his chiefly role imposed upon him. But he honoured, too, the traditions and beliefs of Fiji's other communities. His was a vision of a Fiji which was home to us all, a Fiji in which all our cultures and faiths stood as a symbol of peace, tolerance, and understanding. He believed we could only find true peace and prosperity in a Fiji which provided for the hopes and aspirations of all its peoples, and which secured their rights and their future. Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau dedicated much of his life to the pursuit of that future. He represented in a very real way, that ideal, of the unity

Tribute to President Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau 263 he dreamed of. The love, affection, and respect we felt for him went beyond racial barriers and reflected the heart of our country. "Almighty God," he said, "has given us a land of abundance in which to live. He has surrounded us with oceans teeming with life. He has granted us the privilege of living among peoples of many cultures, and sharing in the richness of that diversity. As citizens of Fiji, we are a fortunate people indeed." And how fortunate we are to have had such a leader, such a friend. How fortunate we are that, in war and in peace, at work and at play, and in our times of greatest need, we had such a one to walk beside us. Though he is gone, we are the richer for his having been here. We cannot clasp his strong hand today, we cannot see his smile, nor hear his voice. But we feel his presence, and we know that his memory and his legacy will be with us always. And, if we find ourselves losing our way, if we find ourselves failing to finish the task that he has begun, we know we will feel his admonishing glare. For, though he is no longer among us, his spirit and memory will continue to guide us and give us strength. Penaia Kanatabatu Ganilau, we have come to say farewell. The honour now falls upon me, of speaking for all our people, in this time of our loss. Others will speak for our provinces, for the vanua. Others will speak for our Fijian, Indian, and minority communities. I speak for the Fiji of which you dreamed. I speak for the people of these islands who share your dream, whose future you fought for, and whose country you dedicated your life to. For your courage, your dedication, your humour, and your compassion, we thank you. For your selfless service to Fiji and its people to the very end, we thank you. And, most of all, for your vision of what we can, and must, become, we thank you. Chief, president, leader, statesman: Your people say, farewell. We, whom you served so long and so well, join in saying, Well done, thou good and faithful servant. And, now that the fever of life is over, may God Almighty in his mercy grant you safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace at the last. And, for myself, my dear and trusted friend, my playmate, fellowstudent, colleague, comrade, and companion, I, too, say thank you. Thank you for the years we shared. Thank you for the sure support of your strong arm and the help and counsel willingly given throughout your life, and the legacy of courage and vision left to me in death. Farewell, Peni. It's Mara here. I want to tell you, your Ai Sokula clan has paid you a great tribute.

Appendix 7 264. They say that since the day of your passing, Uluiqalau has been veiled in low, dark clouds. The lake at the summit is strewn with the fallen petals of the ta^imaucia. The waters of the lake have overflowed, running over the mountain side as giant tear drops in mourning for their beloved son. So go well, Peni. March on, Good Soldier. The Angels salute you. For Penaia Kanatabatu Ganilau, thanks be to God.

Glossary and Fijian Pronunciation

FIJIAN PRONUNCIATION

b is pronounced mb, as in number d is pronounced nd, as in window q is pronounced ng, as in linger

c is pronounced th, as in then g is pronounced ng, as in bring

GLOSSARY OF FIJIAN WORDS

Adi

title denoting a woman of chiefly rank

Buli

Fijian Administration official in charge of a tikina

bure

Fijian house built with local materials

cavu i kelekele

ceremony inviting visitors to land

cobo

gende clapping of cupped hands to show respect

dalo

taro

dau

used to show repeated or customary performance

daveta

passage through a reef

dawn deruct

hollow bamboo struck on the ground to produce

doi

sound Alphitonia fmnguloides, buckthorn

doka

honour

drain

tree, whose flowering is an indicator for seasonal

duruka

Facchamum eduli, a grass; Fijian asparagus

jjalala

person exempt from communal duties

Pometia pinnata tree

agricultural activity

isa (lei)

alas; expression of regret

ivi

Inoca-rpus fagiferus, Tahitian chestnut

kaile

Dioscorea pentaphylla., wild yam

kavika

Syzgium malaccense, mountain apple

kawai

Calycosia. lejjeniformis, sweet yam

kumala. lali

sweet potato carved open wooden drum 26s

Glossary 266 lovo masi mata ni vanua mataqali meke Peritania qaloqalovi qaqa qusi ni loaloa Radi tide Ranadi rejjurejju Roko salasijja sevusevu sulu tabua tagimaucia talai taququ tarawau taukei tauvu tavata tavi tikina tivoli toa tokatoka Tut tui boto tukutuku raraba vakacegu va.ka.ma.lolo vakataraisulu vakaturaga vanua va.su vasu levu

earth oven bark cloth from the paper mulberry tree (Broussonetia papyrifera); tapa herald, spokesman family group descended on the male side dance Britain ceremony of welcome, stricdy for arrival by sea victory celebratory thanksgiving ceremony accorded the wife of a high chief Queen ceremony of sympathy male tide of rank; also used of Fijian Administration official in charge of a yasa.no. ceremonial barkcloth turban (stricdy) ceremonial offering of a yaqona root; loosely used of other offerings Fijian kilt whale tooth Medinilla Waterhousei, climbing plant messenger tenacious Dmcontomelon vitiense tree owner, Fijian relationship, often used in a joking way a light platform duty Fijian district, part of a yasana Dioscorea nummalaria, wild yam fowl subdivision of a mataqali chiefly tide Fijian dance akin to the conga register of Fijian landholding rights and customs rest (easy) Fijian sitting dance, often humorous ceremony to mark the end of mourning in a chiefly manner land, country relationship of a sister's son, conferring privileges the va.su relationship at high rank

Glossary 267 veivosoti vinakata Viti vudi Vunivalu wa-ka wi yadra yasana yaqona.

yavu

mutual tolerance like, love Fiji Musa balbisiana, plantain high chiefly title, preeminently but not exclusively of Bau yaqona root Spondias dulcis tree watch, awake province the plant Piper methysticum; the drink made from pounding the root and making an infusion with water; drunk both ceremonially and socially throughout the South Seas; more widely known as kava home site, usually of a chief

