An image of the Eyes of Fire book launch in Auckland's The Viaduct in 1986. Image: Thirty years On website
By David Robie
“Award-winning journalist David Robie was on board the Greenpeace environmental ship Rainbow Warrior on its last mission to Rongelap Atoll in May 1985 and continued to stay with the ship until it reached Auckland in July.
Eyes Of Fire: The Last Voyage of the Rainbow Warrior, by David Robie, 1986. Image: Lindion Books
“Robie’s account of this voyage — of the Marshall Islands community poisoned by nuclear fallout and of the fatal bombing of the Rainbow Warrior by the French secret service — remains a definitive work on Western treachery in the Pacific, but also shows the power of good people who were willing to stand up and be counted when others desperately needed help.” – Lindon Books
“One of the most iniquitous stories of the nuclear age.” – New Internationalist
“This is THE book of the last five months of the first Rainbow Warrior.” – Rainbow Warrior skipper Peter Willcox
“Robie’s analysis places the bombing squarely in the context of the South Pacific politics and people, providing a much-needed human backdrop.” – Steve Sawyer, Rongelap campaign coordinator, Greenpeace Magazine
Eyes of Fire … later editions, 2005 (bottom) and 2015 (top).
Journalist David Robie won New Zealand’s 1985 Media Peace Prize (NZ Peace Foundation) for his reporting of the last voyage to the Marshall Islands and the bombing.
This was the original 1986 NZ edition published by Lindon Books. Other editions followed in the United Kingdom (Ravette) and the US (New Society Press).
New "French" Polynesian President Gaston Flosse . . . although his policies have clearly meant a giant economic leap forward, his critics claim only supporters of the party have cashed in. Image: David Robie/IB
Victory was complete. Gaston Flosse crushed all opposition at the polls. David Robie in Pape’ete asks how powerful can he become as France’s newly created Pacific Affairs boss?
By David Robie in Islands Business
Some brand him as the Pacific’s “Papa Doc”; others regard him as the man with a vision which will turn Tahiti into the economic and cultural showpiece of the region.
For two decades Gaston Flosse has been the mayor of the affluent Pape’ete suburb of Pirae. Ten years ago he was President [Speaker] of the Tahitian Territorial Assembly. But the real start of his phenomenal rise to power was four years ago [1982] when his neo-Gaullist party, Tahoeraa Huira’atira, wrestled control from the jaded autonomist Front Uni coalition of Francis Sanford.
Since then, the 54-year-old businessman has consolidated his power in such a devastating way that opponents are bitterly talking of “another dictatorship” or one-party rule.
David Robie’s Islands Business cover stories on the 1986 Tahitian elections. Image: David Robie/IB
Two years ago [1984] he assumed the title of President of “French” Polynesia with the authority of a prime minister under a statute reform which granted the territory considerable self-government powers. And barely three days after crushing defeat of the fragmented Tahitian opposition parties at the polls in March he was named by incoming French Prime Minister Jacques Chirac to the newly-created post of State Secretary for Pacific Affairs.
It was a triumph for his platform of internal autonomy for Tahiti and a greater say in French Pacific policy by islanders. Already he is being touted as the powerbroker of the region.
Delighted, Flosse praised Chirac for keeping his pledge. “I’ve already told him,” he added, “that I would only accept the job providing he gave me the support necessary to apply the policies of France in the Pacific.”
But, warned his opponents, the move increased his powers to an unhealthy degree. He would, for example, hold senior ranking to the French High Commissioner in Pape’ete. “Chirac has given Flosse a baby’s rattle to play with for a while — he’ll have no real power in thePacific,” snapped Jacques Drollet, leader of the pro-independence socialist party Ia Mana Te Nunaa (Power to the People). “And, in any case, the Chirac government won’t last a year.”
Personality attacks against Flosse have been the most savage ever seen in a Tahitian election campaign. Although his policies have clearly meant a giant economic leap forward, his critics claim only supporters of the party have cashed in. Even when Flosse turned the tables on his opponents on polling day, 16 March 1986, by becoming the first Tahitian leader in 30 years to win an outright majority in an election, the nasty barbs continued.
Tahitian President Gaston Flosse . . . Tahiti’s electoral law change gave his party an “unjust and scandalous” advantage, say critics. Image: David Robie/CP
Tahoeraa Huira’atira, which won power through a coalition in 1982, retained office with 21 seats, a majority of one in the expanded 41-seat Territoral Assembly. (The number later rose to 22 when an electoral office gave Tahoeraa another seat.) The vote also gave the indépendantistes a surprise success.
But, alleged Flosse’s opponents, Tahoeraa achieved its win by “buying” votes with favours and gifts of building materials for islanders on many of the 120 small outlyng islands and atolls in Polynesia. The opponents also claimed that an electoral reform had gerrymandered the remote islands, which cover an area of the Pacific almost as large as Australia, to Tohoeraa’s advantage.
“it is an outrage that Tahoeraa should win a majority in the Assembly with a minority of the votes,” said Quito Braun-Ortega, one of the leaders of the opposition coalition Amuitahiraa No Polinesia. “We cannot accept this result.” On the windward islands of Tahiti and Moorea, where two-thirds of French Polynesia’s 160,000 population live, Tahoeraa won just over a third of the vote. Yet this was still enough to gain nine seats out of the 22 at stake. Overall, Tahoeraa won 40 percent of the 74,000 votes cast. (A record 105,000 voters were registered.)
‘Unjust and scandalous’
By the end of the week, Ortega’s accusations had become increasingly bitter. He declared the “real majority” would resist Flosse’s government and said he electoral law was “unjust and scandalous”. Pape’ete mayor Jean Juventin, leader of another key opposition party, Here Ai’a, added: “A real fight is starting.”
