Dr Anirudh Singh . . . "They put a noose around my neck." Image: David Robie/Café Pacific Media
From Café Pacific 1990 archives: The abduction and torture of a scientist by soldiers has exposed a sinister side to the current ruling regime in Fiji. David Robie writes for The Dominion.
By David Robie in The Dominion
Soft-spoken and unassuming, Dr Anirudh Singh plays down his role in Fiji as civil rights activist. Recalling the events of the past two months that led to his abduction and torture, the Indo-Fijian academic seems remarkably surprised at the international publicity he has unleashed.
He is anxious to put things in perspective. “Ask me who am I? What am I? Nobody has asked me these things.
“I’m really a scientist. I wasn’t so interested in politics before this happened.”
It troubles him. Besides the brutal physical attack on him by soldiers, the scars left from the torture and the smear attempts by the “regime’s propagandists”, Dr Singh wants to put the record straight.
He isn’t from Britain, as some newspapers have said. He proudly says he is a Fijian citizen, now a University of the South Pacific lecturer; he was in Britain for just three years completing his doctorate in physics.
And he would like to return to Leicester University to complete his research into the atomic structure of solids using a new technology which involves the use of a particle accelerator.
But Dr Singh, due in Auckland to address a public meeting tonight [18 December 1990] about his ordeal and other human rights abuses in in Fiji, must wait until at least after January when he and six colleagues face charges of sedition and unlawful assembly.
‘Political interference’
Defence lawyers believe “political interference” is involved in the case and have filed an application for a High Court trial. A hearing will be on January 23 [1991].
Dr Singh’s lawyer Miles Johnson, a former Fiji Law Society president and an outspoken critic of the new constitution, regards the case as a test of the legality of the interim government.
“We are putting the case fairly and squarely that an accused cannot be guilty of sedition if the government itself is not legitimate,” he said. The military-backed government was installed after two coups in 1987.
Three journalists also face charges on January 30 of “maliciously fabricating” a report about further protests against the constitution. Their newspaper, the Fiji Daily Post, reported a plan by University of the South Pacific-based protest groups to burn further copies of the constitution.
This is believed to be the first time any prosecutions have been brought under the vaguely worded Section 15(a) of Fiji’s Public Order Act 1976 which declares: “Any person who . . . fabricates or knowingly spreads abroad or publishes, whether by writing or by word of mouth, or otherwise, any false news or false report tending to create or foster public alarm, public anxiety or disaffection, or to result in the detriment of the public . . . shall be guilty of an offence.”
The three Post journalists — publisher Taniela Bolea, chief subeditor Robert Wendt and reporter Subash Verma — face a maximum penalty of one year in jail or a fine of F$1000 if found guilty.
News media sources in Suva say the arrests could be part of a campaign by the interim government to close down the indigenous Fijian-owned newspaper because its outspokenness has become an “irritant” to the regime.
‘Prisoners of conscience’
A report to the human rights group Amnesty International has warned that the accused activists and journalists would be considered “prisoners of conscience” if found guilty and jailed.
“We are certainly keen to protect human rights on our doorstep,” Amnesty’s New Zealand executive director, Colin Chiles, said. Amnesty considers the so-called “Constitution 10” have been charged over the nonviolent exercise of their constitutionally guaranteed rights to freedom of expression, assembly and association.
Interviewed by phone in Canberra, Dr Singh said he had no regrets about the symbolic burning of the new republican Fiji constitution at a protest rally during the Hindu festival of Diwali on October 13.
“It won’t even burn,” one of the about 100 protesters shouted at the time amid cries of “Azadi” (freedom). The burning incident sparked of the kidnapping.
“It was a spontaneous event, but we’re not apologising for it,” Dr Singh said. “We have a right to freely express our views against the racial discrimination of the constitution.”
The adductors drove Dr Singh to the Colo-I-Suva rainforest area on the outskirts of the capital Suva where they held him for 11 hours. He alleged that he was tortured by three of the soldiers while being interrogated about his political activities.
According to an Amnesty International report, Dr Singh said his captors covered his head with a hood, looped a rope around his neck which they tied to his feet, and bound both of his hands and feet.
Burned with cigarettes
Then the kidnappers beat him on his face, chest and arms. Later, when the hood had been removed from his head, Dr Singh’s hair was roughly cut and some of it was burned with lighted cigarettes.
While his hands were still bound, his captors held them against the base of a tree and beat them repeatedly with a steel pipe as they questioned him about the identities and addresses of other protesters.
Finally freed at 8pm, Dr Singh staggered to safety. He was taken to Suva’s Colonial War Memorial Hospital where he was treated for broken bones in his hands and multiple wounds and bruises on other parts of his body.
Dr Singh has also received further treatment in Australia and is still unable to make a fist with his hands.
Amnesty twice wrote to the interim Prime Minister, Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara, on October 24 and 29 expressing concern about the kidnapping and torture of Dr Singh. However, the regime replied there was “no evidence to suggest the involvement of police or military personnel”.
With his second response, on October 30, the regime confirmed that a police investigation had been launched immediately after the abduction. But it made no mention of the arrest of five soldiers — a captain and four corporals — on the same day.
The soldiers, including Captain Sotia Ponijiase, who had reportedly received Special Air Service training in Britain and New Zealand, pleaded guilty to abduction and grievious bodily harm charges. On November 22 they were given one year suspended jail sentences and fined $170 each.
Counter Revolutionary Warfare Unit accused
Adi Kuini Bavadra, leader of the Fiji Labour Party-led Coalition, accused the Fiji military’s Counter Revolutionary Warfare Unit with having organised the abduction.
Condemning the abduction and the torture, the Daily Post also protested over the arrest of its journalists involved in the affair.
The newspaper said the arrests seriously challenged the freedom of the press. “The worrying thought that emerges here is if the police action is the possible start of suppression of this freedom . . . While the Post men were in custody, the real culprits (burners of the constitution and Dr Singh’s bashers) were still at large.
“Someone appears to be barking up the wrong tree.”
Dr Singh is under no illusions. He believes he was driven to take part in the constitution protest because freedom of speech is stifled under the regime and the news media operates under conditions of strict self-censorship.
“The Daily Post has been the bravest of the media and the consequences are upon it now,” he said. “We have been totally frustrated by our lack of freedom of expression.”
‘Behave or else’
Since the constitution burning and the abduction, the regime has clamped down even harder.
“After I was tortured, the military visited the newspaper offices and seized pictures that showed me with my injuries. The staff were told in effect to behave or else.”
Dr Singh condemns the atmosphere of racial hatred and animosity encouraged by the regime. He says he now feels like a marked man for daring to speak out.
“The worst thing about it is that things have got so worked up that I might be attacked in the street by ordinary people who recognise my picture in the paper.”
This article was first published by New Zealand’s The Dominion, 18 December 1990. An expanded account of human rights violations in post-coup Fiji was published in David Robie’s 2014 book Don’t Spoil My Beautiful Face: Media, Mayhem and Hum Rights in the Pacific (Little Island Press). In 1991, Dr Anirudh Singh wrote a book about his ordeal called Silent Warriors. He sued the five soldiers who abducted him and the Fiji Attorney-General and after a 13-year delay, on 1 November 2006, the High Court of Fiji ruled in his favour.
The full Fiji “tortured academic” article in The Dominion, 18 December 1990.