Index

Subentries are arranged, in chronological order. Achilles Club, 28, 33 ACP (African, Caribbean, and Pacific group), 152, 166, 176; and STABEX, 130-132; and sugar negotiations, 164, 250; support Fiji's readmission to Commonwealth, 225; Suva meeting of, 134, 137, 189 Africa, 33, 60, 111, 155, 248, 250. See also names of individual countries Afro-Asian group in United Nations, 117 Agricultural Landlord and Tenant legislation, 1 3 2 , 1 5 9 - 1 6 0 agricultural signs, 58, 2 5 5 - 2 5 9 agriculture in Fiji, 45, 150, 179; traditional practices, 2 5 5 - 2 5 9 Ah Koy, James, 192 aid, 144, 1 4 9 - 1 5 0 , 1 5 5 , 1 6 6 , 1 7 8 Aidney, Don, 73, 75 Air Pacific, 1 8 7 , 2 1 1 air travel, Pacific, 14, 108, 2 0 7 Aisake from Namara, 16 Ai Sokula clan, 16-17, 2 6 3 - 2 6 4 Albert Park, Suva, 14, 65, 109 Alebua, Ezekiel, 197 Ali, Dr Ahmed, 181, 195 Alliance Party, 64, 80, 81, 84-85; 1966 policy of, 80; and constitution, 96; Indians in, 98, 182; in 1972 election, 122; multiracialism of, 122; and repatriation of Indians, 126; 1977 policies of, 132, 133, 134; submission to Denning Commission, 160; and 1982 election, 181, 183, 186; and 1987 election, 190; post-coup policies of, 201,202 American Samoa, 23, 170 Anne, Princess, 143

Anthony, James, 65 Anyaoku, Chief Emeka, 205 appeals system, 59 Apted, Harry, 48, 49 Archibald, Fred, 75 Arthur, George, 15 ASEAN (Association of South-East Asian Nations), 176, 224 Asian Development Bank, 117 associated state status. See Fiji: relationship with Britain of Atkinson, D, 48, 49 Australia, 113, 167, 178; in Pacific Forum, 171, 174; and military takeover, 178, 197, 198; and Fiji's exclusion from Commonwealth, 205 Australian Labour Party, 184 Ba, 5 0 - 5 1 , 1 4 2 , 183 Baker, Ray, 119 Baker, Mrs Ray, 120 Banaba, 99 bananas, 45, 72, 168-170, 2 5 7 Bandaranaike, Sirimavo, 147, 149, 199 Bangladesh, 188 Bank of New Zealand, 26, 28 Barbados, 149, 163 Barrett, Wesley, 96 Barrow, Errol, 149 Bau, 5, 15, 123, 186 Bavadra, Dr Timoci, 191, 2 0 1 - 2 0 2 , 212; actions following coup, 1 9 2 , 1 9 3 , 197, 198 BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation), 21, 163 Beddoes,Ted, 123 Beijing, 21

269

Index 270 Beqa, 36, 40 birth control, 175 Bogi, Josua, 21 Bole, Filipe, 178, 196, 206 books, sacred, 110 Bose, Isimeli, 183 Bosnia, 140 Botswana, 146, 252 Boutros-Ghali, Boutros, 141 Bowen-Jones, Gwyn, 161 Bowra, Sir Maurice, 26, 27, 33 Boys' Town, 128 Brennan, Sir Gerard, 160 British Phosphate Commission, 99n Brown, Doug, 8 2 , 1 2 2 , 1 3 9 , 161 Brussels, 5 3 , 1 5 2 , 1 6 4 - 1 6 5 , 1 6 6 Buia, Ilikena, 13, 4 8 ^ 9 Burnham, Forbes, 87, 147 Burnham, Violet, 87 Burns, Sir Alan, 56 Burns Commission Report, 56-57, 67 Bush, George, 179, 225 Bustamente, Sir Alexander, 87 Butadroka, Sakeasi, 126, 132-133, 135, 191 Butler, David, 197 Cadbury's cocoa factory, 52 Cakau, Tui, 2, 4, 17, 215 Cakobau, 45, 123 Cakobau, Ratu Sir Edward, 13-14, 15, 16, 8 1 - 8 2 , 1 2 2 , 1 2 7 ; at Oxford, 26, 27, 29, 30; and tax on native land, 56; and Fijian Association, 63, 64; and Council of Chiefs, 69; at London conference, 75; chairs constitutional meetings, 9 6 , 9 7 , 9 8 , 9 9 ; naming "Fijians," 98; and common roll, 99, 100; and table of precedence, 108 Cakobau, Ratu Sir George, 26, 35, 69, 234; in London, 7 5 - 7 8 ; as governorgeneral, 122, 1 2 7 , 1 3 5 - 1 3 6 Cakobau, Ratu Seru, 4, 5, 186 calendar, Fijian traditional, 2 5 7 - 2 5 8 Callaghan, Lord, 1 5 3 , 1 5 4 Calliope, HMS, 124 Cambodia, 140 Canada, 178, 179, 199, 205 canefarmers' strikes, 6 3 - 6 4 , 8 2 , 1 3 3 , 1 5 9 , 160 Capetown, 53 Cargill, Reverend David, 1, 19 Carpenter, W R (Fiji), Limited, 4 7 Carrington, Edwin, 134

Carrington, Lord, 156 Carroll, Alan, 184 Carter, Martin, 110 Cavalevu, Josua, 196 Cayzer, Mr, 51 Central Medical School. See Fiji School of Medicine Cession of Fiji, 4, 67; Deed of Cession, 67, 103, 186; and link with Crown, 68, 210; and Fiji constitution, 96, 233-234 Ceylon. See Sri Lanka Chalmers, Nat, 63, 64 Channel Islands, 67, 68, 235 Charles, Prince of Wales, 107, 109, 110, 111, 119; wedding of, 143-144; at independence, 238 China, People's Republic o f , 179, 199, 211,224 China, Republic o f , 1 7 9 , 1 9 9 , 211 Chinese community in Fiji, 75 Chirac, Jacques, 210 Cicia, 7, 17 Cikobia, 9 citizenship, in Fiji, 98, 102 civil service, of Fiji, 68, 137, 1 4 2 - 1 4 3 cobo, 9 2 , 9 3 , 110 cocoa, 52, 72 coffee, 72 Coles, Mrs, 29 Colombo Plan, 117 common roll, and constitutional change, 74, 75, 7 9 , 1 0 1 , 1 2 5 ; Indian preference for, 62, 64, 7 4 , 9 6 , 9 8 ; and cross-voting, 100; opposition to, 132 Commonwealth, British: tour of, 8 6 - 9 0 ; Fiji's relationship to, 99, 113, 116, 117, 205; trade preferences, 100; thanksgiving service, 107; heads of government meetings, 145-158; Foundation, 148 Commonwealth Fund for Technical Cooperation, 139-140, 148, 151 Commonwealth Heads of Government Meetings, 3 0 , 1 1 6 , 1 4 5 - 1 5 8 , 1 8 4 , 250; in Singapore, 145-148; in Ottawa, 148-150; in Kingston, 1 5 0 152; in London, 152-154; in Lusaka, 155-156; in Suva, 188; in Vancouver, 204, 2 0 8 , 2 0 9 Commonwealth Secretariat, 158 Commonwealth Sugar Agreement, 113, 152, 158; and British entry to EEC,

