melanesia in review: issues and events, 2001 · 2015-06-08 · farmer chandrika prasad, whose prope...

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Melanesia in Review: Issues and Events, 2001

A review of Solomon Islands is notincluded in this issue.

Fi j i

Fiji seemed to come full circle in 2 0 0 1.The year began with the nation ner-vously awaiting the outcome of aCourt of Appeal hearing on the fateof the interim government installedafter the 2000 coup. It ended in asimilar way, with the same Court ofAppeal preparing to rule on the futureof the newly elected government ofLaisenia Qarase. Throughout 2001,Fiji’s political course followed surpris-ing and at times startling directions,as the country picked its way throughthe debris and rubble left by the crisisof 2000.

The legal challenge to the interimgovernment had come when dairyfarmer Chandrika Prasad, whoseprope rty was stolen and family terror-ized after the coup in May 2000, suc-cessfully obtained a ruling in the High Court in November 2000 thatdeclared the 1997 constitution extantand the interim government withoutany legal basis. The governmentappealed the ruling to the Court ofAppeal because, as Interim PrimeMinister Qarase explained, “We needconfirmation so that we can progressFiji further towards parliamentarydemocracy” (Post, 28 Feb 2001, 3).

The lead-up to the Court of Appealhearing in February was marked byheightened tensions, as nationalistFijian leaders warned of bloodshedand chaos should the ruling go againstthe interim government. Ema Drua-

vesi, a spokeswoman for the formergoverning party (Soqosoqo ni Vaka-vulewa ni Taukei, or svt ) predictedthat “if you force the Gates (HighCourt) judgement upon the Fijianpeople against their will our chancesof returning to democracy will bedestroyed for a long time” (Sun, 18Jan 2001, 1). In an unusual show ofunity, Fijian political parties issued ajoint statement demanding the contin-uation of the interim government.They warned that any attempts to“derail Fijian leadership” would bestrongly resisted. Meanwhile theTaukei Movement was reported to be mobilizing its supporters to opposethe reinstatement of the 1997 consti-tution. Provincial councils and chiefsalso denounced the intervention bythe courts. According to one chief:“We will die defending the Presidentand Interim Government againstrulings detrimental to us as a race”(Times, 26 Jan 2001, 3).

While a Fiji Times editorial dis-missed such threats as “empty politi-cal posturing,” it pointed to the mili-tary as being the final arbiter of theinterim government’s and hencenation’s future. There were indica-tions, in an army briefing to the presi-dent leaked to the media, that themilitary intended to “uphold the ruleof law—even if that means upholdingthe Gates ru l i n g” (T i m e s , 2 4 J a n 2 0 0 1,1). However, army statements alsoreaffirmed its “steadfast support” forthe president and interim government,and the position that national securityremained its “paramount concern.”

440 the contemporary pacific • fall 2002

It was in this atmosphere of tensionand uncertainty that the Court ofAppeal began its hearing on 19 Feb-ruary. The interim government’s casewas that the 1997 constitution hadindeed been abrogated according tothe doctrine of necessity—to avertfurther threats to peace and security;and that a new legal order was nowin effective control, commanding theacceptance if not approval of a widesection of the population. The respon-dents (Chandrika Prasad’s lawyers)claimed that there was no necessity forthe purported abrogation of the con-stitution—that such a step was “irra-tional and disproportionate.” Theyfurther argued that no new legal orpolitical order was in place (the factthat the interim government had sub-mitted to the courts was evidence ofthat). Nor was the interim govern m e n tin effective control, since it lackedboth legal and political legitimacy.

In a landmark ruling handed downon 1 M a rch 2 0 0 1 the Court of Appealdismissed the interim government’sappeal. It declared that the 1997constitution remained the supremelaw of the country; that parliamentwas not dissolved but prorogued forsix months; and that the office ofpresident only became vacant on 15December 2000 with the resignationof Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara. Accord-ingly, Ratu Josefa Iloilo was still act-ing in the position. The court arguedthat that there was no justification forabrogation of the constitution, andthat the interim government had failedto demonstrate or prove effective con-trol. One of the lawyers representingC h a n d r i k a P r a s ad d e s c r i b ed t h e c o u rt ’sruling as historic and setting a power-ful precedent. “It is the first time that

a court decision may restore a demo-cratically elected parliament displacedby a coup d’etat” (Post, 7 Mar 2001,2). However, the Court of Appeal hadnot ruled on how the democraticallyelected parliament should be restored,and it was this question that con-founded commentators and politicalparties in the immediate aftermath ofthe ruling.

As a way of buying time and per-haps legitimacy, the acting presidentand interim government announcedthat they would seek guidance fromthe Great Council of Chiefs beforemaking their next move. Althoughpledging publicly to abide by thecourt’s ruling, the interim governmentshowed no immediate sign of relin-quishing power (much to the LabourParty’s chagrin). When the GreatCouncil of Chiefs convened it waspresented with two starkly opposing“road maps.” One was prepared bythe interim government and its legaladvisors and proposed a quasi-con-stitutional approach: that the GreatCouncil of Chiefs accept the courtruling; that it legitimize Ratu Iloilo’sappointment as president; that itaccept that the president has “re s e rv e dpowers” to dissolve parliament andcall fresh elections; and that theinterim government continue to gov-ern in a caretaker capacity until elec-tions are held. The second was pre-pared by a group of indigenous Fijianlawyers led by the General Managerof the Native Land Trust Board. Thisrejected the constitutional approachentirely and instead called on theGreat Council of Chiefs “to resumeits sovereignty granted to them by theDeed of Cession,” which could beused to empower the interim govern-

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ment. The interim government shouldcontinue to rule by decree and a “newlegal order” should be created thro u g hthe adoption of a new constitution.Moreover all those charged withtreason (such as George Speight)should be granted immediate andunconditional amnesty (SundayTimes, 11 Mar 2001, 2).

As the Great Council of Chiefsdeliberated on these momentousissues, the deposed People’s Coalitiongovernment struggled (and failed) toreach a consensus on its preferredcourse of action. Former DeputyPrime Minister Tupeni Baba led afaction that supported the reconven-ing of parliament and the formationof a government of national unity, togovern for two or three years duringwhich time issues such as land andthe constitution would be addressed.Former Prime Minister MahendraChaudhry led another faction stronglyopposed to the creation of a govern-ment of national unity. Although ini-tially calling for the reinstatement ofhis government, Chaudhry subse-quently recommended to the actingp resident that parliament be dissolved,fresh elections held, and in the mean-time a caretaker government beappointed comprising members of the dissolved parliament.

Chaudhry’s advice gave the actingpresident the opportunity to imple-ment the resolutions agreed to by theGreat Council of Chiefs, which essen-tially followed the quasi-constitu-tional path advocated by the interimgovernment and supported by themilitary. On 14 March the actingpresident dismissed Chaudhry asprime minister on the grounds that heno longer commanded the support of

the House (since he had re c o m m e n d e dthe dissolution of parliament). Theacting president then swore in formerLabour parliamentarian Ratu TevitaMomoedonu as prime minister (toregularize the appointments of thepresident and vice president as well as to recommend the dissolution ofparliament). Ratu Tevita had stood inas prime minister once before (follow-ing the takeover of parliament in May2000). Once his prime ministerialduties were completed, Ratu Tevitaimmediately tendered his resignationand that of “his government,” pavingthe way for the president to appoint acaretaker government. The followingday, having tendered their own resig-nations, the interim government wasagain sworn in as a caretaker govern-ment to lead the country into electionslater in the year.

Not surprisingly, this outcome sat-isfied some but shocked others. It wasdescribed by a military spokesman asthe “least worst option” to return thecountry to parliamentary rule withinthe shortest time. The business com-munity described the move as “deci-sive but conciliatory.” On the otherhand, the Labour Party, the NationalFederation Party, and the trade unionmovement condemned the outcome as“unconstitutional and unlawful.” Acivil society group, the Citizens Con-stitutional Forum, filed a motion inthe High Court seeking to annul thepresident’s decision to dissolve parlia-ment. Meanwhile the internationalcommunity welcomed the decision togo to the polls, although political andeconomic sanctions on Fiji remainedin place pending the outcome of theelections.

As the country moved into election


mode, the political landscape wastransformed. Political parties frag-mented and new alignments wereforged. Within the Labour Party, therupture over the Court of Appealruling proved irreparable, and abreakaway group led by Tupeni Babaformed their own party, named theNew Labour Unity Party (n l up). Thisjoined with so-called moderate politi-cal parties in a loose political alliance.The major Fijian parties (sv t, FijianAssociation Party, Nationalist Party,Party of National Unity, and Veito-kani Ni Lewenivanua Vakarisito) alsosplintered along provincial, policy,and personal lines. Two new partiesemerged that would command themajority of Fijian support. One wasthe Conservative Alliance /MatanituVanua (c a m v), based in the north ofthe country, which attracted hard-coresupporters of the 2000 coup perpetra-tors and included in its election lineupthe coup “leader” George Speight(still held in custody). The other partywas created by caretaker Prime Minis-ter Laisenia Qarase and included inits lineup most of the members of theinterim government. Named the Soqo-soqo ni Duavata ni Lewenivanua(s d l) or United Fiji Party, it waslaunched with much fanfare on 9May 2001.

The s d l party soon alienated mostother Fijian parties. While condemnedby some for undermining Fijian politi-cal unity, the main grievance against itseemed to be the party’s use of politi -cal office for its own advantage—mobilizing state resources to securesupport within the Fijian electorate.Among the initiatives taken in thelead-up to the election was approvalfor a f$52.8 million compensationpayment to landowners at the Mona-

savu dam, Viti Levu’s main source ofhydropower. The caretaker govern-ment also agreed to pay landownersat Nadi Airport f$1.2 million in com-pensation after protests threatened theoperations of the airport. (Both pay-ments were subsequently put on holdafter court action was taken by oppos-i n g landowners and by the NativeLand Trust Board.) But it was mainlythe caretaker govern m e n t ’s use of agri-c u l t u r a l assistance funds that drew theire of its political opponents. Promi-nent sv t politician, Jim Ah Koy—whowould lose his Kadavu seat to the s d lparty—lashed out at the Qarase gov-ernment: “What has this governmentdone in its one year? All they havedone is spend the money that the sv tgovernment put in place. Look at thenumber of knives, forks and outboardengines they have given out as bait forthis election!” (Post, 7 Aug 2001, 1)

The members of the caretaker gov-ernment were branded as hypocritesand opportunists—for capitalizing onthe fruits of office while those whohelped put them there (George Speightand his group) languished on theprison island of Nukulau. Although anumber of Fijian politicians (and thec a m v p a rty) called for an amnesty forthe rebel group, neither the caretakergovernment nor the military seemedinclined to “interfere” in the courtproceedings, which limped along fromone adjournment to another. The casewas finally moved to the High Courtin July after the conclusion of com-mittal proceedings in the MagistrateCourt to determine evidence to sup-port treason charges. Barring any fur-ther delays (such as George Speight’speriodic firing of counsel), the casewas set to begin in February 2002.

The lack of progress in the Speight

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group prosecution, together with thefailure to identify others involved inthe takeover of parliament, over-shadowed efforts (such as communityevents organized by the police) to pro-mote reconciliation and heal thewounds of 2000. On the anniversaryof the 19 May takeover, the Fiji Timescondemned the failure to bring thoseresponsible to justice. “The identitiesof those faceless cowards who insti-gated the hostage taking and sup-ported Speight throughout are still a mystery.” Revelations by a seniorarmy officer on the eve of his resig-nation from the Fiji military forcespointed to the possibility that suchindividuals were protected because of their powerful and prominent posi-tions. He alleged that seven plottersw e re still at large, including pro m i n e n tbusiness people and a senior militaryf i g u re. These allegations, which stirre dmuch controversy and speculation,were given some credence when PoliceCommissioner Isikia Savua and highchief (and Fiji’s High Commissionerto Malaysia) Adi Samanunu Talakuliwere cleared of any wrongdoing,despite their well-publicized supportfor the hostage-takers in parliament.Meanwhile the caretaker governmentpassed a decree granting immunity tosoldiers involved in the revenge kill-ings that followed the mutiny ofNovember 2000. This decree waslabeled a “travesty of justice” by theFiji Times, on the grounds that itallowed murder to go unpunished.

On 11 July the High Courtremoved the final legal hurdle to theAugust elections when it dismissed amotion brought by the Citizens Con-stitutional Forum seeking to annul thepresident’s dissolution of parliament.In his ruling, Justice Michael Scott

a rgued that while the president did actin a manner inconsistent with the con-s t i t u t i o n when he failed to summonparliament (after the Court of Appealruling), such action was justified onthe grounds of necessity. To reconveneparliament and return the Chaudhrygovernment to office would havec reated “a wholly unacceptable risk tothe peace and welfare of the nation”as well as a “legal and administrativenightmare” (Times, 12 July 2001, 12,14).