“Flosse’s iron grip” . . . a target of bitter personality attacks. Image: Islands Business/March 1986
The seven opposition parties held a series of meetings to consider a strategy for seeking an annulment of the results, particularly in the Tuamotus, where Tahoeraa won four crucial seats.
Ortega accused Tahoeraa of using state funds and the territorial institutions for the benefit of its electoral campaign. There was also talk of occupying the Territorial Assembly building in protest so that the new Parliament could not convene on 27 March 1986.
With Flosse and Vice-President Alexandre Leontieff away in Paris to meet Chirac, Tahiti’s Minister of Internal Affairs, Patrick Peaucellier, called a press conference in whivh he accused Amuitahiraa of using “seditious language” in challenging the election results. Defending the electoral law, he said: “Tahiti isn’t a banana republic where coups d’etat can take place any old time.”
It was a grave situation when the opposition could talk about taking to the streets. Peaucellier said the opposition lacked political maturity. he warned the government would not tolerate any attempted occupation of the Territorial Assembly, as happened in 1976 when Front Uni assemblymen were agitating against Paris for reforms.
“If it doesn’t have anything to hide,” added Drollet, “Tahoeraa should be happy to have the inquiry. If it opposes it then our suspicions are confirmed. But I maintain there has been massive corruption.”
Criticism on a similar theme pas persisted over the last few months. One Paris newspaper, Libération, published a full-page article in January citing the alleged corruption. Flosse responded by filing a defamation suit against the newspaper. An issue of the party paper, Te Tahoeraa, also denied the allegations in a report headed: “Monsieur 10 percent doesn’t exist.” It also quoted Drollet telling Agence France-Presse: “None of the accusations against Flosse have to this day been substantiated. Nobody has been able to prove anything.”
The electoral allegations have centred on two government agencies, the US$10 million Islands Aid Fund (FEI) set up in 1984 to help develop the outer islands, and the Territorial Reconstruction Agency (ATR), established after the tropical cyclone devastation in 1983. ATR has built more than 1000 homes for the homeless.
However, the opposition claims that some houses or building materials have benefited party supporters while many Tahitian homeless remain without a place. Fei is also the Tuamotu word for a species of red banana used as the party symbol for Tahoeraa. So, in the minds of many islanders development work done by FEI was immediately associated with personal assistance from Flosse’s party.
The opposition claimed the government abused its powers by using both FEI and ATR to further its electoral prospects. Ortega also accused the French administration of being at least “ambivalent” over the election and having contributed to the alleged fraud.
Gaston Flosse warned Tahitians against the “political amateurism” and “irresponsibility” of his opponents: “All they do is nitpick.” Image: Screenshot APR; photos: David Robie/IB
Flosse rejected the allegations, saying: “They’re absolutely false.” He denounced the local newspapers and television station for “encouraging” the attacks. he also pointed out that the electoral law had been in use for several years. “You know very well there hasn’t been any fraud,” he told La Dêpeche. “The best proof is at Pirae, where the magistrate was preset and in charge of scrutineering. The same at Pape’ete, at Faa’a .. .in all the big centres a magistrate was present. It’s the opposition which was carrying out a fraud.”
But the electoral figures, as cited by Ortega, were hard to ignore. “Nobody had time to seriously study the implications of the new electoral law,” said Ortega. “But what it means is that a voter from the remote Austral or Tuamotu islands is equal to three voters from Tahiti. What sort of democracy is this?” In effect, it took about 2400 votes to win a seat on Tahiti and only about 800 votes on outer islands.
The opposition won 63 percent of the votes in the Windward Islands (Tahiti and Moorea) against Tahoeraa’s 37 percent; more than 54 percent on the Leeward Islands, against Flosse’s less than 46 percent; more than 54 percent in the Tuamotus (against 45.5 percent) and more than 57 percent in the Australs (against nearly 43 percent). It was only in the Marquesas where Tahoeraa actually won a majority of votes (more than 66 percent against 34 percent for the opposition).
Power on a minority
In the most “scandalous” case, Tahoeraa won four out of five seats in the Tuamotus with 45 percent of the vote. The other seat was won by Tapuro Napo, the one-man band party of Napoleon Spitz, who later announced he would support Tahoera’a. The Tuamotus were the islands that benefited most from FEI’s development assistance.
“We cannot confer power on a minority which has so far clearly been rejected by most Tahitians,” said Ortega. “Or the Tahitian people are in danger of revolting like in the Philippines. We hope the state will have the wisdom to realise this.” But there seemed little hope of a “grand coalition” of opposition parties as Ortega hoped — the political differences were too great. “This idea is moe moea — a big dream,” scoffed Drollet.
“There isn’t much difference between Amuitahiraa and Tahoeraa — it’s just a struggle between money and money.” The opposition looked likely to settle into three factions with the Assembly line-up as follows:
Government
Tahoeraa Huira’atira 22 seats
Tapuro Napo 1
Opposition
Amuitahiraa No Polinesia 6
Here Ai’a Taatira 4
Ia Mana Te Nunaa 3
Tavini Huira’atira 2
A’a No Maohinui 1
Ora Api O Tahaa 1
Tamarii Tuhaapae 1
Amuitahiraa and Here Ai’a, the party once led by the late independence leader Pouvanaa a Oopa and then John Teariki before his death in 1983, were expected to form two major opposition blocs. Ia Mana and Tavini Huira’atira’s Oscar Temaru, the rising star of Faa’a, were likely to form a pro-independence bloc with the possible support of Maohinui, Sanford’s onetime party now led by Senator Daniel Millaud. Tutuha Salmon (Tahoeraa) and Jean Juvenin lost their deputy seats in the French National Assembly. They both went to Tahoeraa, the first time a Tahitian party had won the “double”.