Index 271 1 0 1 , 1 6 2 ; Fiji's quota under, 163-165, 166 communications media: press, 192; press briefings, 66, 6 8 , 1 0 2 , 1 8 2 - 1 8 3 , 1 9 5 , 197-198; radio, 132, 163; television, 183-184, 185; Western, 203 Constitution: of 1966, 96; of 1970, 85, 191, 1 9 5 , 1 9 7 , 208; of 1990, 213, 215,223 Constitutional Conference: of 1965, 68, 74-85; of 1 9 7 0 , 9 9 , 1 0 1 - 1 0 4 , 1 2 5 , 181, 197 constitutional reviews, 62, 65, 66, 67, 84, 118; in 1988, 201, 208; in 1 9 9 5 1996, 137 Coode, James, 50 Cook, Captain James, 46, 98 Cook Islands, 170, 173, 238, 247 cooperative societies, 129 copra and coconuts, 6, 13, 72-73, 131, 154 Cornuelle, Herb, 177 Council of Chiefs, 14, 15, 56; and Fijian members of Legislative Council, 62; representation on, 66; frequency of meetings, 67; and land, 68, 83, 97, 233; and "Fijians," 97; and common roll, 98; and offices for Fijians, 137, 186-187; opened by Queen Elizabeth, 186; post-coup, 195, 196, 206 Council of Ministers, 1 9 6 , 1 9 8 coups. See military takeover cricket, 13, 21, 23, 24, 30-31, 33, 120; Dewar Shield, 38; in Fiji, 4 5 ^ 6 , 48, 49, 51; and West Indians, 60; England vs Australia, 147; blue, 230 Cross, Reverend William, 1 , 1 9 Crown, influence of and relations with, 157, 209, 210; dominion status, 67, 99; role of monarchy in Fiji, 224 Crown agents, 51 Cruickshank, Bill, 196 CSR (Colonial Sugar Refining Company), 51, 6 4 , 1 1 2 , 1 6 0 - 1 6 1 , 168; officials of, 50, 7 3 , 1 6 2 Cumberland, Professor Kenneth B, 57 cyclones and hurricanes, 43, 58, 166; in 1952, 3 8 - 3 9 , 4 2 - 1 3 ; in 1973, Lottie, 123; in 1978, Fay, 141; in 1979, Meli, 141; in 1980, Tia, 143; in 1980,Wally, 143; in 1981, Arthur, 124, 143; in 1983, Oscar, 1 6 7 , 1 8 7 Cyprus, 156

dancing: Fijian, 13, 94, 95, 103; Tongan, 23; in London, 31 Daulakeba, 95 Dean, Noor, 192 Decolonisation Committee, United Nations, 105, 113, 117 delinquency in Suva, 127-128 Denarau development, 2 1 7 - 2 1 8 Denmark, 189 Denning, Lord, 160 Deoki, Andrew I N, 64, 75, 77 de Peiza, C, 48, 49 de Roburt, Hammer, 171, 172, 173 devaluation, 201, 205 development plans, 66, 100, 118, 132, 221 Diana, Princess of Wales, 143 Dillingham Lecture, 177, 2 4 3 - 2 5 3 diplomatic missions, 113-115 disasters, natural, 39—10, 141, 143, 167, 179, 251. See also cyclones and hurricanes Donaldson, "Sir Alec," 20 Donaldson, June, 20 Donnelly, Bill, 5 4 - 5 5 Donnelly, Martin, 31 Douglas-Home, Sir Alec (Lord H o m e ) , 119-120 Dovi, Ratu Dr J A R, 19, 22, 25, 27 Dowling, Bruce, 162 Dreketi, Roko Tui, 34, 35 Dreketirua, Opetaia, 15 dress, 78, 87, 9 1 - 9 2 , 9 3 , 1 8 9 Dunrossil, Lord, 204 East Germany, 115 East-West Center, Honolulu, 177, 178, 243 ECAFE (Economic Commission for Asia and the Far East), 117 Eccles, Professor, 48 Eckert, Fred, 225 economic development in Fiji, 42, 144; and Spate Report, 55-56; and Burns Report, 66; and sugar industry, 1 3 0 131; and Mclntyre Report, 153-154; and energy, 222. See also development plans economy of Fiji, 181, 187, 2 2 1 - 2 2 2 , 2 4 6 - 2 4 7 ; post-coup, 2 0 6 - 2 0 9 , 214, 2 1 6 - 2 1 7 ; and corporatisation, 218; national summit meetings on, 220 Edgbaston Cricket Ground, 3 0 - 3 1 Edinburgh, 1 9 , 1 5 3

Index 272 education in Fiji, 58, 66, 125, 133 Edward, Prince, 112 Edwards, Oliver, 44 EEC (European Economic Community), Britain's entry to, 101, 117, 148, 164; and STABEX, 131; and ACP countries, 132, 134, 137, 152; and Pacific countries, 175, 190 Efi, Tupuola, 174 EIE (Japanese company), 217 elections: of 1963, 69; of 1966, 79, 81; 1968 by-election, 84; of 1972, 122; of 1977, 132-134; of 1982, 181-185; of 1987,190 Elizabeth II, Queen of Fiji and Great Britain, 67, 78, 91, 92, 143, 209; and Fiji independence, 1 0 7 , 1 0 9 - 1 1 0 , 1 2 3 ; jubilee year of, 152-153; role in Commonwealth Heads of Government meetings, 157, 204; visits Fiji, 6 2 , 1 8 6 , 210 Emperor Gold Mining Company, 51, 132 Eve, Sir Malcolm Trustram (Lord Silsoe),

160,162 exclusive economic zone, 118 expatriate officers, 111-112, 149, 175 Falvey, Sir John, 71, 92, 234; at 1965 constitutional conference, 75, 77; member of Alliance government, 122, 126; attorney-general, 138, 145; member of constitutional review committee, 201 Fatafehi, 23 Federated States of Micronesia, 175-176 Federation Party. See National Federation Party Fiji: administrative divisions, 35, 69; relationship with Britain of, 67-68, 201, 235-236; as republic, 195, 205; Commonwealth status of, 210, 224, 225 Fiji Air, 123 Fijian Administration, 56, 57, 132, 133 Fijian Affairs Board, 56, 66, 68, 83, 2 3 3 234, 235 "Fijian" as name for nationals, 9 7 - 9 8 Fijian Association, 63-64, 75, 79, 80, 103 Fijian Development Fund, 41-^12; Board of, 55, 166 Fijian Holdings Limited, 221 Fijian Nationalist Party, 126, 132, 133, 190 Fiji Congress Party, 75 Fiji Democratic Party, 81