Threats of unrest should theLabour Party win the elections andreports of divisions in the militaryc i rculated in the weeks before the poll.But despite the tense atmosphere, pub-lic opinion surveys indicated that vot-ers were primarily concerned abouteconomic issues. This underscored theprecarious state of the economy in thewake of the political crisis of 2000.A number of garment factories closedtheir operations in early 2001, leavingmore than a thousand workers unem-ployed. Uncertainty of land tenurewas causing a drastic drop in caneproduction, while the expiry and non-renewal of land leases left many farm-ers homeless and destitute. Tourismarrivals had also declined signifi-cantly, leading to the loss of some twothousand jobs in the industry (Sun, 23Mar 2001, 5). While political partiespromised to address these concerns,there were indications that votersremained skeptical of what a newgovernment would deliver. Accordingto one evicted cane farmer: “It seemsthese politicians get into parliament toserve themselves and forget the diffi-culties the poor people face everyday”(Times, 9 Aug 2001, 3).

Under the scrutiny of Common-wealth and United Nations observers,


the election took place without inci-dent in late August. Despite predic-tions of a divided and fragmentedFijian vote, the result was an almostsweeping victory for Qarase’s s d lparty (in Fijian constituencies). Theonly other serious contender was thec a m v party. No other Fijian partywon a seat. Meanwhile, the LabourParty swept to victory in all the Indo-Fijian constituencies. The final tallygave s d l 31 seats, c a m v 6 (includingGeorge Speight), Labour 27, NewLabour Unity Party 2, the UnitedGeneral Party 1, the National Federa-tion Party (n f p) 1, and independents(subsequently aligned to the s d l) 2seats.

Analyses of the vote revealed thatLabour increased its share of Indo-Fijian voters compared to theNational Federation Party, and thiswas attributed to a combination of itsrecord in office and Chaudhry’s “boldleadership.” Meanwhile s d l’s successwas due in no small measure to itslargesse during the election (especiallyits distribution of agricultural assis-tance funds—a “scam” that wouldcome back to haunt the s d l in thenew year), as well as to the endorse-ment of the Methodist Church estab-lishment. s d l policies, which includedlegislating a twenty-year blueprint of affirmative action programs forFijians, revising the 1997 constitutionto entrench Fijian leadership, andreverting to the Native Land TrustAct, also appealed to and appeased(nationalist) Fijian sensitivities andaspirations stirred up by the events of 2000. In this way it was able toneutralize much of its competition.

The conclusion of the vote countwas followed by five days of tense

negotiations and brinkmanship. Withthe single largest party in parliament,Qarase appeared the most likely can-didate for prime minister. But to forma majority government in the seventy-one-seat parliament, he needed tocreate a coalition with several of thesmaller parties. Moreover, under theconstitution, all parties with at least10 percent of the seats (seven seats ormore) were entitled to places in cabi-net in proportion to their seats inparliament. This posed a dilemma for Qarase, who had made it clear he would not work with Chaudhry ingovernment. There was also the possi-bility that if Qarase joined forces withminor parties, he would need to givethem places in cabinet that woulddilute s dl ’s majority. Labour couldtherefore end up with more places incabinet than s d l—an unacceptableprospect. On 10 September, and stillwithout any resolution to his politicalconundrum, Qarase was sworn in asprime minister. He immediately issuedan invitation to Chaudhry to be partof his government, which Chaudhryduly accepted. But Qarase did notfollow up, and Chaudhry was notconsulted further on the makeup ofcabinet.

Initially s d l seemed to favor analliance with the so-called moderateparties (n l u p, United General Party,and National Federation Party) ratherthan the c a m v party. The latter hadinsisted, as a condition of any part-nership, that the detainees on Nuku-lau (including George Speight) bereleased and granted immunity. Buttalks with the “moderates” provedinconclusive and a breakthrough with the c a m v party came after they agreed to drop their demand for

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immunity for the rebels (reportedlyafter George Speight and his fellowdetainees gave the p a rty the go-ahead).On the night of 11 S e p t e m b e r, the s d land c a m v parties signed a memoran-dum of agreement that specificallyexcluded any reference to immunity.A memorandum was also signed withone of the n l u p members of parlia-ment (although this was laterdenounced by his party). The nextday, as word of the horrific terroristattacks on the United States reachedFiji, the new cabinet was sworn in. Itcomprised twenty ministers and eightassistant ministers. Qarase rewardedhis minority allies (c a m v, n l u p, andindependents) with a total of five cab-inet posts.

The exclusion of the Labour Partywas immediately branded as uncon-stitutional by observers both locallyand a b road. But the s d l re m a i n e ddefiant. According to a party spokes-man, to bring Labour in would be“an unworkable coalition” because offundamental differences between thep a rties (P o s t , 1 8 Sept 2 0 0 1, 3). Qarasemeanwhile claimed that Chaudhry hadput certain conditions on his partici-pation in government that were unac-ceptable. But Chaudhry denied this,claiming that it was Qarase who hadset down conditions for Labour’sinclusion—namely that it agree tosupport s d l’s policies on the affirma-tive action blueprint, among otherthings. At the end of September theLabour Party filed legal objectionsagainst its exclusion from cabinet inthe High Court (a move welcomed byQarase as a way to resolve constitu-tional issues). The presiding judgemoved to “fast-track” the casebecause “it raised issues of law that

should be referred immediately to theCourt of Appeal” (Times, 29 Sept2001, 1). The case was set down forhearing in February 2002.

Yet another legal wrangle eruptedas a direct consequence of this courtaction. It concerned the appointmentof eight senators nominated on theadvice of the leader of the opposition.When the president offered the posi-tion of leader of the opposition,Chaudhry refused it (so as to awaitthe Court of Appeal ruling). In orderto fill this position, the president even-t u a l l y appointed the lone n f p mem-ber. According to the constitution, theleader of the opposition’s senate nom-inees should comprise the nominees of parties in the House of Representa-tives that were entitled to participatein cabinet. Thus the Labour Partyeventually presented the leader of the opposition with their list of eightnominees. However, before handingthis list to the president, oppositionleader Prem Singh took it on himselfto amend the list (dropping four ofLabour’s nominees and including fourof his own). These nominees weresworn in, but the president’s officesubsequently decided to seek SupremeCourt clarification on whether thisaction was “lawful and constitution-ally sound” (Times, 23 Oct 2001, 1).In the meantime, Labour senatorsboycotted the remaining sessions ofparliament.

Despite these constitutional dis-putes, the international communitymoved to normalize relations with Fijiin the wake of the elections. In earlyOctober, Australia announced it waslifting all aid and other sanctions, anda visit by Foreign Minister AlexanderDowner followed in December. How-


ever, a request from Australia that Fijiparticipate in the so-called “Pacificsolution” to the burgeoning refugeeproblem was withdrawn after a publicand political outcry in Fiji. Also inDecember, the Commonwealth Minis-terial Action Group lifted Fiji’s suspen-sion from the Commonwealth Coun-cils, paving the way for Fiji to attendthe next Commonwealth Heads ofGovernment Meeting. New Zealandand Britain then announced theresumption of full relations with Fiji.Only the European Union continuedits aid sanctions on the country, to bereviewed once the constitutionality ofthe government had been resolved.

As the year drew to a close, thenation’s fate was again in the handsof the Court of Appeal. Although theelection was a major step forw a rd andits outcome was seen to reflect the“will of the people,” Fiji’s return todemocratic rule was far from completeor secure. In its first months in officethe (elected) Qarase administrationconfronted a legal challenge that hadthe potential to force a change of gov-ernment. It also confronted a politicalchallenge (a f$25 million farmingassistance scandal) and a securitychallenge (a plot to kidnap and assas-sinate members of government inorder to force the release of GeorgeSpeight and his companions on Nuku-lau). The repercussions of these werestill unfolding in early 2002, but theythreatened further instability andunrest. Fiji remained on a politicalknife-edge, balanced precariouslybetween the forces of racial extrem-ism on the one hand and democracyon the other.

Nowhere was this more evidentthan in the debate in parliament in

December over the Qarase govern-ment’s proposed legislation to provideaffirmative action programs forindigenous Fijians. As critics attackedthe legislation for being “racially dis-criminatory” and unconstitutional, itsdefenders (including the prime minis-ter) described the bill as necessary forpeace and stability, in other words,national security (Sun, 17 Dec 2001,1). But such attempts to “buy” stabil-ity by removing “barriers to Fijianadvancement” had failed in the pastto avert political crises and hadinstead fostered massive corruptionand abuse of public funds (the farm-ing assistance scheme being only thelatest example). The vicious cycle ofpolitical instability, racial policies, andeconomic mismanagement thuslooked set to continue. In such a situ-ation it was perhaps no wonder thatso much seemed to depend (howeverunrealistically) on the rulings of thecourts.

sandra ta rt e

R e f e re n c e s

Post, The Daily Post. Daily. Suva.

Sun,The Fiji Sun. Daily. Suva.

The Sunday Times. Weekly. Suva.

Times,The Fiji Times. Daily. Suva.

New Caledonia

As France continued to delegateadministrative and fiscal responsibili-ties to the terr i t o ry in compliance withthe 1998 Noumea Accord, the March2001 municipal elections, challengesin forming the executive council of theCongress, and senatorial elections in

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September all revealed growing com-plexity in local politics as well as dis-array in the pro-independence coali -tion. John Connell (1988, 231) oncea rgued that the confrontation betweena pro-independence indigenous frontand an entrenched colonial systembolstered by resident loyalists gaveNew Caledonia more nationalist cohe-sion than other linguistically diverseM e l a n e s i an c o u n t r i e s , w h i ch h a v e b e e nwracked by secession movements, civilwars, and military coups. The inverseof his idea may also be coming true,that is, in an officially postcolonialera, New Caledonia’s ethnic and lin-guistic diversity may undermine theold polarized fronts (even as Fiji’sharden) in ways that would make the martyrs of the 1980s scratch theirheads in wonder. In the context of alocal labor strike, a commentatord e c l a red, “It’s no longer class stru g g l e ,but a struggle for places [posts]” (NH,22–28 Feb 2001; the rhyme worksbetter in French), and perhaps thosew o rds could apply just as well to localpolitics.

One of the ironies of the municipalelections in the territory is that theyare directly controlled by Paris, whichunilaterally seized that power in 1969as part of its withdrawal of autonomyfrom the territory during a nickelboom. At this most intimate level ofthe democratic process, even 3,000local residents who come from mem-ber countries of the European Com-munity other than France are eligibleto vote in the thirty-three Caledoniancommunal elections. Another imposi-tion from the metropole was a newelectoral law that requires gender par-ity, that is, each party must present asmany women candidates as men. This

progressive proposal was opposed by some Caledonian leaders, such asloyalist Kanak Senator Simon Loueck-hote, who argued that the territorywas simply not prepared for such asudden change—a stand that set offstreet protests by local women (Chap-pell 2 0 0 1, 5 4 4 – 5 4 5) and led to a com-p romise that exempted smaller com-munes of less than 3,500 inhabitants.Another factor was the March 2000law against the “accumulation ofm a n d a t e s,” which prohibits politiciansf rom holding more than one majorelected office, for example, mayor of a large commune, congressional presi -dent, or member of French parlia-ment. For 753 seats on municipalcouncils, 3,559 candidates cam-paigned on 149 party lists; voters hadto opt for an entire list, not individu-als, and seats were allocated on thebasis of proportional representation(minimum: 5 percent of votes cast). In larger communes, a list that wonan absolute majority gained not onlythat, but also a proportion of theremaining seats; if no list won anabsolute majority, a run-off electionw as h e l d, a n d l o s e rs w ho w o n b e t w e e n5 and 10 percent of the votes couldform new coalitions to contest thesecond round.

The loyalist Rassemblement pourla Calédonie dans la République(r p c r) generally showed more unity,with the notable exception of Paita,where Harold Martin won reelectionby defying party chief Jacques Lafleur,who wanted to replace him as mayorwith his cousin Ronald. The pro-inde-pendence Front de LibérationN a t i o n a l e K a n a k e t S o c i a l i s t e (f l n k s),in contrast, proved rather weak as anelectoral framework at the local level,


as its coalition members ran at timeson one list, at other times on separatelists, and sometimes on lists combinedwith other parties, and local Kanakfactionalism became pronounced. The two main coalition partners, theUnion Calédonienne (u c) and Palika(Parti de Libération Kanak), onceagain ran separately, but even the u cwas split, ever since seven of its con-gressional representatives had brokenaway from the leadership of RockWamytan the previous year. On eachof t he outer islands of Lifou and M a re ,about 5,000 voters had to choosebetween eight or nine lists, includingseveral alliances “against nature” (ie,loyalists and independence support-ers). The r p c r predictably dominatedthe multiethnic southern province,where Jean Leques was reelectedmayor of Noumea (he was also presi-dent of the congressional executivebut had to give that up; see below),a n d P i e rre F ro g i e r was re e l e c t e d m a y o rof nearby Mont-Dore (which heimmediately gave up to remain adeputy in the French National Assem-bly). In an upset, Jean-Pierre Aifa, thelongtime “caliph” (he is of North Afri-can descent) of Bourail and a dissidentloyalist, lost to Guy Moulin of ther p c r, but Bernard Marant, anotherdissident loyalist, defeated his r p c rrival in Dumbea. One woman, Ghis-laine Creugnet, was elected r p c rmayor of the smallest commune,Farino. In the northern province, PaulNeaoutyine won reelection as Palikamayor of Poindimie and kept hispresidency of the province becausePoindimie is so small, while dissidentloyalist Robert Frouin retained hismultiparty mayorship in Koumac, thenorth’s fishing port. In very close run-

off elections in the islands province,Palika took Ouvea, the u c tookLifou, and an anti-f l n k s coalitionwon on Mare—where high chiefNidoish Naisseline, once a radicalnationalist, allied with the r p c r andits congressional majority partner, theFédération des Comités de Coordina-tion Indépendantistes (f c c i , formerf l n k s leaders) (N C and N H, Mar2001, various).