New Zealanders played a critical part in a flash-point that ignited a guerilla war threatening the economy and stability of Papuas New Guinea. David Robie examines the New Zealand connection and the conflict centred on Bougainville island – a far-flung and troubled part of Papua New Guinea.
By David Robie in Sunday Magazine
Martin Ward: “The truth is that there is an environmental mess.”
It is a bitter, stormy meeting at the Bougainville township of Panguna — site of one of the world’s largest open-cut copper mines. Finally, Francis Ona, soon to be a rebel leader with a $380,000 price tag on his head, marches up to Wellington environmentalist Martin Ward. he thusts his face menacingly in front of Ward and points to the altar crucifix. “Em big fella kilim i dai,” he hisses in Tok Pisin. “Mipela nogat likem report bilong yu, mipela kilim yu dai.” Ona draws his finger across his throat in case Ward misses the point.
Blood on their Banner (Zed Books/Pluto Press edition), 1989
“The South Pacific is no longer pacific. Nationalist struggles against colonialism, indigenous claims for sovereignty, and superpower rivalry have turned it into a zone of growing tension. David Robie, a New Zealand journalist covering the region for the past decade, provides a devastating expose of the political forces which have shaken the South Pacific over the past few years.
“He also argues that the policies of France, Indonesia and the United States pose the gravest threat to the stability of the region.
“The author describes the liberation struggle of New Caledonia’s Kanaks to end French rule; the fate of President Remeliik of Belau, an island with the world’s first nuclear-free constitution; the pressures on Vanuatu as a result of its opposition to nuclear weapons; Indonesia’s two “forgotten wars” in East Timor and West Papua; and the coup which has divided the two communities of Fiji.
“Graphic accounts include the massacres of Hienghène and Ouvéa, the siege of Thio and the assassination of Ëloi Machoro – regarded by some as the Che Guevara of the South Pacific.” – Zed Books, London, United Kingdom
Blood on Their Banner (Malaya Books edition, Philippines), 1990
David Robie is a New Zealand author, journalist and media educator specialising in Asia-Pacific affairs. He is founding director of the AUT Pacific Media Centre and editor of Pacific Scoop, Asia Pacific Report, Pacific Media Watch and PMC Online.
He was on board the Greenpeace ship Rainbow Warrior bombed by French secret agents in 1985 and his book about that fateful voyage to the Marshall Islands is called Eyes of Fire.
University of the South Pacific author and academic Dr Robert Robertson with the smuggled manuscripts from Fiji. Image: John Selkirk/The Dominion
Harassment, intimidation and exile failed to silence two authors, a Fijian and a New Zealander, who claim to expose the ‘truth’ about Brigadier Sitiveni Rabuka’s 1987 military putsch in Fiji. DAVID ROBIE reports.
By David Robie in The Dominion Sunday Times
University of the South Pacific author and academic Dr Robert Robertson
The Fijian feudal connection, The Dominion, 4 September 1987
After two false starts, Fiji’s rival former prime ministers finally get together for vital talks over the country’s future. David Robie assesses their chances.
After a few weeks of optimism over reports that Fiji’s former prime ministers were burying their hatchets and agreeing to discuss a government of national unity to take over from the military-backed regime, the hopes have been dampened.
Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara, architect of Fijian independemnce and leader of the country for 17 years, and the man who ousted him in the April 1987 general election, Dr Timocy Bavadra, are still expected to have talks today.
"Sit down everybody. This is a takeover" - Sitiveni Rabuka's first coup in Fiji, 14 May, 1987. Image: New Outlook (June/July edition)
Fiji: Countdown to a coup
ANALYSIS: By David Robie in New Outlook
Sakeasi Butadroka fingers his trademark blood-red bow-tie and laughs: “This represents the blood of Christ that flowed from the cross on Cavalry.” He says it also represents the danger facing indigenous Fijians and the sacrifices they are prepared to make.
A Methodist lay preacher and poultry farmer who exudes charm and good humour in spite of the firmness of his beliefs, “Buta” was the man responsible for the brief downfall of Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara’s Alliance government in the first of two general elections in 1977. Unashamedly campaigning along racial lines, he also had a hand in the final ousting of Ratu Mara after 17 years in power in April 1987; his Fijian Nationalist Party gained enough ethnic Fijian votes to help the new multiracial Coalition government win office.
Butadroka’s controversial political career appeared to have ended after a heavy defeat in 1982, but he did not waiver in his struggle to change the Fiji Constitution and give ethnic Fijians exclusive rights to lead the country. He advocated “thinning out” the Indo-Fijian population by encouraging migration. “The nationalist ideal will live on — it will never wither like a flower,” he remarked, prophetically, during the election campaign. “Those who say we are finished are nothing but fools.”
Following the defeat of Mara, however, a group of hardline Alliance Party leaders, Butadroka’s opponents, also adopted a nationalist policy — a policy which last month led to the biggest protest rallies ever seen in Fiji, with barricades and firebomb attacks against prominent Indo-Fijians, and finally to a rightwing military coup.
Does Butadroka regret lighting the racial fuse? No. At least, not until Lieutenant-Colonel Sitiveni “Steve” Rabuka — also a Methodist lay preacher — deposed the Coalition government and imposed martial law.
“Why do you think I’ve been campaigning all these years?” he said before the coup. “I’ve had one objective: to get rid of the Mara government so that Fijians would realise they are in danger. Now the fight has begun, I am happy.”
But standing outside Parliament Buildings, stunned, after the May 14 takeover, he said: “No, no . . . The bastards cannot do it like this. They’ll destroy democracy forever. This is a tyranny. Blame Ratu Mara for this. Where is the Judas?” Police hustled him away.
Butadroka, who was jailed under the Public Order Act for “incitement” in 1977, has always advocated constitutional changes through democratic means. The Taukei (indigenous) Movement used to claim that Butadroka was anti-Indian while it was pro-Fijian, but the movement’s recent actions have been more extremist than Butadroka’s nationalists ever were.
More than a racial struggle, the Taukei attempts at destabilising the Coalition government and then the coup were part of a three-stage strategy for the Alliance Party to seize back power at all costs. The speed with which the coup came after the protests had lost steam has prevented prosecution cases expected against several Alliance ministers for corruption and misappropriation of public funds.
“The Coalition government was perceived to be dangerous by the Alliance and had to be overthrown,” says a University of the South Pacific historian, “because it was a challenge to the existing power structure and was crossing the racial barriers.”
“No photos” An angry Fijian soldier points to a photographer outside The Fiji Times office. Image: Matt McKee/New Outlook
Constitutional storm
Dr Timoci Uluivuda Bavadra, in a white shirt, tie and sulu, had been relaxed in spite of the constitutional storm blowing around him — until he was put under house arrest. “Doc”, as the 52-year-old former civil servant is known to friends and party stalwarts, had slipped into the role of Prime Minister with ease and was approaching his task with the air of a physician with a kindly bedside manner.
Some now say too kindly. He was under pressure from several of his cabinet colleagues to take a hard line against the dissidents. But Dr Bavadra regarded reports of the extent of the opposition as exaggerated. Still, the day after the Lautoka firebombings he began to take harsher action. A day-long emergency meeting reviewed security.