Fiji Development Bank, 221 Fiji flag, 107-108, 1 0 9 , 1 1 9 , 130, 238, 240 Fiji Flour Mills, 142 Fiji Medical Service, 178 Fiji Military Forces, 7, 17, 1 2 8 , 1 4 0 , 1 9 4 , 230 Fiji Minority Party, 75, 79 Fiji national anthem, 108 Fiji National Marketing Authority, 218 Fiji National Stadium, 143 Fiji National Video Centre, 190 Fiji Pine Commission, 218 Fiji Post,, 206 Fiji School of Medicine (formerly Central Medical School), 18-19, 2 6 , 1 1 8 , 229 Fiji Sugar Corporation Limited, 1 6 1 , 1 6 6 , 207 Fiji Sugar Marketing Company, 167 Fiji Sun, 1 9 3 , 2 0 6 Fiji Times, 8 9 - 9 0 , 102, 137; comments on political actions, 1 3 6 , 1 3 8 , 142, 192; closure, 206 FINAPECO (Fiji National Petroleum Company), 223 Finau, Ratu Alifereti, 2, 4, 5 - 6 , 12 fish cannery, 123 Fisher, Nigel, 67, 68, 69, 234, 235 fishing in Fiji, 1 2 , 4 2 , 2 1 2 , 245, 2 5 6 , 2 5 7 ; by Mara, 38; rights negotiations, 175, 176; and hurricanes, 58 floods, 38-39, 141 Fong Toy, Pauline, 83 food: father's, 8; youthful importance of, 11, 13, 15, 17, 2 7 - 2 8 ; in hurricane relief, 43—14; in London, 52, 103; in Fijian villages, 56, 255 Foreign Affairs Department of Fiji, establishment of, 113-115 Foreign policy of Fiji: after independence, 1 1 5 - 1 1 9 , 1 4 8 ; post-coup, 1 9 6 , 1 9 9 200,224-226 forestry, 4 5 , 50-51, 187, 190. See also pine planting Forum Fisheries Agency, 176 Forum Secretariat, 116, 170, 175, 250 Forum Shipping Line, 176 Foster, Sir Robert, 109 France, 148, 170, 175, 240 Francisco, Brother Anthony, 128 Fraser, Malcolm, 172, 194 freight rates, 172, 176 French Polynesia, 174, 179, 180

Index Fruit Distributors Limited, New Zealand, 72 Fulaga, 4 2 , 4 5 , 1 2 3 Fulbright, Senator William, 177 Gadai, Adi, 34 jjalala, 58 Gandhi, Indira, 88, 144 Gandhi, Rajiv, 2 0 9 Ganilau, Ratu Sir Penaia, 1 6 - 1 7 , 82, 122, 134, 234; at Oxford, 21, 26, 27, 29, 30; and Fijian Administration, 57, 64; and Council o f Chiefs, 69; at London Conference, 75, 76, 79; as chair of independence committee, 107; and search for Uluilakeba, 123; as defence minister, 145; and sugar negotiations, 167; and military takeover, 195, 2 0 4 ; as governor-general, 2 0 6 , 2 1 3 - 2 1 4 ; death of, 2 2 7 , 2 6 1 - 2 6 4 Garvey, Sir Ronald, 63 Gau, 17 General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade, 100 General Electors' Association, 79, 80 Germany, 28, 190 Ghana, 189 Gleneagles, 153, 157 gold mining, 132, 139, 190 golf, 5 1 , 9 2 , 1 5 3 , 1 7 0 , 1 8 8 Gonewai, Ratu Meli, 65 Gosling, Jack, 48, 49 government of national unity, 71, 1 8 1 185, 197 Graham, Sir John, 120 Grant, Sir Clifford, 143 Guam, 179 Guyana, 8 7 - 8 8 , 1 4 7 , 1 5 2 Hackett, 2 3 - 2 4 Hadlee, Walter, 24 Hall, Frank, 20 Hall, Henry and Margery, 5 9 - 6 0 Hans Seidel Foundation, 190 Hassan, A (Suva lawyer), 66 Hassan, Datu Haji Abu, 2 0 6 Hawai'i, 177, 179 Hawke, Robert, 197, 202, 2 0 5 Heath, Sir Edward, 146, 147 Hennings, Gus, 9 Hennings, Mrs. See Tuisalalo, Adi Mere Henry, Albert, 171, 172, 173 Henry, Geoffrey, 173 Heseltine, Sir Michael, 2 0 2 , 2 0 3 , 2 1 0

273 Hiddlestone, Dr John, 2 4 - 2 5 Hocart, A M, 13 Holland, 28 Hollies, Eric, 31 Holyoake, Sir Keith, 51, 146, 171 Holyrood House, 9 1 Hong Kong, 199 Honolulu, 1 2 9 - 1 3 0 Hoodless, Dr, 19 housing: in Fiji, 42^43, 56; in Jamaica, 87; Mara's, 5 1 - 5 2 , 59, 1 1 0 - 1 1 1 , 134, 191-192 Hughes, Carl, 78 hurricanes. See cyclones and hurricanes Ieli, Fred, 15 Ika Corporation, 2 1 8 independence celebrations, 1 0 8 - 1 0 9 , 109-110 independence check list, 1 0 7 - 1 1 2 independence of Fiji, 67, 77, 170; transition to, 8 5 , 9 6 - 1 0 4 , 1 0 5 - 1 1 2 , 2 4 0 241 India, 68, 88, 144, 188, 2 1 0 , 2 2 5 Indian Alliance, 80 Indian community in Fiji, 97. See also Indo-Fijians Indo-Fijians, 58, 62, 63, 68, 141, 144; as members of Legislative Council, 67; at 1965 London conference, 75; and electoral rolls, 9 6 , 9 8 , 1 9 1 ; repatriation of, 126, 133, 141 Indonesia, 199, 251 industrial relations, 139, 2 1 9 , 2 2 0 , 2 2 1 . See also strikes; trade unions in Fiji Interim Administration, 2 0 6 - 2 0 7 , 208, 213-215,224,226 International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (IBRD), 166 International Centre for Living Aquatic Resource Management (ICLARM), 180 International Monetary Fund, 187 International Sea Bed Authority, 139 International Sugar Agreement, 113, 165 investiture, 9 1 - 9 2 Iraq, 140 Iremonger, Lucille, 21 Isaacs, Dr Lindsay. See Verrier, Dr Lindsay "Isa Lei," 6 - 7 , 2 1 , 2 3 Isle of Man, 67, 6 8 , 2 3 5 Ivory Coast, 166