Altogether, two-thirds of the may-ors elected were Kanak (only two ofwhich were r p c r) and pro-indepen-dence lists won in almost twice asmany communes (19) as the r p cr-f c c i coalition (10): 9 Palika, 6 u c,3 u p m (Union Progressiste Mélanési-enne), and 1 f l n k s, compared to 8r p c r and 2 f c c i, while the newmunicipal council majorities in fourother communes did not fit readilyinto either camp. But the loyalistcommunes of the south are muchmore populous, amounting to over 60percent of the total inhabitants (NC,20 Mar 2001). The r p c r kept a firmgrip on the capital, Noumea, whereone-third of the registered electoratelives, winning 39 council seats com-p a red to 1 0 for a mixed o p p o s i t i on l e dby dissident loyalists of the Alliancelist; and Leques won the mayorshipfor a fourth six-year term. Ironically,the Kanak vote in N o u m ea w a s a l m o s tinvisible, despite a large resident pop-ulation (sometimes called the largestKanak “tribe”), because Kanak voterstend to register in their home villagesand commute to cast their ballots, ino rder to ensure the allocation of devel-opment funds there and to supportlocal Kanak politicians. That strategymakes it very difficult for centrist orpro-independence lists to succeed in

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the capital and contributes to a polar-ization among the provinces, withKanak dominating the north andislands. It is one reason why indepen-dence supporters place so much hopein mining and fishing projects in thenorth, and in tourism in the islands,to draw business and population awayfrom Noumea (Sylvain Pabouty, perscomm, Mar 2001). In France itself,apart from leftist upsets in Paris andLyon, conservatives seized forty for-merly leftist communes. This can beattributed to President JacquesChirac’s appeal to the insecurity feltin smaller towns in the face of Social-ist Premier Lionel Jospin’s controver-sial concessions to Corsican autono-mists and general support for regionaldecentralization under the commandof large cities. Chirac now feels confi-dent of reelection as French Presidentin 2002 (N C, 20 Mar 2001; Monde,Mar 2001; Libération, 22 Mar 2001;Figaro, 12 Mar 2001).

In the September election forsenator (to the French parliament),Loueckhote of the r p c r won a sec-ond nine-year term with 250 votes,defeating Marie-Claude Tjibaou (wifeof deceased u c leader Jean-Marie),who had 174 votes, and Aifa, the ex-mayor of Bourail, who had 51. Thef l n k s hesitated even to participate,then opted to try to block the r p c rcandidate but failed. The 484 “greatelectors” who choose the senator areselected by the municipal councils(weighted in favor of the more popu-lous) and provincial assemblies (N C,31 Aug, 26 Sept 2001; p i r , 25 Sept2001). Loueckhote had been involvedin a violent altercation with an olderf l n k s s u p p o rter from his home islandof Ouvea in March. The two were

waiting at Magenta airport for a flightto Ouvea to participate in the electionof a mayor by the new municipalcouncil, of which both were members,when the older man apparently beganberating the senator. Before airportgendarmes could separate them, thesenator punched and kicked the olderman, who died of a heart attackshortly afterwards, though coronerscould not establish a “direct and cer-tain” link between the fight and hisdeath. A subsequent lawsuit clearlydid not affect Loueckhote’s politicalc a re e r. Besides being senator, he is alsopresident of the Territorial Congress,islands provincial assembly delegate,and municipal councilor on Ouvea(N C, 26 Mar, 28 Mar, 12 Apr 2001).

Leques had to resign from his pres-idency of the congressional executive(an eleven-person cabinet elected bythe Congress and called “the govern-ment”), a position he had held sinceMay 1999, in order to retain his may-orship of Noumea. The municipalelection results thus precipitated a newelection of the territorial governmentin April, which in turn exacerbatedthe disunity in the f l n k s. Frogier ofthe r p c r re p l a c e d L e q u e s as p re s i d e n t ,but Leopold Jorédié of the f c c i, whohad been convicted of corruptioncharges the year before and given asuspended sentence, was replaced asvice president by Déwé Gorodey ofPalika. A pro-independence activist oflong standing as well as a teacher andwriter, she became the first woman tohold such a high office in New Cale-donia. This victory for gender “par-ity” (the r p c r had one woman in thecabinet) was also celebrated by thef l n k s, because it had already beencomplaining of a lack of “collegiality”


(ie, power-sharing) between it and ther p c r- f c c i, which together hold acongressional majority of 28 to 26seats. The r p c r retained six cabinetp o rtfolios, the f c c i one (Jorédié), andthe f l n k s four (divided a m o ng P a l i k a ,Wamytan’s u c, the dissident u cgroup, and the Wallisian Rassemble-ment Démocratique Océanien, orr d o). (N C, 6 Apr 2001; p ir , 8 Apr2001) Unfortunately for the f l n k s,the French State Council ruled inOctober that one of the cabinet seatsheld by the pro-independence fronthad been awarded improperly andgave the eleventh seat to RaphaelMapou of the f c c i instead of TinoManuohalalo of the r d o. The twohad received almost the same numberof votes, so Congress had given thef l n k s that seat, on the basis ofArticle L338 of the Electoral Code,because Manuohalalo was youngerthan Mapou, but the decision wasreversed because Mapou had receivedslightly more votes (proportional rulesnormally average the votes). As aresult, the f l n k s representation onthe cabinet was reduced to only threeout of eleven, and Wamytan, who hadbeen threatening to boycott the gov-ernment for two years over the colle-giality issue, resigned from the cabi-net, arguing that the f l n k s had won40 percent of the votes in the 1999provincial elections and deserved abigger voice in decision making (N C,3 Oct, 17 Oct 2001; p i r, 26 Sept2001). “It is out of the question,”Wamytan said, “that we should go onsitting in a government that has beenmade completely out of balance as aresult of Court decisions which, in myview, are bordering on political deci-sions” (p ir , 23 Oct 2001).

Others argued that a more unitedf l n k s would easily have secured thedisputed seat. Vice President Gorodeyof Palika did not join Wamytan’s cab-inet boycott, nor did Gerard Cortot ofthe dissident u c group. The break-away of seven congressional u c repre-sentatives from Wamytan’s leadershipin April 2000 thus continued to hauntthe f l n k s. In April, soon after themunicipal elections, Wamytan called ameeting of the u c governing commit-tee at the Club Med in Noumea. Hedenounced in strong terms the “per-manent putsch” by dissidents thatthreatened to ruin New Caledonia’soldest political party, which had lostcontrol of seven communes the monthbefore. Pascal Naouna resigned as u cvice president in protest, claiming thathis dissident group wanted to preservea u c identity separate from the f l n k sc o a l i t i o n ( Wamytan was h e ad of both).The embattled president warnedagainst the embourgeoisement(becoming middle-class) of party mili-tants, which had already drawn for-mer f l n k s members like Jorédié andMapou into the collaborationist f c c i:“Will we know how to resist the pres-sures of the [French] State and themultinationals?” (N C, 9 Apr 2001).Wamytan received a vote of confi-dence in July when the MelanesianSpearhead Group held its annualsummit in Noumea. After a diplo-matic wrangle over whether it wasFrance, New Caledonia, or the f l n k sthat was hosting the meeting, theregional group showed its opinion byelecting Wamytan its president for thenext two years (p i r, 17 July 2001;N C, 30 July 2001). But in November,the u c’s thirty-second annual congre s selected Naouna president by a vote of

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174 to 74 against Wamytan; Naounahad lost to Wamytan by only fourvotes the previous year (N C, 5 Nov2001; p i r, 9 Nov 2001). And inDecember, the annual f l n k s congressrefused even to choose betweenWamytan or Palika’s Neaoutyine as itsp re s i d e n t . f l n k s spokesperson VictorTu t u g o ro, of the u p m, explained,“The Congress confided the directionof the management of the party to thePolitical Bureau for a period of oneyear” (N C, 24 Dec 2001).

It is worth noting that Palika nor-mally operates exactly that way, with-out a president, and its star is risingas the u c struggles. The f l n k s is stillrespected as a “tool of struggle” bypro-independence militants but as lessthan useful as an electoral mecha-nism. At its November congressPalika asserted that f l n k s coalitionmembers (u c, Palika, u p m , r d o) willcampaign as autonomous parties inelections, and that Palika will con-tinue to try to convert people to itsgoal of “revolutionary socialist Kanakindependence” based on Kanak valuesand the principles of “justice, equity,equality and solidarity”(N C, 8 Nov2001). Yet people have prematurelypredicted the demise of the u c fordecades; by January 2002, Naouna ofthe u c became head of an f l n k s del-egation to Paris (N C, 19 Jan 2002).The difference between the u c andPalika is partly one of generations,since the latter was formed by studentradicals in the 1970s and still tends toattract younger, university-educatedKanak such as Charles Washetine andSylvain Pabouty. The f l n k s is alsodivided by internal Kanak rivalriesbased on family, chieftaincy, languagegroup, or region, in addition to the

emerging class divisions that Wamy-tan and others warn about. In theMarch municipal elections on Mare,for example, discord within the u c,local rivalries within and betweentribes, and “customary” vs “adminis-trative” Kanak factionalism gave themayorship to a motley anti-f l n k scoalition ( Jean-Paul Caillard, perscomm, Apr 2001; N H, 22–28 Mar2001).

Meanwhile, the r p c r coalitionpartner in Congress, the f c c i, tendsto be regarded either as “realistic”pro-independence people who are try-ing to work constructively with loyal-ists, or as stooges of the r p c r whoa re fleeing to Lafleur’s patronage fro mlegal or financial problems or politicaleclipse. In July, the f c c i congresselected François Burck, mayor ofMoindou, as its party president by 38 votes to 28 for incumbent Mapou,a former Palika militant. Burck, anold companion of Jean-Marie Tjibaouand moderate head of the u c forseven years until 1 9 9 8 , vowed to workfor local citizenship and a commondestiny for all Caledonians, as theNoumea Accord prescribed (N C, 22July 2001). The sticky ideas of localcitizenship and preferential employ-ment for long-term residents have yetto be seriously addressed, and theNoumea Accord raises other complexcultural issues. As Naisseline pointedout in May, an organic law of 1999proposed that territorial residents hadto choose within five years whether tolive under French civil law or indige-nous custom; but after two years, noreal preparation has been made toeducate people about making such a decision (p i r, 31 May 2001). Afounding leader of Palika, Naisseline


broke away in 1981 over the issue ofwhether Kanak culture or “scientificsocialism” should guide the party.Naisseline uses his chiefly power baseon Mare to retain political office anddefend custom. He attacks formerKanak militants who seek “Frenchrespectability” as untraditional pro f e s-sionals, yet says France “is no longeran enemy to combat, but a partner”(N C, 2 Nov 2001)—evidently againstf l n k s domination at this stage of hiscareer. After the nineteenth annualcongress of his party, LibérationKanak Socialiste (l k s), in November,he again criticized the new Kanakpolitical class for excluding frompower “the customary, religiousmasses and young people,” anddenounced the French State, ther p c r, and the f l n k s for imposing aEuropean political system that did notfit: “We want to install an Oceaniandemocracy.” Criticized by the f l n k sfor repeatedly forming expedientcoalitions with the r p c r, f c c i, andother dubious liberationists, he says“politics is a game of alliance” (N C,8 Nov 2001). Naisseline holds provin-cial and municipal office and occupiesthe sole l k s seat in Congress.

The r p c r may dominate territorialpolitics (just as some critics of theNoumea Accord’s plan to delegateincreasing authority from Paris toNoumea once predicted), but it toofaces dissident opposition in the loyal-ist camp. At the head of the r p c rsince its founding in 1977 is million-aire businessman Lafleur, who is adeputy to the French parliament andmember of the Territorial Congress.His social receptions have beenlikened to the court of Louis XIV,whom he in fact occasionally quotes;

if courtiers do not receive a handshakefrom him, it is whispered that theirpolitical careers are ruined. Lessrespectful critics refer to Lafleur’spowerful political and economicpatronage system as a “mafia.” In thepast four years his regal attitude hascost him six convictions for publicslander and other civil injuries topeople ranging from a former Frenchadministrator to a local newspapereditor. Frogier and Loueckhote, hisfellow parliamentarians in Paris,wrote a joint letter in October toPresident Chirac protesting againstthe many damages Lafleur has had topay, calling it “colonial justice” (N C,18 Oct 2001; p i r, 12 Feb 2001).Meanwhile, dissident loyalists of theAlliance party led by Didier Lerouxand Sonia Lagarde continue to con-demn Lafleur’s monopolism, and Mar-tin remains “r p c r” mayor of Paita indefiance of his official exclusion fromthe r p c r. At the congress of the r p c rin June, supporters of Martin spokein favor of more democracy withinthe party and the need to prepare fora successor to Lafleur, who himselfhas talked of retirement. But Lafleurstill opposed Martin’s reinstatement,accusing him of wanting power onlyfor himself and stressing the need forunity and discipline (N C, 11 June2001). Lafleur was reelected presidentof the party by a show of hands, andLoueckhote asserted, “Which politicalparty is now able to unite so manypeople? Only Jacques Lafleur’s party.It just needs to utter his name” (p i r,27 June 2001).

