France and the South Pacific: A Contemporary History (South Sea Book)

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France and the South Pacific : A Contemporary History South Sea Books Henningham, Stephen. University of Hawaii Press 0824813057 9780824813055 9780585279817 English Oceania--History, France--Colonies--Oceania. 1992 DU50.H46 1991eb 995 Oceania--History, France--Colonies--Oceania.

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France and the South Pacific

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South Sea Books Robert C. Kiste General editor Linley Chapman Manuscript editor Editorial Board David Hanlon Renée Heyum Alan Howard Brij V. Lal Norman Meller Karen M. Peacock Donald Topping Deborah Waite Karen A. Watson-Gegeo South Sea Books are published jointly by the University of Hawaii Press and the Center for Pacific Islands Studies, University of Hawaii. They include books of general interest that deal with the islands and peoples of the Pacific Ocean. Other South Sea Books Lee Boo of Belau: A Prince in London, by Daniel J. Peacock, 1987. Nuclear Playground, by Stewart Firth, 1987.

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France and the South Pacific A Contemporary History Stephen Henningham

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For Kate, Elizabeth, Patrick and David; and for Ted

© Stephen Henningham 1992 This book is copyright under the Berne Convention. No reproduction without permission. All rights reserved. Published in North America by University of Hawaii Press 2840 Kolowalu Street Honolulu, Hawaii 96822 First published in 1992 by Allen & Unwin Pty Ltd 8 Napier Street, North Sydney NSW 2059 AUSTRALIA ISBN 0 8248 1305 7 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Henningham, Stephen, 1950 France and the South Pacific : a contemporary history/ by Stephen Henningham. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-8248-1305-7 1. OceaniaHistory. 2. FranceColoniesOceania. I. Title. DU50.H46 1991 995dc20 918353 CIP Typeset by Graphicraft Typesetters Ltd, Hong Kong Printed by Kin Keong Printing, Singapore Cover photos: War memorial, Noumea, courtesy Stephen Henningham; Tahitian resort, and demonstration in support of independence, Papeete, December 1990, courtesy Karin von Strokirch; Rani Aotea dance group leader, courtesy AP/ AAP; the Rainbow Warrior I sunk in Auckland harbour, July 1985, courtesy Greenpeace/Miller.

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Editor's Note This volume is the third in a series entitled South Sea Books published by the University of Hawaii Press and the university's Center for Pacific Islands Studies. The series includes works of general interest that deal with the peoples and islands of the Pacific Ocean. The author of this volume, Dr Stephen Henningham, is particularly well qualified to write about the French Pacific. After completing his doctorate in history at the Australian National University in 1978, he taught at Monash University and the University of Melbourne. In 1982, he became a diplomat in the Australian Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade. Henningham served in Australia's consulate-general in New Caledonia from 1982 to 1985 before returning to Canberra as an analyst and adviser on Pacific Island affairs in the Office of National Assessments. In 1988, Henningham returned to his alma mater and is now a Senior Research Fellow in the Division of Pacific and Asian History, Australian National University. The French Pacific is Henningham's major research interest, and his contacts, both professional and personal, in the French Pacific are extensive and matched by few other scholars in the English speaking academic community. France is not unique in the Pacific and, to place the present study in a larger context, is one of two metropolitan nations that have been reluctant to withdraw from the Pacific Islands as a colonial power. The other is the United States. Both countries maintain substantial presences in the islands, and exhibit a number of parallels in their histories in the region. Although there have been changes in the last decade, both evidenced some insensitivity to the process of decolonization that was initiated by Western Samoa's accession to independence in 1962. In the case of France, national pride and a determination to remain a major actor on the world stage have been factors influencing its decision to maintain colonies in the Pacific as well as elsewhere in the world. In the cases of both France and the United States, government bureaucracies responsible for the

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administration of island territories have resisted a diminution of their spheres of influence. Further, both countries have strategic interests in the islands that are part of their larger global concerns. The testing of nuclear weapons in their island territories has been part of the histories of both France and the United States, and although the American tests have ceased, past and present nuclear testing programs as well as current stances on nuclear issues have tarnished the images of both. Today, both France and the United States along with the United Kingdom have declined to sign the South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone Treaty. The strong anti-nuclear sentiments present in most of the island countries are largely a response to the testing programs of America and France. These issues have been the subject of another title in the South Sea Books series, Stewart Firth's Nuclear Playground. Returning to the work at hand, the depth of Henningham's familiarity with the French Pacific is clearly evident in his carefully detailed descriptions and analyses of the histories and current events of the four island groups with which France has had long involvementits three overseas territories of French Polynesia, New Caledonia, and Wallis and Futuna and the nation of Vanuatu (formerly the New Hebrides), which achieved its independence in 1980. The peoples of the four countries have had vastly divergent colonial experiences, and their current situations and challenges for the future are also quite different. At the same time, certain common elements of French colonial policy link the four and account for some similarities with past and present French possessions elsewhere. The final two chapters provide a comprehensive overview of the contemporary French Pacific and its place in the larger region. Henningham has served his readers well, and his work will engage the attention of both students and readers with a general interest in the islands. ROBERT C. KISTE

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Contents

Tables

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Illustrations

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Preface

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Acknowledgements Abbreviations and Glossary French Pacific Territories: Basic Data 1 A Colonial Past

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2 Debacle in Vanuatu

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3 New Caledonia, 19451978: Opportunities Lost

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4 New Caledonia, 19791989: The Tjibaou Era

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5 French Polynesia, 19451982: From Trading Colony to Nuclear Territory

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6 French Polynesia, 19831990: Towards Independence-in-Association?

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7 France's Nuclear Testing Programme

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8 Wallis and Futuna: Ripples in a Backwater

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9 France and the Region

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10 Conclusion: The French Pacific into the 1990s

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Postscript

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Maps

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Endnotes

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Select Bibliography

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Index

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Tables

3.1 Voting percentages for the UC, 195673

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3.2 New Caledonia: conservative parties, 195778

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3.3 Ethnic representation in New Caledonian working population, 1983

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4.1 New Caledonia: pro-independence groupings

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4.2 New Caledonia: regional elections, September 1985

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4.3 French expenditure in New Caledonia, 1986

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4.4 New Caledonia: trends in the ethnic division of the population

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4.5 New Caledonia: provincial elections, June 1989

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5.1 French Polynesia: September 1958 Referendum

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5.2 French Polynesia: population distribution, 195689

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5.3 French Polynesia: Territorial Assembly election results, 196277

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5.4 French Polynesia: territorial elections, May 1982

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5.5 French Polynesia: ethnic composition, 1983

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5.6 French Polynesia: participation in selected occupations by ethnic group

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6.1 French Polynesia: 1984 'internal autonomy' statute

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6.2 French Polynesia: territorial elections, March 1986

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6.3 Main political parties in French Polynesia, 1989

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8.1 Wallis and Futuna: December 1959 Referendum

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8.2 Wallis and Futuna: trade balance, 198286

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8.3 French government spending on Wallis and Futuna, 198488

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9.1 France's overseas possessions

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9.2 French Embassy, Suva: aid projects and associated activities, 1987

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9.3 Aid from the South Pacific Cooperation Fund, 198689

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9.4 Sovereign and quasi-sovereign countries: populations/areas

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9.5 Sovereign and quasi-sovereign countries: economic data

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9.6 South Pacific Forum countries: security forces

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Illustrations

1 The Western world's romantic image of Tahiti as epitomised in a mid-1950s painting.

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2 A Melanesian family dressed in Western-style in frontof a traditional Melanesian dwelling at Voh in northern New Caledonia in the early 20th century.

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3 The monument at Faa'a in Tahiti commemorating a battle in the war which the Tahitians fought from 18447 against the imposition of a French protectorate.

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4 Part of the war memorial in Noumea, recording the numbers of Melanesians who died serving in the French forces in the First World War.

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5 Nagriamel leader Jimmy Stephens with supporters at Tanafo village on Espiritu Santo in 1969.

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6 Vanuatu's past as an Anglo-French Condominium from 1906 to 1980 as reflected in a trilingual sign, in French, English and the local lingua franca of Bislama.

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7 Nidoish Naisseline, High Chief of Tadine on Maré in the Loyalty Islands, at Tadine in August 1988.

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8 Noumea's town square in the 1960s.

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9 and 10 The late Jean-Marie Tjibaou visiting the site of the Hienghene Massacre of 5 December 1984.

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11 The late Eloi Machoro, 'Minister for Security' in the 'Provisional Government of Kanaky', in camp at Thio on the east coast in January 1985.

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12 New Zealand freelance journalist David Robie approaching FLNKS militants near a checkpoint on the Thio road in January 1985, during the unrest of late 1984/early 1985.

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13 Jacques Lafleur, one of New Caledonia's two deputies in the French parliament and the leader of its loyalist RPCR party, denounces the policies of the French Socialist government at a press conference in Noumea in February 1985.

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14 Former FLNKS leader, the late Jean-Marie Tjibaou (centre) and colleagues at the Union Calédonienne office in Noumea in August 1988.

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15 and 16 The monument to Tahitian nationalist leader Pouvanaa a Oopa in front of the Territorial Assembly and the French High Commission in Papeete.

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17 Major rebuilding and reclamation works transformed the port town of Papeete in the early 1960s, at considerable environmental cost.

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18 Tahiti is known as an attractive tourist destination, but tourism contributes only modestly to the French Polynesian economy.

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19 French funding gives French Polynesia a high average standard of living. But the wealth is not shared equally, and many Polynesians live in poor conditions.

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20 The leader of the Rani Aotea dance group performing at the Papeete sports stadium in May 1981.

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21 A demonstration against nuclear testing and in favour of independence in Papeete in December 1990.

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22 French Prime Minister Michel Rocard addressing the National Press Club in Canberra during his August 1989 visit to Australia, Fiji, and the French Pacific territories.

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23 The Greenpeace vessel Rainbow Warrior II in Papeete harbour, Tahiti, in January 1991. This vessel replaced the first Rainbow Warrior, sunk by bombs planted by French secret agents in Auckland harbour in July 1985.

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24 The residence of the French Prefect (left), the palace of the paramount chief (centre), and the cathedral (right) dominate the shore at Mata Utu, capital of Wallis and Futuna.

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25 The paramount chief or 'king' of Wallis Island (left) pictured with his Uvéan/French translator.

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26 The Rainbow Warrior I, sunk in Auckland harbour in July 1985 by French saboteurs. One crew member was killed.

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27 Australia's ratification of the South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone Treaty (the Treaty of Rarotonga) in December 1986

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28 Australian Prime Minister Bob Hawke and French Prime Minister Michel Rocard in Canberra during Rocard's August 1989 visit to Australia, Fiji, and the French Pacific territories.

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Preface The presence and policies of France in the South Pacific have often provoked controversy, creating tensions in regional relations. In 1975, Australia, New Zealand and Fiji took France before the International Court of Justice to protest against its atmospheric nuclear tests in French Polynesia. Their pressure helped ensure that France shifted its tests underground. In 1985, French agents bombed the Greenpeace vessel Rainbow Warrior to stop it sailing to French Polynesia to protest against the tests. One crew member was killed. In 1986 and 1987, the South Pacific Forum and the United Nations condemned France's handling of New Caledonia, and called for the decolonisation of that territory. Within months of the May 1987 coup in Fiji, France offered the new administration aid, helping fill the gap left by the cessation of Australian and New Zealand aid. Conflict has also been present in the French Pacific territories, and in the former Anglo-French Condominium of the New Hebrides. Between 1975 and 1980 French settlers and local French officials obstructed the transition of the New Hebrides to independence as the Republic of Vanuatu, and encouraged secessionist movements on the islands of Espiritu Santo and Tanna. In New Caledonia, in two bouts of political unrest in 198485 and 1988, over 50 people were killed. In French Polynesia, political conflict has been less violent than in New Caledonia. Nonetheless, in October 1987, one person was killed and several were injured in a riot arising out of a labour dispute. The riot devastated the centre of Papeete, the capital, and helped bring down the territorial government. Yet despite tensions within its Pacific territories, and notwithstanding regional criticism concerning nuclear testing and New Caledonia, France's presence in the South Pacific remains strongly implanted. The three diverse, widely separated territories of New Caledonia, French Polynesia and Wallis and Futuna have some 370 000 inhabitantsa large number by South Pacific standardsand vast maritime Exclusive Economic Zones. New Caledonia is rich in nickel and other minerals, and has some strategic significance because of its proximity

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to important lines of communication linking Australia, New Zealand and the South Pacific with Northeast Asia and North America. Meanwhile, the atolls of Moruroa and Fangataufa in French Polynesia host the test sites for France's increasingly formidable nuclear deterrent. In this book I focus on recent political developments and circumstances in the French Pacific territories, and on relations between France and the countries of the South Pacific region. My intended audience consists of both the academic and the general reader. I have sought to make a balanced and dispassionate interpretation of the available evidence, although no doubt my own prejudices and perspectives will show through. After an opening chapter reviewing the history of the French presence in the South Pacific from the late 18th century until around 1960, I concentrate on the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s. I discuss the emergence of the Republic of Vanuatu from the Anglo-French Condominium of the New Hebrides (chapter 2), and examine the recent history of New Caledonia (3 and 4), French Polynesia (5 and 6), and Wallis and Futuna (8). I also discuss the French nuclear deterrent and testing programme (7), and review France's relations over recent years with the island countries of the South Pacific and with Australia and New Zealand (9). In a concluding chapter (10), I discuss prospects into the 1990s. France's relations with the countries of the region improved from mid-1988. But I argue that some tensions will persist so long as French nuclear testing continues, and until the complex and difficult New Caledonian question is resolved.

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Acknowledgements I have incurred many debts in the preparation of this book. Several colleagues, too numerous to mention individually, have helped in a variety of ways, which included suggesting references, helping arrange interviews, and lending materials. Especially for the historical background, I have drawn substantially on the work of other researchers, as I trust the references will indicate. I am particularly grateful to the people who agreed to be interviewed. I have not cited or quoted all of them directly, but they all contributed to my knowlege and understanding. Several of them also gave me useful materials, suggested useful contacts, and supplemented our formal interviews with helpful informal discussion. Robert Aldrich, John Connell, Bob Kiste, Robert Langdon, John Piper, Ken Ross and a publisher's reader commented helpfully on the entire final typescript, as did Valerie Deruelle, Margaret Jolly, Brij Lal, Bruno Saura, Dorothy Shineberg and Karin von Strokirch on particular chapters. My research visits to the French Pacific territories and Vanuatu were funded by the Research School of Pacific Studies at the Australian National University. The book was mostly completed in the stimulating ambience of the Department of Political and Social Change at the Australian National University, and I am grateful to Jamie Mackie, Ron May and my other friends and colleagues in that department. I am also grateful to the cartography section, and particularly to Keith Mitchell and Ian Heyward, for the preparation of the maps. My thanks also go to the information section at the French Embassy in Canberra, which provided press releases, official reports and other useful material. I also owe thanks to Linda Allen, Nicole Lebrun and Larissa Taylor, who gave invaluable research assistance at different stages during the preparation of this book, and to Claire Smith and Bev Fraser for their word-processing and other help. Earlier versions of sections of this book appeared as articles in Pacific Affairs, The Contemporary Pacific and the Journal de la Société des Océanistes, and as a parliamentary library discussion paper; I am

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grateful to the editors concerned for permission to reproduce this material here. My thanks to all those who have helped. But responsibility for the interpretations and opinions herein remains mine alone. Acknowledgements for Photos I am grateful to Robert Langdon, Qantas, Alan Robson, Karin von Strokirch and the French Embassy in Canberra for lending me photographs for this book. Other photographs were provided by the Australian Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, Associated Press, The Canberra Times, Greenpeace, and the Mitchell Library.

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Abbreviations and Glossary Caldoche(s)The 'native born' French community, namely people born into families of French metropolitan descent which have been resident in New Caledonia for several decades. (la) coutumeCustom. This term refers to the 'traditional' beliefs and practices regulating Melanesian society in New Caledonia and Wallisian society in Wallis and Futuna. Demi(s)French Polynesians of mixed Polynesian and other (usually European) descent. DOMSTOMSDépartements d'outre-merTerritoires d'outre-mer (Overseas Departments and Territories). This term refers to French territory located outside Europe. Overseas departments are organised and governed in the same way as metropolitan departments. Overseas territorities, while still an integral part of France, are organised and governed under special arrangements which permit some local autonomy. EFOEtablissements français d'Océanie (French Oceanic Establishments). The EFO was established in 1842 to group together the various protectorates and (from 1854) possessions which France acquired in the Pacific. New Caledonia and its dependencies (i.e. the main island, its outlying islands, and Wallis and Futuna) initially were part of the EFO but were formed into a separate jurisdiction from 1860. From 1880 France assumed sovereignty in Tahiti and other islands in Eastern Polynesia, in most cases replacing French protectorates established earlier. In 1957, the EFO was renamed the overseas territory of French Polynesia. EEZExclusive Economic Zone FLNKSFront de Libération Nationale, Kanak et Socialist (National, Kanak and Socialist Liberation Front). This front is a loose coalition combining the main Kanak nationalist parties in New Caledonia. Kanak(s)This term is used by Melanesian nationalists in New Caledonia to refer to their people, society and culture. It is a positive reaffirmation of the often pejorative French term, 'Canaque'. kastomCustom. This term refers to the beliefs and practices

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regulating 'traditional' societies in the New Hebrides/Vanuatu, especially in those areas whose people had not been converted to Christianity. NagriamelA nativist movement in the northern New Hebrides which championed local kastom identity and land rights, and which mounted the abortive secessionist revolt on Espiritu Santo in 1980. MaohisThe 'traditional' Polynesian peasantry and working class of French Polynesia RDPTRassemblement Démocratique des Populations Tahitiennes (Democratic Assembly of the Tahitian Peoples). From its foundation in 1950 until its dissolution in 1963, this party was the main pro-autonomy and pro-independence force in the EFO/French Polynesia. RPCRRassemblement pour la Calédonie dans la République (Assembly for Caledonia in the Republic). This is the predominant loyalist, anti-independence party in New Caledonia. It is supported by the large majority of the members of the European and of the other non-Melanesian communities. SPOCCSouth Pacific Organisations Coordinating Committee. This body seeks to coordinate the activities of the various South Pacific regional organisations. Union Calédonienne (UC)Caledonian Union. This party is the predominant party in the FLNKS.

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French Pacific Territories: Basic Data New Caledonia Land area: 19 000 sq kms. Sea area: 1 740 000 sq kms. Economy: French transfers, nickel mining, tourism, grazing and (mainly subsistence) agriculture and fishing. Population (1989): 164 173. Ethnic composition: 45 per cent indigenous Melanesian; 55 per cent European and other. Political status/system: French overseas territory, with some self-governing powers on a federal basis. History of French presence: main island annexed in 1853, Loyalty Islands incorporated in 1864. French Polynesia Land area: 4000 sq kms. Sea area: 5 030 000 sq kms. Economy: French transfers, tourism, black pearls, and (mainly subsistence) agriculture and fishing. Population (1989): 188 814. Ethnic groups: Over 80 per cent of indigenous Polynesian descent. Remainder: European, Chinese and other. Political status/system: French overseas territory, with some self-governing powers. History of French presence: main island and other islands, formerly mostly under French protectorates, annexed from 1880. Wallis and Futuna Land area: 275 sq kms. Sea area: 300 000 sq kms. Economy: French transfers and subsistence agriculture and fishing. Population (1988): 14 181. Ethnic composition: over 98 per cent indigenous Polynesian. Political status/system: French overseas territory. Some self-governing powers involving customary authorities and elected representatives. History of French presence: French protectorate from 188788 to 1959, when the population opted for it to become a French overseas territory.