Three days before the coup, key Taukei leader and former Works Minister Apisai Tora, widely regarded, like Colonel Rabuka, as a front man for the Alliance, was arrested by police and charged with “sedition and inciting racial antagonism”. Senator Jona Qio was also charged with arson over the Lautoka firebombings the day before the coup.
Prosecutions for corruption against other previous Alliance ministers were expected to follow.
Deposed elected Prime Minister Dr Timoci Bavadra . . . approached his task with the air of a physician with a kindly bedside manner. Image: Matthew McKee/New Outlook
Shortly before the coup, Dr Bavadra’s cabinet heard a report from the police special branch about the presence of two CIA agents in Fiji. Cabinet opinion was divided on whether the agents should be expelled.
Sources close to the Prime Minister said Rabuka was seen playing golf with the two men and Ratu Mara the Sunday before the coup, only a week after the United State Ambassador to the United Nations, General Vernon Walters, a former director of the CIA, visited Suva. Walters has been described by New Statesman magazine as “having been involved in overthrowing more governments than any other official serving the US government”. The diplomat had talks with Foreign Minister Krishna Datt and would have reported to Washington on his assessment of the minister and the government’s non-aligned policies.
Dr Bavadra, the sources said, also summoned the US ambassador to his office and complained that US aid funds had been used to help the Taukei Movement. The Australian-owned Emperor Gold Mines company was also accused of providing buses to help transport Fijian protesters to anti-government rallies.
Dr Bavadra had earnestly defended his government, saying it wqs “unthinkable” that he consider sacrificing the welfare of ethnic Fijians. He was saddened that dissidents suggested he would allow the government to put the welfare of Fijians at risk.
“We have been elected on a platform of improving the lives of all Fijians, not just one race and not just a ruling elite,” he said. “Lack of housing, poverty and poor wages should not be blamed on racial grounds.”
His government gained power on promises to improve social welfare, education, health and housing, and to eliminate corruption. But the way to do this, he argues, is through fairer distribution of the country’s wealth and better use of government resources. Dr Bavadra allocated the sensitive public service, Fijian affairs and home affairs portfolios to himself. Another Fijian, Mosese Volavola, became Lands Minister.
‘Let us not yield . . . let us not tarnish the image of tolerance.’
— Dr Timoci Bavadra
Dr Bavadra also pointed out that his government was elected by a five percent swing among ethnic Fijians away from the Alliance — mainly educated Fijians, particularly women, and young, underprivileged urban Fijians. Two nationalist candidates were declared bankrupt when counting began, but the Nationalist Party’s high polling split the Fijian vote in four crucial Suva electorates to boost the Coalition victory.
“Fiji needs this government to develop our maturity as a nation,” says Health and Social Welfare Minister Dr Satendra Nandan, 48, a poet and former literature lecturer at the University of the South Pacific. “It is vital for our peaceful future to show that a real multiracial government can run Fiji, we cannot keep brushing racial issues under the carpet.”
Dr Nandan, who had been tipped as likely Foreign Minister (Fiji Labour Party secretary-general Datt got the job instead), is fiercely critical of how the Alliance exploited racial fears during the campaign. “It tried racism, but we have broken the Alliance’s back on this issue,” he says. “It also tried scaremongering over land. When it failed to shoot holes in our domestic policies, it switched to foreign affairs — and it thinks the Fijian people are gullible.”
The Fiji Sun bitterly attacked the emotive smears used by the protesters, blaming them for worsening race relations. Rival Fiji Times, while conceding the Constitution was open for improvement, said it would “not be by brute force, threats or other illegal means”. (Both of Fiji’s daily newspapers are foreign-owned — the Sun by a New Zealand-Hong Kong owned company and the Times by Rupert Murdoch’s Herald and Weekly Times Ltd.)
Although several high chiefs condemned the protests, Ratu Mara’s failure to do so drew severe criticism and heightened suspicions about direct Alliance involvement, even though the party denied it.
When Ratu Mara surfaced as Foreign Minister in the military regime’s provisional government, it was widely believed that he was among the Alliance leaders who instigated the coup. Denials by Mara and Rabuka were unconvincing; the colonel needed the backing of the Alliance to stage the coup.
During at least one press conference, Colonel Rabuka was clearly being “coached” by the military regime’s Development Minister Peter Stinson and Information Minister Dr Ahmed Ali, both previous Alliance ministers concerned about the Coalition’s pledge to open the financial books.
Both of Mara’s former deputy prime ministers, Ratu David Toganivalu — regarded as the “Mr Clean” of the previous Alliance administration — and Mosese Qionibaravi, would have nothing to do with the military regime.
Among the Taukei leaders, besides Apisai Tora, is a rightwing trade unionist, Taniela “Big Dan” Veitata. A former member of the Fijian Nationalist Party, Veitata is regarded by many as a particular virulent racist.
“A new form of colonialism has been imposed on us, not from outside but from within our own country by those who arrived here with no rights and were given full rights by us — the taukei,” says Tora. But while Tora claims Dr Bavadra was a “puppet and a prisoner” of thw Indians, allegations are being made that Tora himself is a front for covert interference by the United States. When the new government took office, documents were found which purportedly linked Tora with American backing.
The “puppet” allegations against Dr Bavadra were based in his quick evelation of lawyer Jai Ram Reddy to the Senate and appointment as Attorney-General and Justice Minister. Reddy was an astute former opposition leader but he resigned from Parliament three years ago after a series of bitter clashes over what he considered to be the dictatorial style of Speaker Tomasi Vakatora. However, Reddy was the National Federation Party’s architect of the merger with the Fiji Labour Party and it was widely expected that he would be rewarded with a cabinet post.
Like Butadroka and Rabuka, Tora wants the Constitution to be amended so that only Fijians are elected to Parliament and to replace the Senate with an upper house based on the powerful, traditional Great Council of Chiefs, rather like Britain’s House of Lords. As Butadroka puts it: “We should follow Ghandi and Nehru in India: they told the British to get out of Parliament but have a free reign in business.”
Protected Fijian land rights
The so-called Indian problem began on 14 May 1979, when 489 Indians arrived as indentured labourers to work in the British-run sugar-cane fields. Just five years earlier, through a Deed of Cession — rather like the Treaty of Waitangi — signed by 13 high chiefs, the 320 islands which make up Fiji had become a British colony. One condition of the deed was that while property fairly acquired by European settlers at the time could be retained by them, Fijian rights to the rest of the fertile land should be protected.
These two events more than a century ago are at the heart of the present dispute. Descendants of those 489 Indians, joined by others over the following 37 years at the rate of about 2000 a year, now outnumber the indigenous Fijians, both within the 715,000 population and in Parliament. Forty-eight percent of the people are now Indo-Fijian, 46 percent Fijian (the higher birthrate means they will overtake Indians by 1990) and the rest “general”, or Europeans, Chinese and part-European. Nineteen of the Coalition’s 28 MPs are Indian.
In theory, Ratu Mara’s Alliance was a coalition of three parties: the Fijian Alliance, the Indian Alliance and the General Electors Association. After the Suva protests, however,two senior Indian Alliance officials quit and called on the other Indians to abandon the party.
Party general secretary Naresh Prasad said the protests had ruined the Alliance’s commitment to multiracialism and tolerance: “I get the feeling Fijians actually hate my guts yet they smile to keep my support.”