On the economic front, NewCaledonia’s normal trade deficit wasreduced by about one-third in 2000,thanks to that year’s rise in world


prices for nickel, the territory’s largestexport. France still provided 82 per-cent of the territory’s imports (p i r, 19Mar 2 0 0 1). Local commercial farm i n gand livestock raising increased another4 percent, for a total of 60 percentsince 1989, and a new tuna fishingfleet based at the northern port ofKoumac received its first two vesselsin March (N C, 26 Mar 2001; p i r, 23Apr 2001). In December, the Congressapproved a law that delegated controlof the territory’s coastal zone fromFrance to New Caledonia and itsp rovinces, though the l k s, u c, andAlliance voted against it, while thef l n k s abstained, because of concernsexpressed by the new CustomarySenate over the impact of applyingFrench-derived littoral law on Kanakcustomary rights (N C, 22 Dec 2001).T he l o c al t o u r i sm i n d u s t ry w as a l re a d yin crisis as some airlines had recentlycancelled their routes to New Caledo-nia, and the September 11th attackson New York and Washington d c ledseveral tour agencies to drop the terri-tory from their destinations (p i r, 5Oct 2001). Various local groupsexpressed opposition to those attacks,including the f l n k s, for whom Tutu-goro said, “Blind terrorism is to becondemned since it mainly strikes theinnocent.” He reminded the super-powers, however, of “other peoplesaround the world, who have or stillendure violence on a daily basis andin the name of a certain establishedorder, whether in central Europe, inthe Middle East, in central Asia or onthe African continent” (p i r, 19 Sept2001).

The Frogier government expressedofficial optimism about a number ofdevelopments, such as the July deci-

sion by Paris, after long negotiations,to approve the territory’s purchase,tax-free, of two 278-passenger AirbusA330 planes for Air Calédonie Inter-national, whose expanded tourismservice to Japan will replace AirFrance on the Tokyo–Noumea run(N C, 28 July 2001; p i r, 15 Aug, 31 Oct 2001). Moves to localize thepolice force with better training andmore recruitment from the interiorwent forward, as French Secretary ofState for Overseas Territories Chris-tian Paul called New Caledonia theenvy of the Pacific because of its newpolitical stability and autonomy (N C,27 Nov 2001). The Congress alsorevamped its recent General Tax onServices (now called a Tax of Solidar-ity on Services) of 4 percent so that itsrevenues could be applied to the ailingsocial services fund; this will enablethe implementation of a new UnifiedSocial Coverage plan. The latter wasparticularly supported by Palika,which voted with the loyalist majorityagainst the u c and f l n k s on the taxreform (N C, 24 Nov 2001). The Con-gressional Finance Commission pre-dicted an economic boom, primarilybecause of new investment in nickelmining and processing plants, but thatindustry was a cause of concern forthe opposition parties (N C, 21 Dec2001). In January, the governmentvoted to give the new nickel plant at Goro, a joint venture between theState and Inco of Canada in the S o u t h ,twenty years of full or partial taxexemption, compared to only thirteenfor the new plant at Koniambo in theKanak-ruled North, a joint venturebetween the province and Falcon-bridge of Canada. Pro-independencep a rties cried foul, as did Mapou of the


f c c i, and environmentalists critic i z e dp o t e n t i a l c o a s t al pollution by the G o roplant (N C, 3 1 Jan, 1 Feb, 1 6 F e b2001). Furthermore, nickel pricesdropped almost 50 percent in 2001,causing the northern province’s min-ing firm to reduce working hours for600 of its employees (p i r, 16 Nov2001). Others warned that a boom in nickel production would increaseimmigration and repeat the politicalcrisis of the early 1970s, when loyal-ists gained a demographic majorityfor the first time (Jean-Paul Caillard,pers comm, Apr 2001). Despite theseobstacles, the government is makingevery effort to expand production,which so far provides only 6 percentof the world demand (p i r, 28 June2001).

In spite of embourgeoisementamong politicians, militancy survivedon other fronts. A “social pact” nego-tiated in 2000 was designed to pre-vent wildcat labor strikes (N C, 24Mar 2001), but the pro-independenceUnion Syndicaliste des TravailleursKanak et Exploités (u s t k e) waged itsusual militant battles against variousemployers periodically throughout theyear. In February, it closed down theFrench overseas radio and televisionstation (r f o) in Noumea for a week,its ninth such action against the r f oin five years, and in April it beganfour months of rotating strikes againstJean-Lefebvre Pacifique over the firingof unionists (N C, 21 Feb, 28 July2001). After celebrating its twentiethanniversary in December, when itre a ff i rmed its goal of building a multi-racial, independent Kanaky (N C, 7Dec 2001), the u s t k e closed out theyear by occupying the Club Med afterthe latter closed its doors following

the September 11th crisis in t o u r i s m(N C, 1 2 Jan 2 0 0 2). The eighth Con-ference of Pacific Women met in Nou-m e a in S e p t e m b er (p i r, 1 2 Sept 2 0 0 1) ,and in October, 300 New Caledonianwomen marched through the citydemanding the creation of women’scenters in each commune and a terri-torial ministry of women’s affairs.Women workers outnumber men inNew Caledonia and hold more than60 percent of higher educationaldegrees but receive less pay than menfor the same jobs (p i r, 22 Oct 2001).The Melanesian Spearhead held itsFestival of Melanesian Arts on Lifouin the islands province in December(p i r, 12 Nov 2001), but New Cale-donia’s bid to host the 2007 SouthPacific Games was defeated by acouncil vote of 25 to 16 in favor ofSämoa, which the territory’s promoterEric Gay typically attributed to an“Anglo-Saxon” conspiracy (p i r, 11Dec 2001). Land reform to redressKanak grievances about colonialexpropriation continued (p i r, 12 Oct2001), and the Jean-Marie TjibaouCultural Center welcomed the returnof eighteen Kanak artifacts from theMusée de l’Homme in Paris for athree-year exhibition (p i r, 14 Aug2001).

While most political news focusedon Caledonian loyalists and Kanaknationalists, relations with Wallis andFutuna, which has sent over half itspopulation to New Caledonia in thepast half century, were also an impor-tant issue. The Noumea Accord pro-posed the negotiation of a specialagreement between the two Frenchterritories, because local Caledoniancitizenship and hiring preference wereclearly perceived as threats to contin-


ued access to New Caledonia’s min-eral-rich economy by migrant workersfrom its resource-poor Polynesianneighbor. Talks continued during theyear, and a draft text was signed inJune. It proposed the full integrationof Wallisians long resident in NewCaledonia, but also called for moreF rench investment in developing Wa l l i sand Futuna “to better fix the p o p u l a-tions and limit the flow to New Cale-donia” (N C, 2 June 2001). The r d o,which belongs to the f l n k s coalition,called for more aid to Wallisian com-munities in New Caledonia. Wa l l i s i a n soften live in poor conditions and arestill treated like immigrants, r d oleader Aloisio Sako said; even though“we have contributed to the wealth of this country, we have worked hard.. . .Yet today most of the aid measure sand re-balancing benefits Kanak notus” (N C, 12 Feb 2001). Bitter Kanakmemories of hired Wallisian militiasin the service of loyalists during theviolent 1980s still affect relationsbetween the two groups. In earlyDecember, an armed conflict eruptedin the St. Louis community in Mont-Dore near Noumea. After school,students from both groups fought, andsix houses near the Catholic churchwere set on fire. In 1985, 500 Wallis-ians had received a gift of twenty-three hectares of land and had fol-lowed appropriate customary pro t o c o lto gain acceptance in the Kanak tribeof St. Louis (of which Wamytan is a chief). But when the Wallisiansappeared to receive more benefitsfrom the government (such as water,electricity, and housing), while theKanak had to barricade the road todemand streetlights, and later Wallis-ian immigrants acted without respect

for the Kanak, tensions exploded.Recent peace talks produced a truceand a proposal to relocate the Wallis-ians to a new site, but the underlyingproblem was delinquency amongunemployed young Kanak and Wallis-ians, due to the unequal distributionof economic growth in the territory(N C, 10–18 Dec 2001; p i r , 12 Dec2001; Kanaky, 12–18 Dec 2001).Wallisians now comprise almost 10percent of the territorial population,and in the municipal elections inMarch, their performance groupsdanced for whichever part y, loyalist ornationalist, would support their claimto a place in the territory’s proposed“common destiny.”

david chappell

R e f e re n c e s

Chappell, David. 2001. New Caledonia inReview: Issues and Events, 2000. TheContemporary Pacific 13:541–551.

Connell, John. 1988. Melanesian Nation-alism. In New Caledonia: Essays inNationalism and Dependency, edited byMichael Spencer, Alan Ward, and JohnConnell, 230–253. St. Lucia, Queensland:University of Queensland Press.

Kanaky. < [email protected] >

Le Figaro. Daily. Paris.

Le Monde, Sélection Hebdomadaire, andDossiers et Documents. Daily, weekly,monthly. Paris.

Libération. Daily. Paris.

N C, Les Nouvelles-Calédoniennes. Daily.Noumea.

N H, Les Nouvelles-Hebdomadaires.Weekly. Noumea.

P I R, Pacific Islands Report. <http://pidp.eastwestcenter.org /pireport>


Pa p ua New GuineaYears of unabated and systemic cor-ruption within Papua New Guinea’sgovernment machinery and preoccu-pation with political self-aggrandize-ment over economic rationalitiesfinally took visible toll on the coun-try’s economy in 2001. Anyone famil-iar with the country’s past glory daysstrolling through the streets of PortMoresby would no doubt confrontthe stark realities of poverty in theeyes and physical appearance of mostcity dwellers. Indeed, Prime MinisterSir Mekere Morauta concedes that the1990s was a decade of lost develop-ment for Papua New Guinea, evi-denced by the country’s disappointinghuman development indicators (Post-Courier, 18 Oct 2001).

With a population of over 5 mil-lion people (up by 36 percent sincethe last census in 1990) and a growthrate of 3.1 percent compared to 2.7percent in the last decade, the AsianDevelopment Bank (a d b) declaredthat over a third of the populationnow live in absolute poverty (a d b2001). The country’s average incomefell by almost 75 percent from a highof us$1,300 in 1994 to us$744 inthe millennium as the economyentered a nontransitory period ofrecession (National, 24 Sept 2001).Public debt rose to k8 billion in 2 0 0 1,compared to k3 billion in 1999 whenMorauta took office. Morauta’s longand winding “road to recovery” andpromised “date with destiny” (madein November 1999 during the parlia-mentary presentation of the 2000budget) inevitably made public-sectorreforms the dominant issues. Mostsignificant was the sale of state-ownedenterprises in 2001.

For the preceding two years, theMorauta government and the Privati-zation Commission have had to con-tend with the results of years of ram-pant corruption and mismanagementby political appointees, which by 2 0 0 1had virtually destroyed the indepen-dence and decimated the capital ofmost of the state-owned enterprises.Because the release of further WorldBank loans was premised on the priva-t i z a t i o n of the state bank, the PapuaNew Guinea Banking Corporation(p n g b c), it had to write off bad debtsamounting to k45 million in order toattract potential buyers and struggledwith nonperforming loans in its port-folio. The previous year had seen thestate bank incurring a declared oper-ating loss of k31 million when itspent k114 for every k100 earned.Other state-owned enterprises wereall technically insolvent. The Electric-ity Commission was over k400 mil-lion in debt, while Air Niugini hadincurred operating losses of k42 mil-lion in 1998 and k36 million in 1999(National, 26 July 2001). Post PNG,which is responsible for mail delivery,owed creditors some k25 million andwas subsequently placed under liqui-dation.

In response to trade union opposi-t i on t o the privatization of PNG B a n k-ing Corporation and an anti-landmobilization movement comprisinguniversity students and socialistnongovernment organizations, PrimeMinister Morauta challenged his crit-ics to choose between “service” and“ownership” and provide tangiblea l t e rnatives to p r i v a t i z a t i o n . T h e p r i m eminister lamented, “We will try andexplain but I can’t go on explaininguntil the nation is dead” (National,


18 July 2001). A two-day protest inJuly against privatization and landreform by students and unsuspectingsquatter settlers, who were mobilizedby socialist nongovernment organi-zations, resulted in the death of fourUniversity of Papua New Guineastudents when live bullets were firedon the protesters by police riot squadsflown in from the Highlands region.The confrontation resulted from apolice attempt to break up a sit-in byprotesters in the Waigani governmentarea.

Elsewhere, in the superannuationindustry—where political appointeesflexed their muscles on the boards—the carnage of corruption was alsovisibly clear. A commission of inquirylooked into the mismanagement ofthe National Provident Fund (n p f)that resulted in a 15 percent write-down of private-sector workers’ funds;they learned that the former n p fchairman, Jimmy Maladina, who hadsince fled together with his family toQueensland, Australia, had decimatedthe fund of almost k8 million. JimmyMaladina was appointed to the n p fboard by the former government ofBill Skate under intense pressure fromthe former finance minister and par-liamentary leader of Morauta’s Peo-ple’s Democratic Movement party(p d m), which was a major coalitionp a rtner in the Skate govern m e n t . S o m eof the stolen money (k200, 000) wasrumored by the opposition leader, SirM i c h a e l S o m a re , to have been solicitedby Morauta to change the Skate gov-ernment in 1999 (National, 6 Dec2001). Moreover, between k1 and k3 million of the n p f funds was alsoalleged to have been paid to twenty-seven p d m ministers whose names

were identified in an affidavit swornin a Brisbane court by an Australianassociate linked to the n p f scam. Thebusiness associate was the managingdirector of PNG First Real Estate, oneof the companies used by the ringlead-ers as a front for parking the missingn p f funds (National, 6 Dec 2001).