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1 A Colonial Past The indigenous peoples of the South Pacific first came into contact with France on 6 April 1768, when the two ships of Count Louis Antoine de Bougainville arrived at Tahiti. Bougainville and his crew did not know that Tahiti had been 'discovered' for Europe the year before by England's Captain Wallis. Their expedition chanced upon the island after negotiating the dangerous waters of the Tuamotu archipelago, where the surf crashing on the reefs of the atolls discouraged landing. 1 The Tahitians lacked a written language. Since only parts of their oral traditions have survived, we have only a general impression of what they made of the new arrivals. But for the French, the visit was tinged with wonder. They were impressed by Tahiti's towering greenclad mountains and sparkling lagoons. And they found the 'natives' more than friendly. Women crowded in the canoes that surrounded the ships as they came close to shore. Bougainville recalled that one young woman found her way on board the flagship and discarded her garment, to the delight of the sailors sweating at the capstan to drop the anchor. Never was a capstan turned so quickly, he reminisced, in an oftquoted comment which has titillated generations of male readers.2 In mid-April Bougainville sailed on.3 He reported on his brief visit in his Voyage autour du monde, the celebrated account of his expedition. His comments on Tahiti and its inhabitants in this book both reflected and helped reinforce notions prevalent in France and elsewhere in 18th century Europe. In that era philosophers and writers, keen to denounce the evils and injustices of their own civilisation, idealised and romanticised what were regarded as more natural and unspoiled societies elsewhere. They viewed those societies through a distorting lens which prevented an appreciation of them on their own terms. The difficulties that Europeans faced in comprehending Polynesian culture were illustrated, for example, in disputes over property. The French complained that their hosts took everything they could lay their hands on. In the era before the arrival of Europeans, the people of Tahiti and its islands had developed a complex social organisation

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and a rich cultural life. But their subsistence economies were conducted without the benefit of modern technology. So they were much attracted by Western material goods, especially metal objects. In addition, their notions of private property seem to have been more flexible and relaxed than in the West. It also seems that their traditions permitted them to share the property of those whom they welcomed as guests. This was because the welcoming of visitors in some respects incorporated them into the host community. Neither was the behaviour of the Tahitian women explicable purely in European terms. The previous year, Wallis had banned shore leave because his ship risked collapse thanks to the exchange of ship's nails for sexual favours. According to one analysis, the Tahitian chiefs apparently had resolved to make available their lower-class women so as to win favour and to gain access to the riches of their visitors. They had been overawed when Wallis, in an act of 'gunboat diplomacy', had fired his ship's cannon at the shore to discourage pilfering and encourage cooperation. 4 But individual encounters were not exclusively mercenary. They were also motivated by curiosity, a sense of adventure, and the belief that the navigators possessed high and possibly divine status. In any case Western conceptualisations, whether of 'free love' or 'prostitution' are misleading when applied to pre-contact Polynesian values and customs, which embodied traditions of hospitality and 'liberal' notions of sexuality.5 After journeying over 2000 kms to the west, the expedition passed close to Wallis Island, 'discovered' by Wallis the year before, which later would form part of the French territory of Wallis and Futuna. And some 1500 kms further on, the expedition stopped briefly to gather fresh provisions on Aoba Island in the northern part of the archipelago, 'discovered' by the Spaniard Quiros in 1606, which subsequently became the Anglo-French Condominium of the New Hebrides. On Aoba, in contrast to Tahiti, the reception by the local people was suspicious and hostile. Bougainville had no contact with what would become the French territory of New Caledonia and dependencies, a few hundred kilometres to the south of the New Hebrides. The first confirmed French visit to these islands, which Cook had 'discovered' in 1774, was by d'Entrecasteaux in 1792.6 Thus by 1800 French navigators had visited parts of the island groups which would comprise the French Pacific (see maps). But several decades elapsed before France established a presence. This delay was in spite of the hopes of the French navigators. Like their counterparts in the other European countries, these navigators had set out for the south seas with a variety of objectives. They wished to advance scientific knowledge, and hoped to find rich lands suitable for trade and colonisation. They also had strategic aims, especially in relation to France's traditional enemy, Britain. Bougainville had first distinguished himself with General Montcalm's

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The Western world's romantic image of Tahiti is epitomised in this mid-1950s painting, done as a possible dust jacket illustration for the first edition of Robert Langdon's widely read Tahiti: Island of Love. His publishers preferred a photograph. The artist, Pat Oliphant, is now a noted cartoonist in the United States. (Photo. Robert Langdon). forces campaigning against the British in Canada. Following France's defeat in the Seven Years War, and its resultant loss of almost all its colonial possessions, he had transferred from the army to the navy. Two years before voyaging into the South Pacific, he sponsored and established the first settlement in the Falklands in the South Atlantic, because these islands commanded the approaches to the Cape Horn route to the south seas. But he was obliged to abandon the colony because France wanted to avoid conflict with Spain, which claimed the Falklands. Like his fellow French navigators, Bougainville wanted France to share in whatever strategic, political, and commercial benefits might be available in the South Pacific. But although his and subsequent voyages were more than simply scientific in intent, and although the French navigators made important contributions to European knowledge of the region, they were to be disappointed in their other aims. These new lands mostly had little to offer, at least in the short term. And in any case France ran second to Britain in establishing a Pacific empire. France was preoccupied at first by further tensions and conflicts in Europe, and by the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars, and later on by various colonial adventures elsewhere. In addition, although it was the strongest land power in Europe, France was

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disadvantaged by Britain's superior sea power. France did not capitalise on an early claim to Western Australia, and La Pérouse sailed into Botany Bay in New South Wales two days after Captain Phillip's first fleet of British colonists. A few decades later, French settlers landed in New Zealand in 1840 only to find that Britain had annexed these islands a few months earlier. Afraid of again being pre-empted, French naval officers established protectorates over the Marquesas group, and Tahiti and Moorea and other islands, in 1842. French missionaries had landed in Wallis and Futuna in 1837, and France established an unofficial protectorate there in 1842. In December 1843, French missionaries arrived in New Caledonia. In 1853, France annexed the main island (la grande terre) of New Caledonia, mainly as a location for a penal colony. The outlying Loyalty Islands were incorporated, as the 'dependencies' of New Caledonia, in 1864. Also in 1864, attracted by its guano deposits, France annexed the remote, uninhabited island of Clipperton in the North Pacific, and later upheld its sovereignty against a Mexican claim. In the period immediately before the establishment of a French presence in parts of the South Pacific, the main influence on the islands which were to become French possessions or protectorates was British rather than French. Supported from the British colonies in Australia and New Zealand, British missionaries and traders fanned out through the South Pacific. Much of the population of the Loyalty Islands and of what would become French Polynesia were converted by British Protestant missionaries. British traders visited New Caledonia and the New Hebrides in search of sea slugs and sandalwood, for which they exchanged alcohol, weapons, fish hooks, metal tools, clothes and other goods. In Tahiti, with missionary support and after many vicissitudes, the Pomare dynasty established control over Tahiti and Moorea and set out to expand its influence. The British missionary and commercial presence in Tahiti and nearby islands had become firmly established by the 1840s, so the imposition of a French protectorate, which was largely at the initiative of an impetuous French naval officer, almost sparked a war between Britain and France. In Tahiti and the Loyalty Islands, some of the local people became literate in their own language, using the Bible translated by the missionaries as their main text. British and German traders established themselves in Wallis and Futuna. British and American whaling boats traversed the oceans, recruiting islanders, including Tahitians, Loyalty Islanders and Wallisians, as crew. In Tahiti, Moorea, the Marquesas and several of the other islands of what would become French Polynesia, the local people had contacts with American naval crew, traders, whalers, missionaries and beachcombers. When French colonies and protectorates were eventually established, these influences were overlaid, but they were never completely obscured. In the 1880s, imperial competition heightened the world over. In

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that decade France confirmed its protectorate of Wallis and Futuna and incorporatedby annexation or by the establishment of protectoratesseveral of the island groups in the general vicinity of Tahiti into the Etablissements français d'Océanie (EFO). In 1957, this entity would become the territory of Polynésie Française (French Polynesia). In 1887 France also signed a convention with Great Britain establishing a joint Naval Commission in the New Hebrides, whereby the two powers sought to protect and control their own nationals in these islands. This paved the way for the establishment of joint Anglo-French rule over the archipelago under the special 'Condominium' inaugurated in 1906. So, by the beginning of the 20th century, the French territorial presence had taken the shape it would still retain in 1990 (see map 1)with the exception of the New Hebrides, which attained independence in 1980. 7 The various South Pacific islands which were added to the French colonial empire during the 19th century had only modest economic value, consisting mainly of the nickel and other minerals of New Caledonia and the phosphate of Makatea atoll in French Polynesia. Efforts to establish plantation economies failed, as did the attempt to construct a viable settler colony in New Caledonia similar to those in Australia or New Zealand. New Caledonia failed to attract large numbers of settlers, and remained heavily reliant on metropolitan subsidies. The reasons for these failures included limited resources, small scale, and remoteness from marketsall problems nowadays encountered by the independent Pacific island countries. Nor did the Pacific colonies and protectorates assume much strategic or diplomatic importance for France, although they contributed to French prestige by showing the flag. Yet although the French Pacific presence had little importance for metropolitan France, the establishment of this presence, which formed part of the European expansion into the South Pacific, had great and lasting implications for the indigenous peoples brought into the French sphere. Cultural Diversity In the 19th century French and other European (and North American) visitors to the South Pacific often termed the indigenous peoples either Canaques (Kanaks) a Polynesian word meaning 'man', or, even more misleadingly, 'Indians'. In fact, of course, the peoples whose islands they visited, annexed, colonised, or brought under 'protection' had diverse cultures and antecedents.8 Before long, better-informed Frenchmen began to draw a broad distinction between the Polynesian peoples of the EFO and Wallis and Futuna, and the Melanesian peoples of the New Hebrides and of New Caledonia and its dependencies. They often exaggerated these differences, ignoring the similarities in

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material culture, the interactions in some areas between the two groupings before the European arrival, and the diversity among the Melanesians. 9 The French regarded the Polynesians as a superior race. They characterised what they saw as 'this marvellous people'10 as taller, fairer and more open and accommodating than the Melanesians. They found their women more welcoming and more attractive.11 They and other foreigners regarded the stratified Polynesian societies, with their apparent equivalents of 'chiefs' and 'kings', as more comprehensible, and easier to handle, than the generally more diffuse and geographically circumscribed Melanesian societies. This was especially so in what were seen as the 'anarchic' New Hebrides.12 For French officials and settlers, the distinctions drawn between 'Polynesians' and 'Melanesians' rested on a seldom questioned assumption of the superiority of Western civilisation. This assumption helped justify harsh treatment of the indigenous peoples. With untroubled consciences, and often with a patronising sense of doing good, Europeans grabbed land and coerced the 'natives' into providing free or ill-paid labour. And Melanesians, defined as more savage than the Polynesians, could be exploited with even fewer qualms. Yet the notions of 'Polynesian' and 'Melanesian' were externally imposed categories, which probably would have had only limited relevance at the time to the communities encountered by the French and other voyagers and colonists.13 Among the peoples of the Pacific islands, conceptions of identity were circumscribed. Tahiti was the largest and most populous island in what became the EFO and subsequently French Polynesia. In the early 19th century, its population had strong links with the peoples of the rest of the Society Islands as well as connections with the peoples of the Tuamotu archipelago. However connections were less close with the inhabitants of the Austral and Gambier groups. The peoples of the Marquesas Islands, several hundred kilometres to the north, spoke a distinct Polynesian language, all but incomprehensible to the Tahitians, with whom their links were tenuous. Apart from the differences between the inhabitants of the five island groups of the EFO, there were differences between and within particular islands. The primary focus of loyalty was the small, local territorial and kinship grouping. The impressive mountain forts of Rapa in the Austral Islands attest to bitter rivalry and recurrent warfare. Similarly, in the Western Polynesian cultural region in the central Pacific, society on Wallis Island was divided into several rival groups, despite the presence of a paramount chief with claims to overall authority. On Futuna, two paramount chiefs held authority, their followers locked in rivalry. While the Polynesians at least shared strong cultural and linguistic similarities, the Melanesian peoples were diverse and divided. Melanesia

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had larger areas and populations, and had been subject to more waves of migration. Poor communications and difficult terrains had encouraged small, isolated communities to evolve distinct characteristics. The Melanesians of New Caledonia comprised nearly 30 separate linguisticcultural groups, with no single language encompassing more than a small minority of the total. The majority of the population lived in the valleys of the mountainous main island. But it also inhabited the smaller islands, including notably the Loyalty group (Ouvéa, Tigha, Lifou and Maré) and the Isle of Pines. The communities on the smaller islands, especially Ouvéa, had experienced significant contacts with Polynesian peoples. To the north, in the twelve major and over 60 smaller islands of the New Hebrides, over 100 distinct languages were spoken. One missionary concluded that the archipelago, the most linguistically diverse region in the world, was 'a very Babel'. 14 Before the European arrival, the key unit in New Caledonia and the New Hebrides numbered only a few score people. Organisation into larger groupings for trade, war or ceremonies was ephemeral. Accommodation and Resistance The diversity of the island populations helps explain the varied islander responses to the new arrivals. In the larger Melanesian islands the major impact of the new arrivals was on the coastal areas, with influences passed on into the interior indirectly and often only slowly. The variety of responses also arose because the new arrivalsnaval commanders and their crews, traders and merchant seamen, missionaries and administrators, settlers, miners and adventurersmade demands of varying kinds and intensity, as well as offering various opportunities.15 Yet although responses varied, many island communities showed a willingness to come to terms with the new arrivals. They did so even after they had realised that, technological superiority notwithstanding, the Europeans were nothing if not human, rather than being returning ancestors or otherwise semi-divine. The Tahitians mostly gave a warm welcome to the early navigators. When James Cook visited Balade on the east coast of New Caledonia in 1774, the local people were friendly and hospitable. Similarly the Catholic priests who landed in the same area in 1843 at first enjoyed a warm welcome. But initial warmth often turned to resentment and hostility. In New Caledonia, the Frenchman d'Entrecasteaux found the people of Balade hostile and deceitful during his 1792 visit. The Catholic Fathers were forced to withdraw their mission when relations soured, and only re-established it after punitive expeditions and under the shadow of naval firepower. The difficulties experienced by d'Entrecasteaux and the missionaries may have resulted in part from the impact of war and famine on tribal

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A Melanesian family dressed in Western -style in front of a traditional Melanesian dwelling at Voh in northern New Caledonia in the early 20th century. The woman is wearing the 'Mother Hubbard' style dress imposed by the missionaries. (Photo: Mitchell Library) societies, which reduced their capacity to welcome visitors. But they also seem to have been connected with a failure to honour indigenous traditions of welcome and gift-exchange. D'Entrecasteaux was guarded and suspicious, whereas the more experienced Cook had treated the local people and their leaders with due courtesy, winning their respect by the presentation of gifts. When the Catholic priests first arrived at Balade, the local people welcomed them, and gave them food. The priests saw this as the blessing of God on their mission, but instead it demonstrated the obligation incumbent upon the Melanesians to welcome the visitors and to share their resources with them, on the assumption that these gestures would be reciprocated. The priests upset local sensibilities in several ways, both intentionally and unintentionally, not least because of their lack of respect for the yam, a root vegetable of central importance to traditional religion. When a drought and a famine came, they disappointed the Melanesians by not bringing rain, despite the divine attributes indicated by their wealth, clothing and equipment and by the ships which brought them supplies. Moreover, they hoarded their provisions instead of sharing them. 16 Throughout the South Pacific trouble often arose when the Europeans breached customs, encroached on the islanders' way of life, and ignored

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traditions of exchange and reciprocity. 17 In the Marquesas, almost all of the 40 or so beachcombers killed from 1798 to 1880 'died because they flaunted some tapu [taboo], stole . . . property or quarrelled in their drunkenness'.18 Even in the 'savage' New Hebrides, although many communities treated all outsiders as enemies, some attacks were reprisals for earlier European depredations.19 However on other occasions the local people attacked in order to protect their territory against the uninvited new arrivals, or in quest of their material wealth.20 Conflict and violence were widespread. In the New Hebrides in the 19th century, local people attacked missionaries, labour recruiters, and planters. French or British ships several times shelled villages in reprisal.21 On Futuna Island in 1843, Father Pierre Chanel was killed and eaten, becoming the Pacific's first saint because of this martydom. On Wallis Island, the French Catholic missionaries supported the winning side in an internal power struggle, in which the losers were linked to Tongan Protestant missionaries who wished both to spread the gospel and, it seems, reassert traditional Tongan overlordship over Wallis.22 The French Catholic missionaries subsequently established themselves strongly in Wallis and Futuna, but even their own accounts contain indications that sporadic dissent and resistance continued.23 In Tahiti, resistance to the imposition of the protectorate lasted two years, with the rebels holed up in mountain strongholds. The Tahitians had come under strong British influence. They opposed France as an interloper with few connections in Tahiti and neighbouring islands. Encouraged by British missionaries, they were hostile to the Catholic church and hence to the French Catholic missionaries. The local people also often clashed with the French in most of the other islands which would eventually become French Polynesia. Soon after the annexation of the Marquesas, two French officers were killed and several of their men wounded, and there were further casualties in later incidents.24 In the Leeward Islands, the westerly islands of the Society group, which had come under strong British missionary and trader influence, the islanders resisted French annexation in the 1880s, until a punitive force visited and hundreds of the rebels were exiled.25 In New Caledonia, frequent conflicts with the French took place throughout the first decades of contact and colonisation. Between 1843 and 1870, over 40 violent events and incidents took place.26 In the late 1850s and the 1860s, Melanesians resisting the takeover of land for the new colony fought with the French near the capital of Noumea, a small trading and military post.27 Following the extension of colonisation along the west coast, a great war took place in 18789. The war was sparked by the taking over of Melanesian lands, the damage to village gardens by settlers' cattle, disputes over women, and the desecration of burial sites. Several hundred Melanesians and over 200 Europeans were killed, and the

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The monument at Faa'a in Tahiti commemorating a battle in the war which the Tahitians fought from 18447 against the imposition of a French protectorate. (Photo: Karin von Strokirch) defeated tribes were driven from their ancestral lands. 28 Major hostilities again erupted in 1917, when some Melanesian tribes fought back against settler encroachments and forced recruitment for the First World War.29 With the rise of nationalism in the French Pacific territories during the 1970s and 1980s, nationalist leaders have emphasised what they see as continuities with earlier conflicts. In 1974, some of the first Melanesians to call for independence named their party Groupe 1878. In Tahiti in 1986, Oscar Temaru, the leader of the anti-nuclear, proindependence FLP (Polynesian Liberation Front), erected a monument to commemorate a battle in the 184447 war. JeanMarie Tjibaou, the leader of the New Caledonian nationalist movement until his death in May 1989, used to show visitors to his home village near Hienghene the site where in 1917 his tribe fled over the ridge under fire from a punitive force. His grandmother was killed, with his father in her arms, but his father was plucked up and carried to safety. Yet although opposition was widespread, these references by modem nationalists over-simplify the historical record. In 184447 'the Tahitian

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resistance comprised most of the population', but some Tahitian chiefs and their followers along with other Polynesians aided the French. The defeat of the Tahitians came when a man from Rapa showed the French forces a little-known track whereby they scaled the heights and dominated the key Tahitian position. 30 In New Caledonia, the French defeated their opponents in the 1850s and 1860s and in 1878 with the aid of Melanesian guides and soldiers. French victory would have been much harder to attain, and perhaps impossible, without this help. The Melanesians who aided the French did so in pursuit of their own interests, and in terms of their own values and attitudes concerning conflict and war. At times they took the opportunity to attack traditional rivals. They often clearly regarded the French colonists as useful allies in local conflicts, rather than as an external power which ultimately would come to dominate the entire country. In 1917, Melanesians were fighting alongside the French army in France at the same time as Melanesians and French soldiers were clashing in New Caledonia. In the French Pacific, as elsewhere in the colonial world, Europeans profited from traditional rivalries and circumscribed local loyalties to consolidate their presence.31 Indeed the concept of nation-state was still in the process of crystallisation in 19th century Europe, from whence it was exported to the colonial world. With overt resistance to the imposition of the French presence suppressed by military force, the peoples of the French Pacific islands were obliged to accommodate themselves with the new circumstances and influences. In any case, many of them were quite prepared to do this. They sought to protect their own traditions, while borrowing and adopting those things which they found useful and attractive from what Western civilisation had on offer. Oppression, blunders, and misunderstandings occurred, and the dice was often loaded heavily in favour of the Europeans, but the interaction was two-way. Regional Variations The intensity of foreign influences and pressures on local societies varied greatly. Least affected overall were the New Hebrides, except in the closely settled parts of Efate and Espiritu Santo. Most of the settlers who established themselves in the New Hebrides were French, and French speculators acquired land titleseven if mostly fanciful and dubiously obtainedto over half of the archipelago. French Catholic missionaries and New Caledonian-based trading companies were also active.32 The French settlers in Noumea looked on the archipelago as an extension of the colony in New Caledonia, and hence liable for eventual annexation. But French government interest in this idea waxed and waned. Meanwhile Britain stood in the way. London saw its claims to

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the archipelago as a useful bargaining chip, which now and again it considered exchanging with the French for a concession elsewhere. But the overseas Britishthe settlers in the Australian and New Zealand coloniesstiffened the resolve of the mother country. They insisted that French ambitions be challenged. 33 The result was the uneasy compromise embodied in the Anglo-French Condominiumwhich was in effect a joint protectorateestablished in 1906. The 'Pandemonium', as the Condominium was called by some because of its comic-opera ineffectiveness, depended on agreement by the administering powers. This was hard to attain, except after long delays and much negotiation. Both Britain and France were reluctant to invest in an area not fully under their own control. This reluctance, along with the humid climate, the prevalence of malaria, the uncertainties of plantation agriculture, and the scarcity of ports and safe anchorages, limited major European influence in the New Hebrides to a few locations. The interior of some of the larger islands escaped even token condominium administrative sway right up to the 1950s. Later on, joint rule, especially because of French opposition to decolonisation, complicated and embittered the transition to independence in 1980, leaving a legacy of division.34 At times local communities were able to protect their autonomy to some extent and to win concessions by playing off one colonial administration against the other. But people from the archipelago also suffered greatly as plantation labourers in the New Hebrides, Queensland and elsewhere, and as mine, plantation and dock workers in New Caledonia. The labour trade, which involved about 100 000 New Hebrideans and took place from the 1860s until the first years of the 20th century, had important effects. The majority of the labourers eventually returned home, usually after several years abroad. They brought with them new knowledge, attitudes, skills and possessions. People from the coastal areas comprised a large proportion of these migrants, but many people from villages in the interior also went. To the south, in New Caledonia, the disruption and transformation of indigenous societies was greater, especially on the main island. European and other immigrants arrived and were granted most of the good land. At first the French administration promised that indigenous rights to lands would be preserved. But this pledge was soon transgressed, under the pressure of settler encroachments, by successive re-definitions of what should remain in Melanesian possession. The land question was central to the 1878 war and to other resistance to colonisation. The defeated tribes had their lands confiscated and were removed to reservations. By the end of the 19th century the Melanesians had lost much of their land on the dry, sub-tropical west coast plains and had been confined to small reserves, often in the mountains where the soil was poor. On the wet, tropical east coast, where conditions were less suitable