Index 274 Jagan, Dr Cheddi and Mrs Janet, 87-88 Jai Narayan, Irene, 134, 190, 205 Jakeway, Sir Derek, 69, 75, 76 Jamaica, 86-87, 139,147, 162 Japan, 143,166, 178,179, 199, 211 Jawardene, 199 Joint Commercial Commission, 179 Jones, Eric, 167 Kaba, 42 Kabara, 42 Kacimaiwai, Nurse, 141 Kadavu, 3 6 , 6 1 , 1 4 1 , 1 8 7 Kadavulevu, Ratu, 5 Kadavulevu (ship), 125 Kakua, Adi Asenaca, 4 Kamikamica, Josefa, 216 Kanokupolu, Tu'i, 3 Katafaga, 9 Katavatu (ship) Kaunda, Kenneth, 145, 146, 147, 148, 156 kava. See yaqona Kearsley, Peter, 75 Keith-Reid, Robert, 136 Kermode, Sir Ronald, 75 Khama, Sir Seretse, 30, 146,147 Khan, M T, 126 Kingsford-Smith, Sir Charles, 14 Kingston, Jamaica, 131, 150-152 Kinikinilau, Ratu Salesi, 5, 9-10 Kiribati, 173,174, 180 Kirk, Norman, 150, 172 Kirkwood, Sir Robert, 162 Kisan Sangh, 63, 64. See also trade unions in Fiji Kissinger, Henry, 167 Kitzinger, Uwe, 101 knowledge, traditional, 58-59 Konate, 134 Koro, 143 Koroi, Uraia, 63 Koya, Siddiq M, 75, 76, 77, 78, 9 6 , 2 3 7 238; and common roll, 98; dancing in London, 103; as leader of opposition, 97,105-107,126,184; as government leader, 135, 136, 138, 139 Kuwait, 140 Labasa, 35 Lae, 170 Lakeba, 1, 3, 8, 21, 23, 32,91,192; leave in, 45-46,142 Lakshman, B D, 57,65

Lala, G P, 127 Lambert, Brother, 19 land in Fiji, 56-57, 68, 83, 84; Fijian word for, 118; as capital, 42,133; ownership of, 208-209, 245; land use policy, 71; safeguards for Fijian owners, 64, 97, 99; land values, 139, 247. See also Native Lands Trust Board Landlord and Tenant Bill, 83 Lange, David, 173-174, 197, 205 Lasakau, 42 Lateef, Abdul, 170 Lau, 1, 3, 4, 61 Lau, Tui, 91 Laucala Bay, 38, 82 Lau Confederacy, 3, 4 Lau Provincial Council, 55, 73,127,137, 186 Lau Provincial School, 10, 12-14, 18, 229 Lautoka, 35, 125,172,211 Lautoka Teachers' College, 125 Law of the Sea Convention, 118, 132, 139,155, 251; signatories to, 175; and Forum Fisheries Authority, 176 Lebanon, 140, 188 Lee Kuan Yew, 89, 145, 147, 148-149, 150, 1 8 8 , 1 9 9 , 2 0 5 , 2 2 5 Legislative Council: Fijian members of, 63, 66, 98; 1965 debate, 68; composition of, 76, 79; and independence, 99; special meeting of, 100; and sugar strike, 159 Lesuma, Inoke, 63 Levuka, 4, 1 1 , 1 2 , 4 6 , 60, 186 Leweniqila, Militoni, 192, 195 Lewis, Sir Arthur, 60 Lewis, Justin, 75 Lightbourne, Robert Lindwall, Ray, 24 Lini, Walter, 173 Li Xien, 199 Lomaiviti, 61 Lomaloma, 1, 2, 7, 8 , 4 5 Lomé Convention, 130, 132, 248; compared to STABEX, 151 ; and sugar prices, 154, 165; effects on Fiji, 166, 190; and World Trade Agreement, 167 London Commonwealth Heads of Government meeting, 152-154 London School of Economics, 13, 229 Lord's Cricket Ground, 60 Luckner, Captain von, 68 Lusaka, 155-156, 184

Index 27 s Ma'afii, 3, 4, 9 1 Macfarlane, Noel, 66 Mackenzie, Tessa, 108 Macpherson, Dr, 19 Maddocks, Sir Kenneth, 65 Madhavan, James, 64, 75 Madraiwiwi, Ratu Jone, 2, 4, 9 Mahathir, Dr Muhammad, 225 Maitoga, Atunaisa, 135 Major, Robert M, 71, 234 Makasiale, James, 177 Makasiale, Viliame, 7 Makitalena, Adi, 195 Malani, Roko, 1, 2 Malaysia, 113, 166, 188, 209, 225; visits to, 88, 199 Malietoa, 25 Mancham, James, 153, 204 Manley, Michael, 151, 152 Manueli, Paul, 140 manufacturing industries in Fiji, 1 2 5 , 1 4 2 , 150,190,217 Maopa, Adi Litiana, 2, 4 Mara, Ratu Finau, 94 Mara, Ratu George, 9 1 Mara, Ratu Sir Kamisese K T : birth and naming, 1 , 9 ; childhood, 9 - 1 2 ; athletic activities, 17, 21, 23, 28, 30, 33, 38 (see also cricket; golf; rugby); religious convictions, 19, 29; marriage, 34-35; health, 226 Education: 12-33; Sacred Heart Convent, 12; Lau Provincial School, 12-14; Queen Victoria School, 1 5 17; Central Medical School, 1 8 19, 29; Marist Brothers' School, 19-20, 22; Sacred Heart College, 20; Otago University, 2 0 - 2 5 ; Wadham College, Oxford, 2 6 - 3 3 ; London School of Economics, 13, 59; economic endeavours, 13; student finances, 2 7 - 2 8 , 2 8 - 2 9 , 59; mentors, 13, 15, 16, 22, 27, 29, 31-33, 81-82; musical knowledge, 21; at course for colonial officers, 33 District Officer: 34, 35-53, 230; diaries, 36; as magistrate, 3 6 - 3 7 ; work of, 37, 47 European travels, 28, 5 2 - 5 3 Honours: 9 1 - 9 5 ; Tui Lau, 91; Tui Nayau, 91, 9 2 - 9 5 ; Sau ni Vanua, 94; investiture, 91-92