Nor was the Defence Force Retire-ment Benefits Fund spared the reachof politicians and their politicalcronies. The n p f Commission ofInquiry unearthed serious loopholesin the superannuation laws and prac-tices, prompting Morauta to appointa super funds task force to revampthe industry and avert it from furtherdilapidation.

Furthermore, politicians themselveslived up to their notoriety in terms ofappropriating funds from the publiccoffers for personal use. In 2001 theOmbudsman Commission referred tenministers of parliament to the publicprosecutor on charges of misconduct.Such charges usually involve trialbefore a leadership tribunal and oftenresult in dismissal from public officefor a period of only three years. Eightof the ministers allegedly misusedfunds from the National Gaming Con-t rol Board (n g c b), which had been a major cash cow under the formeradministration. Because Morauta’sp d m party had been a major part ofthe coalition in the disgraced Skategovernment, eyebrows were raisedwhen the Morauta government had tohastily write off a total of k15 millionfrom the n g c b books. This was madepossible by parliament’s acceptance ofamendments to the National GamingControl Board Act. The amendmentswere sneaked into parliament by theleader of government business and


voted on by an unsuspecting parlia-ment, as ministers are often not givensufficient time to read what they arevoting on, or they simply do not havethe time to wade through tedious andlengthy public policy documents.

Broader public-sector reforms inthe public service and PNG DefenceForce were attempted. A confidentialpolicy submission to cabinet in March2001 sought to reduce the size of theforce. However, this was met withstiff opposition from personnel basedat Murray Barracks, the force’s head-q u a rt e r s , leading to a d a n g e rous stand-o ff between the mutinous soldiers andMorauta. Resentment appeared tostem from the fact that the reformmeasures originated from an externaltask force, namely the CommonwealthEminent Persons’ Group, put togetherby Morauta and the CommonwealthSecretary-General in London. Thatthis would have resulted in a muchleaner, better-equipped, better-disci-plined, and better-trained force did notmatter to the disgruntled soldiers. Forthem the important issue was jobsecurity in an increasingly uncertaineconomic and political environment.To resolve the standoff, Morauta gavein, in deference to a new reformpackage to be designed internally, butgiven the country’s financial mess, heinsisted that retrenchment was neces-sary for the PNG Defence Force toremain viable. By the end of the yearit was clear that the force would haveto downsize by 1,307 men to a ceilingof 2,000 before March 2002. Thefirst list of 110 names was approvedby the Defence Council and submittedto the Department of Personnel Man-agement. This time the Australiangovernment made retrenchment fundsavailable.

The year also saw the passage of amajor piece of legislation, namely theOrganic Law on Political Parties andCandidates (the Integrity Law). Legis-lative reforms to the electoral systemhave also been proposed to replacethe current first-past-the-post systemwith the optional preferential votingsystem. The Integrity Law sought tolimit the number of independent can-didates and uncommitted party mem-bers who have been known to hopfrom party to party, thereby intensify-ing political instability. The new lawalso established a Political Party Boardresponsible for registering parties andadministering the rules aimed atinstilling discipline and reducing thenumber of parties. By year’s end,twenty-two parties had registered for the looming 2002 election.

The pre f e rential voting system seeksto broaden a candidate’s representa-tiveness. The majority of politicianshave won their seats by a margin ofvictory of less than 6 percent over the runner-up, and this pattern hasincreased since the 1977 election. Infact, from 1977 to 1997 the numberof seats with winning margins of 2percent or less almost doubled, from23 to 44 out of a total of 109 seats.In 1997, 80 out of 109 ministers(73.4 percent) won their seats by lessthan 6 percent (Okole 2001). Thusthe obviously irrational behaviors ofPNG politicians could be viewed asdysfunctional coping strategies inresponse to their high attrition rate at the polls.

Yet another major piece of reformwas the restoration of the Public Ser-vices Commission, in a nostalgic eff o rtto relive its glory days before 1986when it monopolized the power tohire and fire. The reform promises to


eliminate the power of politicians toappoint cronies and business associ-ates to senior positions in the publicservice and state-owned enterprises.The rejuvenated Public Services Com-mission would help restore appoint-ments to provincial governments suchas that of the Southern Highlands,where, as political infighting wore on,at the end of 2001 no less than fourprovincial administrators were beingpaid against a position for only one(Post-Courier, 20 Dec 2001).

The Morauta government alsomoved to subject the perks and privi-leges of heads of state-enterprises tothe review of the Salaries and Condi-tions Monitoring Committee. Thiswas done by endorsing a proposal tohave state-owned businesses estab-lished under the Companies Act besubject to the monitoring committee.H i t h e rto, a practice has been for polit-i c a l appointees to state-owned enter-prises to draw up their own employ-ment contracts, seldom for less thank200,000, and subsequently engineertheir own termination by the ministerresponsible, or by another ministeracting on the position while theincumbent minister purposely takesan overseas trip. The politicallyappointed executive then cries fouland either goes to court or lobbies foran early out-of-court settlement. Thistactic when not checkered is used toattract full-contract entitlement pay-ment for the usual contract period ofthree years, to the detriment of theconcerned state-owned enterprise.Various parties to the deal, includingthe minister responsible, stand to ben-efit from the distribution of the spoils.

The efforts of the Morauta govern-ment to reform the PNG economyeventually paid off, at least for the

time being, in December 2001 whenthe World Bank announced the releaseof the second tranche of a us$90 mil-lion loan under the Governance Pro-motion Adjustment Loan initiallyagreed to in June 2000 (World Bank2001), as well as the approval of aus$70 million loan from the AsianDevelopment Bank toward public sec -tor reform (a d b 2001). The Morautagovernment’s public-sector reformsare being coordinated by the PublicSector Reform Management Unit,located within the prime minister’sdepartment, and the Central AgenciesCoordination Committee. The loanfunds are earmarked mainly for meet-ing the costs of retrenchments, andimprovements to human resourcemanagement and payroll system.Nearly all aid donors includingAusAID have contributed to PNGpublic-sector re f o rms since 1 9 97, o f t e nunder the generic terms of “good gov-ernance” and “institutional strength-ening.”

The re l e a se of t he loan monies c a m ein the wake of the decision by theMorauta government to sell 75 per-cent of PNG Banking Corporation toa local bank, B a n k S o u th Pacific (b s p) ,for k175 million (National, 30 Nov2001). The sale price itself was con-troversial in that a year earlier thevalue of the state bank had been esti-mated at k400 million. The choice ofBank South Pacific as the highest bid-der was also controversial as it wasreported that the Australian and NewZealand Banking Group (a n z) waswilling to pay k200 million. Arousingfurther controversy was the govern-ment’s eleventh-hour decision to sell75 percent of the bank, 25 percentmore than its initial share offer. Inaddition, conflict of interest in the sale


was alleged on the part of key off i c i a l swith vested interest in the parties tothe sale. For example, the managingdirector of the Privatization Commis-sion, Sir Henry ToRobert, is also thechair of Credit Corporation, whichprior to the sale was a major share-holder in Bank South Pacific, thebuyer of PNG Banking Corporation;the BSP chair is the current managingdirector of Credit Corporation; andthe current p n g b c executive chair isthe former chair of Credit Corpora-tion. Ironically, after the sale of PNGBanking Corporation, PrivatizationCommission Executive Chair BenMicah had to quit his k400,000 post,as he himself was declared insolventby the National Court for owing thebanking corporation over k481,000,with annual interest accruing at 11percent (Post-Courier, 24 Dec 2001).

By December 2001, a number ofagencies from within and withoutgave scorecard evaluations of theMorauta government’s performance.T h e PNG Institute of National A ff a i r s ,a private-sector think tank, creditedthe Morauta government with makingpositive reforms to the political sys-tem and monetary policy and movingthe resolution of the Bougainville crisisto within a pen’s stroke, as parliamenthad only to vote on an autonomypackage following the signing of theBougainville Peace Agreement on 30August, but they also reported thatthe government had failed to removeobstacles to investment and growth,which it identified as corruption,infrastructure problems, crime andtheft, and policy instability.

The International Monetary Fundcommented that the government’sstructural reform and economic stabi-

lization program stayed on coursedespite a very volatile business envi-ronment, and lauded the public-sectoradministrative reform. It noted thatfunctional reviews for the depart m e n t sof Finance, Treasury, Prime Ministerand National Executive Council, Per-sonnel Management, Foreign Affairs,and the National Fisheries Authorityhad been completed.

The Australian government–ownedExport Finance and Insurance Corpo-ration concluded that the PNG econ-omy was on the verge of “terminaldecline” as Morauta had failed toavert budgetary and external liquidityproblems. It particularly feared thatpublic debt (k8 billion) would becomeunsustainable in the long run if nonew foreign capital flows were found.However, it also accepted that theprime minister deserved credit forkeeping the economy afloat throughstabilization and structural adjust-ment programs.

At the end of 2001, one got thefeeling that the future of PNG as aviable state was critically dependenton the kind of political leadership thevoters would e n l i st a f t er t he June 2 0 0 2national election, one not simply inthe category of being a lesser evil.

david kava n a m u r

R e f e re n c e s

a d b , Asian Development Bank. 2001.Moving to a Performance-based PublicSector in Papua New Guinea. NewsRelease 192 /01, Manila.

National. Daily. Port Moresby.

Okole, Henry. 2001. The Fluid Party Sys-tem of Papua New Guinea: Continuityand Change in a Third Wave Democracy.


PhD dissertation, Department of PoliticalScience, Northern Illinois University.

Post-Courier. Daily. Port Moresby.

World Bank. 2002. Papua New Guinea:World Bank Approves the Release of theSecond Tranche under the GovernancePromotion Adjustment Loan. NewsRelease 2002 /170/s, Washington d c.

Va n uat u

Vanuatu experienced another changeof government as a result of a no-confidence motion in 2001. While no-confidence motions have formed partof the political landscape in Vanuatuin recent years, what made this eventextraordinary was the involvement ofthe Supreme Court in the parliamen-t a ry wrangles. These events have dom-inated politics in Vanuatu in 2001.

At the beginning of the year thegovernment was a coalition headed byBarak Sope of the Melanesian Pro g re s-sive Party. The other main partners inthis coalition were the Union of Mod-erate Parties, the National UnitedParty, and the Vanuatu RepublicanParty. This government had come topower in November of 1999, whenthen Prime Minister Donald Kalpokasof the Vanua‘aku Party resigned ino rd e r to a v o i d a n o - c o n f i d e n ce m o t i o n .

Dissatisfaction with the Sope-ledgovernment had been growing, due inlarge part to its dealings with Ama-rendra Nand Ghosh. Ghosh, a Thaibusinessman, came to attention inApril of 2000. It was around this timethat, soon after giving the Vanuatugovernment 10 million vatu for disas-ter relief, he was appointed HonoraryConsul to Thailand and awardedhonorary citizenship. This resulted

in complaints that he had effectivelybought a diplomatic passport.Throughout the year his businessinterests in Vanuatu and involvementwith various politicians increased,raising some concerns. Toward theend of 2 0 0 0 G h o s h ’s involvement withthe Vanuatu government took a some-what bizarre turn as he presented thecountry with a gift of a ruby allegedlyworth u s$174 million. The statedpurpose of this gift was “that it couldbe used as collateral to get financialassistance” (TP, 6 Dec 2000). Noindependent valuation of t h is ru by w a savailable however, nor was it availableto be inspected by customs officers.The ruby’s valuation on Australiancustoms declaration forms was onlyu s$40,000, casting further doubt onits value.

In March of 2001 dealings betweenGhosh and the Vanuatu governmenttook a further strange turn when itwas revealed that the government hadsigned an agreement with Ghosh thatapparently would give him bank guar-antees worth u s$10 million over aperiod of ten years. As a further partof this agreement a Hong Kong–basedcompany, Sun Jewel group, who hadagreed to buy the ruby for u s$175million, was to manufacture gold andsilver coins for sale by the ReserveBank of Vanuatu. The agreement pro-vided that Ghosh would pay the costsassociated with the manufacturingand transport of these coins, and theReserve Bank of Vanuatu would keepall proceeds associated with the coins.This agreement was signed despitedoubts expressed by the governor ofthe reserve bank as to the legality ofsuch actions (p i r , 23 Mar 2001).

Another factor that contributed


to the vote of no confidence was thedeportation of Marc Neil Jones, pub-lisher of the Trading Post newspaper,on 19 January 2001. Jones wasdeported from Vanuatu for publishingstories about the relationship betweenGhosh and the government. Hereturned to Vanuatu after two days,following an interim order by thenActing Chief Justice Lunabeck thatallowed him back into the countryuntil the legality of his deportationcould be resolved in court. The matterwas finally settled out of court, withJones receiving about 1.4 million vatuin costs and personal compensation inDecember of 2001 (Jones, pers comm,1 Feb 2002). The deportation raisedwidespread concerns about the gov-ernment’s lack of respect for consti-tutionally enshrined human rights. Italso effectively raised the question ofwhat the government had to hide inits dealings with Ghosh.