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for extensive grazing, the Melanesians retained more land, although here again settlers pushed them off the most fertile river valley flats. 35 These expropriations contributed to the 1917 revolt, and continued at a reduced rate until the mid20th century. Some of the Melanesians arrested during the disturbances of 198485 explained their arson of settler homesteads by saying that the land held by the settlers had wrongfully been taken from their fathers only a generation ago. On the main island of New Caledonia, Melanesian resentment over land runs deep. Land, and the people's relationship to it, are central to Melanesian culture. Clans and tribes claimed much larger areas, used in shifting agriculture, than they tilled at any one time. Apart from agricultural and other resource potential, land which seemed vacant or underutilised to Europeans bore rich religious and symbolic meanings. The theft of the land was a body blow to traditions and culture, not just a threat to livelihood. Its demoralising effects were reinforced by exotic diseases, alcohol, and exploitation by traders and settlers. Moreover, the Melanesians were subject to the Régime de l'indigénat. These 'Native Regulations', which had their counterparts in the other French colonies, and elsewhere in the colonial world, were set in operation from 1887. The regulations established a special legal code for Melanesians, in part removing them from the scope of civil law; tightly restricted their movements and activities; subjected them to a head tax; and obliged them to provide free labour. On the other hand, the restriction of the Melanesians to their reserves, their marginalisation from settler society, and the paternalistic but protective role played by some Catholic and most Protestant missionaries contributed to the protection of their traditions and distinctiveness. In some respects 'over-protection' may have taken place, slowing the process of constructive adaption to the challenges and opportunities of the modern world.36 Yet in the islands of New Caledonia, as in the other French Pacific entities, there were considerable variations. The Loyalty Islands did not attract settlers: they lacked safe habours and anchorages, and their coral plateaus lacked good soil. European beachcombers, sandalwood traders, and whaling crews visited, but the children they fathered were fully absorbed into the local kinship system. In the Loyalty Islands the social hierarchy, headed by chiefs, was more elaborate than on the mainland. The resilience of this structure helped preserve many traditions and assisted the islanders to adapt to new pressures and opportunities at their own pace. As they had done earlier in Tahiti and its neighbouring islands, the representatives of the London Missionary Society had established themselves in the Loyalty Islands before the imposition of French rule. They converted the majority of the population, and for some five decades from 1842 were a dominant influence, until they handed over

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responsibility for preaching the Protestant faith in the Loyalties to their French counterparts. Catholic missionaries, who had already been active on the main island of New Caledonia, arrived in the Loyalties after the pastors of the London Missionary Society, but made some inroads. Old quarrels transposed into new allegiances as rival chiefs and tribes became either Catholic or Protestant. Like their counterparts on the mainland, the Loyalty Islanders were devout adherents of their new faith. Yet they retained many traditional beliefs and customs, interpreting Christianity in the light of their own preconceptions and needs. 37 Unlike the other French Pacific entities, New Caledonia became a colony of settlement in which Europeans and other immigrants made up a large proportion of the population on the main island. New Caledonia was also distinctive as a penal colony, inspired in part by the British penal settlements established earlier in Australia. Between 1864 and 1897, over 20 000 convicts arrived. During this period free settlers were outnumbered by the convicts, and the penal administration operated as a state within the state. Most of the convicts were ordinary criminals, but they included some 4500 political prisoners convicted and deported for taking part in the revolt of the Paris Commune in 1871. The communards were eventually repatriated to France, but the great majority of the other convicts remained in the colony after they had been freed.38 In New Caledonia two societies in parallel emerged, interacting but maintaining a separate identity. The committee which prepared New Caledonia's exhibition for the World's Fair of 1900 resolved not to include the Melanesians in the display. It judged that 'The future is for the immigrants, the settlers, who will associate the aboriginals with their work, and in this way elevate the inferior race'.39 Much intermixing took place, encouraged by the imbalance between the number of male and female settlers. Traders, settlers, ex-convicts and rural gendarmes often cohabited with Melanesian women, especially before the First World War, and there were frequent brief liaisons. The resulting children were assimilated into one or other major community. Those recognised as part of the European community became French citizens, subject to the common law, whereas those absorbed into the Melanesian community were merely French subjects, with a special legal status.40 Nowadays James Wright, a prominent nationalist militant from Lifou in the Loyalty Islands, traces his descent from a British trader, while Justin Guillemard, a hard-line opponent of independence, responds to claims that he is racist by pointing out that his great-grandparents included two Melanesian women. The impact of the settlement of New Caledonia on its indigenous people resembled in some respects what happened in the British colonies in Australia and New Zealand. The immigrants came to control all the

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major resources and to dominate society. They shunted the indigenous peoples to one side, took much of their land, and overwhelmed or threatened the survival of their traditions and culture. But the big difference was that in the two British colonies, and especially in Australia, the demographic and consequently the political balance shifted overwhelmingly in favour of the immigrants. In the central Pacific, in the Western Polynesian islands of Wallis and Futuna, foreign intrusion and influence were more restricted than in New Caledonia. French Catholic missionaries won over the paramount chief of Wallis and both the paramount chiefs on Futuna, despite the death of Father Pierre Chanel. As noted above, on Wallis the French Catholic missionaries supported the winning side in an internal power struggle. Assisted by the paramount chiefs, the missionaries in due course gained the adherence of almost all the inhabitants. But it was equally true that the authority of the church, backed up by French naval visits, strengthened the authority of the paramount chiefs, which hitherto had been diffuse and often contested. 41 The church wished to insulate the people of these islands against most other outside influences. This objective was made easier to attain because Futuna has no lagoon or other safe anchorages, while the passes through the Wallis reef are difficult and dangerous. These islands also had little to export, apart from copra and some pearl shell. They remained off major trade routes, although some local people crewed on whaling and trading vessels. The people of Wallis and Futuna, directed by their 'kings' and chiefs, accepted the church's authority and laboured hard to build churches and presbyteries and to provide the priests with food. In the early 20th century tensions rose between the French residents and the Catholic Mission, which the residents thought was too powerful. The conflict focused in part on whether church or state should control the unpaid labour of the islanders, which the church had been drawing on for a grandiose building programme. Tensions in the relations between the church and the residents tended to wax and wane in accordance with the fluctuating strength of the anticlerical forces in metropolitan France. The residents won, and between the wars the local people were put to work on roads and other developmental projects. The burden of forced labour was heavy, even if some of its results were to the islanders' benefit, and caused tensions. Young men bore the burden of the unpaid work, but this had flow-on effects for the welfare of the women and children, because the men had less time to assist the women in the gardens, or to go fishing.42 Nonetheless the isolation and scarce resources of these islands helped insulate their inhabitants from the disease, landgrabbing and exploitation suffered by island communities elsewhere. The ending of tribal warfare, improved medical care, and church opposition to contraception laid the basis for a steady population increase after the First World War.

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Meanwhile, as among other Pacific island peoples, adherence to Christianity had a distinctive character, with elements of local tradition incorporated. The effects of the European intrusion were more devastating in Eastern Polynesia, in the numerous islands of the five island groups of EFO. In the Marquesas, western diseases, alcohol, and the introduction of firearms into tribal warfare contributed to a major population decline and a rapid break-down of traditional culture. 43 In Mangareva and the other islands in the Gambier group, as in Wallis and Futuna, Catholic missionaries created a theocracy and put the islanders to work. By the 1840s, although its population numbered only about 2000, Mangareva was furnished with a grand cathedral and with churches, presbyteries, convents and other buildings. Stone chapels and presbyteries rose up in the neighbouring islands, in the Tuamotu archipelago, and also in the Marquesas. In the small and resource-poor societies of the smaller islands, food production was finely balanced between surplus and shortage. Accordingly the diversion of energies to building probably reduced living standards, thus worsening the impact of imported diseases. From 1838 to 1871 Mangareva lost around onethird of its people, with a yet greater decline from 1871 to 1900.44 But other outer islands were more insulated from new pressures and influences, especially if their anchorages were poor or dangerous. On Tahiti, the main island, the effects of contact with Europeans were profound. But the Tahitians adapted with resilience. The Tahitians spoke a single language that was also spoken or understood in the closer neighbouring islands, and shared a common culture. As noted above, in the early 19th century their traditional social structure had been incorporated into an informal British colonial system, before the establishment of the French protectorate in 1842. In addition, Tahiti did not become a settlement colony. It lacked resources, was distant from France, and was isolated from markets. In the absence of a numerous European population, some individuals of mixed extraction emerged as a privileged group. The Demi (literally 'half', i.e. half-caste) community remains important to this day. Its leading members generally trace their descent from unions between European settlers and the daughters of the Tahitian aristocracy. The Euro-Tahitian elite of Demis played a leading role in the local economy, although its pre-eminence would later be challenged by Chinese immigrants, who initially established a niche in small-scale business after arriving as plantation labourers, and by new immigrants from France. The lands policy of the French authorities permitted much of the prime lagoon-side land to be acquired, and created tensions and conflicts. However, substantial areas remained in Tahitian and especially Demi hands.45 As events after the Second World War would show, deep resentments persisted among many French Polynesians about their experience under colonialism. But until recent

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decades, Tahiti retained its image as an enchanted and unspoiled 'Island of Love', to quote the title of the most popular English-language book on Tahiti and its islands. 46 Although primarily heterosexual, this image also included a homosexual sub-theme, bisexuality and homosexuality being a socially accepted dimension of traditional Polynesian culture. New Goods, Values and Patterns of Organisation Despite the variations between and within the French Pacific entities, the new pressures, influences and opportunities which their peoples encountered wrought substantial changes. This was so even in the most isolated communities, thanks to trade networks and cultural interaction. These changes were already well under way before these islands became French possessions or protectorates. Metal implements replaced those of wood and stone, easing drudgery. Islanders increasingly fished with metal fish hooks and western-made nets, hunted with muskets or rifles, and wore cheap western-made clothes.47 Most islanders continued to rely on subsistence production, but their communities also received income from the modern, Europeandominated, cash economy, whether through cash remittances from migrant workers, earnings from casual labour, or the sale of copra and other local products to European (and Chinese) traders. Food consumption patterns altered with trade store flour, rice, and tinned goods partly replacing traditional foods, harming dental and general health but providing sustenance when traditional foods were scarce. Alcohol became widely used, and often abused, the settlers setting a bad example. Recent research shows that earlier accounts of massive overall depopulation were exaggerated.48 Nonetheless new diseases to which islanders had no immunity caused much death and suffering, at times devastating small communities, especially those which came into frequent contact with settlers and traders. By the early 20th century most of the islanders of the French Pacific had become Christian. The exception was about a third of the New Hebrides population, which retained its adherence to traditional kastom beliefs, although these were modified by Christian and other western influences. Kastom (English: custom; French: la coutume) defies precise definiton, but refers to the traditional values, practices and patterns of behaviour regulating Melanesian communities. The churches, especially the Protestant organisations in New Caledonia, provided a new focus for demoralised and disoriented communities. They helped people adapt to new challenges, and helped train and develop local leaders. But many pre-existing values and customs, though subject to evolution, remained strong. Meanwhile the use of indigenous languages

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and the training and employment of local people, especially in Protestant congregations, permitted indigenous communities to regard the Christian faith and the local churches as their own, rather than as something externally imposed. The French presenceand the joint BritishFrench presence in the New Hebridesestablished new administrative and economic linkages between diverse and formerly more or less isolated and independent local communities. In New Caledonia and the EFO the local gendarme operated as the key representative of the French state, combining law and order functions with a range of other duties. His role was comparable in some respects to that later played by the kiap (patrol officer) in Papua New Guinea. On the Melanesian reserves in New Caledonia, to which the majority of Melanesians were restricted until after the Second World War, a hierarchy of traditional high chiefs (grands chefs: literally, 'big chiefs') and village-level chiefs (petits chefs: literally, 'small chiefs') fulfilled local administrative tasks under the direction of the local gendarme. Especially where tribes had been shifted after rebellions, these chiefs were often administrative appointees, with little prestige within the Melanesian communities. And where chiefs with genuine traditional status were present, their partial incorporation into the French administration at times reduced their standing among their people. In the EFO, no attempt was made to incorporate the chiefly system, which already had been eroded by Protestant missionary and other new influences, into the French administrative structure. Nonetheless high-ranking families retained social prestige and maintained economic power through land-ownership. During the early 20th century the French administration faced the task of integrating the various components of the EFO, which had been acquired over several decades, into a single administrative entity. However the process of administration rationalisation proceeded slowly, with the Leeward Islands, which hitherto had been under strong British and German influence, operating under special arrangements until the Second World War. Meanwhile Tahiti and its capital Papeete, which had grown up from almost nothing on the shores of the best anchorage, assumed unprecedented importance. 49 The administration, the churches, and the economy centred on the main island and its port town. From the early 20th century people from the outer islands began to move there in search of work and opportunities, a trend later accelerated from the early 1960s by the nuclear testing programme. By 1951 half of the total population of the EFO already lived on Tahiti, with another 5 per cent on the nearby, closely linked island of Moorea. Nearly a quarter of the overall total lived in Papeete, the only town worthy of the name.50 In New Caledonia, the port town of Noumea mushroomed in a formerly sparsely populated area as the key administrative, industrial

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and commercial centre. As was the case in the EFO, however, the sway of the administration was reduced outside the capital and its immediate environs. European settlers dominated Noumea and the other towns, while the indigenous Kanaks comprised most of the population in much of the interior, especially on most of the east coast, and in the Loyalty Islands. Local ties remained strong among Melanesians, but under French rule interaction between the various tribal groupings greatly increased. The indigenous languages survived, but under threat, while French became the language of communication between different Melanesian groups and between Melanesians and settlers. In Wallis and Futuna, tribal/district rivalries became muted under the French protectorate. The two islands, which are over 200 kms apart, are both populated by Polynesians. But before the French arrival their populations had closer historical links with two Western Polynesian countriesWallis with Tonga and Futuna with Samoa. French overlordship bound the islands' futures together, and offered, for a handful of talented young men, leadership opportunities in the Catholic church. In the New Hebrides, all except the most isolated communities in the interior of the larger islands eventually came into contact with the BritishFrench administrativeeconomic system. Bislama, a lingua franca developed from 'Sandalwood English' by indentured New Hebridean workers overseas, became a country-wide means of communication. In the French and British zones of influence, and in their areas of overlap, especially in and near the new towns of Vila on Efate and Luganville (later Santo Town) on Espiritu Santo, many New Hebrideans acquired some French or English. British involvement in the Condominium of the New Hebrides tempered the aggressive nationalism of Australian business and missionary interests, and also helped protect the inhabitants of the archipelago from the fate of their counterparts on the main island of New Caledonia. Port areas and some of the smaller islands were much changed, in part through disease and depopulation. In contrast to New Caledonia, however, where settlement was extensive, in the New Hebrides the non-indigenous population, including planters, traders, officials and Asian indentured workers, never comprised more than a small minority of the population. And as was the case throughout the South Pacific, significant aspects of the pre-contact cultures endured and evolved. Ripples of Change France's extensive colonial empire was, by the late 19th century, second only to that of Britain in size and wealth. Within it, the French Pacific

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Part of the war memorial in Noumea, recording the numbers of Melanesians who died serving in the French forces in the First World War. Although the Melanesians fought bravely alongside New Caledonians of French European descent, they were not granted French citizenship until after the Second World War. (Photo: Henningham) entities assumed only a modest place, although they did their bit, as specks on the maps studied by French schoolchildren, to maintain French prestige. By the early 20th century, the hopes cherished by some officials and businessmen for the generation of great agricultural and mineral wealth from these colonies had been disappointed, except for the returns, which were mostly repatriated, from the nickel and other metals of New Caledonia and from the phosphate of Makatea atoll in the EFO. The slump of the 1930s accentuated the economic malaise of the French Pacific islands. The malaise was also social: despite some improvements after the First World War, inequality and exploitation endured. Nonetheless, beneath the generally placid surface, important changes were underway during the early decades of the 20th century. One change involved greater assimilation to French language and culture. Up until the First World War, external influence on the islanders was generally European rather than strictly French. British businessmen, notably James Paddon and John Higginson, played a leading part in the early contact and colonial history of New Caledonia and the New Hebrides. (Higginson, however, later acquired French nationality.) Australian stockmen established the New Caledonian grazing industry, enriching Caledonian French with words such as le stockman, la

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station and le creek, not to mention that useful exclamation of exasperation, bagrite! (bugger it!). Before the French protectorate was imposed on Tahiti, only a handful of Frenchmen lived there. Up to this time the main external influence on Tahiti and nearby islands had been from British and American missionaries, from British, German and American traders, and from a miscellany of sailors and beachcombers. Later in the century, French officials complained that France was bearing the administrative costs of the EFO but that the commercial benefits were going to British and German firms. But in the late 19th century, the London Missionary Society handed over the task of spreading the faith to the French Protestant church in both New Caledonia and the EFO. German interests in Tahiti and Wallis were eclipsed by the First World War. Immigration by Anglophones into New Caledonia dwindled to a halt in the early 20th century, because of the lack of opportunities there. The French administration encouraged assimilation to French language and culture. In both New Caledonia and the EFO originally Irish or English families, such as for example the Daleys and the Martins in New Caledonia, were absorbed into the Francophone population. In the Anglo-French Condominium, however, there was no reason for the Anglophone Anglican and Protestant missionaries to hand over their responsibilities to their French counterparts. These missionaries had won more converts than the French Catholic missionaries, largely because of their more extensive use of vernacular languages and their training and use of indigenous lay preachers and pastors. As a result Anglophone influences became more widespread than Francophone influences within the indigenous population, even though French settlers were the predominant presence in the two small urban centres of Port Vila on Efate and Luganville on Espiritu Santo. In the Condominium, the administration operated in a tenuous fashion outside these two towns. With the joint administrations handicapped by a lack of funds and by competition and bickering, missions and plantations assumed some administrative functions, while within indigenous communities disputes were resolved by customary means. Meanwhile the Catholic church and the chiefly system continued to dominate the protectorate of Wallis and Futuna, although the French Residents expanded their authority during the post-First World War period. If practice of the Christian faith was one key element of the response by indigenous communities to the new world with which they had been brought into contact, so too was their involvement in cash cropping. Subsistence agriculture and fishing remained central. Nonetheless from the late 19th century cash cropping increasingly complemented subsistence agriculture. Copra was produced in all of the French Pacific entities, while in New Caledonia Melanesians also began to produce

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coffee. This crop became widely grown by Melanesian farmers on the main island between the wars. Through cash cropping, and although local populations by no means benefited equally, the peoples of the French Pacific earnt income with which to purchase goods, and acquired new knowledge and skills. The consolidation and 'indigenisation' of Christianity and the new involvement of indigenous communities in cash cropping reduced the disadvantages of the indigenous peoples of the French Pacific. In addition their health standards improved, because they developed greater resistance to imported diseases and because of medical advances and improved access to modern health care. In New Caledonia, where many settlers had expected the Melanesians to 'die out', the consolidation and growth of the Melanesian population took place during the inter-war period. In the Marquesas Islands in the EFO, the population slumped from 5000 to 2000 between 1880 and 1920, in part it appears because of female infertility caused by imported venereal disease. The Marquesans seemed destined for the tragic fate of the Tasmanian Aborigines, and of many Aboriginal tribes elsewhere in Australia, who disappeared as distinct communities because of imported disease, conflicts with settlers, and demoralisation. But the population decline in the Marquesas was reversed in the 1920s, because of increased resistance and better health care. 51 In New Caledonia in the inter-war period, the consolidation and growth of the Melanesian population and Melanesian participation in cash-cropping coincided with a loss of momentum in French efforts to make New Caledonia a viable, self-reliant settler colony analogous to those which Britain had established in Australia and New Zealand. Immigration from France slowed to a trickle. Smallholder capitalist agriculture mostly failed in New Caledonian conditions. Many small settlers were obliged to leave the land, and landholdings became concentrated. Extensive grazing rather than intensive cultivation, complemented by mining, became characteristic of European economic activity in New Caledonia. The failure of rural settlement to become consolidated had longterm implications for the colony. Alain Saussol points out that: . . . between 1903 and 1939, and without any stir, the most important turning point in the history of New Caledonia occurred. While the colonial orderunchanged since the late nineteenth centurywas gently running down, the conditions that were to challenge its legitimacy [i.e. the Melanesian demographic, economic and cultural revival] were quietly coming about.52 But before the Second World War the indigenous peoples of New Caledonia and the other French Pacific entities lacked the