Britain’s departing colonial masters created a system of government which ensured each of the three major founding ethnic groups would be represented and any party or coalition forming the government would have substantial support from at least two of the three communities. Adapted from a Westminster-style democracy, the result is probably the world’s most complex electoral system. Each Fijian elector is represented by four members — two from that voter’s ethnic background and two which must not be from that community.
Parliament’s 52 seats are divided into two main categories and then into three sub-categories, making a total of six classes of seats — 25 national and 27 communal. Voters from all ethnic groups elect the national MPs while only specific ethnic communities elect communal MPs. The seats are broken down as: Fijian national 10, Indian national 10, general national 5, Fijian communal 12, Indian communal 12, general communal 3. To make the situation even more complicated, the six classes of seats overlap geographically.
Indigenous land 83 percent
Land distribution is fundamental to politics in Fiji. Under the Constituton, indigenous Fijians are guaranteed ownership of almost 83 percent of the land. Such Fijian land is inalienable and is owned collectively by the mataqali (clan). About 80 percent of the remaining freehold land is owned by Europeans, while the 350,000 Indians have freehold rights over only about 1.7 percent.
Nearly 120,000 hectares of Fijian land is leased, 75 percent of it to Indians — who naturally would prefer to own it. The Coalition government promised during the election campaign to open up more land for productive use, to “lease crown land to all citizens”.
But the government was also careful to stress that it recognised Fijian land ownership rights, and said no change would be considered “without the full consultation and approval of the Great Council of Chiefs. The Coalition is committed to uphold, protect and safeguard the ownership rights of people over their land and private assets as guaranteed under the Constitution and other laws of Fiji”.
The Alliance’s election campaign capitalised on Fijian fears over their land and tried to portray the Coalition as “communist” with a secret agenda designed to strip people pf their hand and hand it to the Indo-Fijians. Even if the allegations were without foundation, they have struck a responsive chord with some Fijians. “It is neocolonialism by Indians,” says “Big Dan” Veitata. “Unless we stop it now, we will be no better off than the kanaks in New Caledonia, the Australian Aborigines and the New Zealand Māori.”
There are many prosperous gujerati (Indian businessmen), but Fijian business is still dominated by foreign — mainly Australian, New Zealand and local European — ownership. And many of the poorest people in Fiji are Indian squatters or jobless.
1987 Fiji coup leader Lieutenant-Colonel Sitiveni Rabuka . . . a “hit list” of 300 people regarded as founders or sympathisers of the Labour Party. Image: Matthew McKee/New Outlook
However, the Indian community dominates the sugar-growing industry which is the mainstay of the Fijian economy. Nearly all the crop produced by Indians is grown on land leased from native landlords on the basis of limited tenure.
Ideally, the Indian community would like to have increased land rights, or, failing that, a greater security of tenure on leased land. Fijians, however, stubbornly stick to the traditional system of land distribution, the basis of their hold on power.
‘We’ll give them six months and then we’ll take over.’
— Lieutenant-Colonel Sitiveni Rabuka
In the late 1950s, there were barely 130 children of Fijian-Indian marriages. Since then the segregation of the races practised by the colonial administration through legal decrees has largely disappeared. Mixed marriages are now more common and mixed-race children more numerous than a generation ago. Figures are difficult to establish because children in Fijian-Indian marriages and relationships are not regarded as a separate category.
The colonial administration segregated living areas for the different racial groups. For example, in Suva, Vatuwaqa, Samabula and the Signal Station were reserved for Indians while areas like Toorak, the Domain and Tamavua Heights were for white settlement. Draiba was for Indian civil servants. This was coupled with a policy that non-indigenous races were barred from living in Fijian villages.
“The British practised a form of dictatorship from 1875 to 1963,” says Dr Vijay Naidu, a University of the South Pacific sociologist. “From 1904, whites had representation in the legislature and Indians were represented by nomination in 2016 and by election in 1929. The governor and the official members could veto any resolutions of the elected representatives. Indigenous Fijians voted for the first time in 1963. This was not all, “democracy” as practised in Fiji meant that Europeans, though numerically a minority, had parity with the other ethnic categories.”
According to Dr Naidu, the friction between Fijian and Indo-Fijian is highly exaggerated: “For black labour in Fiji, the owners and managers of transnational corporations, who are largely white, constitute the main antagonists.” He also says that the general electors (voters who are neither Fijian or Indian) have traditionally been the most racial in their voting, something hardly remarked on by foreign or even local journalists.
However, in spite of his comments, Dr Naidu found himself on the military regime’s “hit list” of about 30 people regarded as founders or sympathisers of the Labour Party. He went into hiding when police arrested two people wrongly identified as him.
“Fijians opposing the Coalition are led by those who have lost their privileges by being ousted — it is political rather than racial,” says Dr Tupeni Baba, a flamboyant university lecturer who became Education Minister. “The Alliance wanted a less open government than ours, judging from its failed attempts to prosecute people who delved into its actions and from the way it shielded itself from the media. It suffers from a fortress complex.”
Timeline of a coup Saturday, April 11, 1987: A tropical beeze tugs at the coconut palms along the waterfront of the capital, Suva. Week-long polling in Fiji’s fifth general election since independence has just ended and there is excitement in the air. Supporters of the Fiji Labour Party-led Coalition with the Indian-led National Federation Party sense victory.
At Ratu Mara’s official residence in Veuito there is anger and disbelief. “These people cannot govern,” say several Alliance leaders. “We’ll give them six months and then we’ll take over.” Already Alliance activists meeting in the urban ghetto of Raiwaqa have begun plotting how to destabilise the future government.
Sunday, April 12: Labour’s Dr Timoci Bavadra, a man who had never sat in Parliament, claims victory before the final figures: 28 seats to 24. After an address to the nation on Radio Fiji that night, Dr Bavadra shares a bowl of yaqona with well-wishers, including New Zealand High Commisionetr Rod Gates at the modest clapboard headquarters of the Fiji Labour Party.
Monday, April 13: Dr Bavadra is sworn in as Prime Minister and meets, one by one, the chairman of the Public Service Commission, the commissioner of police and the commander of the Royal Fiji Military Forces. (In 1977, when the Indian opposition won the first election but were unable to form a government, none of these crucial services would cooperate with it.) Doubt still remains about the Fijian-dominated military.
In his first pres conference as Prime Minister, Dr Bavadra pledges to introduce a New Zealand-style ban on nuclear warships and attacks the Australian and United States claims of Libyan and Soviet threats in the region, saying he cannot see any evidence. He confirms Fiji will follow an “active non-aligned” foreign policy.
Tuesday, April 14: Honouring his pledge of a racially “balanced” government, Dr Bavadra reduces the cabinet from 17 to 14 members and names seven Indo-Fijians, six Fijians and one minister representing “general electors” (European or mixed race).The previous Alliance government was dominated by indigenous Fijians.
Dr Bavadra flies to the chiefly island of Bali to pay his respects to the former Governor-General, Ratu Sir George Cakobau, a paramount chief. When he became Labour Party leader two years ago, Dr Bavadra had visited Cakobau to seek his support in trying to win over the Fijian villages, the traditional stronghold of the Alliance Party.
Easter: Angry Fijian villagers set up barricades near the the northern town of Tavua on the main island of Viti Levu, demanding the Coalition government be ousted. A meeting of 3000 Fijians in Viseisei, Dr Bavadra’s home village in western Viti Levu, protests against the government.