Flosse and Leontieff, the President’s technocrat right-hand man, were to have filled the seats. However, Flosse’s post in the French cabinet meant he would have to surrender his deputy’s seat which went to his son-in-law Édouard Fritch, the 34-year-old Mines and Energy Minister.
Well-oiled political machine
The well-oiled Tahoeraa Huira’atira political machine, backed by local and multinational business interests, steamrollered its way through the election campaign in a way not seen elsewhere in South Pacific elections. Estimates of the election bill, including campaugn costs, ranged between a massive $1 million and $5 million. Using American-style razzamatazz, Tahoeraa imported 17,000 orange-coloured T-shirts from Korea for the party faithful, staged village extravaganzas with pop singers, balloons and bands, and even built a temporary stadium with seating for 7000 people on Pape’ete’s harbour-front Quai de Commerce for a one-night rally.
Quite a sight for the cruise ship Liberte when it docked alongside the quay.
As a final election eve carrot, Flosse pledged to build cheap housing to provide adequate homes for all poor Polynesians. But this was a sore point with some political leaders who were already asking embarrassing questions about why many Tahitians remained homeless after the big cyclones of 1983 had left more than 5000 people without housing.
Even the daily newspapers, La Dépêche de Tahiti and Les Nouvelles, were partisan during the campaign in support of Flosse. An independent newspaper, La Nouveau Journal de Polynésie, was due to be launched at the beginning of March, but the Flosse government reportedly blocked delivery of the printing press until after the elections.
Tahiti has by far the highest living standards — for some — of any South Pacific nation or territory. It has more than 40,000 cars, 20,000 television sets and the most comprehensive socil welfare system. The Tahiti budget totals $200 million a year to cover a major part of the civil service sector and the nuclear Pacific Experiments Centre (CEP).
During the campaign, Ortega offered a political platform based on “integrity . . . competence” and declared Tahiti would remain part of the French republic for at least five years. He was a hard-driving lieutenant for Emile Vernaudon, the “sheriff” mayor of Mahina, who helped Flosse to power in 1982 and then split.
Flosse warned Tahitians against the “political amateurism” and “irresponsiblity” of his opponents. “All they do is nitpick about our ideas and our programme,” he sneered. “They hurl invective and hate at us, abuse us and defame us . . . all without proof.” And the party’s 200-page manifesto was a document of progress which the opposition could not match.
Outside the polling booths of Faa’a, the airport township on the outskirts of Pape’ete, a former Tahitian head of government nodded sadly to me. “I fear for the future of Tahiti,” said Francis Sanford, the metua (father figure) whose retirement from politics at the end of last year [1985] helped precipitate the elections more than a year early. “Big money is now ruling Tahiti and there are serious social troubles ahead.”
Independence parties make gains
The historic success of Flosse winning a majority did not detract from the remarkable gains made by the parties seeking independence and an end to nuclear tests. Their combined share of the vote almost doubled to 20 percent.
Tavini Huira’atira leader Oscar Temaru . . . two seats in 1986 and a resurgence of pro-independence sentiment. Image: CP
Temaru, the charismatic mayor of Faa’a, led his party Tavini Huira’atira to win two seats. Campaigning on the slogans “Independence Tomorrow” and “God is our Leader” with the Christian cross as the party symbol, Temaru drew large crowds to his rallies. He is regarded as potentially the most powerful force to emerge in Tahitian politics since Pouvanaa.
“France is going to be forced to listen to us and respond now that we are in Parliament,” he warned. Temaru has embarrassed French authorities in the past three years with pro-independence and anti-nuclear rallies. Earlier in March a New Zealand peace campaigner, Annie Maignot, and a West German member of the European Parliament, Dorothy Piermont, were expelled for addressing a Faa’a rally at the invitation of Temaru.
He also has close links with the Kanak and Socialist National Liberation Front (FLNKS) in New Caledonia.
Ia Mana, which made its Assembly debut in the 1982 elections, retained three seats but lost votes to Temaru. “We’ve only just begun our fight,” said Temaru. “Many Tahitians are beginning to hear our message. They had forgotten our independence and our freedom which has been buried under the corrugated iron and plywood of colonialism.”
In 2022, French Polynesia’s 91-year-old former president and veteran politician, Gaston Flosse, was given a suspended prison sentence for producing a fake contract to register as a Pape’ete voter. The criminal court gave him a nine-month suspended sentence, an US$,000 fine, and declared him ineligible for public office for five years, dashing his hopes of standing in the 2023 territorial elections.
This is part 1 of six reports in David Robie’s nine-page cover story portfolio for Islands Business magazine covering the 1986 Tahitian elections. Oscar Temaru went on to become President of French Polynesia five times, the first instance in 2004. His party made a comeback in 2023 to decisively win the Territorial Assembly outright, with Moetai Brotherson as President and independence still the longterm goal.
Another cartoon showed Gaston Flosse as a giant coconut crab scuttling off with a pile of money. Image: David Robie/Islands Business
By David Robie
One political cartoon depicted President Gaston Flosse as a vampire. A potted “species” note in the opposition newspaper Te Teo o Te Amuitahiraa described him as Flossilus vampirus and added that he easily mistook his party colour, orange, for gold.
Another cartoon showed him as a giant coconut crab scuttling off with a pile of money. Yet another portrayed the President as Bokaflossa I — after deposed Central African emperor-for-life Bokassa — with the party slogan “always more for myself”.