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constitutional means to express their potential political strength. The indigenous inhabitants of New Caledonia and the EFO were French subjects, but could not qualify for French citizenship unless they fulfilled special educational and other requirements. So only a tiny minority of them gained the right to vote for and to take part in the embryonic local organs of self-government. These bodies, which were the scene of chronic bickering between the national government and local interests, were restricted to French settlers. Nor did the indigenous inhabitants have civil and political rights in the protectorates of the New Hebrides and of Wallis and Futuna. But the Second World War brought changes. Hostilities did not take place on the territory of any of the French entities, but the impact of the war on them was substantial. United States and Allied support bases were established on Espiritu Santo and Efate in the New Hebrides; on Wallis Island; on Bora Bora in the EFO; and at Noumeawhere the former headquarters of the Southwest Pacific Command later became the seat of the South Pacific Commission. Memories of the war linger. Older generation European New Caledonians talk nostalgically of the Guerre des Americans (Americans' War) rather than of the Second World War, while some young Wallisians proudly claim an American serviceman among their grandparents. With thousands of troops requiring provisions and services, local economies boomed. The easy-going, free-spending Americans made a favourable impression. Melanesians noted that Black American servicemen were accorded what at least appeared to be equal treatment and occupied posts of some administrative and technical responsibility. Several hundred volunteers, comprising both indigenous people and settlers, served with distinction in the Free French forces in North Africa, the Atlantic and southern Europe. 53 Immediately after the war a partial dismantling of the old colonial system took place, in response to reformist and liberal currents of opinion in metropolitan France. The indigenat and forced labour were abolished. Full democratic rights and freedoms were gradually extended to the indigenous peoples, although progress lagged in the Condominium and in Wallis and Futuna. From around 1950 the Rassemblement Démocratique des Populations Tahitiennes (RDPT: Democratic Assembly of the Tahitian Peoples) in Tahiti and the Union Calédonienne (UC: Caledonian Union) in New Caledonia championed autonomist and proto-nationalist sentiments. The impetus for these movements in part came from Melanesian and Polynesian veterans who had returned home with wider horizons and heightened expectations. But France contained these pressures, sometimes by dubious methods.54 In a 1957 study Hubert Deschamps and Jean Guiart indicated, in part by what they took for granted, that the French Pacific presence was stable, well-founded and enduring.55 Their judgement was tested

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in the 1958 referendum, in which voters throughout France's overseas possessions chose between independencealthough with no guarantee of further aidand continued integration with France with the status of partly self-governing overseas territories. The peoples of the French Pacific voted clearly against independence. In New Caledonia, where the UC urged a prointegration vote, 98 per cent of the voters opted to stay with France. In the EFO, which became the overseas territory of French Polynesia at this time, and where Pouvanaa a Oopa, the leader of the RDPT, campaigned for independence, the result was lower at 64 per cent. In Wallis and Futuna, in a plebiscite held in December 1959, the result was almost 99 per cent in favour of the transformation of the protectorate into an overseas territory. There was no poll on the future of the Condominium of the New Hebrides, but here too the French presence seemed assured. Guiart concluded that France was not likely to leave the archipelago. He advised prospective settlers to gather sufficient capital, avoid excess drinking, and establish a good rapport with the local people. 56 Yet it was here, on the frontier of the French presence in the South Pacific, that France suffered its first reversal, defeated by a nationalist movement opposed to land-grabbing by settlers and speculators.

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2 Debacle in Vanuatu On Sunday 8 May 1988 Barak Sope, the then secretary-general of Vanuatu's ruling Vanua'aku Pati (VP: Our Land Party), padlocked the gates of the French Embassy in Vila. He thus prevented some hundreds of French expatriates from voting in the second round of the French presidential elections. 1 Sope had not expected to alter the overall result, which was that François Mitterrand trounced Jacques Chirac. But as he turned the key he showed the VP's support for the poll boycott by the Kanak nationalist movement in neighbouring New Caledonia. He also expressed his anger over the deaths of Kanak hostage-takers who had been killed two days earlier when French troops stormed their cave in the north of Ouvéa Island (see chapter 4). And he struck another blow in the VP's squabble with France. This antagonism had peaked during the independence struggle of the 1970s, but reflected the history of French relations with the people of the archipelago. Promoting the French Presence France left the New Hebrides reluctantly, after showing greater interest than Britain. On 30 July 1980, Independence Day for the sovereign Republic of Vanuatu, the British flag-lowering ceremony was open to the public, but the French occasion was private. Under the Condominium 'the tricolour in the French Residency's compound flew prominently . . . while the British flag hid modestly behind trees'.2 The house of the French Resident stood proudly on the ridge overlooking Vila; the British Resident lived on Iririki, a small island close offshore. The French delegates to the Condominium negotiations had ensured that the responsibilities and powers of the joint administration were curtailed. They did so to leave greater freedom of action to the separate French and British administrations. This would make it easier for France to expand its influence, given Great Britain's indifference, which continued despite Australian expansionist urgings.3 The goal,

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'to give the New Hebrides to France', 4 was not achieved in a formal, constitutional sense, but the archipelago came under strong French influence.5 In 1910 French nationals outnumbered British by 566 to 288, and by 1939 the proportion was ten to one. France was the chief market for copra, the main export crop, and French interests dominated the commercial economy.6 France used the land claims of French nationals to expand French influence and to create grounds for a prospective French takeover. In 1887 the French government rescued the Compagnie Calédonienne des Nouvelles Hébrides from bankruptcy. This Noumea company had extensive land claims in the New Hebrides. In 1894 the government pledged further subsidies and all but took over the company, which was renamed the Société Française des Nouvelles Hébrides (SFNH). By 1905 the SFNH held paper titles to 5700 square mileswell over half of the land area of the New Hebrides. French officials knew that many of the titles were bogus. But when negotiating the Condominium, the French ensured that legal challenges to titles registered before 1887 would be impossible, and that challenges to titles registered from 1887 to 1904 would be hard to sustain.7 Whereas British officials did little, French officials put much effort into promoting French influence and protecting the interests of French nationals. The French administration turned a blind eye to offences against the Condominium regulations: before the First World War, for example, the French Residency frequently failed to levy fines on French settlers found guilty of labour code infractions.8 When commodity prices crashed during the Great Depression, and following drought and hurricane damage, the French authorities saved French planters from bankruptcy by subsidising French-produced copra and by advancing 5 million francs to write off debts. Most French planters ran plantations as agents for the SFNH. In return for its advances, the French government took over many of the SFNH's titles, thus consolidating its control.9 Yet although the French government and its officials worked hard to expand French influence, Anglophone influence became more widespread. By around 1900, Presbyterian and Anglican missions, strongly supported by the churches in Australia and New Zealand, had converted over half of the indigenous population. By training islanders as catechists and preachers, they gained an edge over their Catholic competitors. The first census, which was conducted in 1967, showed that 42 per cent of ni-Vanuatu (as the indigenous New Hebrideans later became known) were Presbyterian, while 15 per cent were Anglican.10 In addition, small numbers of ni-Vanuatu belonged to various Protestant sects. Both churches, and especially the Presbyterians, set up schools and clinics, and assumed some administrative functions, filling the vacuum left by the Condominium authorities. In addition, British traders and

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businessmen were active in the region. Later on, in the 1960s and 1970s, the British employed ni-Vanuatu in lower administrative positions and as school teachers, helping create an Anglophone elite. In contrast, French practice was to employ French people in even the most junior posts. Meanwhile attitudes to the French were soured by labour and land disputes. Some planters treated their labourers fairly, but even under a 'good' master, labourers were expected to work long hours for poor wages. The Condominium regulations on hours of work were consistent with the standards and attitudes of the era concerning non-white labour, and were comparable with those applied elsewhere in the South Pacific. They required merely that labourers should: have Sunday off, except for domestic duties and the care of animals; have one clear hour of rest each day at the time of the midday meal; and should only be required to work between sunrise and sunset. 11 Of course conditions varied from plantation to plantation, but at least until the Second World War, many planters mistreated and exploited their labourers.12 They underpaid them, provided below-standard food and accommodation, charged exorbitant prices in the plantation store, kept them working after their contracts had expired, and used violence to enforce discipline. The majority of planters were French and even though many British planters also treated their labourers harshly, discontent over labour questions reflected especially badly on the French administration. Land disputes also led to anti-French feeling. The notion of individual, absolute ownership of land is alien to Melanesian tradition, as is the idea of its permanent sale. Instead, overlapping rights to the use and produce of land are held jointly by groups of people. A consensus on who has rights to a particular area does not necessarily exist, and rival claims are common. Acquisition of land by settlers was feasible, but only when endorsed by all those with an interest in the land on the basis of a full understanding of the rights being transferred, and of the agreed boundaries. The French titles were rarely acquired in this way. No cadastral survey was made and boundaries were poorly marked, if at all. Prospective 'purchasers' sailed up and down the coast, at times laying claim to pieces of land without even bothering to go ashore. Agreements were reached on the ship's deck with one or two local people, often after they had been plied with alcohol. Frequently little attempt was made to establish that the individuals concerned had the authority, on behalf of their communities, to enter into agreements, or even to ensure that they belonged to the community concerned. Even when they were legitimate representatives of their communities, the illiterate islanders who made their mark on transfer documents often thought that they were merely conceding landing and trading rights, or else the right to use some of the lands on the seashore. Unbeknown to the local

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people, the titles often covered claims extending far into the interior, into areas well outside the territory of the coastal communities. 13 Because their attitudes to land differed so sharply, and because many of the titles were dubious, tension between islanders and settlers over land was chronic. Nonetheless, up until around 1960 a more-or-less satisfactory modus vivendi existed between planters and local communities. Apart from Tanna Island and the small islands offshore of Efate and Malekula, the population density in the New Hebrides is low, and there was generally enough land to be go around. For French settlers, the 1950s were something of a golden age, with earlier disputes over land and labour generally resolved, and with relations with local communities improved by fairer conduct.14 But in the 1960s and 1970s tensions over land heightened again. In these decades, the land issue was central both to the rise of Nagriamel, a nativist movement which made an abortive attempt at secession on Espiritu Santo, and to the emergence of the Vanua'aku Pati, which led the New Hebrides to independence in 1980. Nagriamel Although they held titles to inland areas, planters and companies had concentrated on growing coconut and other tree crops on a narrow coastal strip. But from around 1960, some settlers set out to establish a beef export market. They wished to diversify away from the volatile market for tree crop products. Moreover grazing required less labour, which was costly and also scarce because islanders preferred to grow their own copra. The Condominium encouraged the cattle industry, appointing a veterinary officer in 1963 to monitor standards. More land was needed for cattle grazing, so planters began moving their cattle into the cooler, higher inland areas, known as the dak bush (dark bush), which previously they had not exploited. But the local people were unaware of or else dismissive of the titles held to these areas. The planters showed particular interest in diversifying into cattle grazing on Espiritu Santo, the largest and potentially the richest island in the archipelago. However on this island a kastom chief, Paul Buluk, led protests against the clearing and fencing of land on the SFNH's Luganville Estate, comprising 13 000 hectares north of Luganville (later Santo Town). After the Condominium ignored Buluk's complaints, he and his supporters cut fences and destroyed boundary markers, until he was prosecuted and jailed for six months in 1964.15 On his release, Buluk joined forces with Jimmy Stephens, the founder of the Nagriamel movement. Stephens is of mixed race. He traces his descent from a Tongan 'Princess' and a Scots sailor, and identifies with indigenous aspirations. He was a supervisor in the hospital gardens

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Nagriamel leader Jimmy Stephens with supporters at Tanafo village on Espiritu Santo in 1969. (Photo: Langdon collection) during the Second World War, and later on worked for a Santo trader. He then became a bulldozer operator, and worked for the British administration until he damaged his leg in an accident. He is barely literate, and speaks fractured English and little French, but is a charismatic orator in Bislama. From 196063 he set up Nagriamel to campaign for respect for kastom and support for the kastom ownership of land. 16 The name Nagriamel referred to the 'magical' namel and nagria leaves. Stephen's alliance with Buluk gave his fledgling movement impetus. After several meetings in a small bar in Luganville, in 1965 they published their 'Act of Dark Bush', which was a proclamation forbidding settlers from extending their properties into the interior. To reassert kastom ownership of the contested lands by the traditional Melanesian method of occupation, they set up a village, naming it Tanafo, about 30 kms north of Luganville. They and their supporters occupied the Mori area near Tanafo in 1967, and both of them were imprisoned for six months for trespassing. Stephens gained prestige from his prison term, and in the late 1960s and early 1970s the Nagriamel movement flourished. Many people on the nearby islands of North Malekula, Ambryn, Aoba, Paama, Maewo and Malo joined the cause. People from the interior of Espiritu Santo, as well as immigrants from

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the nearby islands, lived in Tanafo and worked on its gardens, roads and amenities. Stephens set out to turn the settlement into a model community. The ideology of the movement was an inchoate, syncretic mixture, with religious and mystical overtones. In 1971 Stephens claimed to represent 20 000 people, over 20 per cent of the New Hebridean population. This claim was inflated, but at its height Nagriamel seems to have commanded the support of up to 15 000 people, including a majority of the Santo population. Nagriamel was merely the latest, albeit the most widely supported, of several nativist movements which had emerged at different times and places in response to foreign rule, missionary influences, and social and economic change. 17 In the early 20th century the Tamata movement in the Santo interior had sought to eradicate the damaging influences believed to result from the European presence on the coast. The John Frum movement on the southern island of Tanna gathered impetus and developed cargo cult characteristics in response to the material wealth assembled by the Americans when they based themselves in the New Hebrides during the Second World War. Its adherents believed that by reforming their behaviour and performing certain rituals they could gain access to abundant supplies of 'cargo': i.e. Western material goods. The Malekula Native Company, of northwest Malekula and nearby islands, began in 1939 as a pathbreaking experiment in cooperative primary production, before similarly acquiring cargo cult characteristics during the war. And the so-called 'Naked Cult' flourished in the Santo bush from 1946 to 1952. Its adherents believed that they could end conflict and bring wealth by shedding clothes, ignoring taboos, speaking a newly invented language and engaging in free, public sexual relations.18 These movements were attempts by the local people to recapture the initiative and to restructure the social, economic and moral order to their benefit. Although they upheld some traditions they also expressed a willingness to break radically with the past. They were proto-nationalist in their character and goals, although the unit embraced by their vision was local rather than including the entire archipelago. They had much in common with the 'micronationalist' movements of Papua New Guinea and elsewhere in Melanesia, not least in their 'tendency towards disengagement or withdrawal . . . from the larger national community'.19 Yet Nagriamel differed from other nativist movements by seeking to make its mark in the international arena. Inspired by the independence of Fiji in 1970, Stephens hired an Indo-Fijian lawyer who advised Stephens on his court cases in 1968, and who in 1971 appealed to the United Nations for the granting of independence to the New Hebrides within a year.20 The rise of Nagriamel worried both the French and the British. In 1970, the eventual independence of the New Hebrides 'still seemed very distant, if not inconceivable'.21 The British authorities endorsed

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the gradual extension of self-government to the New Hebrides as a means of slow and careful preparation for independence. But Nagriamel did not seem a suitable vehicle for orderly constitutional progress. Stephens had local rather than national appeal. Moreover he and his supporters were naive, and were inclined to flout the law. The French were even more concerned. 'We're staying', was how in 1969 the French Resident summed up his instructions from President de Gaulle. 22 France wanted to protect French commercial and settler interests in the New Hebrides, and promote French influence in the South Pacific. It wished to avert, or at least delay, any move towards New Hebridean independence, partly to avoid any encouragement to the fledgling Kanak nationalist movement in neighbouring New Caledonia. France was prepared to invest heavily in pursuit of its aims. In the late 1960s both France and Britain had boosted their spending on infrastructure and services after decades of neglect. But French spending outstripped that of Britain. In the 1970s one British official remarked that France was spending as if it wanted to stay for another hundred years.23 The French health budget, for example, rose by 1800 per cent between 1964 and 1968.24 Unfortunately, Britain and France spent the extra funds competitively, not cooperatively. Vila finished up with two 100-bed hospitals, one French and the other British, both usually less than half full.25 One would have sufficed, with the money saved better spent elsewhere. Similar competitiveness in education resulted in British and French schools operating side by side, while other areas were neglected.26 The French authorities were also concerned because Stephens and Buluk threatened French prestige and interests over the sensitive lands issue. At first Stephens had also demanded the return of land to which British proprietors held title, but as Nagriamel gained momentum it concentrated on lands held by the SFNH. In the 1960s the British and French authorities responded cautiously to Nagriamel, keeping intervention to a minimum. They presumably hoped that, like earlier nativist movements, it would decline and disintegrate when unable to fulfil the expectations of its adherents. But in the early 1970s, to help contain Nagriamel and to help counter the challenge posed by the rise of the New Hebrides National Party, the French authorities reached a rapprochement with Stephens, and also began returning the titles to some of the disputed lands. The Nationalist Movement and Its Opponents The New Hebrides National Party (NP), which later became the Vanua'aku Pati (VP), developed out of the New Hebrides Cultural Association. This organisation was set up in June 1971 by young

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English-educated New Hebrideans, including Father Walter Lini, an Anglican priest from the northern island of Pentecost. Like Nagriamel, the Cultural Association stood for the defence of kastom and the preservation and promotion of indigenous rights to land. It mounted its first public demonstration in Vila in August 1971, in support of recently enacted regulations intended to prevent land speculation. The most prominent speculator was Eugene Peacock, an American who had been acquiring Santo plantation land since 1967 and subdividing it for sale to wealthy retirees. Encouraged by the attendance of about a hundred people in the New Hebrides' first ever modern-style public political demonstration, the association re-named itself the New Hebrides National Party. 27 Both the NP and Nagriamel concentrated on kastom and land issues, and NP organisers hoped to harness Nagriamel to their cause. But these hopes were in vain, for several reasons. Jimmy Stephens, who had little formal education, was suspicious of the better-educated, town-dwelling leaders of the National Party. He also saw their strong Presbyterian and Anglican church backgrounds as inconsistent with the defence of kastom. Ironically, the NP leaders regarded his claims to high kastom rank as bogus, given his mixed-race background. He had also become suspicious of the British administration, with which he thought the NP was too closely associated. Rivalry between Santo and Efate, the two most important islands in the archipelago, also shaped his views. Despite his sponsorship of the call for New Hebridean independence at the United Nations in 1971, his version of nationalism was Santo-centred. His inflated pretensions and ambitions also blocked possible cooperation with the NP. And these sentiments were encouraged by American land speculators and libertarian extremists, and by French settlers and officials.28 Stephens' rapprochement with French interests and his suspicions of the British administration flowed from his business dealings. Although he had attracted a wide following in the late 1960s, he needed to bring material benefits to his followers to maintain their support. To do so he made compromises, beginning in 1968 with an agreement with André Leconte, a French businessman based in Noumea who had purchased part of the Luganville Estate for cattle ranching. In return for Nagriamel acceptance of his right to use the land, Leconte let Nagriamel use his bulldozers and other equipment to clear land and build roads, and agreed to employ only Nagriamel labour. Leconte shunned local politics, but his deal with Stephens helped moderate Nagriamel's land campaign and paved the way for further contacts with French settlers and businessmen and eventually for improved relations with the French administration. Stephens also reached an agreement with Eugene Peacock. Peacock accorded Stephens recognition as the representative of Santo kastom owners, and agreed that Nagriamel would provide the labour for his SODEPAC (Société d'Élevage du

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Pacifique) company, a grazing, land clearance and transportation concern based near Tanafo. 29 Although the NP did not form an alliance with Nagriamel, it nonetheless rallied wide support. At first the party had only a narrow membership, drawn from the small number of educated Anglophones employed in the public service, in the cooperatives, in private companies and in the Protestant churches. Broadening the party's support would not be easy, given the diversity of the New Hebrides and the strength of local identities. Barak Sope, soon to become the NP's secretary-general, noted in 1973 that the party faced 'a difficult and unpredictable task'. Sope noted that at that time only the members of a tiny elite had begun to regard themselves, with British encouragement, as New Hebrideans. (Indeed local identities and loyalties still remain strong in independent Vanuatu.) Sope argued that: In nationalist movements rural mobilization requires the party leaders to stimulate popular support from the rural areas . . . The present leadership of the party is aware of this problem and is taking steps to mobilize the rural support by setting up and encouraging subcommittees . . . one of the possible avenues open to the National Party is the Church through its different denominations. For instance, the Presbyterian Church . . . Mobilization of the New Hebridean masses could be done through the Churches if properly organised.30 And so it came to pass. By 1975 the NP had developed a network of local committees and had won the support of the Anglican/Presbyterian majority. It achieved this by calling for the return of land to traditional claimants, the protection of traditional values and culture insofar as they were consistent with Christianity, and an early transition to selfgovernment as a prelude to independence. Although founded by English-educated town dwellers, the NP sought to speak for all New Hebrideans. In token of this it appointed as vice-chairman Aimé Maléré, a Francophone from Malekula. Yet the party remained essentially Anglophone and Protestant. It attracted only a handful of Francophone/Catholic supporters, with Maléré leaving in 1973 to help found the rival Mouvement Autonomiste des Nouvelles Hébrides party.31 Many French settlers and some French officials saw the NP as the creation and tool of the British Residency. An extreme version of this view, expounded by a French schoolteacher who worked on Tanna and Malekula in the 1970s, held that Anglo-French rivalry in the New Hebrides was a continuation of the Hundred Years War and subsequent conflicts; that Britain was encouraging New Hebridean nationalism to bring independence and oust French settlers to make way for Australians; and that the NP's policies and tactics were worked out in detail by a senior British official, for whom Walter Lini served as a pawn.32