Fijian offices: 54, 230; Legislative Council, 44, 62, 230; early political career, 69-70; Member for Natural Resources, 1 6 1 - 1 6 2 , 1 6 8 , 230; Leader of Government Business, 230; Chief Minister, 230; Prime Minister, 122-132, 135-137, 230; role in Interim Government, 231 Mara, Ratu Kapaiwai, 2, 9 Mara, Adi Lady Lala, 2, 34-35, 52, 59, 135, 143, 192; on Commonwealth tour, 86, 87; as Radi ni Nayau, 93, 94 Marcus, Aaron, 129, 244 Margaret, Princess, 31 Margrethe II, Queen of Denmark, 189 Marist Brothers' High School, Suva, 19, 22, 229 Marlborough House, 101, 1 0 2 - 1 0 3 Marshall, Jack, 172 Masau clan, 122 Mason (Lau Provincial School teacher), 13 Mata'afa, 25, 171, 172 Mataisau (ship), 124 Matakicicia, 9 3 Mate, Colonel George, 94 Mauritius, 97, 168, 225 Mavoa, Jonate, 122 Mawi, Tomasi, 18 McGrath (Queen Victoria School teacher), 15 Mclntyre, Alister, 151 Mclntyre Report, 153-154 McLoughlin, Don, 139 media. See communications media Meeks, C M, 57 membership system, 6 6 - 6 7 , 7 0 - 7 1 , 74, 181,236 Metcalfe, Mr and Mrs, 20 Methodist Church, 1 1 , 1 6 , 1 9 , 1 9 7 , 226 Methodist Farm School, 82 Micronesia, Federated States of. See Federated States of Micronesia migration, urban, 58 military government, 206, 216 military takeover, 1987: 194-200, 214; economic effects of, 221 Miller, Keith, 24 missionaries, 1, 19 Moala, 17, 124 Moceiwaqa, Adi Ateca, 5 Mocelutu, Nacanieli, 6 3 Monasavu Hydroelectric Scheme, 190 Montfort Brothers, 128

Index 276 Moore, J A, 75 Muaituraga, 94 Mualevu, 9 , 1 0 , 45 Muldoon, Sir Robert, 172, 174 Mulroney, Brian, 205 multiracialism, 7, 79, 80, 81, 89, 104, 122; at Marist Brothers' School, 1 9 20; of Indians, 75, 80; policies of, 1 8 0 , 1 9 1 , 1 9 4 , 197, 226-227; pitfalls of, 88 multiracial society, 108, 117, 125, 144, 145,240 Munia, 9 Mururoa Atoll, 170 Mustapha, Reverend Daniel, 197 Nabala, 4 1 Nabou, Apisai, 15 Nabua, 54 Nadi, 1 3 8 , 2 1 7 Nadroga, 17 Naidu, Richard, 202 Nair, Raman, 114, 145 Naisara, Jone, 122 Naitonotoni, 36 Nakasaleka, 4 0 - 4 1 Namibia, 140 Namosi, 36, 38-39 Namuka, 46 Nandan, Satya, 139 Narocivo, 92, 93 Natal, 53 National Council of Reconciliation, 202 National Economic Summit (Fiji), 2 1 8 219,220 National Federation Party, 74, 76-77, 81, 84, 142, 184; Fijians in, 98, 182; in 1977 election, 132, 133, 134-135, 137; submission to Denning Commission, 160; in 1982 convention, 183; and defection of Mrs Jai Narayan, 190 National Marketing Authority, 218 Nation Magazine, 84 Native Land Development Corporation, 166, 167 Native Lands Trust Board, 42, 55, 68, 84, 160, 1 6 6 , 2 3 3 Nauru, 170, 174, 238, 2 4 7 Nausori, 4 3 Navua, 3 5 - 4 1 , 4 3 , 4 5 Nayacakalou, Rusiate, 55 Nayau, 1, 3, 141 Nayau, Radi ni (grandmother), 12 Nayau, Radi ni (wife), 93, 94

Nayau, Tui, 1, 3, 4, 5, 72; copra entitlement of, 6; installation as, 91, 93, 94 Nehru, Pandit, 144 New Caledonia, 1 7 4 , 1 7 9 , 2 1 0 - 2 1 1 New Hebrides community in Fiji, 75 New Zealand, 113; representative of, at Ottawa, 148, 150; sugar agreement with, 166; banana exports to, 1 6 8 170; in Pacific Forum, 171-174; and PIDP, 178; post-coup position of, 197, 205 Nichols, Geoff, 73 Niger, 166 Nigeria, 1 5 2 , 2 0 5 , 2 5 0 Niue, 172 Nkrumah, Mrs Kwame, 189 North Korea, 175 Nott, Charles, 54 Noumea, 170 nuclear testing, 148, 170, 175, 207, 211, 251 Nuku, 2 3 Nuku'alofa, 1, 23 Nyerere, Julius, 147, 152, 250 Obote, Milton, 146, 147 Ocean Island, 99 O'Connell, Professor Daniel P, 115 Ogea, 42, 123 oil industry, 172, 179, 2 2 2 - 2 2 3 oil workers' strike, 64 Ono-i-Lau, 45 Otago University, 19, 20, 24, 25, 26, 48, 229 Ottawa, 148-150 Oxford University, 6, 21, 24, 2 6 - 2 7 , 1 8 9 , 229,230 Pacific Democratic Union, 194 Pacific Forum. See South Pacific Forum Pacific Forum Line, 176 Pacific Islands Conference, 177, 178, 179 Pacific Islands Development Program (PIDP), 177-180, 193 Pacific Islands Producers' Association (PIPA), 116, 1 6 8 , 2 5 0 Pacific regional cooperation, 116 Paeniu, Bikenibeu, 173 Pago Pago, 23, 25 Papua New Guinea, 170, 172, 177, 197, 205,206 passports, Fijian, 108 Patel, A D, 71, 74, 75, 79, 159; exchange with Mara, 85, 96; death of, 97

Index 277 Patel, R D , 1 2 2 , 1 6 2 P a t e l , S B , 7 4 , 159 peacekeeping operations, United Nations, 2 2 , 1 4 0 - 1 4 1 , 1 8 8 Peacock, Professor Alan, 56 Peart, Fred, 164-165 Peni from Beqa, 40 Perham, Margery, 29 Perks, Joy, 83 Philip, Prince, Duke of Edinburgh, 62 Phillips, A H, 15 Phillips, Major, 54 Phoenix Choir, 16, 22 pine planting, 7 - 8 , 51, 72, 125 Pohnpei, 175 police: service overseas, 140-141; in Fiji, 198 Post and Telecommunications, 218 Poynton, Sir Hilton, 76 Prasad, Ayodhya, 63 precedence, table of, 108 Prescott, Michael, 108 press. See communications media; names of newspapers Prior, Jim, 162 proportional representation, 87 provincial councils, 56, 58. See also Lau Provincial Council public relations. See communications media Qamea, 143 Qolikoro, Lusiana, 7, 10 Queen Elizabeth. See Elizabeth II Queen Victoria School, 6, 12, 15-17, 229 Rabi, 99 Rabuka, Major-General Sitiveni, 194-198, 202, 205, 206 Rabukawaqa, Sir Josua, 1 6 , 2 2 ; at London conference, 75, 76, 79; as Fiji's representative, 114; in Jamaica, 131 race relations: in South Africa, 53; in Fiji, 63, 66, 68, 70; Lee Kwan Yew's views on, 89; repatriation of Indians, 126; Commonwealth influence on, 157; political policies on, in Fiji, 132, 133, 136-137; following 1987 election, 192-193. See also multiracialism Raddock, Pat and Sofia, 51, 52 radio. See BBC; communications media Rahiman, Sukhu, 75 Rahman Putra, Tunku Abdul, 88 Rakiraki, 187