A fourth caricature showed him as a traditional Tahitian high chief with slaves offering him the French airline UTA and the fuel-storage freighter Petrocean on a plate.
Rarely in a Tahitian election has a political personality become such a target for cartoonists and satirists. Flosse largely ignored the critical barbs [for this 1986 election], determined to make his reply through the ballot box. But then he could afford to. Most of the mass media supported him and his opponents were forced to attack through small-circulation party newspapers — and the coconut wireless. However, occasionally the criticism stung and he retaliated.
An editorial in the Tahoeraa Huira’atira party paper Te Tahoeraa recalled the words of Archbishop Michel Coppenrath, head of the Catholic Church in Tahiti, at the beginning of the election campaign: “Say and do what you wish, carry your campaign work, but respect the inhabitants of our country and don’t oppose them. Peace above all.”
He warned against the the language of hate, adding: “You can kill the dove of peace with words.” Yet his warning was largely ignored.
Rarely in a Tahitian election has a political personality become such a target for cartoonists and satirists. President Gaston Flosse largely ignored the critical barbs, determined to make his reply through the ballot box.. Image: David Robie/IB
“For several weeks a torrent of lies, defamations and insults have been heaped on the voters by the opposition,” complained Te Tahoeraa . . . “But you cannot build a country on hatred. It is built on a coherent and realistic programme. It is built on a common wish and with a solid team.” It added that the opposition had no real plafform.
But the editorial failed to deflate the scathing satire. Some of the attacks were witty rather than wretched; for a satirical commentary in Te Reo about a meeting between gaullist envoy Bernard Pons and Flosse as an example:
“Gaston, are you gaullist?”
“Yes, long live De Gaulle.”
“Fine Gaston, but do you truly know what gaullism is?”
” . . . Not very well. Can you just fill me in a little?”
“A true gaulllist must hold the interests of the state above all and the public interest must take precedence over private interest . . . The chief who represents his country must have a dignified attitude, noble, heroic if it is needed, and when required must sacrifice himself completely for the nation . . . He must have a higher goal of leading his people and show an example . . . Gaston, do you really want to be a gaullist?”
“No, actually, I would rather not. I’m more flossiste than gaullist. Vive myself. Vive Flosse!”
In 2022, French Polynesia’s 91-year-old former president and veteran politician, Gaston Flosse, was given a suspended prison sentence for producing a fake contract to register as a Pape’ete voter. The criminal court gave him a nine-month suspended sentence, an US$,000 fine, and declared him ineligible for public office for five years, dashing his hopes of standing in the 2023 territorial elections.
This is part 2 of six reports in David Robie’s nine-page cover story portfolio for Islands Business magazine covering the 1986 Tahitian elections. Oscar Temaru went on to become President of French Polynesia five times, the first instance in 2004. His party made a comeback in 2023 to decisively win the Territorial Assembly outright, with Moetai Brotherson as President and independence still the longterm goal.
New "French" Polynesian President Gaston Flosse . . . although his policies have clearly meant a giant economic leap forward, his critics claim only supporters of the party have cashed in. Image: David Robie/IB
By David Robie
Born a demi in the Mangarevian village of Rikitea in 1931, Gaston Flosse is the first Pacific Islander to become a minister in a French cabinet. Although it was widely rumoured in Tahiti that the newly created post of State Secretary in charge of South Pacific “problems” would go to Flosse, it wasn’t until Prime Minister Jacques Chirac named his cabinet three days after the [1986] Tahitian elections that it became public.
Flosse has a close friendship with both Chirac and Bernard Pons, who became Minister of Overseas Territories (in effect, the boss of Flosse).
Chirac and Pons visited New Caledonia and Tahiti last year [1985] on flag-waving tours to defend French control in the South Pacific.
Flosse’s French cabinet post may appear to independent countries to be in conflict with his duties as President of the Tahitian government. But he doesn’t think so, and neither does the Constitutional Council which gave a ruling in 1984 that the head of the Tahitian government could also be a deputy in the French National Assembly.
Flosse had been lobbying for some months to persuade Chirac that South Pacific policy should not be decided in Paris alone — 20,000 km away. He was the perfect man, Flosse argued, to represent France in the Pacific. He knew Tahiti and New Caledonia and was also known to independent Pacific leaders. He has a particularly close rapport with Sir Thomas Davis of the Cook Islands.
However, when he flew to Rarotonga last August [1985] in an attempt to win observer status for Tahiti at the South Pacific Forum, he was shut out. And although it was a perfect opportunity to build close contacts with English-speaking Pacific leaders, aides reported de wasn’t very interested. He especially missed his chance with Melanesian leaders. Flosse wanted the “red carpet” treatment and when he didn’t get it from the Forum, he almost flew back to Pape’ete in a huff.
Flosse’s new role is the latest move by both the incoming conservative French government and the outgoing socialist administration to reinforce France’s strategic and cultural presence in the South Pacific. Following the Kanaky crisis, l’affaire Greenpeace and the bitter attacks against continued French nuclear tests at Moruroa atoll, he will plunge into the deep end with some sensitive issues.
Flosse is a staunch defender of the presence of the nuclear Pacific Experiments Centre (CEP) in Polynesia, a stance that puts him in an ambiguous position in relation to Pacific nations over their opposition to the tests and the signing of the nuclear-free Rarotonga Treaty last year [1985].
He is also strongly opposed to indépendantiste movements in the French Pacific. But he is certainly likely to use the post as a platform to increase his bargaining power in attempts to gain Cook Islands-style self-government.