Apisai Tora, a former Lands Minister in the Alliance government, accuses the new administration of “dispossessing Fijians in their own country”. He attacks the assigning of key commerce, finance, foreign affairs and justice portfolios to Indo-Fijians. The meeting votes to freeze land leases to non-Fijians.
Dr Bavadra, who is accused of being a puppet of the Indians, condemns illegal protests and “any attempts to destabilise Fijian society”. But the government remains cautious, anxious to avoid racial strife.
Friday, April 24: Between 5000 and 8000 Fijians state a peaceful anti-government protest rally in Suva, the biggest demonstration in Fijian history. Racist slogans include “Fiji fr the Fijians”, “Stop this Indian government”, “Fiji now little India — say no!” and “Out with foreign puppets”. Protest leaders petition the Governor-General, Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau, with a demand that the Constitution be changed to guarantee Fijian control in the country.
Dr Bavadra warns Fijians in na national radio broadcast not to allow a “disgruntled few” to sabotage the country. “Let us not yield . . . let us not tarnish the image of tolerance and goodwill for which Fiji is renowned,” he says. “Where is the justice and reason in trying to destabilise and remove a government as soon as it has been elected?”
Sunday, May 3: Police and military forces are put on alert after a Molotov cocktail explodes in the law offices of Justice Minister Jai Ram Reddy in the western city of Lautoka. Four nearby Indian businesses are firebombed at the same time. Shortly after the fires, police detain Senator Jina Qio, one of the Suva protest organisers, and release him after four hours of questioning. (He is later charged.)
Friday, May 8: Anti-government organisers claim at least 30,000 Fijians will blockade the opening of Parliament. However, the government refuses to grant a permit for a legal protest and only about 1000 people picket the opposition Alliance lobby rooms. But that is enough to prevent all but five Alliance MPs being sworn in. A rebel Alliance MP, Militoni Leweniqala, is elected by the House as Speaker and he is immediately banned from the Alliance caucus. More destabilisation threats are made but the Bavadra government appears to be weathering the storm.
Thursday, May 14: Ten soldiers wearing gasmasks and armed with pistols burst into the parliamentary chamber. Sitting in the public gallery, Lieutenant-Colonel Sitiveni Rabuka rises, moves toward Dr Bavadra and orders: “Sit down everybody. This is a takeover!”
The soldiers abduct Dr Bavadra and 26 of his MPs at gunpoint, herding them into military trucks to take them to detention. Heads of the military and police forces are deposed, the Constitution suspended and the colonel forms a provisional council of ministers.
The Governor-General, Ratu Sir Penaia Ganilau, declares a state of emergency and refuses to recognise the military regime as Australia, Britain and New Zealand exert pressure for a return to constitutional democracy.
Tuesday, May 19: After five days of intense pressure from Colonel Rabuka for the vice-regal seal on his military regime, Ganilau still refuses to endorse the junta. He orders the dissolution of Parliament and return to barracks for Rabuka’s soldiers, and he calls for a new election.
David Robie was one of only two New Zealand journalists to cover the fateful 1987 election in Fiji and he correctly predicted the election of the Fijian Labour Party-led coalition to power. He also covered the post-coup period and later, as head of journalism at the University of the South Pacific, led a group of student journalists in their award-winning coverage of the May 2000 George Speight coup. His early Fiji coup coverage was summarised in his 1989 book Blood on their Banner: Nationalist Struggles in the South Pacific and his Speight coup coverage was included in a 2014 sequel, Don’t Spoil My Beautiful Face: Media, Mayhem and Human Rights in the Pacific. This article was published in the June/July 1987 edition of New Outlook magazine, pp. 22-29.
Poisoned Reign . . . the updated edition of Moruroa, Mon Amour.
REVIEWS: By David Robie
When it first appeared in 1977 under the title Moruroa, Mon Amour, the Danielsson’s book was a damning indictment of French nuclear colonialism in the Pacific. For France, it had the effect of whipping up a tsunami, a tidal wave of hostile public opinion, that the French-language edition (Stock, 1974) was unable to achieve.
Poisoned Reign.
More than any writers, the Danielssons have exposed the arrogant and cynical way that a succession of French governments and leaders fron Charles de Gaulle on, have exploited the Tahitian people and their culture for a fallacy based on the force de frappe.
Now their revised edition, Poisoned Reign, which adds a further none chapters and an epilogue on “Underwatergate”, brings us up to date about France’s nuclear hostage in Polynesia.
Among one of the more moving passages is a statement by Ian Mana Te Nunaa leader Jacqui Drollet: “Our land,” he says, “has changed hands, we have sold it for a dream. Our power of decision has been taken from us and all we have got in exchange are a few social welfare benefits.
“Our society has become tough, cruel, merciless, and we are dominated by a new desire to make individual profits. To continue along this road is sheer nuclear prostitution.”
This edition includes a foreword by Chris Masters, who produced an award-winning television documentary, French Connections. Viewed in exclusion, the Rainbow Warrior affair does seem bizarre,” he observes. “Viewed, however, in the context of French Polynesian history as revealed in this book, it is not surprising.
“The vile treatment by France of the Tahitian autonomist Pouvanaa a Oopa is no less shocking than the killing of Fernando Pereira.”
American Lake.
Also from Penguin Australia, is American Lake, a detailed exposé of the state of the Soviet and United States nuclear stand-off in the Pacific. It warns that recent changes in superpower military strategy and force deployments have made it just as likely that World War III could break out in the Pacific as in Europe or the Middle East.
The authors, researchers with Nautilus Pacific Research, have spent several years compiling this long awaited wealth of information. They make telling use of previously undisclosed and formerly classified Pentagon files obtained under the US Freedom of Information Act.
They highlight the “deadly connection” between nuclear and conventional weaponry, “which is central to fully comprehending the nuclear power in the Pacific”.
The vast size and power of the US Pacific Command is explained and the authors conclusively reject US rhetoric about the “increasing Soviet threat” in the Pacific. Concluding that the Soviet military machine is homebound and vulnerable, the authors add that it is “vastly inferior to the US in every dimension”.
American Lake also touches briefly on the role of the Nuclear-Free and Independent Pacific (NFIP) movement which has provided a powerful “people’s diplomacy” since the early 1970s. It could have examined this rather more closely, but perhaps it is better tackled by other authors.
Both books are compulsory reading for anybody seriously advocating a truly peaceful order in the Pacific.
A French "nomad" army camp at Negropo. David Robie smuggled out the film. Right: Two of the agents that followed Robie in Noumea in January 1987. Inset: Independent journalist David Robie. Images: Islands Business
French police and soldiers harassed and arrested Islands Business correspondent David Robie during an assignment in New Caledonia in January 1987. It was his sixth visit there. This was his report in the February 1987 edition of IB.
SPECIAL REPORT: By David Robie
It began like something out of a B-grade police comedy. As the French say in New Caledonia, c’est le cinema. But the funny side quickly turned sour.
At first, the French authorities gave me a two-hour grilling at Tontouta international airport. A police “welcome squad” awaited me at the arrival lounge when I flew in to cover political developments in the South Pacific territory leading up to this year’s [1987] referendum on independence and the military “nomadisation” of Kanak villages in the brousse (bush).