Soon after the bank guaranteesagreement was signed, the Union ofModerate Parties left the coalitiong o v e rnment and joined the opposition,led by Edward Natapei of the Vanua-‘aku Party. On 26 March the opposi-tion, now having a majority in parlia-ment, submitted to the Speaker, PaulRen Tari, a notice of a motion of noconfidence in Prime Minister Sope.The Speaker ruled that this notice wasin order and placed it on the agendato be debated on Tuesday, 3 April, aspart of the First Ordinary Session ofParliament.

On 2 7 M a rch the government with-drew all government bills intended fordebate during the session. Sope thenannounced that the Council of Minis-ters, which had met earlier in the day,had resolved to advise the president

of the Republic of Vanuatu to dissolveparliament. He further stated that hewould resign if the president declinedto dissolve parliament. The Speakerthen adjourned the sitting of parlia-ment to the following day.

The president, Father John Bani,declined to dissolve parliament,because the motivation for doing sowas to avoid voting on the motion ofno confidence. Parliament thereforereconvened for normal business onMarch 28. Despite his earlier state-ment, Sope did not resign as primeminister. As there were no writtenquestions before parliament, theSpeaker adjourned the sitting to 4:00 pm on 3 April when parliamentcould debate and vote on the motionof no confidence.

Following the submission of thevote of no confidence there were alle-gations that agents of Dinh van Than,p resident of the National United Part y,had approached various oppositionmembers of parliament, attempting tobribe them to return to the govern-ment. Stories that opposition membersof parliament were being harassed byg roups of people, a p p a re n t ly on o rd e r sfrom various government supporters,also circulated (TP, 31 Mar 2001).

When parliament reconvened on 3 April 2001, the Speaker ruled thatthere would be no debate of themotion because it contained sometyping errors or incorrect referencesto the provisions of the Constitution.As this was the last item on theagenda, the Speaker then closed theFirst Ordinary Session of Parliament.

That day the opposition took twoactions. First they filed suit in theSupreme Court on the grounds thatthe Speaker’s actions in closing the


First Session of Parliament wereunconstitutional. They also filed asecond motion of no confidence withthe clerk of parliament and issued asummons to the Speaker to call anextraordinary session of parliament to debate this second motion.

On 6 April Chief Justice Lunabeckruled that the closure of parliamentwas in breach of Article 43 (2) of theConstitution, which gives members ofparliament a constitutional right todebate motions of no confidence, pro-vided the correct procedures are fol-lowed. The typing errors or incorrectreferences were not sufficient groundsto prevent debate on the motion, par-ticularly as it had been accepted fordebate by the Speaker on 26 March.The court ordered that the Speakerreconvene parliament forthwith inorder to allow debate on the motion(Natapei & Ors v Tari No 1, 2001).During this hearing the irregularitiesin the motion were rectified by thecourt. After this court ruling (whichupheld the continued validity of thefirst motion of no confidence), thesecond motion became largely irrele-vant to the political wrangling.

At 2:00 p m on 6 April parliamentwas reconvened, although many ofthe members of the Sope governmentdid not attend or turned up l a t e . W h e nthe session finally commenced theSpeaker suspended parliament untilTuesday, 10 April. His apparent justi-fication for doing so was that Stand-ing Order of Parliament 23 allows fordebate on written motions on Tu e s d a yafternoons. Although members of theopposition tried to raise points oforder, the Speaker did not allow anym e m b er of parliament to speak. O n 1 0April the Speaker again did not allow

anybody to speak, but adjourned par-liament until 17 April. The apparentjustification for this action was thatno amendment to the written motionhad been made, so parliament wasadjourned to allow for an amendmentto be made.

The next stage in the dramaoccurred on 11 April when the oppo-sition applied to the Supreme Courtfor an order commanding the Speakerto summon parliament to meet thatday at 2:00 p m to allow debate onthe motion. Chief Justice Lunabeckfound that repeated adjournments ofparliament were unconstitutional, asthey did not allow for the debate ofthe no-confidence motion, a right pro-vided by Article 43 (2). He orderedthat the Speaker summon parliamentto meet at 6:00 p m on 12 April, andallow parliament time to debate andvote on the motion. He further foundthat the Speaker’s actions constituteda breach of the court order of 6 April,and that any failure to comply withthe new order to convene parliamentwould be in contempt of court (Nata-pei & Ors v Tari No 2, 2001).

Parliament was not convened, andon 13 April contempt proceedingswere initiated. During these proceed-ings the Speaker apologized for dis-obeying the court orders and under-took to reconvene parliament at seveno’clock that night to allow for debateof the motion. On this apology thecontempt proceedings were with-drawn, although the court orderedthat any failure to convene parliamentthat evening would result in theSpeaker being immediately arrestedand imprisoned for six months (Nata-pei & Ors v Tari [Contempt], 2001).

As a further delaying tactic it


appears that Sope approached the act-ing commissioner of police seeking todeclare a state of emergency, althoughnothing came of this action (p i r, 17Apr 2001). Parliament finally con-vened and debated the no-confidencemotion on the evening of 13 April.Sope was ousted and a coalitionbetween the Vanua‘aku Party and theUnion of Moderate Parties became thenew government. Edward Natapei ofthe Vanua‘aku Party became the newprime minister, with Serge Vohor ofthe Union of Moderate Partiesappointed his deputy prime minister.

With the vote of no confidencefinally settled, the First Ordinary Ses-sion of Parliament of 2 0 0 1 came to anend, although this was not to markthe end of parliamentary turmoil. TheSpeaker, still Mr Paul Ren Tari, sum-moned parliament to meet in the FirstExtraordinary Session of 2001 on 3May, to debate various governmentbills and motions. On the morning of3 May no opposition members of par-liament attended, p reventing a q u o ru mf rom being form e d. T h at a f t e rn o on t h eboycott continued, with only fouropposition members of parliamentattending. As a result parliament wasadjourned until 7 May. On 7 Maythere was full attendance in parlia-ment. Following opening formalitiesthe Speaker proceeded to suspend sixgovernment members of parliament,including Prime Minister EdwardNatapei and Deputy Prime MinisterSerge Vohor. The Speaker’s statedreason for the suspension was that theearlier petitions to the Supreme Courtwere breaches of the Standing Ordersof Parliament. At no time were the six given an opportunity to speak orquestion points of order. The six sus-

pended members of parliament thenleft, along with the other governmentmembers of parliament. They almostimmediately filed a constitutionalpetition with the Supreme Court.Meanwhile in parliament, after a briefadjournment, the Speaker closed thefirst Extraordinary Session, althoughless than half of the members werepresent. This raised a further legalissue of whether the session could beclosed when parliament was inquo-rate.

On 8 May, at the request of theSpeaker, the clerk of parliament issuednotice of the Second ExtraordinarySession for 2001. Included on thisagenda were a motion of no confi-dence in Prime Minister Natapei anda motion to suspend all twenty-sevengovernment members of parliamentfrom three Extraordinary Sessions ofParliament and two Ordinary Sessionsof Parliament. Meanwhile the S u p re m eCourt commenced the hearing on thevalidity of the suspension of the mem-bers o f parliament and a s s o c i a t e d m a t-ters. On 12 May the Court ruled thatthe suspension was invalid, because itprevented the six suspended membersfrom legitimately exercising their law-ful duties and responsibilities as mem-bers of parliament. Additionally, theirhaving being given no opportunity tospeak infringed various constitution-ally enshrined human rights. The clo-sure of the First Extraordinary Sessionof Parliament was also ruled to beinvalid, as parliament was inquorateand various other constitutionalprovisions were also breached. ChiefJustice Lunabeck further ordered theSpeaker to reconvene parliament onthe morning of 14 May to continuethe First Extraordinary Session (Nata-


pei & Ors v Tari & Ors [Reasons forJudgment], 2001; Natapei & Ors vTari & Ors [Orders], 2001).

The Speaker, however, chose toignore this order, and signed a state-ment to this effect. Early on Tuesdaym o rning, 15 M a y, he was arrested andcharged with making a seditious state-ment. First Deputy Speaker IreneBongnaim and Second Deputy SpeakerHenry Iauko were also arrested andcharged with complicity in making as e d i t i o us s t a t e m e n t . P a r l i a m e nt s at t h a td a y, but only after a w o r k er b ro ke i n t othe parliament building, as Paul RenTari refused to release the keys. Atthis meeting Tari was relieved of theposition of Speaker and former PrimeMinister Donald Kalpokas was votedin to take his place. This left the gov-ernment with twenty-six members,compared to the opposition withtwenty-five members (TP, 16 May2001). While there were some doubtswhether the government could survivewith such a slim majority, a n d o n o c c a-sion Sope did discuss the tabling of ano-confidence motion (TP, 1 Sept, 13Dec 2001), this government remainedintact for the rest of the year.

Various legal issues and challengesfrom these events continued through-out the year, although they ultimatelyhad little impact on the government.The sedition charges were finallyquashed by the Supreme Court inNovember because of a legal techni-cality: Article 27 (2) of the Constitu-tion prevents any member of parlia-ment from being arrested orprosecuted during a session. As theS u p reme Court had ruled that the clo-s u re of the First Extraordinary Sessionof Parliament on 7 May was invalidand of no e ffect, parliament was in

session at the time of the arrest and itwas therefore unconstitutional (TP, 1Dec 2 0 0 1). On 29 October a chal-lenge to the decision of 12 May washeard and dismissed by the Court ofAppeal (Tari & Ors v Natapei & O r s ,2001).

One of the first acts of the newgovernment was to sever relationswith Ghosh. His diplomatic titles werecanceled and he was requested to sur-render his diplomatic passport and thefour passports issued to staff membersat his office in Bangkok. The ruby,however, remained in Vanuatu (TP,12 May 2001).

The remainder of the year has beenfairly quiet, although there have beensome incidents of note. More prison-ers were released as part of Indepen-dence celebrations, despite public out-cries over the practice following anincident last year when a releasedprisoner was responsible for the kill-ing of a man (TP, 1 July 2001). Thecommencement of the CustomaryLand Tribunal Act on 10 Decembermarks the culmination of a review ofland administration begun in early2000. The object of the act is to pro-vide for a system based on custom toresolve disputes about customary land.Although Vanuatu’s land all revertedto customary ownership at the time ofIndependence, there has never been aneffective procedure or administrativebody for handling disputes. By estab-lishing a number of land tribunals,each covering small “custom areas”with largely homogeneous customs,this act will hopefully address whathas been a significant difficulty withthe law and land administration inVanuatu.

It has also been good to note that


dishonest behavior among politiciansand within the public service is begin-ning to result in criminal pro s e c u t i o n s .In the middle of the year Deputy Prin-cipal Immigration Officer John Waiwas found guilty of accepting a bribeto process residency forms. He wasjailed for the offense for three months(TP, 4 Aug 2 0 0 1). In November, B a r a kSope was charged with forgery relatedto two government bank guaranteessigned when he was prime minister.One of these guarantees is for u s$18million and the other for u s$5 mil-lion. Ghosh, whose name had beenmentioned in connection with theguarantees, has denied any involve-ment. An Australian, Edmond Gallea,is being investigated with regard tothis matter. Gallea, who has appar-ently been given a Vanuatu diplomaticpassport, has been involved in a largecattle deal in Santo, the details ofwhich are still somewhat unclear (TP, 1 7 Nov 2 0 0 1) . S o p e is n o s t r a n g e rto dubious bank guarantee dealings,having been implicated in ombuds-man’s reports in relation to bankguarantees worth us$100 milliongiven to Peter Swanson in 1996(Vanuatu Ombudsman 2001). Thepreliminary hearing in this matter is set for February 2002.

Finally, the ombudsman has beenpermitted to continue an action com-menced in 1997 to recover ex gratiapayments and compensation paymentsmade to various politicians in 1993and 1994 (Korman v The Ombuds-man, 2001). This proceeding wasstarted by the previous ombudsmanunder the authority of the Ombuds-man’s Act 1995, which gave theombudsman limited rights of enforce-ment in court if the recommendations

contained in public reports wereignored. The original hearings wereinterrupted by attempts to repeal theOmbudsman’s Act 1995, and by vari-ous other attacks on the ombudsmanof the time. Eventually the 1995 actwas repealed and the new act, whichcommenced in 1 9 9 9, does not give theombudsman any powers of enforce-ment. This action is therefore ananachronism, but is nonetheless wel-come as an attempt to make Va n u a t u ’spoliticians accountable for abuses ofpower.

a n i ta jow i t t

R e f e re n c e s

Jones, Marc Neil. 2002. Personal commu-nication, 1 Feb.

Korman v The Ombudsman. Civ. App. #23 2001. Unreported, Court of Appeal ofVanuatu. 2001.

Natapei & Ors v Tari (Contempt). Unre-ported, Supreme Court of Vanuatu, C.C.#49 2001. 13 April 2001.

Natapei & Ors v Tari No 1. Unreported,Supreme Court of Vanuatu, C.C.# 352001. 6 April 2001.

Natapei & Ors v Tari No 2. Unreported,Supreme Court of Vanuatu, C.C.# 352001. 12 April 2001.