Ramasi, 94 Ramphal, Sir Sridath, 152, 188, 205 Ramrakha, K C , 134, 193 Ramzan, Mohammed, 122 Rarotonga, 178 Rasolo, 1, 2 Ratu Kamisese Mara College, 55 Ratu Sukuna Memorial School, 54-55 Ravai, Joeli, 15, 16 Rawlings, Flight Lieutenant, 189 Razak, Tun Abdul, 88 Reddy, Jai Ram, 135, 136, 193; as leader of opposition, 1 3 8 , 1 8 1 , 1 8 3 , 184 Reddy, K S, 96 Regenvanu, Sethy John, 197 Reid, Archie C, 7 , 4 6 , 54, 234 religious service, ecumenical, 110, 127, 239 Renner, Vasiti, 55 Rewa, 36 Rex, Robert, 172 Rhodesia, 155, 156, 157 Rippon, Geoffrey, 162 roadblocks, 226 road construction, 50, 125, 129, 142, 159 Rodgers, W B (Bill), 119 Roman Catholic Church: Mara joins, 19; at Namosi, 38-39 Rotorua, 173 Rotuma, 73, 100, 126 Rotuman Association, 75, 79 Royal Commission on Electoral System, 1975 Rudrananda, Swami, 159 rugby, 2 0 - 2 1 , 38, 230 rural development, 41—i2, 55-56, 71, 88, 128-129, 132 Rwanda, 140 Sabeto, 142 Sacred Heart College, Auckland, 20, 23, 34, 229 Sacred Heart Convent, Levuka, 11, 229 Salato, Macu, 127, 178 Salisbury Despatch, 68 Salote, Queen of Tonga, 6, 23, 38 Samoa. See American Samoa; Western Samoa Samuelson, Professor Paul, 60 Sanders, Sir Robert, 83, 86, 91, 120 Sano, Mr, 1 5 2 , 2 5 0 Sau ni Vanua, 1, 3, 91, 94 Sawana, 91

Index 278 scholarship, 27 Scott, Captain Harry, 11 Seeto, Archie, 108 Seidler, David, 84 self-government in Fiji, 76, 77 Senegal, 166, 230 Serua, 36 Seychelles, 153, 204 Shah, C A, 75 Sharma, D, 197 Shearer, H u g h , 86, 147 Shepherd, Lord, 98, 9 9 - 1 0 3 shipwrecks, 4 6 - 1 7 , 124 signs, natural, 58, 2 5 6 - 2 5 8 Sikivou, Semesa, 57, 63, 64; and constitutional change, 67, 68; at London conference, 75, 79; as Fiji's representative, 114; as minister, 138, 234 Silsoe, Lord, 7 2 - 7 3 Simonstown Agreement, 146 Singapore, 8 9 , 1 1 3 , 1 8 8 , 1 9 9 , 2 0 9 , 222, 248; Commonwealth Heads of Government meeting at, 145-148, 152; sugar quota of, 166; oil freight from, 172 Singh, C P, 75, 77, 79 Singh, James Shankar, 122, 142 Singh, Sir Vijay, 75, 96, 122, 140, 184; minister for social services, 82; attorney-general, 138; leaves Alliance, 142 singing and songs, 16, 21, 22, 23, 94; Fijian, 103, 108 Sivoidaveta, Adi, 5 Siwatibau, Savenaca, 196, 199 Smith, Arnold, 151-152 Smith, C, 48, 49 Sobers, Sir Garfield, 48, 49 Solomon Islands, 7, 174, 180, 197 Solomon Islands community in Fiji, 75 Somalia, 140 Somare, Sir Michael, 1 7 2 , 1 7 7 , 1 7 8 , 1 8 8 Soochow (ship), 124 South Africa, 5 3 , 1 4 6 , 1 4 7 , 1 5 4 , 1 5 7 , 2 0 5 Southern Cross (plane), 14 South Korea, 167, 175, 208, 229; visits to, 1 9 9 , 2 1 1 , 2 1 2 South Pacific Bureau for Economic Cooperation. See Forum Secretariat South Pacific Commission, 1 6 8 - 1 7 1 , 1 8 0 , 250, 258; Fiji's involvement in, 113, 116, 118, personnel of, 129, 178, 244 South Pacific Conference, 113, 1 6 8 , 1 7 4 South Pacific Forum, 1 1 6 , 1 7 1 - 1 7 7 , 1 9 7 , 205,211,250

South Pacific Sugar Mills, 17, 50, 125, 160-161

SPARTECA (South Pacific Regional Trade and Economics Agreement), 143 Spate, Professor Oskar H K, 55-56 Speed, Clive, 184, 185 Sri Lanka, 147, 1 8 8 , 1 9 9 St Andrews, 92 STAB EX (Stabilisation of Export Prices), 1 3 0 - 1 3 2 , 1 5 1 , 154 Stinson, Peter, 195 Sanson, Sir Charles, 82, 122, 126, 141 Street, Professor Harry, 125 strikes: of canefarmers, 6 3 - 6 4 , 82, 133, 159, 160; of oil workers, 65, 142; of goldminers, 132, 139; of airport workers, 140, 142; national, 220. See also trade unions sugar industry in Fiji, 50, 112, 134, 138, 159-167; Silsoe Report, 72; advantages of Commonwealth for, 117; exports, 143, 149, 154, 162; contribution to economy, 181; benefits of Lome Convention for, 190; post-coup, 201,219,226 sugar industry in Guyana, 87 Suharto, President, 199 Sukuna, Ratu Sir Lala, 2 , 4 , 91; education of, 6, 7; ruffles Mara's hair, 6, 11; house of, 14; brother of, 19; and Catholic Church, 19; as mentor, 2 2 , 2 6 - 2 7 , 29, 31-33, 35, 36, 42; school named for, 54—55; death of, 54; and village economic production, 56-57; philosophy of, 57, 70; land policy of, 84; at United Nations, 113; and sugar strike, 159 Suva, 6 , 1 4 , 1 8 , 35, 36, 37, 3 8 , 4 6 , 54, 75 Swann, Harry, 48, 49 Sydney, 188 Sykes, Joseph, 35, 54 Tabai, Ieremia, 173 Tabakaucoro, Adi Finau, 212 tabua, presentation of, 4 0 - 4 1 , 92, 95, 206, 210 Taiwan. See China, Republic of Tallboys, Brian, 194 Tamasese, 2 5 , 1 7 2 Tanzania, 147, 152 taukei, 98 Taukei Movement, 193, 203, 204, 206 Taveuni, 99n, 141, 143