Then I was tailed constantly and kept under surveillance by security police in Nouméa.later, I was actually “arrested” by soldiers armed with automatic rifles, submachineguns and bayonets near the eastern township of Canala and interrogated incommunicado for four hours.
I have been given no official answers about why, but I suspect it was because of French sensitivity about my planned reports of military operations in the Kanak areas of New Caledonia. This is apparently something France would rather keep away from world scrutiny.
Few foreign journalists venture into rural areas of Kanaky New Caledonia. And a wave of paranoia towards Australia and New Zealand has gripped Nouméa since the decisive United Nations vote to reinscribe New Caledonia on its Decolonisation Committee’s list of non self-governing countries.
From the start, the French authorities and the local rightwing daily newspaper seemed intent on harassment and intimidation. I was being billed as a sport of French “public enemy”. (Expelled Australian Consul-General John Dauth was top of the notoriety list!)
I went through the usual channels: notifying the French High Commission in Nouméa and French Embassy in Wellington well in advance of my visit and requesting the cooperation of French authorities (to enable my interviews). My previous five trips to New Caledonia had gone smoothly, even when I was there twice during the 1984 Kanak rebellion.
At the Customs checkpoint at Tontouta on Tuesday, 6 January [1987], an official seized a private letter to a Kanak woman working for a government office out of my briefcase. He ripped open the envelope and pulled out a poster for a reggae concert for Kanaky and became excited, saying: “Aha, subversive material!”
Incredulous, I was whisked away to an interview room by two uniformed gendarmes and four plainclothes immigration policemen. They searched through all my pockets, baggage, contact books, cameras and background files. Every name and telephone number was sifted through.
Frequently, two of the policemen exclaimed “subversive” as my newspaper clippings and other background files were thumbed through. Several of my documents and copies of letters , including to the High Commissioner, were taken away for photocopying and handed back. Finally, I was told I could go.
The daily newspaper, Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes, next day carried a report virtually apologising for allowing me in because I carried a British passport and thus did not need a visa. A Radio New Zealand journalist had been refused a visa a few days earlier and a group of 38 New Zealand trade unionists, church activists and peace campaigners due to visit New Caledonia as guests of the mainly Kanak Evangelical Church had also been refused visas.
Chirac’s colonial dilemma . . . ” a new catchcry has emerged in New Caledonia – “nomadisation”. Images: David Robie, National Times on Sunday, 17 August 1987
Later, the newspaper accused me of carrying “sensitive” material. Presumably it meant the reggae poster.
That day I wasn’t aware of any surveillance — I drove with friends to Nepoui, seat of the Northern Region government office headed by President Jean-Marie Tjibaou, leader of the Kanak and Socialist National Liberation Front (FLNKS). After that I noticed a car with two men inside parking outside the budget Hotel Caledonia, where I was staying. They took photographs and followed me everywhere.
After six hours, another couple of men in a light brown Renault 9TS, 111928NC (this car was used repeatedly over the next few days), took over, I was concerned because they could have been white extremists, responsible for several unsolved bomb attacks in the past couple of years, and decided to report the situation to the New Zealand Consulate.
As I made my way to the Consulate on foot along one-way streets, one of the men, in tomato-red trousers, got out of the car and followed me. I turned a corner, walked up a hill and sat out of sight beside a shrub. My follower came running up the hill to catch up. he looked rather sheepish when he found me waiting for him.
At the Consulate, I gave them the slip for several hours by leaving through a carpark exit. Both Australian and New Zealand consular staff were supportive but could do nothing. A reliable source informed me that the men following me were agents of the DST, France’s internal security agency.
The next day two fresh men were staked out at the hotel. One, a seedy-looking, bearded character who claimed to be Spanish-born, followed me everywhere with a radio. I asked him for his identity and why all the theatrical stuff?
“You’re not in New Zealand, you know,” he answered. “In France, only I have the right to ask you. But in any case, we are only here to protect you. There have been threats on the local radio against you.” He wouldn’t explain further.
At one point, when I entered a Vietnamese-owned shop with a friend, Terri Batten of Auckland, my watcher was at my shoulder, radioing is colleague: “Come quickly, they’re at 21 Rue de Verdun, doing their shopping. “I went for a brisk walk through several streets. My watcher, puffing and drenched in sweat, pleaded: “Where are you going? Can’t we give you a lift.”
After a visit to the military headquarters in Nouméa where I was treated rudely by a mlitary liaison officer when I sought a briefing, two soldiers in a Citroën DS Pallas tailed me, taking photographs. The surveillance went on, until the afternoon of Saturday, January 10 [1987], when I left Nouméa for a week-long tour of Kanak villages suffering problems with the French military. Mayors, deputy mayors and other Kanak officials drove me from village to village. It appeared the gendarmes had taken over keeping track of my movements.
“Arrested – French security seize pictures”, a separate front page report in the New Zealand Sunday Times about the surveillance and harassment of journalist David Robie. Image: New Zealand Sunday Times screenshot, 25 January 1987.
I was two days in the Canala area on the East Coast, interviewing and gathering information. During that time I saw several examples of intimidation and harassment of villagers by soldiers from the 3rd Marine Infantry Regiment.
On Tuesday, January 13, Terry Batten and I left for Tuoho in a Central Region government car driven by a senior FLNKS official, Edmond Kawa. I decided to take several photographs of the two military outposts on the outskirts of Canala village — something which had already been done and reported on by French journalists, and which is perfectly legal.
As we drove slowly past the bamboo-and-barbed wire enclosure at Negropo, I shot a few photographs from the car window without stopping. By the time that we arrived at the second post, four kilometres down the road, a squad of 10 soldiers had blockaded the road and were fixing bayonets to their automatic weapons. A couple of soldiers crouched in the bush, pointing their guns at us.
A jeep screeched to a halt and a captain peered into the car: “Monsieur Robie? Are you David Robie, the New Zealand journalist?” he asked.
When I replied yes, he said the gendarmes were “on their way”. Our passports were confiscated and we were escorted to the Canala police station.
The deputy commander of the station — he refused to give his name — accused me of taking “unauthorised” photographs of military installations, loosely using the word “espionage”. He dismissed by argument that a temporary military post on a public road through a village was not a “military base” and that I had a democratic right to take such photos.
A French “tail” on roving Pacific journalist David Robie. Image: Islands Business The Month, p. 5, March 1987
I was detained at the station for four hours and was refused the right to phone the New Zealand Consulate, or anybody else. Nor was Terri Batten allowed to leave or contact anybody. I was also refused the right to have an interpreter (for the legal complexities of the situation we were in).
Although calm, at one point I snapped: “Is this a democracy?”
“No, this is France . . .,” the officer fired back.
“No, no . . . this is Kanaky,” interrupted Kawa. The gendarme gave him a warning.
The deputy commander tried to make me sign a statement in French which differed from the facts. He would not fully explain my four-hour detention.
After this “surveillance” episode, David Robie’s reports on the militarisation of Kanaky New Caledonia were featured as the cover story in the March 1987 edition of Fiji’s Islands Business. Image: IB screenshot Café Pacific
I refused to sign the French statement, instead signing my own one that I wrote in English. A roll of my photographic negative film was confiscated. However, it was the wrong one (I had earlier switched cameras) — it merely contained two photographs, one of a coconut palm and the other of a mango tree. Then I was freed.