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Others did not go so far, but the suspicion of excessive British influence was widespread, persisting despite the absence of any convincing evidence. It is true that Britain favoured eventual decolonisation and believed that the emergence of responsible political parties would contribute to orderly constitutional progress; that the setting up of a nationalist party was first discussed at a British Residence cocktail party; 33 and that individual British officials sympathised strongly with the broad aims of the NP and gave its members informal advice. Yet it is equally true that the NP began and won support at ni-Vanuatu initiative, and rallied broad support on the basis of its platform. Moreover the new party was soon taking stances and using tactics of which Britain and its officials disapproved. But although it lacked sound foundations, the belief in British manipulation had psychological significance, providing French officials with an excuse for their active support for the various parties which opposed the NP. The Francophone population had responded to the establishment of the NP by organising several political parties. The first Francophone party, the UPNH (Union de la Population des Nouvelles Hébrides) was formed in December 1971 in reaction to the establishment of the NP and to its August 1971 demonstration in support of the new regulations against land speculation. The UPNH stood for: the continuation of the Condominium until the evolution of the archipelago permitted 'the determination of a new, rational and realistic orientation'; increased administrative efficiency; increased local participation in internal administration; increased scope for individual land ownership; and a reduction in property litigation. As these conservative policies suggest, the UPNH essentially represented expatriate interests, although it gained some ephemeral urban ni-Vanuatu support. Apart from Ernest Reid, a locally born Australian, its leading figures were French nationals, of European, Asian or mixed-race background. However the UPNH failed to gather momentum. Personal differences surfaced, as well as disagreement over whether the party should concern itself mainly with expatriate interests or with the broader concerns of the population of the New Hebrides.34 The UPNH had become moribund by 1973 and was largely replaced by the MANH (Mouvement Autonomiste des Nouvelles Hébrides) and the UCNH (Union des Communautés des Nouvelles Hébrides). MANH, a strongly conservative body linked to rightwing groupings in New Caledonia, was set up by European and mixed-race residents of Luganville (now Santo Town) in December 1973/January 1974. Its formation was a response to NP calls for a unified administration and to an NP demonstration against the arrest, arising out of a complex dispute, of two ni-Vanuatu nightclub operators. The MANH called for a steady evolution to internal self-government, the postponement of independence until 198485 to allow adequate preparation, and for cooperation among all the inhabitants of the New Hebrides whatever

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their ethnic backgrounds. The party's founders included Aimé Maléré, who had come to regard the NP as too radical. His dissatisfaction dated in part from his disquiet over a demonstration in 1972 against French nuclear testing, featuring what he thought were wildly exaggerated claims about health risks. The UCNH, a more moderate body, was formed in February 1974 by Francophone residents of Vila, mainly European but including some ni-Vanuatu. It also gained support from Francophone and Catholic ni-Vanuatu in rural areas, especially among Catholics on Malekula under the leadership of Father Gerard Leymang, a priest who had supported reform of the Advisory Council, a consultative body which had been in operation since 1959. The UCNH supported law reform and respect for the law. Arguing that 'Immediate independence is nothing but a dream' it favoured steady social and economic progress and political education in preparation for an eventual decision on independence. 35 The UCNH also appointed ni-Vanuatu as its vice-president and secretary, and called for the involvement in its activities of all the communities. The emphasis by MANH and UCNH on participation by all the inhabitants of the archipelago reflected a wish to protect settler interests and resentment that almost all of the NP's leaders and members were niVanuatu. The conservative platforms of MANH and UCNH contrasted with the NP's stand in support of land rights, constitutional and administrative reform, and the principle of rule by the majority. Aware of their narrow support bases, the MANH and UCNH formed alliances with kastom movements; MANH with the Nagriamel movement on Santo and nearby islands, and UCNH with the millenarian John Frum movement on Tanna. The adherents of John Frum still expected the Americans to return with abundant 'cargo', and continued to oppose Presbyterian and other church influences. The French administration encouraged the varied groups which opposed the NP,36 and sought to discourage support for independence. In an interview published in June 1975 in Nabanga, the French Residency newsletter, the French Resident said that the notion of independence was an illusion because of the archipelago's scant resources. Referring to the Francophone countries of Africa, he argued that only the resource-rich countries had benefited from independence. In contrast the poor countries had collapsed into anarchy, tyranny and misery. Moreover, he contended, independence would leave the archipelago vulnerable and defenceless. Other Nabanga articles in this vein included 'Costly Freedom', which discussed Papua New Guinea's serious postindependence problems, and one on Tanzania entitled 'La Tanzanie, dictature militaire et colonialiste' ('Tanzania, military and colonialist dictatorship').37 This reference to Tanzania was in response to the interest of some VP members in Tanzanian-style Socialism.38

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Constitutional Advance and Political Conflict During Anglo-French consultations on the future of the Condominium the French government also set out to slow the pace of constitutional change. The people of the archipelago had lacked any formal mechanism for presenting their views to the administration until 1957 when an Advisory Council was formed. The council was nominally purely consultative, although gradually it acquired some de facto authority. At first all its members were nominated by the French and British authorities and consisted of five French nationals, five British subjects, and five ni-Vanuatu. The elective principle was later introduced, and ni-Vanuatu were given a greater share of seats, but as late as 1969 less than half of council members were ni-Vanuatu, even though they made up over nine-tenths of the population. 39 In discussions in 1973 and 1974, the French and British governments agreed that movement towards self-government was necessary, and decided to replace the Advisory Council with a 42-member Representative Assembly. But they also sought to protect settler interests and slow the pace of change by complementing the 29 universal suffrage seats with thirteen seats reserved for particular interests, namely the (settler-dominated) Chamber of Commerce, the (indigenous) cooperative movement, and the kastom chiefs. In contrast, the neighbouring British colony of the Solomon Islands had attained effective democratic self-government by 1974, even though its economy and infrastructure were even less developed than those of the New Hebrides.40 Similarly Papua New Guinea already had full self-government in the early 1970s, and proceeded to independence in 1975. In the November 1975 elections the NP won 59.5 per cent of the popular vote and seventeen of the 29 universal suffrage seats. MANH/ Nagriamel won only two of the popularly elected seats, while UCNH (with John Frum) won ten seats, including two of the three on Tanna. Despite this convincing display of majority support for the NP, many of the party's opponents were reluctant to accept the result. Some French officials grumbled about alleged election irregularities whereby NP supporters registered as voters despite being under-age, or voted under different names at different polling booths.41 These claims may have had some foundation; however any malpractices scarcely could have been so widespread and well-organised as to effect the overall trend. Deeply disappointed, MANH/Nagriamel filed petitions contesting the results in some constituencies, and mounted three impressive protest demonstrations. At the third and largest, in late December 1975, Stephens proclaimed the forthcoming independence of the so-called 'Nagriamel Federation', which he envisaged as comprising Santo as well as any other islands which might opt to adhere to the new entity. The prime movers behind Stephens' grandiose scheme were two

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Americans, Eugene Peacock and Michael Oliver, the first dreaming of riches from property speculation, the second of a free-enterprise paradise for libertarians. The plan came to nothing. From its peak in the late 1960s, support for Nagriamel had faded. Several thousand people in the interior of Santo still backed Stephens, and there were pockets of support for him on the Santo coast and in the neighbouring islands. But thousands of former followers had lost their faith in him. Some had done so because of his failure to deliver on promises and his alleged misappropriation and squandering of funds; others because of his syncretic, sacrilegious opinions; and yet others because they questioned his claims to high social rank, despite his efforts to strengthen his credentials by hosting pig-killing ceremonies. In early 1976 MANH disassociated itself from the 'Nagriamel Federation' proposal, and Stephens was forced to back down when the Condominium authorities sent a police force to Luganville. 42 The first of April, the date fixed by Stephens for the inauguration of the 'Nagriamel Federation', seemed at the time an apt choice. This and similar episodes elsewhere in the archipelago during the 1970s amused some observers, but Stephens' abortive initiative in 19756 portended his more serious secession attempt in 1980. While Stephens' secession bid fizzled out, the remaining Representative Assembly seats were being filled. This took some months. Court cases disputing some returns required resolution. Meanwhile the absence of a coherent and widespead indigenous chiefly structure impeded the election of kastom chiefs. Despite support from cooperative and some chiefly representatives, the NP finished with only 21 of the 42 seats, and could not govern in its own right. After a meeting in January 1977 at which it renamed itself the Vanua'aku Pati (VP), the party moved a motion in the assembly calling for the reform of the electoral system to make it fully democratic. On losing the vote, the VP walked out of and henceforth boycotted the Representative Assembly, denying it a quorum.43 The VP's boycott increased uncertainties about the political and constitutional future. Although the Condominium authorities promised further concessions, they did not agree to early independence and to reducing the voting age to 18. In protest the VP boycotted the fresh elections held in November 1977, and proclaimed the establishment of a People's Provisional Government. On and after the polling day, local VP committees raised the newly created national flag, sparking several scuffles when their Francophone and kastom rivals opposed the flag-raisings. In addition, in some areas villagers occupied disputed lands with the support of the VP.44 Tensions quietened after some weeks, but the constitutional impasse remained, showing that founding a provisional government had been an effective tactic. By moving towards full representative government

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only by small steps, the Condominium authorities presumably had been seeking to ensure that the new representative institution held moderate views and that constitutional advance was gradual and orderly. But this strategy backfired. In consequence, the nationalist movement became more militant and uncompromising than it probably would have been had constitutional progress been more rapid. The VP Provisional Government moved into something of a political and administrative vacuum. The New Hebrides was only lightly ruled by its dual colonial masters, with missionaries and planters often performing administrative functions. In most of the islands the Condominium lacked the means to counter the provisional government tactic. It also lacked the will, because repression would have created greater opposition and adverse publicity, reducing prospects for a negotiated settlement. The provisional government operated with varying effectiveness and impact, but in some areas organised a pass system to control travel by Condominium officials. The founding of the provisional government was mainly a symbolic gesture, but some of its supporters also engaged in 'direct action', including 'the armed occupation of plantations, the killing of cattle, damage to crops and destruction of fences'. 45 The elected Representative Assembly lingered on for some months, while the authorities sought to woo the VP back into the government institutions. In May 1978, in response to further concessions, the VP dissolved its provisional government, and from later that year participated with representatives of the other parties in an interim Government of National Unity. After further talks extending over several months, it was agreed that new elections would be held under universal suffrage in late 1979, leading to full self-government and a referendum on independence. The rival parties also agreed on a constitution, after a trial of exhaustion in which Paul Dijoud, the visiting French Secretary of State for overseas departments and territories, kept talks going into the early hours of the morning. The VP insisted on central unitary government while the other parties favoured a loose federal system so as to maximise local autonomy. Dijoud, determined to resolve the impasse, pushed through a compromise in which some concessions were made to the federal notion, notably the setting up of regional councils for Santo and Tanna to permit the expression of local identity.46 Dijoud's approach was pragmatic, but some of his local officials cherished uncompromising anti-VP and pro-federal views.47 Both the British and the French authorities were vexed by the tactics of the VP, but the British were more willing to accept political realities because the VP's drive for independence fitted in with their strong wish for early decolonisation. By contrast, the French chose to mount a rearguard action against the rise of nationalism. They denounced the VP's tactics, and exaggerated its radical characteristics. Moreover French officials encouraged the pretensions and aspirations of the members of

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the government which emerged from the 1977 elections, in which a miscellany of Francophone and kastom candidates had been elected without opposition. As the November 1979 elections approached, French officials worked hard behind the scenes to encourage a good showing by the parties opposed to the VP. 48 The divergence between Britain and France showed itself in the format and content of their official newsletters. From 1975, the British New Hebrides News tarted up its format and appeared fortnightly instead of monthly, but remained a staid official publication. It reported political and other events in a neutral way, avoiding political comment, except for an occasional polite rebuttal of criticisms of British policy. Nabanga, the French publication, evolved from a monthly newsletter into an attractive weekly featuring quality photographs and occasional colour supplements. It criticised the VP and supported the VP's opponents. The News ceased publication in June 1979, announcing that its staff and equipment were being transferred to the interim New Hebridean government. However Nabanga appeared until June 1980, the eve of independence. In the weeks before the November 1979 elections, the French Resident Commissioner, Robert, travelled widely. He visited villages, opened aid projects and pledged further aid right up to polling day, with lavish coverage in Nabanga. Stuart, his British counterpart, stayed in Vila, and then departed overseas on leave a week before the elections. French officials were as busy as their boss, while British officials kept a low profile. Yet French efforts came to nothing. The VP's triumph surprised even its own leaders, who had expected only a narrow victory.49 Instead the party won 62 per cent of the votes and 26 of the 39 seats.50 Its various rivals, known collectively as the Modérés (Moderates), scored only 38 per cent and thirteen seats. The Modérés weakened their showing by running too many candidates and by poor organisation. Yet with a participation rate of over 90 per cent, and VP majorities throughout the archipelago, albeit narrow ones on Santo and Tanna, there could be no doubt about the result. But Jimmy Stephens and other kastom leaders, as well as many French settlers and some French officials, refused to accept the outcome. They were especially vexed because in the regional council elections, held concurrently with the national poll, the Modérés had been narrowly beaten in what they had seen as their strongholds of Santo and Tanna.51 The Santo Rebellion The results on Santo confirmed the decline in the appeal of Nagriamel but also arose from the presence of people from nearby islands who had come to Santo to work. Most of them were from Presbyterian and

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Anglican areas and supported the VP. Nagriamel reacted by harassing these immigrants, ordering them to leave Santo. Threats were broadcast on the Nagriamel radio station, Radio Tanafo, and conveyed in person by Nagriamel supporters. Some hundreds of people fled, ferried out by the British Residency vessel and other boats. Stephens announced the foundation of an independent state, known this time as the Republic of Vemerana. Nagriamel militants, aided by French and French/Australian expatriates, took over the British administrative offices, damaging property. Whereas British officials left Santo, their French counterparts remained. But they were inactive, except to some extent behind the scenes. The impasse worsened in the weeks that followed. Boosted by his American libertarian and business supporters, Stephens remained defiant, his ego inflated by dramatic press coverage of the 'Coconut War'. 52 Journalists were entranced by his 30 wives and by the warriors, armed with bows and arrows, at his command. In early 1976 the Santo settlers had soon abandoned Stephens, having only supported his secession bid to put pressure on the Condominium authorities for greater regional autonomy. This time they were in earnest. These were men and women of narrow horizons, often disdainful of ni-Vanuatu, who feared that the coming of independence under VP rule would force them to give up their lands and jobs and leave.53 The majority of these people had been born in the New Hebrides, and many of them were of mixed racial background. French fathers had often acknowledged their offspring by indigenous women, whereas the more racist British and Australians had only infrequently done so.54 Those métis who were of French descent identified themselves strongly as part of the French community. They and the other members of this community were conscious of the Mayotte precedent. When the French overseas territory of the Comores in the Indian Ocean declared itself independent in 1974, the culturally distinct island of Mayotte opted to remain under French rule. But although Stephens and Nagriamel depended on foreign businessmen and the local French community, the French government and its local officials also bore responsibility for the events which unfolded. Despite repeated requests by the VP government, France vetoed the sending of a joint Anglo-French police force to restore order. French officials argued that the use of force would only inflame tensions. They favoured negotiations in an attempt to get Stephens to back down. Many suspected them of ulterior motives. Earlier joint Anglo-French operations in the New Hebrides in criminal cases had gone smoothly; and France had shown few qualms about using police muscle to curb protest elsewhere, notably against pro-independence demonstrations in New Caledonia. Few observers doubted that Stephens' ramshackle republic would collapse if faced by a show of force, and some recalled that his secession bid in 1976 had been quickly snuffed out by the arrival of paramilitary police.

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The failure to intervene inflated Stephens' pretensions and helped give them some legitimacy, and encouraged secessionist sentiments on Tanna and elsewhere. 55 Meanwhile French officials privately expressed their sympathies with the aspirations of Stephens and his French settler supporters. Although a Mayotte-style resolution may not have seemed feasible, they nonetheless hoped that Stephens' campaign would oblige a recasting of the constitution to make Vanuatu a loose federation.56 This outcome would protect not only settler interests but also those of France. France would be able to maintain strong influence on both Espiritu Santo and Tanna, and possibly also in some other areas. Local French officials also may have been misled because of their shallow knowledge of the New Hebrides. Whereas British officials stayed for long periods, French officials were rotated after only a couple of years. The energetic young men who took up posts in the late 1970s had been taken in by the unrealistic optimism of the Modérés who had been elected unopposed in 1977 because of the VP boycott. These officials found it hard to accept the sweeping VP victory in November 1979. Some of them presumed that this victory had been obtained by electoral fraud and deceit, despite the lack of evidence for this on any more than a minor scale. And they wished to defend the honour and prestige of France, and promote French cultural influence. They wanted to uphold both French settler and French national interests, forgetting that these were not necessarily the same. Historians have analysed the differences of view which, in the colonial era, emerged between the aggressive 'men on the spot' and the cautious policy makers in the distant metropole. Similarly, during the decolonisation of the New Hebrides, local French officials took more extreme stances than their superiors in France. Or was that only the appearance, not the reality? The suspicion persists that the French government was playing a double game. During his visit in late 1979, Paul Dijoud had rapidly concluded that local French officials had much exaggerated the strength and credibility of the Modérés. The local officials had reported what they would have liked to be the truth, and what they believed their superiors wanted to hear, based on discussions with a narrow range of contacts. Dijoud orchestrated a resolution of the constitutional imbroglio during his visit, and after the November 1979 elections the French government expressed its recognition and support of the VP government. But during the Santo rebellion the French administration sought to gain maximum advantage for French national and private interests, in defiance of the authority of Father Lini's new government and the sovereign rights of the new state. Policy makers in Paris probably regarded a Mayotte-style outcome as unlikely, yet thought that separatist agitation on Santo and also on Tanna and elsewhere could help wring concessions from the VP government. In addition, the French government may

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have been constrained, for French domestic political reasons, from putting pressure on the local French community. Different forces were presumably also at play within the French government. It seems probable that the Ministries of Defence and of Overseas Departments and Territories took a more conservative, prosettler line whereas the Foreign Affairs Ministry and the political leadership, in part because of the need to act in concert with Britain, were more moderate and pragmatic. The French government wanted to protect the land rights of French nationals, uphold the French education system, preserve French cultural influence, and protect the interests of the Francophone and kastom minorities. Some observers remarked that French concern over minority rights in the New Hebrides contrasted oddly with French policy in New Caledonia, where the rights and interests of the settler majority were championed at the expense of the claims of the indigenous minority. And clearly the loose federal structure which could have emerged, with French interests dominant in one or more regions, might have reduced the propensity of the new national government to criticise France over New Caledonia and nuclear testing. If the VP government buckled under the strain, then even the outside possibility of the 'Mayottisation' of Santo might become feasible. So it is possible the apparent disjunction between French policy as shaped in Paris after consultations with Britain, and the attitudes and activities of French officials on the spot, was more apparent than real. The French government presumably could have done more to control and direct its local officials, but chose not to, apparently believing that their politicking would benefit French interests. Certainly the French officials on the spot had not discouraged the rebels. Only a week before the attainment of independence, Robert, the French Resident, visited Luganville. He addressed the French community, leaving the impression that France would intervene to protect it and that Santo would be given a special status. 57 In New Caledonia, many people believed that by some special arrangement Santo would remain closely associated with France. The Santo expatriates had close links with New Caledonia, and some New Caledonians actively supported the rebellion. But the VP government refused to make concessions. It argued that it had the right to assume full control over all of the New Hebrides, because as well as winning a decisive majority of votes, it had demonstrated its appeal throughout the archipelago, in an election in which over 90 per cent of the voters had taken part. It continued to urge the British and French governments to use force to bring the Santo revolt to an end. After independence had been attained on 30 July 1980, the government of the new state requested the help of Papua New Guinea troops. These troops, with Australian logistics and communications

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support, quelled the uprising within days, paving the way for subsequent intervention by the police force of the new republic. The rapid quelling of the revolt confirmed that French claims of its seriousness had been inflated. There was only one death: one of the sons of Jimmy Stephens was killed while trying to drive through an army roadblock. However during the quelling of the revolt and in the months that followed there were several injuries, hundreds of arrests, and heavy-handedness and victimisation. 58 A legacy of bitterness remained, despite the later performance of customary ceremonies of reconciliation between VP and Nagriamel supporters. For the settlers who had backed Stephens on Santo the restoration of central control meant that their worst fears were realised. If prepared to accept independence, perhaps they could have found a place in the new order, although they would have had to make compromises, including the return of land to the kastom owners. But having backed the abortive revolt, most of them were expelled, while others who had left earlier for New Caledonia were refused permission to return. In all about 700 people left or were expelled and 100 were declared prohibited immigrants. Most settled in New Caledonia, with some of them associating themselves with hardline anti-independence groups there. They left the New Hebrides convinced that they had been betrayed by the French government, which they thought had buckled before British pressure and VP intransigence. Post-Independence Tensions France's handling of the Santo rebellion poisoned its relations with the government of the new state. The VP's bitter memories of French opposition to decolonisation throughout the 1970s were much accentuated by the dubious role of French officials during the abortive rebellion. If France had permitted a joint Anglo-French force to restore order, while reassuring and controlling its nationals on Santo, then relations between France and the new state of Vanuatu could have begun on a sounder note. But the chance to make a fresh start in the euphoria at the time of independence was squandered. Once it was clear that independence was on its way, France sought to secure its position and influence and to protect the interests of its nationals in Vanuatu. Yet its policies had the opposite effect. From independence onwards the VP and the government of Vanuatu continued to regard France with suspicion and hostility. French expatriates found it much harder than it may otherwise have been to secure their interests, and particularly their claims to land. In addition to the hundreds who were forced to leave because of their involvement in the Santo revolt, others were obliged to depart later on during the 1980s.