In 2022, French Polynesia’s 91-year-old former president and veteran politician, Gaston Flosse, was given a suspended prison sentence for producing a fake contract to register as a Pape’ete voter. The criminal court gave him a nine-month suspended sentence, an US$,000 fine, and declared him ineligible for public office for five years, dashing his hopes of standing in the 2023 territorial elections.
This is part 3 of six reports in David Robie’s nine-page cover story portfolio for Islands Business magazine covering the 1986 Tahitian elections. Oscar Temaru went on to become President of French Polynesia five times, the first instance in 2004. His party made a comeback in 2023 to decisively win the Territorial Assembly outright, with Moetai Brotherson as President and independence still the longterm goal.
The French and Tahitian flags . . . "France wants us to think French, eat French and die French." Image: CP
By David Robie
Two flags fly outside most town halls in “French” Polynesia. One is the Tricolore of the French republic; the other is the red and white striped flag of Tahiti.
But Faa’a is different. The maire of this airport town, the second largest with around 23,000 inhabitants, has three flags. Besides the usual pair is a blue-white-blue banner bearing a Christian cross and the words in Māohi Te atua tau fatu –“God is our leader.”
This is the ensign of popular mayor Oscar Manutahi Temaru, the man who is leading the resurgence of the campaign for Tahitian independence.
Four years ago [1982], Temaru’s Tavini Huira’atira No Porinetia (Polynesian Liberation Front) was regarded as a fringe party. But the following year he won the mayoralty of Faa’a and since then his popularity has soared. Already he is being talked about as the most charismatic figure in Tahitian politics since the late militant independence leader Pouvanaa a Oopa.
Tavini Huira’atira leader Oscar Temaru . . . two seats and a resurgence of pro-independence sentiment. Image: CP
Until his election to the Territorial Assembly, the 41-year-old Temaru was a senior customs official. The mayor’s job is regarded as part-time in French communities but there’s no short-changing in Temaru’s approach. His maire is probably the liveliest in Tahiti. Just to get to see him isn’t easy ready for a chat as he is — and his day starts at 6am — Tahitians line up by the score hoping to get a chance t share their problems with the metua (father).
His office is simply furnished. On the wall behind him is a picture of Jesus Christ and the new flag of Kanaky. On another wall are posters demanding independence for Guadeloupe, a French territory in the Caribbean, and an end to nuclear testing by President François Mitterrand. Opposite him is a declaration by Australian Labour MPs appealing for a halt to the Moruroa tests.
Oscar Temaru . . . “I’ll now have greater freedom to speak out.” Image: David Robie/CP
As I sat waiting, a news item from Noumea flashed across the television screen: A police raid on the Post Office had uncovered a network of French phone taps on leading local politicians, both for and against independence.
“That’s nothing,” snapped one of Temaru’s aides.”The French have been bugging us all along.”
Jubilant over victory
The party was jubilant over winning two Assembly seats and, together with Ia Mana Te Nunaa, almost doubling the pro-independence vote to 20 percent in spite of limited resources for the campaign. Temaru believes it is just the beginning as poorer Tahitians rally to his cause.
“We are the great hope of the Māohi people,” said Temaru, “and the French administration realise it — and fear it. France wants us to think French, eat French and die French.
Pro-independence Ia Mana Te Nunaa’s Jacqui Drollet . . . quickly gained popular support, but poised to be overtaken by Temaru’s party. Image: David Robie/CP
“I’ll now have greater freedom to speak out and have access to radio and television. Within five years the situation will change dramatically in Tahiti. I’m happy that [Gaston] Flosse won decisively because now the opposition parties will wake up and realise they have to push for independence now.”
On the night of the election, there were long facesin Te fare Ura — the “red house”, headquarters of Ia Maaana Te Nunaa (Power to the People), bought last year with contributions from party members. Although both Temaru’s party and Ia Mana, led by Jacqui Drollet, were formed a decade ago, Ia Mana was quicker to gain popular support.
But now it could be on the verge of being overtaken by Tavini Huira’atira as the vanguard of independence.
Ia Mana’s bargaining lever
In 1982, Ia Mana became the first pro-independence party to enter the Assembly, winning three seats. Ever since the party was founded in 1975 it had been growing steadily. And now Ia Mana leader Jacqui Drollet was confidently looking forward to increasing the number of seats and having a bargaining lever with the other opposition parties.
But as the results came in the message looked bleak. Faa’a was the worst. Ia Mana’s votes there were halved. It wasn’t much better in Pape’ete. And the destroyer was Temaru’s Tavini. Ian Mana had underestimated its rival. “We’ll have to become more radical,” said some of the party cadres. “Independence is what the people want to hear.”
But Drollet, a 42-year-old former marine biologist, wasn’t so convinced. Before winning the seats in the Assembly, Ia Mana’s rhetoric about independence and against nuclear tests had been fiery. However, after the three Ia Mana assemblymen took their seats and created a stir by insisting in speaking Māohi rather than French, they became more pragmatic.
“There was no point in harping on about independence all the time,” said Drollet. “You have to be realistic. In 20 years Tahitians have become complete economic hostages of the nuclear testing. “We want eventual independence. But we don’t want it today or tomorrow. We want to put in place a new type of economy based on justice for all our people.”
Ia Mana has set up a cooperative market and drafted a manifesto on restructuring the economy on socialist, self-reliant lines — “which scares the hell out of Chinese, Tahitian and French businessmen.” The party also wants to introduce income tax.
“The problem of nuclear tests is also important — how to manage them,” said Drollet. “The CEP is just like an elephant in a china shop. We have to kill the elephant if our china shop is to survive.”