The surveillance and harassment continued until two days before leaving Nouméa, when I was summoned for an interview with General Michael Franceschi, Commander-in-Chief of French Forces in New Caledonia. He was effusive and apologetic about the “unauthorised” photography incident.
Suddenly the atmosphere changed. the agents tailing me were no longer evident. I left through Tontouta airport on January 22 without a hitch.
How bizarre. Perhaps I wasn’t really a “spy” after all.
Owen Wilkes investigates the Cook Islands Submarine Affair, NZ Monthly Report, October 1986.
By David Robie in the NZ Sunday Times
Peace researcher Owen Wilkes claims the mystery submarine sighted in Cook Islands waters during February 1986 was on an American covert operation aimed at scuttling New Zealand’s antinuclear policy — but it misfired.
He accuses the Cook Islands and New Zealand governments and the military of a cover-up of the real identity of the submarine.
In an article in New Zealand Monthly Review published today, Wilkes says the facts point to a special operations submarine deployed by the United States navy.
[Mystery] submarine from US, says Wilkes, NZ Sunday Times, David Robie, 19 October 1986.
When Aotearoa (NZ) banned nuclear warships from its ports it was seen as David standing up to Washington’s Goliath. But behind Prime Minister David Lange is a whole army of peace campaigners forcing him to sling his shot. David Robie traces the history of their resistance — and shows how ordinary people declaring their home as a nuclear-free-zone helped send a message to the superpowers.
“Pacific force – building peace and justice” . . . from the cover of the September, 1986, edition of the New Internationalist.
By David Robie
Artist Debra Bustin sat dejectedly among the Reagan and Muldoon masks, papier mâché missiles and effigies of babies on stakes, waiting. The Nuclear Horror Show, a dramatic piece of street theatre, was ready to roll — but there was no transport. The truck supposed to have carted the props to the start of the demonstration in the heart of the capital, Wellington, had failed to turn up.
But another peace campaigner had an idea. He darted out onto the nearby street and stopped the first empty truck.
‘Hey mate, we’ve got to get all this stuff to the big anti-nuclear rally across town,’ he said. ‘Can you help us?’
Ten years before, the truck driver would have laughed at the campaigner’s cheek. But this was September 1983, and the peace and anti-nuclear groups in Aotearoa (NZ) had become a mass movement. The driver was delighted to help and the macabre show went ahead.
Within ten months, conservative Prime Minister Sir Robert Muldoon had been swept out of office as David Lange and the Labour Party were catapulted into power on a nuclear-free Aotearoa platform which stunned the country’s Western allies, particularly the US. And the new government swiftly announced it intended to ban nuclear-armed and nuclear-powered ships from the country’s ports.
Internationally, the move was perceived to be a bold, idealistic new step by a reformist government. Critics tried to suggest it was the result of some Machiavellian plot by the party’s militant left wing. In fact, it was the culmination of a policy which had first been introduced more than a decade earlier and had been reinforced at grassroots level by a highly motivated peace movement.
Indeed, even if the government itself had had doubts about the policy, it would have had little choice. Opinion polls showed 74 percent of people in favour of banning nuclear-armed ships, two thirds of the country’s 3.2 million population lived in self-proclaimed ‘nuclear-free zones’ and four out of five competing parties (including a new breakaway right-wing group) had the policy as part of their platforms. So what created this revolution in public opinion, and is there a lesson that the global peace movement can learn from Aotearoa’s example?
The peace movement in Aotearoa itself had humble beginnings in the 1960s with the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND)’s local Easter rallies being miniature clones of the huge annual Aldermaston march in the UK. But in 1968, two things combined to create the first major rallying point The first was the screening of Peter Watkins’ anti-nuclear TV film The War Game (which was banned in the UK). The second was the US Navy’s plan to build a radio communications base called Omega, which was to aid the navigation of Polaris submarines. Sensitised to the issue by the documentary. Aotearoans were so outraged by the Omega plan that it had to be shelved.
‘Government Deals NZ into War Game,’ said one newspaper.
‘The Watkins film brought home to Aotearoans the possibility of the country being a nuclear target,’ says peace researcher Owen Wilkes. ‘Until then war had been a kind of sporting event. It was something that happened on the other side of the world.’
Anti-nuclear feeling contributed to Labour’s election victory under Norman Kirk in 1972. Their nuclear-free policy emerged from the fallout shelter hysteria of the early 1960s, thermonuclear tests by the superpowers and the escalating Vietnam war. In the three heady years which followed, the Kirk government shut out nuclear-armed and powered ships from Aotearoa’s ports. They also despatched frigates in support of the vulnerable flotillas of yachts which sailed to Moruroa in protest at French nuclear testing there.
But then the nuclear-free strategy was dealt a body blow. The National Party was re-elected in 1975 and Muldoon ushered in his decade of power by welcoming back nuclear ships. The Peace Squadron was formed in response — a loose coalition of people whose yachts, small boats and other craft mounted spectacular waterborne protests against visiting nuclear ships.
Another focus for the peace movement was the creation of nuclear-free zones. ‘We campaigned to declare your house, dog, car and boat nuclear-free,’ recalls Maire Leadbeater, leader of CND. It seemed small fry at the time, but later it was realised what a clever strategy it had been. It gave peace activists a manageable goal while at the same time making elected councils take a stand against nuclear facilities visiting or being sited in their area.
Canadian émigré Larry Ross dived into the nuclear issue in 1979 with a crusader’s zeal and an ‘ad man’s flair’. He made his Christchurch home headquarters of the New Zealand Nuclear Free Zone Committee and sparked off a movement which had remarkable success: 66 percent of the population now live in such zones declared by local authorities.
One after another local authorities declared themselves nuclear-free in the face of a barrage of letter-writing and lobbying by peace campaigners. Even larger cities became nuclear-free — councillors in the country’s largest city of Auckland considered the issue three times before deciding yes. Indeed, it was better, according to Larry Ross, for a council to refuse the demand at first – because this meant campaigners had to go out and involve local people, talk to them on the doorstep and get them to sign petitions.
By the 1980s the movement was becoming more organised. Peace Movement Aotearoa was formed, while Māori campaigners, seeking with increasing success to link anti-nuclearism with racism and land rights, set up the Pacific People’s Anti-Nuclear Action Committee.
In the wake of the social upheaval caused by the protests against apartheid during the 1981 South African rugby tour, enormous energy was released which became diverted to the peace movement. In one week alone, 40,000 people protested against a warship visit. The peace movement was finally a mass one — and the Lange Government’s policy was a direct result.
‘Everybody thinks we have this brilliant Labour government which is dedicated to pacifism,’ says Owen Wilkes. ‘But it isn’t, the government simply responded to public opinion whereas in other countries where there have been similar high percentages against nuclear weapons, governments haven’t reacted.’
Why has there been such an extraordinary level of popular backing for the policy in Aotearoa, a country which is so far from the centres of the world tension and so unlikely to be a target in the case of any nuclear attack? One key factor has been the bitter resentment most people feel towards French nuclear testing in the South Pacific.
French persistence with the tests in arrogant disregard of repeated protests by Aotearoa, Australia and other neighbouring Pacific nations has helped keep Aotearoans acutely aware of the nuclear issue. It has also helped to provide the peace movement with credibility.