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Meanwhile, the revolt on Santo and associated disturbances on Tanna and other islands severely damaged the credibility of the various Francophone and kastom opposition groups, debilitating parliamentary democracy in Vanuatu. The loyalty to the new republic even of genuinely 'moderate' Modérés remained under suspicion. In Vanuatu's first parliament, the opposition was very weak because most of its elected members were in jail or exile. In the 1983 and 1987 elections, the VP benefited from its claims that the opposition parties were receiving financial assistance from France and/or from American businessmen. Before contact with the West, society in the New Hebrides had been highly fragmented. The Condominium administrative structure provided some basis for a united nation, but centrifugal forces and separatist influences remained strong. Initial French opposition to decolonisation, followed by French efforts to ensure a loose federal structure helped mobilise the Anglophone/Protestant majority, contributing to the creation and development of the VP as a strong, determined organisation which could fight for independence and set about building a new nation-state. But the split that emerged during the years leading up to independence left a legacy of problems including that of integrating Santo, potentially the richest island in the group. Since independence, economic development on Santo has stagnated, at a considerable cost in lost opportunities. And continuing bitterness over decolonisation has made it difficult to establish an all-embracing sense of national unity. The French government failed to revise its stance even after independence. In early 1981 France, still smarting from the outcome on Santo and vexed by Vanuatu's support for the independence of New Caledonia, tightened the controls and conditions over the spending of its aid. France demanded that the land rights of its settlers should be protected and insisted that much of its aid should go towards the preservation of French culture and education. At this time France's total aid grant amounted to some $A 8 million (1981 figures), equivalent to over a third of Vanuatu's budget. A large part of the aid went to cover the salaries, allowances and accommodation of French advisers and technicians, and was spent on French education and on cultural projects, rather than directly on economic development. The new government was not in a strong bargaining position because of the adverse impact a complete cessation of French aid would have had on health services and education. Various contingencies were explored, including the employment of Canadian or Australian Francophone relief teachers, and diplomatic tensions rose, culminating in the expulsion of the French ambassador. Eventually a compromise was reached, whereby the aid continued in return for a guarantee that it would be spent in accordance with French requirements. Difficulties between the two countries have continued (see chapter

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Vanuatu's past as an Anglo-French Condominium from 1906 to 1980 is reflected in this trilingual sign, in French, English and the local lingua franca of Bislama, at the information desk at Vila airport. (Photo: Henningham) 9). The relationship has remained ambivalent, with differences tempered by Vanuatu's continued receipt of French aid, and its unwillingness, because of domestic political conditions, to make a complete break with France. Conclusion During the 1970s, two views on the constitutional future of the New Hebrides had been at odds. The Condominium, the churches and commercial links had brought a fragile unity to the diverse archipelago, but local identities remained strong. The VP knitted together a commanding majority by profiting from the linkages established by the Anglican and Presbyterian churches and by the church-established education system. Britain accepted the rise of the VP, but France opposed it and encouraged the expression of underlying diversity. Despite French traditions of centralisation, the idea which France favoured in the New Hebrides was that of a Switzerland-type federal state, with the lines of division taking account of linguistic, religious and kastom differences. 59 The ultimate logic of this would have been either a loose federation, or else a 'Balkanisation', with the New

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Hebrides being divided into two or more independent units. Either outcome would have suited French national and settler interests. The French debacle in Vanuatu arose from a failure to appreciate the strength and accept the demands of a rising nationalist movement. Abortive attempts to turn local differences and particular events to French advantage soured relations between France and the new nation for years to come. From the outset the Republic of Vanuatu fulfilled French fears by supporting Kanak nationalism in New Caledonia and by condemning French nuclear testing. Just as France had regarded the New Hebrides as an adjunct of New Caledonia, so the VP saw Kanak protest in New Caledonia as an extension of its struggle against colonialism. 60 Once Vanuatu had attained independence, observers wondered what implications there would be for the emerging nationalist movement in New Caledonia. But in New Caledonia, in contrast to the New Hebrides, the Melanesian nationalist movement found itself faced with a non-indigenous majority which opposed independence.

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3 New Caledonia, 1945-1978: Opportunities Lost 'To become a Frenchman in culture and ways of thinking'such was the task before Nidoish Naisseline when in 1962, aged 18, he boarded a plane for France to pursue his higher education at the Sorbonne. Yet it was in Paris, at the centre of French intellectual and cultural life, that Naisseline discovered a new pride in his Melanesian heritage. In New Caledonia, to be Melanesian was to be outside the mainstream of political and social life. This was so even for the eldest son of Henri Naisseline, High Chief of Tadine on Maré in the Loyalty Islands, a man given special consideration because of his chiefly status and his Gaullist sympathies. But in Paris, attitudes were different. Some French Protestantsmembers of a small community with intellectual and reformist traditions and a heritage of persecutiontook an interest in Naisseline and other Melanesian students. Anthropologists exploring Melanesian culture and social structure questioned the students, boosting their self-confidence. In the 1960s in Paris, the ideals and notions later expressed in the protests of 1968 flourished in intellectual circles, and people interested themselves in the Third World. To be from a colonised indigenous people was to be in fashion. 1 Nidoish Naisseline was among the first few Melanesians to proceed to tertiary education. It was only in 1961 that a Melanesian first attained the senior high school certificate (le baccalauréat). Naisseline and the other Melanesian students experienced some difficulties in adjusting to life in France. But the real shock came when they returned home. After living as equals and having their identity valued, they were affronted by the smugness and petty prejudices of New Caledonian society. Naisseline recalls that at first the young educated Melanesians concentrated on questions of culture and identity. They asserted a renewed pride in their identity. Instead of wearing western clothes, educated young Melanesian women ruffled Noumea opinion by visiting cafés wearing the old-style mission dresses originally imposed on Melanesian women by the missionaries. But soon, partly in reaction to the choleric response to their assertion of identity, their activities became more political. They harked back to the great revolt of 1878, demanding Kanak liberation and independence.

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Nidoish Naisseline, High Chief of Tadine on Maré in the Loyalty Islands, at Tadine in August 1988. In the early 1970s, after completing university studies in Paris, Naisseline took a leading role among those Melanesians who began demanding independence for New Caledonia. (Photo: Henningham) The Melanesian radicals and their handful of European supporters numbered only a few dozen, but their stance struck a chord in Kanak society, especially in the younger generation. Within less than a decade from 1969, the large majority of Melanesians would become supporters of a militant nationalist movement seeking 'Kanak independence' for New Caledonia. And in the decade from 1978, nationalist rebellion would twice, in late 1984 and early 1988, bring New Caledonia to the brink of civil war, forcing concessions from France. The bitter polarisation that emerged between Melanesian nationalists and settler 'loyalists' in the 1970s and 1980s was a dramatic shift from the pluri-ethnic, gradualist populism of the Union Calédonienne (UC: the Caledonian Union), the most popular political party in New Caledonia in the 1950s and 1960s. And the souring of the UC's dream of racial harmony arose in part from the failure of conservative French governments to grasp the opportunity which the UC offered for the construction of a more just and harmonious society in New Caledonia.

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Melanesian Populism and l'Union Calédonienne Until after the Second World War, the Melanesians were excluded from the political institutions of New Caledonia. They had adapted as best they could to the imposition of colonialism, occasionally expressing their grievances and frustration in disturbances and rebellion, including the major revolts of 1878 and 1917. Yet while lacking civic and political rights, they nonetheless contributed to French interests within and beyond the colony by providing free labour to the administration and the settlers and by war service. Jean-Marie Tjibaou, the leading figure in the nationalist movement until his death in May 1989, recalled that the 1917 uprising took place 'at the same time when young Kanaks, mobilized in the French army, risked and gave their lives on the battlefields of Europe to safeguard the independence of France'. 2 In the years between the two world wars the Melanesians were 'pacified' and politically quiescent, but from the late 1940s onwards opportunities emerged for Melanesian participation in territorial politics. The rise of the UC to become New Caledonia's leading political party in the 1950s and 1960s followed the extension in several stages of voting and other civil rights to the Melanesians. In August 1945 the French government granted the right to vote to Melanesian pastors, custom chiefs, school wardens and returned servicemen. These new voters comprised 1444 of New Caledonia's 9500 electors. The eligible categories of voters were expanded in 1951, in advance of the modest reforms requested by the Melanesians themselves, to enfranchise 8700 Melanesians. These reforms gave the vote to most of the adults within the Melanesian population of 33 000, with full suffrage following in 1957.3 Meanwhile, under the French Constitution of 1946, French citizenship had been conferred on Melanesians along with the other indigenous inhabitants of the French Empire. Previously, only a small number of indigenous people in special categories had been granted this status. In addition, the Régime de l'indigénat (Native Regime), was abolished in 1946. This legislation had excluded the Melanesians from the scope of civil law and had tightly restricted their movements and activities.4 The French administration and church leaders had discreetly supported the establishment of the UC. They regarded it as a vehicle for gradual reform which would divert the Melanesians from possibly exercising their new rights in more radical directions. The UC was created in 1951 as an alliance between two Melanesian social welfare and development organisations which had been set up 1947. It operated at first as an informal political movement, but in 1956 it was formally constituted and registered as a political party. The organisations on which the UC was based had been set up in 1947, and represented the large majority of Melanesians. They were

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Page 50 Table 3.1 Voting percentages for the UC, 195673 French parliamentary elections

% of vote

January 1956

61

May 1959

68

November 1962

56

June 1964

54

March 1967

57

June 1968

50

March 1973

52

Territorial elections October 1957

57

December 1958

59

April 1962

55

July 1967

69

Sources: Dornoy New Caledonia p. 238; Brou 30 Ans D'Histoire p. 56b the Catholic UICALO (l'Union des indigènes calédoniens amis de la liberté dans l'ordre: the Union of Caledonian Natives, Friends of Liberty within Order) and the Protestant AICLF (l'Association des indigènes calédoniens et loyaltiens français: Association of French Caledonian and Loyalty Islander Natives). The UC burst onto the political scene in the elections, in July 1951, for New Caledonia's deputy to the French Parliament. The European community had failed to appreciate the implications of the enfranchisement of the great majority of the Melanesians. Many European electors did not bother to vote. Moreover, the conservative vote was split when two rightwing candidates ran. 5 Only Maurice Lenormand, who was drafted at a late hour as the UC's candidate, paid attention to Melanesian interests in his election promises. Lenormand's victory in the July 1951 elections opened an era in New Caledonian politics. Lenormand gained only 37 per cent of the vote in 1951, and won office because of the splitting of his opponents' votes. However after its initial success in attracting Melanesian votes, the party consolidated its position by widening its appeal on a populist platform. From the mid-1950s to around 1970, as table 3.1 above illustrates, the UC won clear majorities in both the elections to the French Parliament and the elections to the Territorial Assembly. Lenormand is a French-born pharmacist and businessman and is married to a Lifou Islander from a chiefly family. He set out to represent the common people, both rural and urban and both Melanesian and European. Under his leadership the UC depended on Melanesian votes but also won support from Europeans and others, including smallholders, rural and urban workers, and liberal professionals. The first issue of L'Avenir Calédonien (The Caledonian Future), the weekly UC newspaper, declared that 'we want to build a new Caledonia, freed of the economic feudal system by which it is stifled and

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enslaved; we want to give to all Caledonians, white, black or yellow, the possibility of a better life in their small country'. 6 The party criticised what Lenormand described as the 'economic oligarchy' formed by the leading business families of Noumea, and sought to break its near-monopoly of local economic, social and political power.7 Several of these families had consolidated themselves by importing and supplying provisions during the convict era. In addition to maintaining their dominance over importation and commerce, they had moved into landholding and mining, and had established control over agricultural exports. Many poor settlers, Melanesians, and mining workers were indebted to Ballande, the monopoly retail outlet in the interior. Before the Second World War, some poor farming families and many Melanesians rarely received cash for the produce they sold. Instead they handed over much of their produce to Ballande to cover their debts for food, clothes and other goods bought on credit.8 The Ballande, Lafleur, Barrau, and other leading families complemented their economic power by the presence of their members or associates in municipal and territorial politics and administration and by their links with the conservative political parties in France. They dominated New Caledonia as if it was their 'private fief'.9 Myriam Dornoy concluded some years later that: 'A small number of people dominate the economy and intermarriage has consolidated the unity of the ''fifty families''. Their staunchly conservative outlook is mainly explained by the determination to retain privileges and fortunes acquired in the process of colonization.'10 The institutional and political changes of the immediate post-war period, combined with the mobilising role of the UC, initiated a new era for the Melanesians. Yet it is equally true that these developments opened new horizons for European small farmers and workers, and provided new opportunities for liberals and reformers and for those at odds with the leading families. Before the war, genuine territorial government did not exist, although an elected general council dominated by members of the Noumea elite had limited local taxing and spending powers and offered advice to the governor.11 In March 1939, the French Parliament decided that a deputy should represent New Caledonia in the French Parliament,12 but the war delayed the initation of this representation until 1946. Most European settlers lived in poverty and isolation. In 1945 around two-thirds of New Caledonia's European population of 18 000 lived at subsistence level. In the interior, roads and services were poor or non-existent. There were only 1695 wireless sets, most of them in Noumea, for a population of 62 500.13 As the party of reform the UC provided openings for several people who later became leading public figures. As well as subsequent campaigners for Kanak independence, they include several people who later became prominent as opponents of independence, notably Jean

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Lèques, now the Mayor of Noumea; Dick Ukeiwe, the senior Melanesian loyalist; and Roger Galliot, formerly mayor of the east coast town of Thio and now a member of the New Caledonian branch of the hardline Front National. The policies proposed by the UC to remedy the disadvantages of both Melanesians and poor whites were liberal, reformist and populist rather than radical or revolutionary. The party accepted continued metropolitan commercial activity in and financial assistance to New Caledonia, while urging a more equitable sharing of the returns from development and enterprise. It called for the gradual extension of reserve lands; denounced the under-use of lands by pastoral companies, large landowners and hobby farmers; and favoured the transfer, after the payment of compensation, of under-utilised lands to Melanesians and other smallholders. 14 Scope certainly existed for land reform. In 1950, the Melanesian reserves totalled 335 986 hectares, comprising 126 614 hectares on the main island and 209 372 hectares in the Loyalty Islands. Mean-while, European and other settlers held 318 500 hectares as private property, as well as an additional 233 500 hectares in lease from the territory. The rest of the land, most of which lay in the non-arable mountain chain, was held as the domain of the territory with some of it subject to mining concessions. Thus the European and other settlers, with a total population (1946 census) of around 32 000, held 552 000 hectares, or 17.25 hectares per person. This contrasted with the 335 986 hectares, or 10.83 hectares per person, held by the Melanesian population of some 31 000.15 However the imbalance was greater than these figures would suggest. Only some 12 per cent of the territory's land is arable, and in the process of conquest and land resumption in the 19th and early 20th centuries the settlers had taken over all of the better-quality lands on the main island. Around 1950, nineteen thousand Melanesians lived on reserves totalling 126 614 hectares on the main island, an average of only 6.7 hectares per person, with the land mostly poor and sometimes uncultivable. Moreover, whereas part of the settler population was employed in commerce, the mining industry or the administration, the great majority of Melanesians depended on agricultural production for their livelihood. Thus in 1956 the agricultural work force for both subsistence and commercial agriculture consisted of 9446 Melanesians, compared with 1789 others.16 The imbalanced distribution of land was associated with different patterns of land use and economic activity. Whereas Melanesian land use was intensive, European land use was extensive. Large areas on the western coastal plains were devoted to grazing, supplemented by commercial agriculture. In much of this area, poor soil quality and an inadequate supply of water prevented intensive land use. Meanwhile, the Melanesians' restricted access to land limited their

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options. Most of them engaged in subsistence agriculture on small plots, supplemented by fishing, intermittent wage labour, and the production of coffee for cash sale. They also benefited when the UC attained the extension of family allowances to the Melanesian population. Among the Europeans, only a small minority operated on a large scale. Like that between Melanesians and settlers, the distribution of land between different categories of settlers was highly unequal. In 1946, among 1875 owners holding a total of 318 700 hectares as private property: • a mere 95 people, a mere 5 per cent of the total number of owners, held 228 071 hectares, which was over 70 per cent of the total area held privately; • among these 95, the three largest landholders held a total of 71 472 hectares; • the remaining 1780 landowners held 90 607 hectares. But 969 of their number, comprising over half the number of landowners, held a total of only 10 800 hectares. This was an average of only 11 hectares each, with the total areas which these smallholders held comprising less than 4 per cent of the area held as private property. 17 Many of these smallholders were only part-time farmers. The inequalities in land ownership encouraged small farmer support for the UC's policies. The UC also demanded equal pay for equal work, and in 1955 organised a strike on this issue. However support for the strike by white workers, rather than an adherence to the principle of equality, may have reflected concern, consistent with the attitudes of the time, that wages could be undercut by non-white labour. Support for equal pay went against the interests of employers who had profited from the cheap labour of indentured workers and Melanesians. Even into the early 1950s, Melanesians, Indonesians and Vietnamese were still paid lower wages for equal work.18 The UC also called for the 'territorialisation' of the Société le Nickel (SLN: The Nickel Company), the predominant nickel producer and the operator of the sole nickel smelter at Doniambo, a suburb of Noumea. 'Territorialisation' would have involved ensuring that the SLN gave New Caledonian interests first priority, and that a fair share of the company's profits were re-invested rather than repatriated. The slogan Deux couleurs, mais un seul peuple (Two colours, but a single people) summed up the UC's stance on interethnic relations. Most of the supporters of the UC combined at least nominal and often devout religious allegiance with a commitment to social reform and welfare. The UC argued that Melanesian rights and interests required special attention, protection and improvement. The party called for the promotion of Melanesian interests, the maintenance of reservations, the defence of traditions, the fuller recognition of customary justice,

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and the extension of minor police powers to the chiefs. And it sought to insulate traditional culture and society from demoralising outside influences, so that adaption could proceed constructively and at a steady pace. 19 The aim was the fuller integration of Melanesians into New Caledonian society, not the assertion of a separate identity. Writing in 1954, Lenormand suggested that the differences between the Melanesians and European inhabitants of New Caledonia were scarcely greater than those distinguishing the Basques from the rest of the population of metropolitan France, and were perhaps less than the differences between the various ethnic components of the Swiss Confederation. He argued that the future development, progress and prosperity of New Caledonia would depend on the extent and speed with which unity between Melanesian and European New Caledonians was achieved.20 Thus the question of a specific Melanesian identity and special Melanesian rights was not considered at that time, although it would emerge with a vengeance in the 1970s. Up to around 1960, the UC's gains included the provision of pensions for retired workers, the extension of sickness benefits, the establishment of three week's paid annual holiday, equal family allowances for Europeans and Melanesians, increased wages and salaries, the setting up of a labour exchange, and an increase in the number of bursaries given.21 Yet the party's implementation of its platform, in the face of conservative obstruction and administrative caution, was far from complete. Despite the new presence of Melanesians in the political institutions, the party failed to dent the economic power of the Noumea oligarchy and to bring the Melanesians into the mainstream of New Caledonian economic life. The UC attracted strong opposition and obstruction because of its specific policies and because it challenged the dominant position of the leading Noumea families by mobilising Melanesian and trade unionist votes. Bitter personal rivalries within a small, inward-looking society compounded political differences. Conservative Europeans resented and resisted the legal and institutional changes of the postwar era, and were reluctant to accept Melanesian involvement in politics. European attitudes to Melanesians were mostly patronising, when not frankly racist. In the early 1950s the conservatives tried to preserve their electoral supremacy by lobbying unsuccessfully for a voting system organised on racial lines, based on separate electoral colleges for Europeans and Melanesians but with Europeans retaining overall control.22 Many European New Caledonians regarded Lenormand as a dangerous radical, despite his moderate stance and business interests in mining and in plantations in the New Hebrides. They described him informally as 'the Deputy for the Canaques (Kanaks)'23, despite the substantial support which the UC came to command among European workers and small farmers. This appelation was noteworthy, given the