Drollet took a swipe at Temaru. “He’s unrealistic. He just takes the cross and says, ‘God is our leader . . . and this is good for everybody! The right way, according to Temaru, is just to shout, Farani hors! (‘French out’).
“But this is independence without substance. We ask what kind of independence is this? We don’t want independence and capitalism together — we would be doomed.” Temaru is equally scathing about Ia Mana, claiming it isn’t a “sincere” independence party.
Yet in spite of their differences, Temaru and Drollet have talked them out since the election and are expected to form a pro-independence bloc in the new Territorial Assembly. Other opposition parties may join them.
This is part 4 of David Robie’s nine-page cover story portfolio for Islands Business magazine covering the 1986 Tahitian elections. Oscar Temaru went on to become President of French Polynesia five times, the first instance in 2004. His party made a comeback in 2023 to decisively win the Territorial Assembly outright, with Moetai Brotherson as president and independence still the longterm goal.
Journalist David Robie wins the 1985 NZ Media Peace Prize for his coverage of the Rainbow Warrior bombing and Rongelap evacuation.
Auckland Star
The Rainbow Warrior, New Zealand’s future military role in the Pacific and a history of peacemaking were the winning topics in this year’s New Zealand Media Peace Prizes.
The New Zealand Foundation for Peace Studies prizes were divided into three categories — print, radio and audiovisual — with each winner receiving a sculpture and $1000.
Auckland freelance journalist David Robie won the print section with a series of articles on the Rainbow Warrior’s Pacific peace voyage and its subsequent sabotage in Auckland Harbour.
A documentary on New Zealand’s future military role in the Pacific and the development of American facilities in this country won Vanguard Films’ Alistair Barry the audiovisual prize.
Islands of the Empire took three years to make and is intended as an educational resource, but the competition judges have strongly urged Television New Zealand to screen the film.
A two-hour documentary on this country’s history of peacemaking by producers Dianne Stogre Power and Robyn Hunt won the radio award.
The National Council of Churches-sponsored awards were announced at a special ceremony last night in the Auckland War Memorial Museum.
Rainbow Warrior takes prize, Auckland Star, 3 December 1985.Peace prizes awarded to journalists, The New Zealand Herald 3 December 1985.The NZ Media Peace Prize awarded to David Robie, 2 December 1985.David Robie, winner of the 1988 Qantas NZ Press Awards for Tourism Journalism – his coverage of the social justice and economic fallout from the 1987 Fiji coups for New Outlook magazine.David Robie, winner of the 1989 Qantas NZ Press Prize for Best Feature Writer – his coverage of the Pacific for the NZ Listener magazine in 1988.
Éloi Machoro was a marked man. Almost any day for the last few weeks could have been counted as his last — and he knew it.
The hardline Kanak leader, who sparked off the Libyan fears in New Caledonia after a visit to Tripoli last August, was shot dead by French police in controversial circumstances last weekend.
High Commissioner Edgard Pisani said Machoro was shot when he opened fire on police during an operation against armed Kanak militants. However, president Jean-Marie Tjibaou of the Kanak provisional government accused police of “murdering” Machoro with the compliance of senior administration officials.
“White extremists want me dead — they will do anything to get rid of me,” Machoro told me recently in one of the last interviews before his death.
Speculation was rife that he would become another martyr just like the man he succeeded. Three years ago Machoro became secretary-general of the pro-independence Caledonian Union after French-born Pierre Declercq was shot dead in the South Pacific’s first political assassination.
I tracked down Machoro to a heavily guarded Kanak encampment near the siege village of Thio, where four fishing boats were blown up this week amid rumours that “foreign soldiers” were being used by Kanak rebels.
Over lunch — cooked with meat “requisitioned” in a raid on a nearby farmer’s cattle stock — Machoro bitterly criticised Australia and New Zealand over their policies about New Caledonia.
“Hypocrisy from Canberra and Wellington has helped plunge our country into chaos,” claimed Machoro. “We’re a peaceful people, but we have been frustrated in our right to independence for too long.
“Promises . . . promises . . . promises . . . and in the end nothing! For five years we pleaded with the South Pacific Forum for our case to be taken uo in the United Nations. For five years we got nowhere.
“Instead, when we took action ourselves all we got was a hypocritical roasting over the Libyan and Moscow ‘links’ — which are a load of rubbish. There was no serious attempt to undersgand our quest for sovereignty.
“if Canberra and Wellington had followed Vanuatu’s lead the Libyan issue would never have arisen. But when you’re desperate you have to seek help where you can.”
Machoro, 38, a former schoolteacher and local MP, was Minister of Internal Security in the Kanak government — or as some cynics labelled him, “minister of disorder”.
A key member of the political bureau of the Kanak and Socialist National Liberation Front (FLNKS), Machoro was also believed to be leader of the militant wing of the front.
But unlike other ministers of the Kanak government who have been negotiating with French authorities since Kanak barricades were lifted in mid-December, Machoro waged a militant campaign in the central part pf the country near the nickel-mining area of Thio and his home village of Nakety.
Settlers claimed the Kanaks were harassing them but Kanak leaders said they were protecting pro-independence Kanaks.
The death of Machoro — whose grim face, cap and striped tee-shirt became a symbolic figure of the rebellion — is a severe blow to hopes of reconciliation between whites and Kanaks. Kanak leaders also say the shooting has scuttled Pisani’s one-year independence plan.
Meanwhile, diplomatic sources and French authorities reject reports by an Auckland newspaper that about 150 foreign soldiers led by white officers may be supporting Kanak forces in New Caledonia.