Index 279 Tavua market, 51 taxation in Fiji: provincial, 44; on land, 56-57; income, 134, 190, 217, 218, 219; value added, 219 television. See communications media Territorial Army, 44, 128 territorial limits of Fiji, 118 Thant, U, 119 Thatcher, Lady Margaret, 155, 156, 205, 208, 209, 210, 225 Thomson, Sir Ian, 74, 162 timber exports, 143 Tippett, Reverend Alan, 43 Toganivalu, Ratu David, 96, 98, 122, 140, 190 Toganivalu, Ratu Josua, 122 Toganivalu, Ratu William, 122,160, 192, 195, 196 Tokai University, 229 Tokyo, 143 Toma Iulai, 150 Tonga, links with, 3, 23, 38, 91; royal succession in, 5, 6; and banana trade, 168-170; ICLARM in, 180; independence in, 238, 247 Tonga, Tu'i, 3 Tongan community in Fiji, 75, 79, 91 Tora, Apisai (Mohammed), 69, 81, 142 Tota estate, 9 Totoya, 45 tourism industry in Fiji, 175, 252; contribution to economy, 181, 187, 190; post-coup, 201; Japan's contribution to, 211,217 trade preferences, 100 trade unions in Fiji, 130, 142, 154, 181, 220, 221; mineworkers, 51; canefarmers, 63; oil workers, 65; boycotts by foreign, 198, 222 treaties succession, 115-116 Treaty of Rome, 162, 163 Trinidad, 87 Tripartite Forum, 130, 140, 187 trochus shell, 46 Trudeau, Pierre, 146-147, 148, 156 Tubou, Lakeba, 7 , 4 5 , 55, 72 Tubou, Tui, 94 Tu'ipelehake, Prince of Tonga, 171, 172, 173 Tuisalalo, Adi Mere (Mrs Hennings), 9 Tuivaga, Sir Timoci, 143, 206 Tungi, Prince and King of Tonga, 23, 38, 168,188 Tupou, 40

Tupou, Isa Lei, 7 Tupou, Roko Taliai, 1 - 3 , 4 Tupouto'a, Prince of Tonga, 150 Turner, Harvey, 72 Tuvalu, 173, 174 Tuvuca, 9 Ucunivanua, 39 Uganda, 147, 148, 154, 156 Uluilakeba, Ratu Tevita (great-grandfather), 2, 3, 4, 6 Uluilakeba, Ratu Tevita (father), 2, 7, 8, 23 Uluilakeba (ship), 123-125 United Nations, 119, 150, 175, 178, 249-250; influence on Fiji, 71, 166, 170; Fiji's membership and role in, 99, 114, 116, 117, 139; address to, 120121, 237-241; peacekeeping operations, 140,188; financial obligations to Fiji, 141; Pacific Forum at, 177; formalities of, 174 United Nations Development Programme, 114, 118 Unit Trust of Fiji, 221 University of Guam, 229 University of Hawai'i, 177, 178, 243 University of New Delhi, 229 University of Papua New Guinea, 180, 229 University of the South Pacific, 82-83, 133, 175,176, 211,229 Usher, Sir Leonard, 102, 183 Va'ahoi, 23 Vaka, 93-94 Vakatora, Tomasi, 138, 194 value added tax, 219 Vancouver, 204, 205, 208, 209 Vanuabalavu, 1, 4, 9, 45 Vanua Levu, 143 Vanuatu, 173, 174, 180, 197 Vatoa, 46, 123 Vatucicila, Inosi, 63 Vatukoula, 43, 139 Vatuwaqa, 9 Veisari, 141 Veiuto, 110 Verata, 39 Verrier, Dr Lindsay (formerly Isaacs), 181 9 , 2 1 , 2 2 , 2 6 , 80-81,101 Vilai, 23 villages of Fiji, 3 7 ^ 0 , 61, 64 Viseisei, 39

Index 280 Viti Levu, 1, 4, 12, 50, 141 Volavola, Livai, 69 Vollmer, Mrs, 11,13 Vosailagi, Louvatu, 23 Vosailagi brothers, 17, 35 Vuanirewa clan, 3, 5, 91 Vuanirewa Cooperative Society, 46 Vuetasau, Ratu Viliame, 1, 2 Vunibobo, Berenado, 140, 216 VunivaJu Ravuama, 26, 35, 55, 57, 64; and constitutional change, 64, 67; and Council of Chiefs, 69, 234 Vuyasawa, Ratu Tiale, 22, 27 Wadham College, Oxford, 6, 26, 27, 30, 229 Waidina, 43 Waka, Nemani, 51 Wakaya letter, 68, 69, 70, 233-234 Walker, Charles, 142, 187, 192 Walker, Ross, 72 Waqanivavalagi, Sakeasi, 122 Watson, Professor Thomas Y, 56 Western Samoa, 155,170,174,180; visits to, 23, 25; and New Zealand banana trade, 168-170; independence of, 170, 238,247 West Indies cricket team, 48^t9

White, Lady Eirene, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78 White, Sir John, 184 Whiriam, Gough, 172 Willcock, Robi, 108 Williams, Dr Eric, 87 Wilson, Sir Harold (later Lord Rievaulx), 164, 165 Wingti, Paias, 197 women of Fiji: enfranchisement of, 66, 68, 74; compared to German women, 28; education of, 45, 83; send flowers to London, 107; attend Commonwealth Heads of Government meetings, 152; demonstrate, 198 World Trade Agreement, 167 World War II, 23, 2 6 , 2 8 , 4 6 - 4 7 , 57, 133 Yalimaiwai, Inoke, 94 yaqona: social significance of, 14, 127, 164; ceremonial, 93, 94, 95; root presented, 110; serving of, as clerical duty, 142 Yee, BUI, 96 Yonsei University, 229 youth in Fiji, 127-128 Zambia, 147, 156 Zimbabwe, 168