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pejorative nature of the term Canaque in that era (and still today among many conservative Europeans and Melanesians). Yet despite its differences with local conservatives and their allies in France, the UC saw the link with France as enduring and essential. On the centenary of French annexation in September 1953, Lenormand announced that the territory would remain French 'by the irrevocable and perpetual consent of its inhabitants'. He added that New Caledonia 'considered itself as French territory and part of France in the same way as the provinces which formed the Metropole'. 24 The party saw France as an indispensable ally in its efforts to advance Melanesian interests. It held that only France could protect the Melanesians from European pressure and encroachment, and could implement reforms to benefit them and the common people in general. The UC campaigned for the maintenance of New Caledonia as part of France in the September 1958 referendum, at which 98 per cent of the voters opted against independence. And it was while the UC presided over New Caledonia in the late 1950s and the 1960s that migrants from French Polynesia and from Wallis and Futuna arrived, initially to work on the Yaté hydroelectricity project and later to provide labour for the mining industry, helping turn the Melanesians into a demographic and electoral minority. Yet while the UC of the 1950s and 1960s supported continued integration with France, it also wanted New Caledonia to govern itself. The party believed that the people of the territory best knew how to regulate their affairs, and it sought to express a distinctive New Caledonian sense of identity. Local rule appealed to many otherwise conservative New Caledonians, irked by metropolitan officials and constrained by the rules and directives emanating from Paris.25 This tradition dated back to the 19th century, and had parallels in the history of other settler colonies. Accordingly the UC welcomed the constitutional reforms of 1956, whereby a leftwing French government established a framework law (le loi cadre) for France's overseas possessions which granted them considerable autonomy. The French state retained responsibility for external affairs, defence, finance and banking, international transport, the civil service and other matters pertaining to sovereignty, while the French High Commissioner represented the state in an ex officio capacity as president of the government. But where previously the local elected representatives had served largely in an advisory capacity, with only limited local taxing and spending powers, the Territorial Assembly now was empowered to elect a council of government. This council would comprise an elected vice-president and eight other ministers, holding extensive control over their portfolios, which covered the areas of the territorial civil service, education, public works, health, labour and social affairs, mining and industry, territorial economic and financial affairs and planning, and youth affairs and sport.26

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The UC voted 'yes' in the 1958 referendum on the proviso that the referendum would bring no reduction in the powers granted to the local government under the loi cadre. 27 However UC leaders hoped, in the longer term, for the devolution of full self-government to the territory, with France retaining control only over foreign affairs, defence, and the financial system.28 Conservative critics of the UC suspected Lenormand, despite his statements of loyalty to France, of regarding greater territorial self-government as a means of preparing the way for the independence of New Caledonia. More recently, some pro-nationalist commentators, inclined to exaggerate the historical depth of the campaign for Kanak independence, have identified calls for greater autonomy in the 1950s and early 1960s as intended to lead to independence. Such views are not correct. Although it is true that from the late 1960s the UC came to regard selfgovernment as a stepping stone to independence,29 in the 1950s and early 1960s territorial self-government was seen as in no way incompatible with continued integration with France, and the commitment to identity with France remained strong. With the implementation of the loi cadre, the French Pacific territories were well in advance of their neighbouring British, Australian and New Zealand territories in the extent to which they allowed their local populations to participate in government.30 But this advance was not to be sustained. The Algerian crisis and the return to power of conservative governments in France, along with local conservative opposition, led to the erosion of the powers of the territorial government. The Conservative Riposte With the shifting of French nuclear tests from Algeria to the South Pacific in the wake of Algerian independence, France had a new and compelling reason to consolidate its Pacific presence. Ignoring the bitter protests of the UC,31 the French government sharply reduced the powers of the New Caledonian government. It did this initially by administrative measures, and then followed up with a new statut (statute) for the territory. The new statute became law in December 1963, and was complemented by further legislation. Under the new arrangements the positions of ministers and their individual portfolios were scrapped, the governing council became essentially a consultative body, and control over mining and secondary education reverted to France.32 France also reorganised municipal government. Previously only Noumea had a fully elected municipal government. In the interior, municipal commissions had operated in which mayors appointed by the administration presided over elected commissioners. In 1972, thirty-one new municipalities were created in the interior and islands to replace the municipal commissions in the interior and to complement the Noumea municipality, which had operated since 1874.

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The municipalities were funded directly from France, and came under the direct authority of the French government, so their assumption of local responsibilities reduced the power of the territorial authorities. 33 However these new municipalities also gave Melanesians an opportunity to assume some local powers in the areas where they comprised the majority of the population, notably on the east coast of the main island, and in the Loyalty Islands. Later on, from around 1980, Melanesian control of between half and two-thirds of the municipalities facilitated the organisation of the nationalist movement. In New Caledonia, local conservatives encouraged and supported the French Gaullist government in its efforts to reduce the power of Lenormand and the UC. In contrast to the relative stability and coherence of the UC, the parties expressing conservative opinion were more fluid and ephemeral, and were centred around influential individuals. Table 3.2 summarises the main developments up to 1978. In that year, in response to the emergence of Kanak nationalism, the conservative parties regrouped into the Rassemblement Pour la Calédonie dans la République (RPCR: Assembly for Caledonia in the Republic). Since then the RPCR, under the leadership of Jacques Lafleur, has been the dominant conservative party and the strongest single party in New Caledonia. But although, until the establishment of the RPCR, party groupings on the Right were fluid, New Caledonian conservatives were as one in their opposition to the UC and Lenormand. In addition to vigorous opposition within the territorial legislature, the Right used extra-constitutional means to challenge the authority of Lenormand in his dual capacity of New Caledonian deputy and elected head of the territorial government. In June 1958, excited by news of political turmoil in Algeria and France, and the coming to power as President of France of General Charles de Gaulle, the rightwing political parties and the closely allied patriotic associations demonstrated in Noumea, demanding Lenormand's resignation. Major Henri Loustau, the chief military adviser to the High Commissioner, had reportedly helped organise the patriotic associations along the lines of those set up earlier in Algeria, and helped plan the demonstration on the same day as the traditional celebration of the anniversary of de Gaulle's 18 June 1940 appeal to rally to Free France.34 The demonstrators remained peaceful, although they had firearms on hand in nearby cars. Their specific grounds for complaint were that Lenormand and the UC government had acted dictatorially, in particular by profiting from the UC majority to fill all the positions in the committees of the Territorial Assembly instead of allocating the minority parties some representation, and that political prejudice had affected postings and housing allocation in the public works department. The demonstrators were motivated by inchoate fears,

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Table 3.2 New Caledonia: conservative parties, 195778 Around 1957, the main conservative groupings were: Républicains Sociaux de Nouvelle Calédonie (RSNC: Social Republicans of New Caledonia) Generally known as the RS. Combined antagonism to the UC with Gaullist sympathies and conservative populist leanings. Indépendants Led by Senator Henri Lafleur. Represented conservative Noumea business and mining interests. Parti Paysan (PP: Peasant or Farmers Party) Represented conservative farmers and graziers. Allied with the Indépendants. October 1957 Territorial Assembly elections: RS won 7 of the 30 seats, Indépendants/PP won 4. But the UC won 18 seats, while its ally, the trade union-based Rassemblement Ouvrier Calédonien (ROC: Caledonian Workers' Movement), won 1. 1958: Henri Lafleur formed the Indépendants/PP grouping into the Rassemblement Calédonien (RC: Caledonian Assembly). The RC was critical of de Gaulle's policies in Algeria and sub-Saharan Africa, and opposed SLN's domination of the mining industry. 1960: RS became part of the newly formed local affiliate of General de Gaulle's Union de la Nouvelle République (UNR: Union for the New Republic). 1968: UNR reorganised in France, hence in New Caledonia, into the Union Democratique (UD: Democratic Union). Putting aside earlier differences, Henri Lafleur's RC merged with the UD. 1971: the Mouvement Libéral Calédonien (MLC: Caledonian Liberal Movement), liberal and centrist Europeans, split from UC in opposition to its pro-autonomist policies, and aligned itself with the conservative parties. 1972: Henri Lafleur and Roger Laroque, the Mayor of Noumea, and their supporters quit the UD because of personal rivalries. The dissidents formed the Entente Démocratique et Social (EDS) 1977: EDS re-formed into the Rassemblement pour la Calédonie (RPC) under leadership of Jacques Lafleur, the son of Henri Lafleur, who had died in October 1974. Also in 1977, the UD re-formed into the Rassemblement pour la République (RPR). 1978: Jacques Lafleur combined the RPR, the RPC and the MLC into the Rassemblement Pour La Calédonie dans la République (RPCR: Assembly for Caledonia within the Republic). The new party, formed under the patronage of prominent French Gaullist politician Jacques Chirac, crystallised opposition to Kanak demands for independence. Since 1978: RPCR the dominant conservative force in New Caledonian politics, although groups such as Front Calédonien (FC: Caledonien Front) and Front National (FN: National Front) have small but militant followings. RPCR has been affiliated with the French Rassemblement pour la République (RPR), the successor to earlier Gaullist formations. Sources: Dornoy Politics in New Caledonia ch 5; Brou 30 Ans D'Histoire pp. 43, 56a, 1012; Connell New Caledonia pp. 26874; Thompson and Adloff French Pacific Islands pp. 305, 310, 312, 314, 32223, 327. unsupported by any evidence, that Lenormand wanted to move New Caledonia towards independence, and by resentment over the political power now wielded by Melanesians. Many Europeans thought that Melanesians should not be in a position to dominate New Caledonian politics because in their view it was Europeans, rather than Melanesians,

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who had been responsible for the development and progress of New Caledonia. 35 Thus the demonstrators showed their unwillingness to accept the mandate of Lenormand and the UC, even though Lenormand had won 61 per cent of the vote in the January 1956 French parliamentary elections, while the UC had won 57 per cent in the territorial elections in October 1957. Some Gaullists may also have been influenced by claims that Lenormand had displayed pro-Vichy sympathies during the Second World War.36 The anti-Lenormand and UC demonstrations were a further expression of a tradition of extra-constitutional action in pursuit of political ends in New Caledonia. This tradition included the demonstrations in support of the 'rallying' of New Caledonia to Free France in 1940; the agitation of 1942 which led to the departure of d'Argenlieu, the unpopular, high-handed governor appointed by de Gaulle;37 and the harassment, including the use of dynamite to bomb buildings, of Communist activists and Vietnamese during the early post-war period.38 The French government was initially lukewarm about the disturbances, but in due course sought to calm matters by dissolving the Territorial Assembly and holding fresh elections. However Lenormand and the UC confirmed their popular appeal at the December 1958 poll, winning 18 of the 30 seats and 59 per cent of the vote, an improvement on the 57 per cent of the vote in the October 1957 poll. Yet although Lenormand had weathered the 1958 crisis, further difficulties lay ahead. On the night of 2627 April 1962 a bomb exploded in the headquarters of L'Avenir Calédonien. Lenormand's opponents claimed that he had been responsible. They accused him of seeking to rally popular support on the eve of the forthcoming elections by the suggestion that the bombing was a rightwing attack on the UC. After court cases in which the prosecution case involved several contradictions, two UC organisers with shadowy backgrounds were convicted of planting the bomb. Lenormand eventually was found guilty of failure to prevent a crime, and had his civil rights suspended for five years, on the grounds that he knew in advance of the planned bombing. This suspension of rights barred him from standing for office or voting. Lenormand's public career never recovered from this blow, although he remained a prominent figure in the UC. His supporters complained bitterly that the evidence presented against Lenormand had been far from compelling. Moreover both the main culprits later retracted their statements implicating him. Lenormand conceded that the two men visited him on the eve of the bombing, but said that he was too preoccupied to comprehend what they were saying.39 Although Lenormand was a master of the dramatic political gesture, it seems highly unlikely that he would seek to win advantage by such dubious, risky means. This was especially so because his and the UC's electoral strength, although in decline, probably remained adequate

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for victory at the next polls. The two UC organisers who planted the bomb in the apparent hope of discrediting the right may have been overcome with misguided enthusiasm for the UC cause. Alternatively they may have been the dupes of Lenormand's political opponents or of elements in the French administration. Conservative New Caledonians rejoiced at the fate of the 'Deputy for the Canaques', but UC supporters were convinced that he had been the victim of a sinister plot. Although the details of this bizarre incident remain murky, it does seem clear that the reduction of the autonomy of the territory and the checking of the power of the UC represented a great opportunity squandered. Both the French government and its local conservative allies in New Caledonia acted in a myopic and ultimately counter-productive way. One should neither over-estimate the virtues and effectiveness of the UC, nor exaggerate the extent and benefits of the constitutional arrangements which operated from 1958 to 1963. Some UC ministers were inefficient. Maladministration, abuse of power, and petty corruption took place. Several of the advances and reforms for which the UC took credit may have occurred anyway, because of the generally favourable economic conditions of the late 1950s and the 1960s; because of France's efforts to upgrade standards and services in its overseas possessions; and because of the gradual implementation in the territory of measures adopted in metropolitan France, such as for example the reformed labour code. In addition, the effective exercise by the UC of the territory's self-governing powers was constrained by the continuing authority of the French officials posted to the territory; and by the economic dominance of the Noumea elite. It is also true that, beneath the facade of its progressive and multiracial rhetoric, the UC was a coalition of diverse interests focused on particular individuals and knit together in opposition to the leading commercial and landowning families of Noumea. Many of the party's European supporters among trade unionists and small farmers displayed, at best, patronising attitudes to the Melanesians. These people assumed that Europeans should always take the leading role in the party, despite its reliance on Melanesian votes. Meanwhile the party's Melanesian supporters were divided on personal, religious, and regional lines. Perhaps because of this diversity in support, the party found it easier to say what it was against than to develop a positive programme. 40 This internal diversity would be revealed clearly in the late 1960s and early 1970s. At that time the party was transformed through defections both by militant pro-independence Melanesians and by liberal and conservative Europeans. From being a broad coalition commanding the middle ground and representing the majority of the territory's inhabitants, the UC became a centre-left, mainly Melanesian minority party supported by around 20 per cent of the territory's population. But despite its failings and limitations, the UC had offered, during

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Noumea's town square in the 1960s. Then as now, Noumea somewhat resembled a provincial town in southern France. Most New Caledonians of non-indigenous descent live in Noumea and its suburbs. The Melanesians mainly live in the interior of the main island and on other islands of the archipelago. (Photo: French Embassy, Canberra) the 1950s and 1960s, a vehicle for orderly progress. As well as involving Melanesians in the political life of the territory, the party attracted substantial support from the European community, and implemented modest social and economic reforms. If the French government had prevailed with the expanded self-government granted the territory from 1958 to 1963, relative calm may have endured while the reforms necessary to redress the disadvantages of the Melanesian community were implemented. The outcome could have been full territorial self-government based on a broad consensus between the two major communities, which possibly could in turn have led eventually to a peaceful, broadly supported transition to independence with close links with France. The Nickel Boom and Further Immigration A second opportunity was lost during the nickel boom of 196972. Nickel prices soared at this time becaused the demand generated by the Vietnam War and a booming world economy was accentuated by a lengthy strike at INCO (the International Nickel Corporation), the Canadian company which is the world's most important nickel company and the leading rival to the New Caledonian industry. The mining and

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smelting of nickel is the territory's main industry, providing over 90 per cent of exports. In addition the industry has been a major employer. So the boom in the industry had a great impact. 41 For the first time in several years the territory, instead of depending on subsidies from metropolitan France, showed a budget surplus and paid its own way in its areas of responsibility. New car registrations, which had numbered 1036 in 1963, and just under 2000 in 1967, rose to 2676 in 1968, and to 4340 in 1969, before soaring to 5415 in 1970.42 'Trickle-down' effects included increased employment opportunities and wages and improved services and infrastructure, benefiting the poorer sections of the population, including the Melanesians. Yet most of the profits were exported, or were absorbed non-productively in speculation, including in real estate development, encouraging inflation. The French government responded to the boom with grandiose plans and statements. These included the prediction that on present trends New Caledonia would attain a per capita income of three to four thousand US dollars by 1975, and thus become the South Pacific equivalent of oil-rich Kuwait.43 The government complacently believed that the boom would last at least a decade, and would of itself do much to resolve New Caledonia's social and economic problems. It did nothing to divert a substantial amount of the high returns towards the reinvigoration of the agricultural sector or towards benefiting the Melanesians and other disadvantaged groups. Rather than seeking to place more Melanesians in the newly available jobs, or to train them for these jobs when they lacked the necessary skills, the French government encouraged an influx of immigrants, including by the establishment in France of a Bureau des Migrations vers la Nouvelle-Calédonie (Bureau for Migration to New Caledonia).44 The French government wanted these new immigrants to act as a political counterweight to the Melanesian community, within which pro-independence sentiment was beginning to stir. Prime Minister Pierre Messmer summed up the policy in a letter sent in 1972 to his secretary of state for overseas departments and territories: New Caledonia . . . is probably the last non-independent tropical territory . . . to which a developed country can encourage its nationals to migrate. It is thus necessary to seize this last chance to create an additional Francophone country. The French presence in Caledonia can only be threatened, except by a world war, by a nationalist demand by the indigenous people supported by some possible allies from other Pacific communities . . . [T]he indigenous nationalist demand will only be avoided if nonPacific communities form the majority . . . The success of this undertaking [which is] indispensable to the maintenance of the French position east of Suez, depends, among other requirements, on our ability at last to succeed, after so

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many reverses in our history, in an operation of overseas colonisation. 45 Some proponents of Kanak independence have been inclined to exaggerate the importance of the influx of migrants from metropolitan France and also from the other French Pacific territories. Many of the metropolitan migrants went back to France when conditions worsened during the slump following the nickel boom, and some of the Wallisians and Tahitians returned home. Moreover, as Alan Ward points out, earlier immigration already had shifted the demographic and electoral balance against the Melanesians around 1960.46 Nonetheless, many of the new arrivals, especially those from Wallis and Futuna, stayed on. This helped to ensure, along with the high birth rate among European New Caledonians, that the Melanesians remained a demographic and electoral minority. Melanesians made up 51 per cent of the population in 1956, but this proportion had declined to 46 per cent by 1969, and to 42 per cent by 1976. The 1983 census showed the Melanesians at 43 per cent, but this was an underestimate by a couple of per cent because of a partial boycott of the census by militant nationalists.47 Melanesian Marginalisation and the Rise of Kanak Nationalism Because conservative French governments had encouraged renewed immigration and neglected the opportunities offered by the nickel boom, the pace of Melanesian integration into the mainstream of the New Caledonian economy and administration remained glacial. The UC had been able to gain political representation for the Melanesians, but the conversion of this political presence into economic well-being and influence was blocked by conservative policies and entrenched interests. The 1983 census confirmed that Melanesian involvement in skilled and semi-skilled employment was minimal, even though Melanesians were the largest single community in the territory. There was not even one Melanesian among New Caledonia's 246 members of the liberal professions, only four among the 156 managers of enterprises with ten or more employees, only 57 of the 724 technicians, and only 335 among the 1956 skilled industrial workers (see table 3.3).48 The depressed condition of the Melanesians was also expressed in health and welfare indicators. Circa 1980, life expectancy for the Melanesians of New Caledonia was 59.6 years. This was an improvement on the rate of around 55 in the 1950s. It was also higher than that of the inhabitants of the Melanesian countries of Papua New Guinea (49.6), Solomon Islands (54.1) and Vanuatu (55.0). However

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Page 64 Table 3.3 Ethnic representation in the New Caledonian working population, 1983 Europeans % Farmers Graziers Foresters Mariners Artisans Shopkeepers Heads of firms with > ten employees Liberal professionals Public service managerial staff Teachers and professional researchers Media and entertainment professionals Private sector managers/executives Engineers and senior technicians Primary teachers and comparable staff Intermediate health/ professional staff Clergy and religious Intermediate public sector admin. staff Intermediate private sector staff

Melanesians %

Wallisians %

Indonesians %

Tahitians %

Others %

Total nos. in each occupation

0.5

0.4

0.8

7983

0.3

0.7

311

3

95

0.3

80

15

2

33

67

50

33

3

71

5

3

67

5

0.6

88

2

94

3

0.8 8.5

0.7

92.5

2.2

0.5

94.2

3

6 3.4 1

86.6

91

2

1.6 1 0.5

2

1.2 1

12

2

129

5

10

1688

5

19

1405

2

7

177

0.4

3.2

246

0.4

2.8

692

0.2

4.1

402

1

3

102

0.8

3.8

258

0.6

3.4

292

92

2

1

67.4

25.4

1.9

1.1

0.6

3.6

3362

69

18.7

2.1

1.7

1.7

6.8

633

49.3

36.3

5.5

1.4

1.4

6.1

146

80

9

2

2

1

6

622

85

2.4

0.7

3

2.3

6.6

696

(table continued on next page)