Natapei & Ors v Tari & Ors (Orders).Unreported, Supreme Court of Vanuatu,C.C.# 59 2001, 12 May 2001.

Natapei & Ors v Tari & Ors (Reasons forJudgment). Unreported, Supreme Court ofVanuatu, C.C.# 59 2001. 12 May 2001.

p i r, Pacific Islands Report.<http://pidp.eastwestcenter.org /pireport />

Tari & Ors v Natapei & Ors. Unreported,Court of Appeal of Vanuatu, Civ. App. #11 2001. 1 November 2001.


T P, The Trading Post. Port Vila. Three edi-tions per week.

Vanuatu Ombudsman. 2001. Digest ofPublic Reports 1996–2000. Prepared byEdward R. Hill for the u n d p Governanceand Accountability Project (Van /97/0101)and the Vanuatu Office of the Ombuds-man. January.<http://www.undp.org.fj /vanombud/>

West Pa p ua

The gap continued to widen betweenIndonesian central government rhet-oric and performance on the groundin its troubled eastern province ofIrian Jaya during 2 0 0 1. If carrots wereproffered to the province, in the formof a law on “Special Autonomy” thatis due to be implemented in 2002,sticks were still wielded vigorously bythe government’s security apparatus,with the police and military acting inconcert with the judiciary. Among thee l e m e n t s on o ff e r i n t h e S p e c i al A u t o n-omy package is an apparent conces -sion on use of the name “Papua” forthe province, but the failure to satisfya widely voiced Papuan preference for“West Papua” and the retention inofficial usage of the alternative butdeeply unpopular “Irian Jaya” (Greator Victorious Irian) are symptomaticof a continued reluctance on the partof government to engage seriously indialogue with its Papuan citizens.

The fall of President Suharto inMay 1 9 98 h ad u s h e red in a s h o rt - l i v e d“Papuan Spring,” a brief eighteen-month period during which civilianpolitical expression in Papua flour-ished and calls for independence wererelatively freely voiced. A formal dia-l o g ue held in Jakarta in F e b ru a ry 1 9 9 9

between President Habibie and a teamof a hundred Papuan representativesalerted the government to the depthof pro-independence sentiment inPapua. This sentiment then foundmore public expression in the formof two mass meetings in Jayapura, aConvention or Musyawarah Besar inFebruary 2000, and a Congress inMay–June 2000. The Congress,dubbed the “Second Papuan Con-gress” in acknowledgement of thePapuan Congress of 1961, issued anumber of ambitious declarations,each of them unacceptable to Jakarta:a demand that Jakarta recognize theunilateral declaration of independenceissued by the first Papuan Congresson 1 December 1961; a repudiationof the 1962 New York Agreement andthe subsequent 1969 “Act of FreeChoice” or p e p e r a which, in the eyesof the United Nations, saw formerDutch New Guinea formally incor-porated within Indonesia; a rejectionof central government plans to carvePapua into three separate provinces; a fiat issued to the leadership of theC o n g ress to seek international supportfor the cause of independence; and acall for the immediate involvement ofthe United Nations in a transfer ofpowers to an independent Papuanstate.

A panel of Papuan leaders, thePapuan Presidium Council (PresidiumDewan Papua or p d p), emerged fromt he S e c o n d C o n g re s s, h e a d ed by C h a i r-man Theys Eluay and Vice Chairm a nTom Beanal. Theys, an elected chieffrom Lake Sentani, had formerlyenjoyed a close relationship withJakarta but had developed a some-what ambivalent position since 1998as an outspoken advocate of indepen-


dence while maintaining close per-sonal and business relationships withvarious military officers. Tom Beanal,leader of the Amungme community inthe area of the Freeport mine, wasperhaps more widely respected as agenuine champion of Papuan rights,but early in 2000 he had decided toaccept a position on the board ofFreeport Indonesia.

Under the presidency of Abdur-rahman Wahid, elected in November1999, the Papuan Presidium Counciland its supporters enjoyed an unpre c e-d e n t e d latitude of political movementand expression. Across Papua, previ-ously banned “Morning Star” flagsassociated with the independencemovements were raised on 1 Decem-ber 1999, and local community secu-rity posts (posko) established. Wahid’spolitical and substantial financial sup-port for the Second Congress played a part in his fall from power in July2001, when Wahid was replaced byhis strongly nationalist vice president,Megawati Sukarnoputri. Megawati’snew cabinet restored hard-line nation-alists and former generals to key posi-tions, notably Gen. (ret.) Susilo Bam-bang Yudhoyono as CoordinatingMinister for Security and PoliticalAffairs, Gen. (ret.) Hari Subarno asHome Affairs Minister, and Lt. Gen.(ret.) Abdullah Mahmud Hendropriy-ono as the head of the new NationalIntelligence Bureau. Under their direc -tion, the hard-won concessions ofprovinces such as Aceh and Papuahave systematically been rolled backin a return to the military dominanceof regional planning and administra-tion that characterized the 1970s andearly 1980s.

This process was a l re a dy under way

prior to Megawati’s presidency. On 8 June 2000, directly in response tothe Papuan Congress of May–June, ameeting was called by the Ministry ofthe Interior’s Directorate for NationalUnity and Public Protection at theMatoa Hotel in downtown Jayapura.Those present represented all of theintelligence agencies operating inPapua, including the local intelligenceheads from the Special Forces (Kopas-sus) and the elite Regional Reserve(Kostrad). The meeting outlined whatit interpreted to be a solidifying con-spiracy among Papuan leaders, andproposed a series of possible govern-ment responses, both public and clan-destine. The twenty-three-page min-utes reporting the findings of themeeting to Minister Hari Subarnowas subsequently leaked to humanrights nongovernment organizations.Attempts by Minister Yudhoyono andothers to deny that the “Matoa” doc-ument was genuine were underminedby Minister Subarno who, when ques-tioned, admitted that the meeting hadindeed taken place and observed sim-ply that there had not been adequatefunding to pursue the plans outlinedin the report.

In a diagram entitled “PapuanPolitical Conspiracy,” the Matoa doc-ument maps pro-independence cells(fraksi), each linked to a central axis,and identifies some thirty-eight lead-ing individuals by name. Those listedinclude almost every notable Papuan,from known commanders of the FreePapua Movement (Organisasi PapuaMerdeka or o p m), through churchand n g o leaders, to the Jakarta-appointed Governor Jaap Salossa. Thenotion that these individuals might actin concert is absurd, though the suspi-


cion that they share a common hopefor eventual independence is moreplausible. The report set out a com-prehensive plan of action for govern-ment agencies, including diplomaticinitiatives designed to counter thePapuan Presidium Council’s inter-national activities, fast-tracking ofeconomic development programs, the promotion of official histories ofPapua’s integration into the Republic,the creation of “civil defense” and“people’s resistance” groups (or mili-tias), the generation of a legal frame-work to cover repressive action, andthe prosecution of strong sanctionsagainst the leaders of the “PapuanConspiracy.”

Certainly the broader intentions ofthe Matoa document appear to haveinformed government responses toindependence sentiments since mid-2000. On the morning of 8 October2000 a well-planned assault by com-bined security forces on Papuanposko centers in the Wamena Valleythat were flying the Morning Star flagannounced an end to the earlier toler-ance of political freedoms. Indonesianmigrants were caught in the crossfirebetween the Wamena communitiesand the police and military, and asmany as thirty-seven Papuans andmigrants were killed. The killing ofthe migrants, some of them teacherswhose houses had been used as sniperposts by the security forces, madeheadline news nationally. Preemptingthe pro-independence ceremonies on 1 December 2000, five of the p d pleaders, including Theys Eluay, werearrested on charges of treason, and ine a ch of t he re g i o n al c e n t e rs f l a g - r a i s i n gceremonies were brutally interrupted.Clashes in Fak-fak, Sorong, Mano-

kwari, Tiom, and Jakarta resulted inseveral deaths and multiple arrests oncharges of subversion. Many of thosearrested during this period in Jaya-pura, Wamena, Jakarta, and elsewherehave been held under arrest for con-siderable periods of time and, evenwhen released, live under the threat of having charges laid against them.

The government’s diplomatic offen-sive was pursued with equal eff i c i e n c y,and the Papuan Presidium Councilfound itself progressively cut off frominternational forums and avenues forsupport. The Presidium’s success ingaining observer status at the PacificIslands Forum in 2000 was notrepeated in the August 2001 Forummeeting. Nauru, as the Forum host,had actively supported West Papuaindependence at the United Nationsas well as at the 2000 Forum, but in2001 withheld visas for p d p represen-tatives while welcoming an officialIndonesian government team. At theForum, the government’s Papuanspokesman, the State Minister forAccelerated Development in EasternIndonesia, Manuel Kaisiepo, declaredthat human rights violations in WestPapua were a thing of the past (seebelow for evidence to the contrary).Australia and Papua New Guineacompleted this reversal of fortune for the Papuan Presidium Council bylimiting reference to West Papua inthe Forum Communiqué to a simpleexpression of “concern about violenceand loss of life,” and welcomingJakarta’s proposals for SpecialAutonomy.

The future of a negotiated settle-ment between Jakarta and Papuarevolves around the question ofautonomy. Autonomy, in the form


of a degree of control over resourcebenefits and other local revenues andadministrative functions, had beenoffered by President Habibie to all ofthe country’s regencies, thus bypass-ing the provinces and underminingtheir ability to pose a real challenge toJakarta. In the two cases of Aceh andPapua, a “special” form of provincialautonomy was proposed, in order tocounter separatist sentiment. Twocompeting drafts for the bill on Spe-cial Autonomy were brought to thenational House of Representatives(d p r- r i) for consideration. The firsthad been prepared unilaterally by theMinistry of Home Affairs, with littleor no Papuan input. Although thisdraft was endorsed by the provincialHouse of Representatives (d p r dTingkat I) in Jayapura, it was ulti-mately rejected by the commissioncharged with presenting a draft to thenational House. The second draft wasput together in Jayapura by a team ofPapuan academics and provincial gov-ernment officials appointed by Gover-nor Jaap Salossa, and represented amuch more serious attempt to findsome common ground between thepositions of the Papuan PresidiumCouncil and Jakarta. After lengthynegotiations between the House andthe Governor’s team, the Papuan draftwas accepted as the basis for the billin June 2001, but heavily reworked toeliminate all reference to the possibil-ity of a referendum on Papua’s future,and to emphasize Papua’s role as anintegral part of the Republic of Indo-nesia. The bill was formally endorsedby the House on 22 October, andplans announced for the formal pre-sentation of the law by the presidentto the governor in Jayapura on 22December.

The most generous provisions inthe new Law on Special Autonomy orOtonomi Khusus for Papua relate tothe redirection of resource revenues,allocating 70 percent of oil and gas to Papua, together with 80 percent of other natural resource revenues,including mining, forestry, and fish-eries (though some doubt remainsover the precise arrangements formining), and an ongoing 2 percent ofthe national general allocation fund.Given the presence in Papua of bothFreeport’s Grasberg copper/gold mineand British Petroleum’s Tangguhnatural gas field (see below), this isexpected to result in a doubling of theprovincial budget of previous years.On most other matters the final billproved less flexible. The powers toappoint a Commission on HumanRights and a Commission for Truthand Reconciliation, and to control thedeployment and activities of the policeand army, are all retained by Jakarta.Although provision is made for theestablishment of traditional courts(Pengadilan Adat), these are to be sub-o rdinate to the national court system,which will continue to be regulatedby Jakarta. Crucially, no place wasfound in the final bill for popular ref-erendums on changes to the SpecialAutonomy Law or, as proposed in thegovernor’s draft, on the fate of SpecialAutonomy after a trial period of fiveyears. Although a symbolic concessionis made on use of the name “Papua,”the status of other symbols of Papuani d e n t i t y, such as the Morning Star flag,remains uncertain. Permission isgranted to use local symbols (flagsand anthems) but these can only be“cultural expressions and cannot beused as independence symbols.”

The key to Jakarta’s strategy is the


offer to Papua of revenues from thevarious “mega-projects,” includingthe Freeport copper-gold mine, BritishPetroleum’s natural gas project atTangguh, b h p-Billiton’s nickel pros-pect on Gag Island, and the plans foran industrial park centered on theMamberamo hydroelectric project.Freeport’s production was restored tofull capacity in January 2001 after thecompany forced through an agre e m e n twith community leaders on dumpingits overburden in Lake Wanagon, thescene of two massive accidents, thesecond being fatal for four Freeportworkers. In April, Mama YosephaAlomang, an Amungme leader whohas campaigned actively against Free-port, was awarded the Goldman Envi-ronmental Prize in San Francisco forher determined defense of the rightsof the Amungme and Kamoro com-munities indigenous to the area ofFreeport’s contract of work. Freeportcountered this reversal by announcingdetails of a formal Memorandum ofUnderstanding, signed with Amungmeand Kamoro re p resentatives, establish-i n g a trust fund for the two communi-ties, in an attempt to make amendsafter previous, poorly implementedattempts at compensation. In Augustt he n a t i o n al e n v i ro n m e n t a l n o n g o vern-ment organization, wa l h i, securedan inaugural, if limited, victory in aJakarta court against Freeport on thematter of insufficient disclosure aboutthe Wanagon accidents. British Petro-leum’s massive Tangguh natural gasproject in Bintuni Bay is likely toproceed to production in 2004, andwill ultimately produce even morerevenue for the province than Free-port. However, plans for a joint ven-ture nickel project on Gag Islandinvolving b h p-Billiton, Falconbridge,

and Aneka Tambang were suspendedwhen Falconbridge withdrew, citingthe obstruction posed to the projectby legislation banning mining inNational Protection Forest areas.Despite optimistic announcements bygovernment officials, both nationala n d p ro v i n c i a l, little headway h as b e e nmade with the formal components ofthe Mamberamo project, amid doubtsover the technical feasibility of a largedam in a dynamic river system, anduncertainty over the scale of environ-mental impacts and the political futureof Papua. Nevertheless, numeroustimber and oil palm projects havegained a foothold in the Mamberamoarea, riding on the coattails of thelarger project.

