I wish to apologise at the outset for missing out last week. Some of our readers might be aware that we at USP have come to the end of the semester and there were results to be finalised. My “to-do” list was thus overflowing, and I could not dedicate myself to writing that article. Prior to that, we were diverted to boxing because of the sad demise of one of our more promising boxers. That enquiry report is being awaited with bated breath by the public. And still earlier, we had started to discuss the positives of the 1987 coup. Let’s take that further here.
Positives of the 1987 Coup
A NUMBER of you have both written to me and asked me in person why I have chosen to write about the positives of that Father of all Coups when it was essentially an evil that was perpetrated and unleashed into our peaceful and loving country. This I agree with, but a deeper analysis is needed to get a fuller picture. We should not forget that what Pope Paul II witnessed in 1986 was just a façade of a socio-political reality that would erupt in less than six months after he famously declared “Fiji – the way the world should be.”
When nationalist firebrand, Sakeasi Butadroka, started calling for the repatriation of Indo-Fijians as early as 1972 – just two years after independence – he was echoing a deeper confusion permeating the Fijian community. They did not understand that the fast-monetising economy and the centrality that education had within it were two of the key developments that were already eating away at their cherished traditional way of life. This was nothing new to those who had followed similar developments elsewhere.
The paternalism of the colonial government and its close association with the Fijian chiefly system had set in place an expectations system that curtailed orientations towards self-help. In Fijian villages, those who chose to pursue commercial farming and stay outside the boundaries of the village were considered differently from those who stayed within the communal bounds of village life. I witnessed this first-hand in my own village in Taveuni. This, however, did not prevent them from being exposed to new ideas and new things in life. The Fijian thus, began to want material progress, but did not have the wherewithal to attain it.
The path lay in commercial enterprise and education, but they were handicapped on both fronts. Thus, they looked to government to fulfil these nebulously specified aspirations. After all, the colonial government (and the chiefs) had looked after them earlier. The same was expected from Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara’s Alliance government as it was both manned by and supported by the chiefs. Unfortunately, any national coffer has limitations. There came a stage when Fijian demands and expectations far exceeded what the government could offer.
A parallel development made this feeling of neglect more real and, gradually, more acute. That was the apparent visible progress of the Indo-Fijians. The hard work and sacrifice that went into that progress was difficult to understand, so they became the scapegoat for the anger and confusion of the Fijian. A more intriguing realisation was also beginning to dawn on the Fijians. This was the fact that the chiefs appeared to be doing better than the commoners.
When Mr Butadroka shouted defiance against Ratu Mara after the coup had been executed by calling him “Judas Iscariot”, he was voicing a seething negativity towards the chiefs that had been kept delicately bottled up prior to that coup. Many other commoners came out of the closet and became part of factions that were to jockey for power and privileges from then onwards. Fiji had seen glimpses of this earlier with the Viti Cauravou and Apolosi Nawai. The cauravou were subsumed into the power structure and Nawai was banished, but the problem had not been solved.
The limitations of the Fijian chiefly system in meeting the demands of the lewe ni vanua had to be understood and accepted. The limitations of government in meeting the myriad needs of the Fijians had to be understood and accepted. The non-negotiability of education as the passport to progress had to be understood and accepted. The unrealised economic potential lying dormant in native land had to be understood and accepted. All these realisations were positives emanating from the political upheaval of 1987. To make it clearer, these were realisations that took root in 1987 and were to grow through the years.
Factional politics
With the emergence of increasingly vociferous commoners on the national stage, and the politicisation of the Methodist Church through Manasa Lasaro, a new type of politics developed among the Fijian polity. Prior to the 1987 coup, the Fijian polity operated as one bloc. After that, factions began to form and hound Mr Rabuka for favours. Factional politics thus, became the hallmark of Mr Rabuka’s first reign as PM after he became the leader of the Great Council of Chiefs-sponsored Soqosoqo ni Vakavulewa ni Taukei (SVT) Party.
I categorise this development as a positive because it showed different political orientations and debate among Fijians. It promised a greater, more meaningful and direct engagement in politics from the Fijian side. This has been realised to a good extent, but it has also led to the emergence of politics of compromise. As a result, we have had weak Mr Rabuka governments both then and now. His inability to exercise the power vested in the prime ministership and make firm decisions regarding a number of issues that continue to require a firm decisive hand, is testament to the debilitating effects of factional politics.
Other positives
A big positive from the 1987 coup is the learnings from the model used to enhance Fijian participation in business. There was a firm belief that channelling money into Fijian hands as seed capital would automatically translate into overnight success. This was an ill-conceived model and it failed to bear fruit, but there are learnings that were taken from it even though there are serious doubts in some circles. We did learn, however, that merely handing out money without business plans and follow-ups is not going to work. We also learnt the importance of holding the borrower responsible.
Another positive that can be debated is that we witnessed how greed attracted enterprising people to power. There was an attempt to sell Soqulu Estate in Taveuni to foreign buyers at a time when ethno-nationalism had boiled over and land was considered sacrosanct. A glib-tongued goon was despatched to Hong Kong to fulfil this enterprise. I despaired as I read about this in Japan where I was studying at that time. Fortunately for all of us, the land remained unsold.
In another business sortie, a group of similar enterprising individuals were despatched to Europe to negotiate for a $200 million injection into the Fiji economy. One of them ensconced himself in a chateau in Switzerland. Another set up office in a hotel in London and a third started talks with oil tycoon Adnan Kashoggi or so he said. This third person was later involved in procuring $4 million worth of arms for an insurrection against the coup government of 1987. Those were the “guns of Lautoka”.
Thus, we learnt who to trust and who not to because of the lessons learnt from 1987. I know this point cannot be pushed much because too often we learn nothing from what we thought we learnt earlier. I will stop here for now. We will go back to generational differences in orientation towards life and education next week. Until then, sa moce toka mada.
DR SUBHASH APPANNA is a senior USP academic who has been writing regularly on issues of historical and national significance. The views expressed here are his alone and not necessarily shared by this newspaper or his employers subhash.appana@usp.ac.fj