Last year [1985], the sight of the Greenpeace ship Rainbow Warrior, lying bombed and submerged in Auckland harbour while crew members mourned their dead photographer colleague, Fernando Pereira, became a brutal reminder to all Aotearoans of the realities of raising a voice against war. And it unquestionably strengthened the Lange government’s anti-nuclear resolve.
While Lange is portrayed internationally as a champion of the nuclear-free strategy, he is at times accused at home of back-pedalling on the issue. The peace movement is also watchful for any sign that the government might soften its stance.
Last year [1985] the government tried to allow the nuclear-capable American warship Buchanan to visit and was only stymied by the strength of the peace movement. The protest ruined a carefully laid plan by the bureaucracy to open up a chink in the antinuclear strategy and prepare the ground for a compromise with the US.
Aotearoa’s policy has pushed it into an increasingly isolated position within the Western alliance. The US has applied severe pressure on the Lange government both overtly through diplomatic harassment and covertly through attempts to influence Aotearoans by CIA-funded projects involving journalists, trade unionists and other opinion leaders. Britain, meanwhile, has sent envoys like Baroness Young to warn that if the New Zealand Nuclear-Free Zone, Disarmament and Arms Control Bill were passed by Parliament it would mean Aotearoa and the rest of the Western alliance would move apart.
In the face of this international pressure, Lange has become increasingly cautious. At Oxford University during the popular debate with the American Moral Majority’s Jerry Falwell in March 1985, Lange delighted in his image as the nuclear-free David challenging the superpower Goliath.
But barely 15 months later his delight in the image was not so obvious. On his first major tour of European capitals, in the wake of Chernobyl, he was determined to reassure Western leaders that he was no pawn of the peace movement. During a speech to the Nobel Peace Prize-winning International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War he almost appeared to be defending the nuclear powers in his anxiety not to be seen to be ‘exporting’ the anti-nuclear policy.
Many people in the peace movement were disappointed that he did not use the occasion to make an emotional plea to the West to follow Aotearoa” example. They know that they have to keep up the pressure so as to counteract the influence of the Western alliance — and support from people internationally will help them. Otherwise a stand that has become a great source of hope to the worldwide peace movement might be endangered.
David Robie is a journalist based in Auckland. He specialises in Pacific affairs and is the author of Eyes of Fire (see box below).
World headlines
The sabotage of the Rainbow Warrior by the French Secret Service made world headlines. But few of those stories told us that the boat had just arrived back from a mercy mission — evacuating the Pacific islanders of Rongelap from their home atoll in the Marshall Islands, still drenched by radiation from a US nuclear test in 1954. The bomb dropped then, codenamed ‘Bravo’, was over a thousand times more powerful than the one dropped on Hiroshima, and the islanders have always claimed that the US deliberately used them as guinea pigs. These quotations tell one of the most iniquitous stories of the nuclear age:
‘In a sense the Marshall Islanders are the first victims of the Third World War. They are the first culture in the history of our race which ahs been effectively destroyed by radiation.’ — Denis O’Rourke, director of the acclaimed film about the Marshall Islanders, Half Life.
‘We heard a noise like thunder. We saw some strange clouds over the horizon. But the sun in the west faded away. In the afternoon something began falling from the sky upon our island. It looked like ash from a fire. It fell on me, it fell on my wife, it fell on our infant son. It fell on the trees, and on the roofs of our houses. It fell on the reef and into the lagoon.
‘We were very cautious about this ash falling from the sky. Some people put it in their mouths and tasted it. One man rubbed it into his eyes to see if it would cure an old ailment. People walked in it, and children played in it.’ — John Anjain, mayor of Rongelap when the explosion took place on 1 March 1954. In 1972 his son Lekoj died of leukaemia blamed on the fall out.
‘Greater knowledge of (radiation) effects on human beings is badly needed. Even though the radioactive contamination of Rongelap Island is considered perfectly safe for human habitation, the levels of activity are higher than those found in other inhabited locations in the world. The habitation of these people on the island will afford the most valuable ecological radiation data on human beings.’
— Brookhaven National Laboratory in New York, Medical Survey March 1957.
‘The Rongelapese have for years accused US government scientists of using them as guinea pigs. They claim that their exposure to Bravo was not an accident but part of an experiment to test the effects of radiation on human beings. The US Government has consistently claimed that the fallout was ‘accidental’ and caused by ‘an unprecedented shift in the winds’. However, in 1984, a declassified Defence Nuclear Agency report surfaced confirming that the fallout was in fact not an accident. The report said that, six hours before the blast, weather briefings showed winds at 20,000 feet were heading for Rongelap.’ — David Robie, author of Eyes of Fire.
‘The wind had been blowing straight at us for days before the test. It was blowing straight at us during the test, and straight at us after it. The wind never shifted.’ — Gene Curbow, senior weather technician on the neighbouring atoll of Rongerik, who took radio-sound weather measurements up to an altitude of 30,000 meters before and after Bravo. Curbow and US veterans stationed there have suffered since from a variety of illnesses including cancer, tumours, heart and thyroid conditions, and urinary and bladder disorders that they say were related to Bravo. Three of them said they had difficulty in fathering children or had had sickly offspring.
‘When we decided to leave Rongelap Atoll, the old people cried to leave their homeland. But I said, “What about your grandchildren? Do you want them to die?”‘ — Jeton Anjain, a Marshall Islands Senator.
All material from Eyes of Fire; the last voyage of the Rainbow Warrior by David Robie (Lindon – NZ 1986; Ravette – UK, 1986; New Society Publishers – USA, 1987; Asia Pacific Network, 2005; Little Island Press, 2015).
Aotearoa’s own peace needs
Aotearoa is now seen as a peacemaker on the world stage. But Māori and Pacific Islanders see little sign that their own needs for peace and social justice are being taken seriously and they ‘denounce any actions of the present state of Aotearoa, which acts at a mini-superpower in the Pacific’. Hilda Halkyard-Harawira puts their case:
“The Māori people are the indigenous people of Aotearoa — the land known to the international community as New Zealand. We are also children of the Great Ocean of Kiwa (Pacific), and we trace our ancestry back to the lands of Hawai’i and Tahiti Nui.
“The indigenous peoples of the Pacific are small nations, and often our plight goes unheard. And yet, isolated though we are geographically, our histories of colonisation match almost exactly those of our indigenous brothers and sisters throughout the world.
“We too have been forced to carry our cultures within our hearts and wear the culture of the European like a second skin. And today we too are but second-class citizens in our own homelands. Today we suffer the classic effects of colonisation endemic drug and alcohol problems, high mortality and suicide rates, apathy, self-hatred and identity crises. And now, as if that were not enough to cope with, an even greater and more deadly monster looms — nuclear death. The superpowers have invested in a new war game. The Pacific is the battlefield. Pacific peoples are the pawns. Even those not directly involved in the making of nuclear war will kill, so also will we be decimated by the dumping of radioactive waste in our oceans.
“We are denied the information that will help us to build our movement. The truth is always hidden from us, and we are made to feel powerless and ineffective.
“But despite all this, the spirit of resistance is strong. We have withstood the erosion of our culture and we continue to yearn for the freedom and peace that was once our birthright. And if all we can do in our lifetime is guarantee our children’s survival in a Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific, then we will have achieved something.”
Hilda Halkyard-Harawira lives in Aotearoa New Zealand, and is the Australasian representative for the Nuclear-Free and Independent Pacific Movement.