Papuan disappointment with theSpecial Autonomy legislation focuseson Jakarta’s mistaken assumption thatthe financial benefits of autonomywill ultimately compensate for thelack of political freedoms and per-sonal security. A “paralyzing polariza-tion” of debate within Papua, whichassociates “M” (Merdeka, or immedi-ate Independence) with true Papuanaspirations, and “O” (Otonomi, orAutonomy) with submission to thewill of Jakarta, had previously under-mined attempts to discuss moderatepositions at the Papuan Congress.Even before the details of the final billhad been released, Special Autonomyhad been rejected out of hand by thePapuan Presidium Council and vari-ous o p m spokesmen on the groundsthat it fell short of demands for areferendum and had involved little orno dialogue with Papuan communityleaders. An early attempt by the gov-ernor’s team to “socialize” their draft,a t a seminar in Jayapura on 2 8 M a rc h ,was disrupted by student protests and


the walkout of many of the regionalrepresentatives gathered together todiscuss the draft. A heavy-handedattempt by police to quell these pro-tests resulted in the death throughinjury of one of the protestors. As anobserver remarked, if the academicsof the governor’s team had failed toadequately socialize the concept ofspecial autonomy among their ownstudents, there could be little hope for success before the broader Papuanpublic. Papuan supporters of the con-cept of special autonomy (if not thefinal form of the bill), including thegovernor, members of the local andnational legislatures, senior academics,bureaucrats, and church leaders, haveargued that the new law, howevercompromised, is a necessary first steptowards satisfying Papuan expecta-tions.

Levels of violence in Papua haveoften reflected the personal attitudesand ambitions of provincial comman-ders, and there was an air of cautiousoptimism following the appointmentin late 2000 of Maj.-Gen. TonnyRompis, an apparent moderate whohad put the case for a persuasiverather than re p ressive response to callsfor Papuan independence. His deathin a plane crash in the Central High-lands on 8 January, along with eightothers including the provincial policechief, F X Soemardi, and the Speakerof the pro v i n c i a l p a r l i a m e n t, N a t h a n i e lKaiway, was a severe blow to advo-cates for peace on both sides. In placeof Rompis the army appointed Maj.-Gen. Mahidin Simbolon, a SpecialForces veteran, famous for his intelli-gence work that resulted in thecapt u re of F retilin leader X a n a n a G u s-mao, and for his role in the organiza-

tion of East Timorese “militias.” Incontrast, the new police chief, Brig.-Gen. I Made Magku Pastika, hasproved to be an unusually liberalappointment.

Late in 2000, Minister for DefenseMahfud had declared the govern-ment’s intention to return to a “secu-rity” approach in its handling of A c e h ,Maluku, and We s t Papua, and a majorredeployment of fifty-one battalions,or 40 percent of the entire army, tothese outer provinces ensued. Esti-mates of additional troops sent toPapua during 2001 ranged from thearmy’s own figure of an increase to8,000 “nonstructural” elite police andmilitary, to observers’ estimates of15,000–20,000 new troops. Mega-wati’s first cabinet meeting nominatedthe resolution of the conflicts in Acehand Papua as its most pressing goal,and in her inaugural address on 16August the new President apologizedto Papua for the suffering endured as a consequence of “inappropriatenational policies.” During the follow-ing months, however, strongly nation-alist policies on Papua prevailed,implemented largely through theagency of the military.

Thus far, the creation of civilian“militias” has been limited to urbancenters, particularly in the westernparts of the province, at Fak-fak andSorong, where the military haveattempted to pit indigenous Moslemand Christian communities againsteach other. There have also been sev-eral reports during 2001 of the arrivalin Papua of well-armed and gener-ously funded Laskar Jihad militantsfrom the conflict in Maluku.

In Papua, as elsewhere in Indo-n e s i a, t h e a rmy supplements its income


through a wide variety of businessoperations. The proliferation of armyand police units in Papua, and thescope for rivalry over logging, alluvialmining, and smuggling opportunities,has led to a corresponding rise inclashes between different units. A fire-fight and grenade assault involvingpolice and military took place at Seruion Yapen Island on 27 August leavingtwo dead and six injured, and a run-ning war between police and soldiersin the Nabire area has claimed thelives of at least two police.

A rmed resistance to Indonesian ru l eon the part of the Free Papua Move-ment appears to have increased during2001. Although internal strife contin-ues to dog the movement, with fatalclashes reported from o p m camps inVanimo in mid-July, individual com-manders and their units have beenable to move with surprising freedomand temerity within Papua. Attackson police or military posts, or onIndonesian migrant workers, werere p o rt ed f rom the are as of B e t af / S a rm i(3 February and 27 August), Wasior(31 March and 13 June), Timika (4April and 23 September), Bintuni (28August), Waropen (16 November),and Kimaam (28 November). Thetownship of Ilaga in the Central High-lands was overrun by the Free PapuaMovement for five days, from 28 Sep-tember until the army reestablishedcontrol on 2 October. This last eventwas sufficiently embarrassing forMaj.-Gen. Simbolon to sack eight ofhis senior commanders, including hisassistants for intelligence and terri-torial affairs. Military operations inresponse to opm activity, particularlyin the Wasior area, in ManokwariRegency, and in the Betaf and Sarmi

areas of the north coast, drew harshcriticism from human rights observ e r s .Indiscriminate “sweeping” operationsconducted by army and elite police(b r i m o b) units in these two areasresulted in numerous reports of arbi-trary detention, torture, and execu-tion, and forced large numbers ofcivilians to flee to the surroundingforests.

Two hostage crises during 2001briefly dominated national, if notinternational news. The first involvedthe 16 January kidnapping by an opmunit, led by Willem Onde, of a groupof eighteen workers from the Korean-owned logging company, pt TunasKorindo, operating in the Asiki areain the Merauke re g e n c y. The crisis wasresolved on 7 F e b ru a ry with the re t u rnof the last hostages, among them twoKorean company officials, but notbefore grave doubts had been raisedin the media about the nature of thekidnapping. Onde had long been inclose negotiation with local Kopassuscommanders, and was regarded withsuspicion by Papuan observers andother opm commanders. AmongOnde’s demands was a request for the military to pick up his tab at a barthat he frequented in Merauke. The“crisis” over, Onde was flown by them i l i t a ry to Jakarta, where he met withparliamentarians to press his case. InSeptember, after his return to Papua,two bodies with their hands boundand gunshot wounds to their chestswere retrieved from rivers nearMerauke, and identified as those ofOnde and his lieutenant, JohannesTumeng. Few seem to have questionedthe general wisdom that Onde’s “tab”with the military had expired. Thenon 7 June, two Belgian men, Philippe


Simon and Johan v an D en E y n d e, w e retaken hostage by an o p m unit at thevillage of Paluga near Ilaga. Althoughthe Belgians appear to have been tour-ists with an interest in documentaryfilms, their easy passage through themilitary posts in Ilaga in search of the Free Papua Movement arousedthe unit’s suspicions, leading to theirkidnapping. Two church mediators,Benny Giay and Theo van den Broek,eventually secured their release,unharmed, on 16 August.

In December 2000 a group ofapproximately 400 refugees, mostlyHighlanders fleeing police persecutionin the Jayapura area, crossed into theVanimo area of Papua New Guinea,but failed to gain acknowledgment ofrefugee status from the PNG govern-ment. The UN High Commission onRefugees had previously announcedits plans to withdraw from all of therefugee camps by the end of 2001,and the Catholic church, left to bearmuch of the burden, also threatenedto withdraw if government supportwas not forthcoming. In March, aPNG police riot squad attack on oneof the Vanimo camps left as many asfifteen people injured. The irony ofthe PNG government’s willingness toreceive Afghan and Iraqi refugees insupport of Australia’s “Pacific Solu-tion” did not escape observers oneither side of the border.

The event that dominated the newsfrom Papua at the end of 2001 wasthe assassination on 11 November ofp d p Chairman Theys Eluay, a murderthat remained officially unsolved bythe year’s end. After a t t e n d i n g a d i n n e rat the Special Forces (Kopassus) baseat Hamadi, in Jayapura, Theys and hisdriver Ari Masoka were driving backto his home in Sentani when his car

was forced off the road by anothervehicle. Theys was abducted by atleast four men, but Ari escaped, call-ing Theys’s wife to tell her of the kid-napping by “straight hairs” (ie, non-Papuans). Shaken, Ari asked a passingbus to drop him at the Kopassus base,where he then disappeared. Theys wasdiscovered dead the following morn-ing, with his hands bound, seated inthe driver’s seat of his car (though hecould not drive), which had beenpushed into a ravine along a roadleading to the PNG border. Theautopsy found no marks of strangula-tion, but declared that Theys had diedof a “lack of oxygen,” presumablythrough suffocation with a plasticbag, a hallmark technique of Kopas-sus killings. Despite high tension andsome sporadic riots, calm prevailed,and Theys was buried in Sentani on17 November, in a ceremony attendedby a crowd estimated at more than10,000.

Police enquiries very quickly cameto a standstill and a report issued on13 December by a local human rightsorganization, the Institute for HumanRights Studies and Advocacy(ElsHAM), made clear the reasons for this impasse. All the indicationswere that the killing was the work of Kopassus, who had badly botchedtheir attempt to cover their tracks.The vehicle had passed throughnumerous military and police check-points to reach the point where it wasfound, and forensic evidence (includ-ing matching paint on Theys’s vehicleand a Kopassus vehicle, and finger-print evidence from Kopassus troopswho were interviewed by the police)was supported by the testimonies ofnumerous eyewitnesses. Kopassussilence on the whereabouts of Ari


Masoka has only strengthened thecase against them. Despite initialprotestations to the contrary—Maj.-Gen. Simbolon, known for his pridein the dictum “No order, no action,”denied the involvement of any troopsunder his command and insisted atfirst that Theys had died of a heartattack—the combined weight of thepolice report, a public statement byprovincial Police Chief Made Pastikalinking Kopassus to the murder, andthe findings of an internal militaryinvestigation, finally forced an admis-sion by Army chief EndriartonoSutarto that troops may have beeninvolved.

Jakarta, now in damage-limitationmode, has sent a notionally indepen-dent commission of enquiry to settlethe case, but the composition of theteam, with several active and retiredmilitary and police officers, has donelittle to inspire confidence. The find-ings of the team have been neatlyanticipated by government ministerswho have aired the likelihood that themurder was a criminal action on thepart of rogue elements of the military,acting independently of commandstructures. Along with Willem Onde,Theys had been identified as a mem-ber of the “Papuan Conspiracy” in theMatoa document, and observers havesuggested that their murders mark theinitial steps in a systematic campaignof elimination of local leaders similarto that being conducted in Aceh.Since the assassination of Theys,death threats have been issued overthe phone to other “Papuan Conspir-ators,” including p d p Secretary-Gen-eral Thaha Al-Hamid and ElsHAMDirector Johannes Bonay.

Events during 2001 offer scantgrounds for optimism about Papua’s

immediate future. There is little pros-pect of genuine dialogue betweenJakarta and Papua under a Megawatiadministration, and no indication thatthe other major parties are likely to beany more accommodating of Papuanaspirations. Much hangs on the speedwith which the Special Autonomy leg-islation is implemented and the man-ner in which this is achieved, but in a climate of diminished governmentadministrative capacity, to say noth-ing of will, the chances of an increasein levels of Papuan frustration appearvery high. The most immediate prob-lem for the government, obviously, isfinding a credible solution to the ques-tions surrounding the assassination ofTheys Eluay, but little in the govern-ment’s handling of this case thus farsuggests that it will succeed in swayingPapuan opinion.

Having cancelled her trip to Papuain late December to present the SpecialAutonomy legislation, P re s i d e n t Mega-wati instead attended a 29 Decembermilitary parade in Jakarta at whichshe declared, “We are suddenly aware. . . of the need for forc e to p ro t e ct o u rbeloved nation and motherland frombreaking up.” “But with the laws ofIndonesia as your guide,” she added t othe assembled soldiers, “you can doyour duty without worrying aboutbeing involved in human rights a b u s e s .Do everything without doubts.”Among the senior officers present wasMaj.-Gen. Simbolon and before thema company of non-Papuan soldierswho, dressed in grass skirts and withtheir bare chests crudely daubed withmud, shook spears and enactedJakarta’s necessary fantasy of savageand uncontrollable Papuans.

chris ba l l a r d


R e f e re n c e s

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Van den Broek, Theo, and Alexandra Sza-lay. 2001. Raising the Morning Star: SixMonths in the Developing IndependenceMovement in West Papua. The Journal ofPacific History 36 (1): 77–92.