The newspaper cited sources saying witnesses had seen masked white men, who could not speak French, in the Thio area, leading Melanesians.
Diplomatic sources rejected the report as being part of the “wild rumours” sweeping the territory.
During three visits to the Thio area I saw several masked men dressed in ragged military fatigues leading other militants — but they were all clearly Kanaks.
It would be impossible for foreigners to land in New Caledonia without French authorities knowing.
Machoro knew his days were numbered, New Zealand Times, 20 January 1985.
Peace researcher Owen Wilkes and the Norwegian "spy" saga
By David Robie in The New Zealand Times
Is Sweden breaching its long tradition of neutrality and secretly cooperating with Nato countries? Yes, believes controversial New Zealand peace researcher Owen Wilkes. If true, disclosure that the Swedish military really is cooperating with Western nations would be politically disastrous in Sweden.
And Wilkes may have touched a panic button by his “snooping” on the Swedish defence communications system.
“The reason why I got into trouble on this case is simply that Sweden doesn’t want the public discussing the details of military policy the way it is happening in other countries, like Britain and West German,” he says.
[Owen Wilkes was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize by researchers at the University of Canterbury].
Llivia . . . a tiny part of Spain hidden in France since 1659. Image: CP File
Because of an error in translation of the terms of a treaty between Spain and France signed in 1659, a hamlet in France on the border between the two countries is to this day Spanish. To enter Llivia motorists must make a detour into Spain and join another road, Route N20C, to cross back into France. Checkpoint police are Spanish, customs controls are tight, and shop prices are in pesetas, reports Gemini News Service.
By David Robie in Perpignan
Route N20C seems at first just like most other minor French country roads in the south. Narrow, bouncy and picturesque. But to drive along this short road one comes to a dead end in the tiny French hamlet of Llivia. Well, not quite . . . the Spanish village of Llivia.
This curious scrap of Spanish territory inside France is one of the strangest enclaves in the world.
Tucked in a valley among the snow-capped peaks of the eastern Pyrenees near the principality of Andorra, Llivia is only five square miles (about 13 sq km) and has fewer than 900 inhabitants during the winter (more during the tourist season).
Few French and Spanish people I have spoken to realise Llivia exists. And most maps do not mention it, let alone pinpoint where it is.
Yet the enclave of Llivia has survived for more than three centuries — since the Peace of the Pyrenees Treaty of 1659 when Spain ceded to France the province of Rousillon and 33 villages of the Cedana valley in northern Catalonia. Llivia itself was then a “villa” and apparently remained Spanish because of an error in translation.
Llivia in Spain/France . . . French people used to have ready access from nearby towns. But customs controls have been tightened up and barriers erected. Map: Gemini News 1975
Today it is linked to Spain by the five mile (13 km) “neutral corridor” of Route N20C, which runs to Puigcerdà, just over the border in the Catalonian province of Gerona. Guardia civil (Spain’s paramilitary police), truck drivers and Llivia residents use this road freely.
French people used to have ready access to Llivia from nearby towns. But customs controls have been tightened up, barriers erected and the roads have “Prohibited entry without customs clearance” signs plastered everywhere.
To enter Llivia foreign motorists must now make a detour into Spain from the French border town of Bourg-Madame and join N20C at Puigcerdà. Crossing back into France the checkpoint police are in the olive-green of Spain — not French blue.
Customs regulations prohibit the import into Llivia of more than six pounds (2.7 kilos) of fruit, one pound of canned or bottled goods and three pints of wine. And no alcohol or cigarettes.
The village is a sleepy huddle of stone-walled cottages with slate roofs. Washing is hung out to dry and blankets to air on wrought iron balconies. Dominating everything is the tower — claimed to be the oldest pharmacy in Europe — around which a fortified church was built in the 15th century.
There is a modern hotel at the entrance to the village — alongside the red royal Castllian emblem of a yoked bunch of arrows which lets one know that this is Spain. Several modern houses front the main street.
Placards above the little stores and cafes are in Spanish and the prices are in pesetas but francs will do if one does not mind paying a steep loading.
One of the largest buildings in town is a four-storey, white-washed and wooden-shuttered police station with a sign above the main door saying Todo por la Patria — “everything for the motherland”. It looks big enough to hold a small garrison but the Pyrenees Treaty permits Spain to have six soldiers or guardia civil in the enclave at one time.
“In fact,” an employee at the ayutamiento (town hall) confided in me, “there are eight at the moment.” But, she added, this was not the first time the treaty had been infringed.
During the Spanish Civil War refugee republican soldiers sheltered in Llivia by the score. At first, the French authorities turned a blind eye to them, but their number swelled so much that they became an embarrassment.
Today Spain seems to be content with the Pyrenees Treaty and France lives with Llivia. Suggestions by France in the last couple of decades that Spain cede Llivia in return for more limited powers for the the French co-principality of Andorra have quietly faded away.
David Robie is a New Zealand journalist. He has been a reporter and subeditor of the Melbourne Herald; chief subeditor then editor of the Sunday Observer, Melbourne; chief subeditor then acting night editor of the Rand Daily Mail, Johannesburg, South Africa; and group features editor of the Daily Nation, Nairobi, Kenya. He is now an editor with Agence France-Presse in Paris and a correspondent for Gemini News Service.
Axum . . . among the rubble lies the ruins of the Queen of Sheba's historic capital. Image: David Robie
A former New Zealand Herald journalist, David Robie has travelled widely overland in 14 African countries and is now group features editor of the Aga Khan’s Daily Nation national daily in Nairobi, Kenya.
By David Robie
Fascinating and awesome, Ethiopia could easily be some make-believe country plucked from the pages of Hans Christian Andersen or the brothers Grimm.
For centuries the world has caught only fleeting glimpses of the fairytale nation where history has become confused with legend.
This is the land of the fabled Queen of Sheba, Prester John, the hidden kingdom of Lalibela and the robber-ogre Emperor Theodore. And it is the domain of the of the world’s oldest Christian state which, locked away in mountain strongholds and counting the days on a calendar of 13 months, fought for survival in the middle of conquering Islam.
Ethiopia was among the first parts of black Africa known to European travellers. The handful who braved the gauntlet of mountain passes and raiders marvelled at the splendour and squirmed at the barbarities of the empire in the 16th and 17th centuries — when much of Africa was still a blank on the map.
Catching up
Even today [authored in 1973] the country is still struggling to catch up with the 20th century. The cities of Addis Ababa and Asmara pay homage to progress with the superficial trappings of ultramodern buildings, industries and neon lights.
But in the countryside the black Biblical world of Ethiopia has hardly changed. The raw beef banquets, the self-satisfied priests emerging from corrugated-iron roofed church huts, the doziness of officials, the toiling peasants crushed by feudalism, the beggars, and the bigotry and violence of the Middle Ages set against remarkable scenic beauty — they are all still there.
Schools rare
In the small towns mud and timber buildings crimble and decay. Banks and post offices are rare. So are schools. The only plentiful places are 75cent-a-night doss houses and bars.
Hygiene is usually forgotten. Looking for a lavatory is an idle exercise. And garbage lies uncollected in alley ways — waiting for hyenas which often venture into villages at night to scavenge.
In a moment of recklessness, I decided to drive into Ethiopia from Kenya’s northern frontier district, which has been closed for several years because of marauding shifta — border bandits. The track was a bruising obstacle course of a dried-up stream beds and potholes.
Diversity of the races makes it difficult for the King of Kings, Emperor Haile Selassie, ruler of Ethiopia since 1916 — except for six years of exile during Mussolini’s occupation — to keep a firm grip on the country from his capital Addis Ababa.
He has been plagued with disorder in Eritrea where there is a Muslim struggle for independence and in Ogaden which is coveted by Somalia.
Addis Ababa is a vibrant thrusting city of almost 700,000 people. Founded toward the end of last century [19th], it is the showpiece of Ethiopia with modern wide boulevards and striking buildings. But Addis has grown in a disjointed and gangling manner. A short distance from the lavish Town Hall there are whole districts of depressing mud hovels.
Peasants poor
In a country with a population of almost 25 million people there are 42 million chickens, 26 million cattle, 24 million sheep, 17 million goats and eight million camels.
The peasants farm diligently. They use ploughs well and are skilled in terracing and irigation. Their crops are substantial. But they remain among the poorest in Africa (average income each is little more than NZ$40 a year).
Although in 1967 the hated tithe system — paying up to two-thirds of a crop to absentee landlords of the Church — was abolished, feudalism still lingers on to sap the economy.
Any attempt at radical change is crippled by deeply embedded traditions and prejudices. Bitterness among younger Ethiopians lucky enough to have been to school (there are only about 800,000 students at school or university this year) was one of the reasons for a revolt against the emperor in 1960.
My first close contact with the Ethiopian Orthodox Church was at Debre Libanos, the holiest monastery and about 160 km north of Addis Ababa.
The grounds of the monastery’s NZ$1.5 million church were packed with pilgrims — blind women, criplled men, elephantiasis victims, lepers and dying old people. And, of course, the beggars pleading for a handout.
By day the pilgrims kissed the steps of the church and bathed in a nearby holy spring, praying for a cure. By night, they slept in lean-tos beside graves in the cemetery.
One of the bars that I ducked into had special character. The ceiling was covered with years of soot from the midfloor fitreplace. The walls were unfaced mud.
On one wall a grubby page from a Danish newspaper weighed up the chances of Joe Frazier and Muhammad Ali before their world heavyweight boxing title bout. On another was a nude torn from an old Playboy magazine.
The mountain road between Addis Adaba and Asmara passes through many historic places. Gondar, about midway, was a medieval capital and the remains of nine castles built by King Fasilides and his sons still crown the hilltop overlooking the town.
Strange relics
To the north is Axum, the 3000-year-old capital of the Queen of Sheba’s kingdom, which contains strange relics from the past. Towering granite obelisks near the town are a mystery.
Recent archaeological excavations have uncovered the foundations of ancient palaces, tombs and one of the earliest Christian churches — said to be the resting place of the Ark of the Covenant. Many ruins are buried under houses but a huge resettlement scheme will begin soon to enable them to be excavated.
On the edge of the Danakil Desewrt is Bati, a tiny town which swells to a teeming population on market day. Camel trains carry in salt from the saline lakes of the desert. And there is a blending of cultures as Danakil trades with Galla and Amhara.
On the Somali side of the Great Rift Valley is the walled city of Harrar with its crooked wooden houses perched jauntily on top of loose-stone walls and winding alleyways too narrow for cars. Harrar has a frenetic market, like most of Ethiopia, full of strange smells and beautiful women clad in the white shawl-like shamma.
As I drove out of Addis Ababa, past cunning travel posters which advertised “Thirteen months of sunshine” and bumped along the track back to Kenya, I thought about Ethiopia’s shrinking barriers.
Slowly Ethiopia is conquering the obstacles of isolation and improving communications.
Even the hideous track to Kenya is vanishing. Within two years a super highway will link Addis with Nairobi.
This article was first published in The Sunday Herald on 19 August 1973.