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Page 65 (table continued from previous page) Table 3.3 Ethnic representation in the New Caledonian working population, 1983 Europeans % Technicians (except service sector) Forepersons and supervisors Public service employees Police and military personnel Private sector admin. employees Shop assistants Service sector personnel Skilled industrial workers Skilled craft workers Drivers Storage and transport workers Unskilled industrial workers Unskilled craft workers Agricultural and comparable workers Occupations not declared Per cent of working pop. Per cent of total population

Melanesians %

Wallisians %

83.3

8

0.5

78.1

10

1.5

58.5

27.5

77.5

Indonesians % 2

Tahitians %

Others %

Total nos. in each occupation

1.2

5

724

2.3

2.8

5.3

571

3.5

3.1

2.9

4.5

3629

13.3

4

0.6

1.1

3.5

1261

71

8

3

5

7

2352

59.5

13

4.3

5

9.4

1762

27

42

12

5

6

3889

49.5

17.1

12.4

9.1

6.3

1956

42

17

19

5

10

1596

37

29

9.6

7.6

9.8

7

977

34.2

34.4

8.5

6.2

11.2

5.5

1238

25.2

42.6

15.1

7.8

5.3

2515

32.4

32

14.4

7.1

5.6

8.5

1667

14.3

74.3

2.5

2.7

1.8

4.4

1376

61

26

1.6

2.2

2.7

6.5

182

45.4

36.5

5.4

3.7

3.6

5.4

44842

37.1

42.7

8.4

3.7

3.8

4.3

6 8.8 8 5.6 7

4

Source: Compiled from 1983 Census, p. 185

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malaria is endemic in these three countries, whereas it is not present in New Caledonia. On the other hand the New Caledonian Melanesian rate of 59.6 was significantly lower than the life expectancy rate of 64 years among the indigenous inhabitants of Fiji, which is also a non-malarial country. And it was over twelve years less than the life expectancy rate of European New Caledonians, which stood at 72.5 years. 49 The gap between Melanesian and European life expectancies in New Caledonia was comparable in some respects to the even more striking difference of some 20 years between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal Australians.50 Similarly, Melanesian infant mortality rates in New Caledonia circa 1980 were 6.9 per thousand. This was lower than the rates of over 11 per thousand in Papua New Guinea, Solomon Islands and Vanuatu, but 75 per cent higher than the rate of 3.9 per thousand among indigenous Fijians and over ten times higher than the rate of 0.6 per thousand among European New Caledonians.51 These differences are explicable in part by reference to poorer standards of education and hygiene, crowded living conditions, poor nutrition, and alcohol abuse. All these factors related directly to the disadvantaged position of the Melanesians overall. Against this background of disadvantage, and of resentment over continued immigration, militant nationalism was encouraged by the attainment of political independence by countries elsewhere in the region, especially Vanuatu. During the 1970s the majority of Melanesians shifted to a determined nationalist position which contrasted with the accommodating approach they had earlier displayed. The lead was taken by the first generation of Melanesian tertiary students, who had been influenced by the intellectual turmoil and unrest among university students in France and elsewhere in the western world in the late 1960s. After holding protest seminars and mounting a demonstration in Noumea in September 1969, Nidoish Naisseline and other students formed the Foulards Rouges (Red Scarves) movement in June 1970. Most of the students were Kanaks, although a handful of radical young Europeans and others also expressed support. The name of the movement linked both French and Kanak traditions of resistance. It referred to the red communard scarf which Louise Michel, who had been deported to New Caledonia because of her part in the 1871 uprising in Paris, is said to have given to Kanaks involved in the 1878 revolt in a gesture of sympathy with their cause. The young Kanak radicals, by analogy with the 'Black is Beautiful' movement in the United States, gave a positive redefinition to the term Canaque, which previously had been pejorative, and re-spelt it as 'Kanak'. This new usage has retained its political significance. The word 'Kanak' is employed with pride by nationalists, but opponents of independence within the Melanesian community prefer the terms 'Melanesian' or 'indigene'.

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Later on, in August 1974, Dewe Gorodey and Elie Poigoune formed the Groupe 1878 (1878 Group), choosing a name which again harked back to the 1878 revolt. Whereas the Foulards Rouge movement favoured cooperation with other ethnic groups and was ready to negotiate with the administration, supporters of the Groupe 1878 stated that the organisation simply did not recognise the laws of the French Republic. Later, on 28 February 1976, adherents of these and associated groupings formed a political party, the Parti de Libération Kanak (PALIKA: Kanak Liberation Party). 52 In the early 1970s, tensions between young Kanaks and their opponents were expressed in several incidents. These included the imprisonment of Nidoish Naisseline and other Kanak activists on charges of sedition, and the fatal shooting by a policeman of a young Kanak, Richard Kamouda. These incidents both reflected and contributed to the spread of pro-independence and anti-colonial sentiments among Kanaks, especially in the younger generation. At first the demand for independence was voiced only by the young Kanak radicals, who formed a small minority in their own community and an even smaller minority in the total New Caledonian population. In part because of these small beginnings, opponents of the nationalist movement have been inclined to blame the rise of Kanak nationalism on the activities of a small number of extremist militants, encouraged and aided by leftwing groups in France and in the South Pacific. But such interpretations completely ignore the way in which the demands of the young nationalists quickly struck a chord among many Kanaks, because of the marginal and disadvantaged position of the Melanesian community. Among the established Melanesian politicians, Yann Celéné Uregei was the first to opt for independence. Motivated in part by his own leadership ambitions, he left the UC in 1970 to form the Union Multiraciale de Nouvelle Calédonie (UMNC: Multiracial Union of New Caledonia). After defections and expulsions, this group later became the Front Uni de Libération Kanake (FULK: United Kanak Liberation Front) in 1977. In the early 1970s, although in favour of greater autonomy, Uregei forged temporary alliances with the Right, and served as vice-president of the Territorial Assembly in 1973 and 1974. In May 1975 he led a multi-party delegation of the pro-autonomist parties to Paris to present proposals for statutory reforms. When DOM-TOM Secretary of State Stirn gave the proposals short shrift, Uregei and some other members of the delegation protested by returning immediately to Noumea. The following month, the UMNC committee declared itself for Kanak independence, while on 9 September Uregei shocked conservatives with a strong speech to the Territorial Assembly demanding independence.53 He criticised the French government's policy of 'colonial exploitation', and said that since the Kanaks had rejected integration,

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only Kanak independence would acknowledge the Kanaks' existence and cultural identity. Where, he asked, was the Kanak after 122 years of the French presence. He pointed out that the Kanak 'was absent from his country and all the activities of his country, from the political administration of New Caledonia, from the public service and the economy, from education and the nickel industry'. 54 Yet for Uregei, at least at this stage, Kanak independence would involve a place for the other communities. In May 1976 he said that he favoured independence on the Fijian model.55 By this he presumably meant the constitutional arrangements put in place in Fiji when it became independent in 1970, and which lasted until the coups of 1987, which were designed to balance the interests of the various communities while taking special account of the rights and interests of indigenous Fijians. Meanwhile the UC had been temporising, adopting a pro-autonomy position. But the party was changed considerably by defections, both by Melanesians supporting a more militant approach and by Europeans repelled by growing Melanesian assertiveness and by talk of independence. The party was also changed by the emergence of a new generation of mainly Melanesian UC leaders, who brought the European domination of the party leadership to an end, although Lenormand and some others continued to play an important part behind the scenes. The most prominent people among these new leaders were Jean-Marie Tjibaou of Hienghene, Eloi Machoro of Canala, and Yeiwene Yeiwene of Maré. All three were destined to meet tragic deaths in the following decade. On 28 May 1977 the UC adopted a pro-independence stance, although it favoured a gradual move to independence and the maintenance of close links with France.56 The UC's decision to henceforth favour independence signalled the shift of the majority of Melanesians into the pro-independence camp. Up until the early 1970s most Melanesians had supported the cautious, pluri-ethnic approach of the UC, meanwhile gaining in political experience. But by the late 1970s, with progress towards substantial social and economic change blocked by conservative governments in France and their local allies in New Caledonia, many Melanesians were becoming inclined towards more militant tactics.

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4 New Caledonia, 1979-1989: The Tjibaou Era Except for their silence, the people thronging the Tiendanite valley in north-eastern New Caledonia on the morning of Monday, 8 May 1989 might have been going to a fair. They were mostly Melanesians, but included a few Europeans, Polynesians and Asians. The sun sparkled on the winding river as they climbed the muddy track. Many of them had been travelling since the early hours of the morning, but they pressed on without rest. Some of them picked the wild flowers which grew among the grasses and ferns beside the road, not for adornment, but to lay at the grave of JeanMarie Tjibaou, leader of the Kanak nationalist movement. They had come to farewell an inspiring leader and a warm, charming man. Along with his loyal deputy, Yeiwene Yeiwene, Tjibaou had been killed on 4 May 1989. Since the unrest of late 1984 and early 1985, which began when the nationalist movement violently obstructed the elections to the Territorial Assembly, Tjibaou had rarely appeared in public without a bodyguard, to protect him from the extreme Right. On their way up to the funeral, many of the mourners had stopped to pay their respects at the simple monument marking the site where his two brothers, along with several other Kanaks, had been ambushed and massacred on 5 December 1984 by poor white and mixed-race farmers. Yet paradoxically Tjibaou and Yeiwene were murdered by extremist Melanesian nationalists, who had been embittered by the events on the outer island of Ouvéa on 5 May 1988. On that day, elite French troops had stormed the cave on Ouvéa island where Kanak nationalists had been holding several gendarmes hostage. The hostages had been captured on 22 April, on the eve of the French parliamentary and presidential elections. During the capture, four gendarmes had been killed. And on 5 May, three soldiers and nineteen Kanaks died. Three of the Kanaks, including their leader Alphonse Dianou, were slain after surrendering. 1 The incidents on Ouvéa had formed part of a renewed violent mobilisation by the Kanak nationalist movement during the second

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quarter of 1988. As in late 1984/early 1985, New Caledonia had drifted towards civil war. However an uneasy peace had been restored in June 1988. At that time the newly appointed French Prime Minister, Michel Rocard, negotiated an interim settlement between Tjibaou and Jacques Lafleur, the leader of the European and other non-indigenous communities, most members of which bitterly opposed the Kanak nationalist goal of 'Kanak Socialist Independence'. But many of the people of Gosanah village on Ouvéa regarded the interim settlement as a betrayal. Gosanah is close to the cave where the hostages were held. It had suffered from military repression before the rescue operation, and several of its young men were among the Kanaks killed on 5 May. The Gosanah militants blocked the entrance to their village with a barricade and demanded an immediate transition to Kanak independence. Tjibaou and Yeiwene were killed while participating in custom ceremonies in Gosanah marking the completion of the traditional year of mourning for the dead Kanaks. They had attended in part to encourage reconciliation between the local people and the mainstream of the nationalist movement. The death of Tjibaou was a tragic blow for the nationalist movement and for New Caledonia. From his entry into public life in the late 1970s until his death he was a leading influence in New Caledonian politics. Although always a determined advocate of independence, his pragmatic approach also embodied the reformist, pluralist spirit expressed in the 1950s and 1960s by the UC. He stamped his image and ideas on the era, helping shape the revived Kanak sense of identity, and presiding over and directing the nationalist movement. This chapter reviews the main developments in New Caledonia during the Tjibaou era, examines the contrasting standpoints of the nationalists and the loyalists, discusses the interim settlement of June 1988, and considers prospects into the 1990s. 1979-84: Disappointed Hopes In 1978 and early 1979 the French government sought to head off the nationalist challenge by proposing social and economic reforms. The proposed reforms were embodied in the Dijoud plan, which was presented by DOM-TOM Secretary of State Paul Dijoud in early 1979. The plan, which was in the event largely bypassed, included measures intended to compensate for the historic disadvantages of the Melanesian community. Dijoud proposed that, in return for acceptance of the plan, campaigning for independence should cease during the ten years in which the plan would be in operation. However the UC and the other pro-independence parties angrily rejected this proposal. 2 The French government also passed legislation before the 1979 Territorial Assembly elections requiring that no party could be repre-

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sented unless it gained at least 7.5 per cent of the vote. But this attempt to profit from the divisions within the independence movement was frustrated when the various pro-independence groupings formed themselves into the Front Indépendantist (the Independence Front). 3 In the July 1979 elections the new Front won 34.4 per cent of the vote and fourteen of the 36 seats. It gained much of its support from the east coast and the Loyalty Islands. The geographical distribution of the vote confirmed that whereas the large majority of the minority Kanak community favoured independence, most members of the various nonindigenous communities were opposed. The RPCR, which had won fifteen seats, formed a government in coalition with the centrist FNSC (Fédération Pour Une Nouvelle Société Calédonienne: Federation for a New Society in Caledonia), which held the remaining seven seats. However this coalition between staunch conservatives and reformist centrists came under strain from mid1981, when a Socialist president and a Socialist government were elected to office in France. The return of the Left to national office after 23 years out of power excited unrealistic hopes and wild fears in both New Caledonia and metropolitan France. In New Caledonia, the conservatism of the electorate had been expressed in the lack of support for the Socialist candidate for the presidency, François Mitterrand. Mitterrand was victorious overall, but won only 34.5 per cent of the New Caledonian vote in the second, decisive round of the elections. Mitterrand was regarded as sympathetic to nationalist demands, and his level of support approximated that attained by the Independence Front in the 1979 Assembly elections. After discussions with the Independence Front in 1979, the Socialist Party, while not specifically supporting independence, had pledged its support for the right of the Kanak people to freely determine their future. Mitterrand had made similar sympathetic if carefully worded statements. So supporters of the Independence Front were heartened by Mitterrand's victory on 10 May 1981 and by the triumph of the Socialists in the parliamentary elections six weeks later. They hoped that the new administration would implement moves towards independence.4 Henri Emmanuelli, the Secretary of State for overseas departments and territories in the new Socialist government, told the Territorial Assembly during an August 1981 visit to New Caledonia that he had seen things which were 'unacceptable', that the reality of colonialism was very strong, and that the indigenous community had been pushed aside to the benefit of the settlers.5 Yet although other spokespersons expressed similar concerns, and although some officials conceded privately that a transition to a form of independence was a favoured option in the longer term, the new government moved cautiously.

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While aware of Kanak determination and frustration, the French government was also conscious of the strength and militancy of rightwing opponents of independence. Meanwhile tensions rose. On 19 September 1981 Pierre Declercq, a French-born schoolteacher and the secretarygeneral of the UC, was killed by a shotgun blast at his home. The culprits have never been found but are believed to have been rightwing extremists. In protest Independence Front supporters demonstrated throughout New Caledonia. They forced the cancellation of the annual Tour de Calédonie cycle race, blocked the main road between Noumea and the international airport at Tontouta, and isolated the up-country village of Canala, the home town of Eloi Machoro, Declercq's successor as UC secretary-general. To demonstrate its commitment to reform, the French government appointed Christian Nucci, a prominent Socialist deputy, as High Commissioner in December 1981. It also announced four reforms which were to be implemented by decree to bypass anticipated opposition from the conservative-centrist majority in the Territorial Assembly. These reforms: • established a land reform office charged with resolving land disputes and with acquiring land from settlers who would be compensated for returning land to Kanaks; • set up an economic development office for the interior and the islands (ODIL: Office de Developpement de l'Interieur et des Iles); • created a Kanak cultural, scientific and technical office (Office Culturel, Scientifique et Technique Çanaque, known generally as the Office Culturel) to foster and preserve traditional Melanesian culture; and • provided for Melanesian advisers on customary law to be consulted in civil cases involving Melanesians. The French government also set out to isolate hard-liners on both sides and attempted to create a moderate consensus round the political centre. In particular it played on differences between the RPCR and FNSC. These tensions came out into the open in January 1982, when the RPCR voted against, but the FNSC endorsed, the establishment of a progressive income tax. In June 1982, in part because of politicking by High Commissioner Nucci, the RPCRFNSC coalition collapsed, and the FI and the FNSC formed a new Council of Government headed by Jean-Marie Tjibaou. But the French government's hopes of rallying support around the Tjibaou government came to naught. Support for the FNSC slumped because of its coalition with the Independence Front. Most of its primarily European constituency shifted allegiance to the RPCR in an endorsement of the RPCR's strong anti-independence stance. And within

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less than a month of the coming to power of the new government, hardline rightwingers mounted a demonstration while the assembly was discussing the land reform measures. Demonstrators battled with police in the streets, and some of them forced their way into the assembly building where they jostled and assaulted FI and FNSC assembly members. Becoming the major partner in the governing coalition was a gain for the nationalist movement, despite the limited powers of the territorial government. When Tjibaou and his team came to power, rightwingers circulated leaflets asserting that 'The Planet of the Apes' had been established. 6 But in fact, the Independence Front/FNSC government, under Tjibaou's wise leadership, was moderate and efficient, surpassing previous governments in its efforts to redress the territory's social and economic problems. Yet while prepared to take part in the institutions of government to gain experience and increase its credibility, the Independence Front made it clear that this participation did not reduce its commitment to independence. The Front continued to press the French government for more rapid progress. At its initial Congress in 1979 the Front had rejected the option favoured by Yann Uregei and other hardliners of launching armed resistance against the French government.7 Many Front supporters had reservations about the use of violence. In addition, it was clear that the wellarmed non-indigenous communities and the French state would hold many advantages in an armed conflict. So the Front settled on a strategy of combining campaigning within the institutions of government with intermittent extrainstitutional mobilisation and disruption. From late 1982 until November 1984, the Front demanded progress towards Kanak independence and the loyalists expressed their strong commitment to New Caledonia remaining French. Meanwhile the French government endeavoured to establish a consensus around the centre. This goal was pursued by Jacques Roynette, a former school teacher and Socialist Party stalwart who had replaced Nucci as High Commissioner in October 1982. An uneasy calm prevailed, but now and again deep-seated tensions erupted. In January 1983, at Touho on the east coast, a drunken group of Melanesian youths bombarded a police station with rocks. The same month, a more serious incident took place at Koindé high in the mountain chain above La Foa on the west coast. Melanesian villagers, upset over pollution from a saw mill, demonstrated against the removal, under police escort, of the saw mill equipment, which they had been blockading to publicise their grievances. The demonstrators responded to police tear gas and stun grenades with gunfire, killing two gendarmes and wounding six others. In May 1983, at the west coast village of Temala, supporters of the radical PALIKA party fire-bombed and destroyed the post office, five houses and several cars in retaliation for

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the fatal shooting, after a quarrel, of a young Kanak by a settler. From 1982 to 1984 Kanaks harassed isolated settlers by cutting fences and killing cattle. They also occupied disputed lands at several places, especially in the Poya area on the west coast. On 24 March 1984, Eloi Machoro organised the symbolic occupation for about a day or so of fifteen farms in various locations. 8 European farmers and their supporters responded to the land occupations with counterdemonstrations. But violent clashes were averted, thanks to tactful official handling and restraint beneath the bravado. Despite these tensions, the French government thought it had made a breakthrough when, in July 1983, representatives of the Front, the RPCR and other groupings attended a round table conference at Nainville-les-Roches in France. The meeting, which had been organised by the new DOM-TOM Secretary of State, Georges Lemoine, recognised the Kanaks' 'innate and active right to independence'. However it also endorsed the rights of non-Kanaks with long-term links with New Caledonia. The French government had thus given formal recognition to Kanak claims to legitimacy, but Lemoine also referred to the 'dual legitimacy' in the territory. By this he meant that Kanak rights should be considered in conjunction with the rights of the non-indigenous inhabitants. But it soon became clear that the achievements of the meeting had been more apparent than real. At the last minute, the RPCR delegation had refused to sign the statement, while many in the Front had harboured serious reservations. Within the Front only the UC had favoured participation in the talks, and Tjibaou had found it necessary to threaten to resign from the Council of Government to bring the smaller Front parties into line. The Front delegates to the conference were all from the UC, because the smaller parties were unwilling to involve themselves in the proceedings. Immediately after the talks, the Front's political bureau drafted a manifesto denouncing the outcome of the proceedings. This manifesto was not circulated, but strong discontent remained. Following the round table meeting, and after further discussions, the French government drafted a new statute for the territory. The Lemoine statute, as it became known, scheduled fresh territorial elections for 1984, granted increased internal autonomy to the territory, and specified a five year period of transition to a vote on the independence question in 1989. The RPCR and the smaller rightwing groups strongly criticised the new arrangements for making what they saw as unacceptable concessions to the Independence Front. They also denounced the government for failing to ensure the maintenance of law and order and the protection of settlers' interests in the interior. The RPCR leadership refused to meet with Lemoine and other government representatives, and threatened to mount massive demonstrations if the government reduced the franchise or delayed the elections.

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The government received even stronger criticism from the Independence Front. The Front demanded a clear timetable for independence, an earlier date for the referendum, and the revision of the franchise for the referendum, so that only Melanesians and others with longterm connections with the territory would be able to vote. Such a revision would greatly increase the likelihood of a pro-independence result. Jean-Marie Tjibaou later argued that: The United Nations, which has proclaimed the right of peoples to decolonisation, accords the right to decide their future to the colonised [people] alone, in this case the Kanaks. That is in principle the position of the FLNKS: the Kanaks alone should normally participate in a self-determination referendum . . . [However] at the Nainville-les-Roches meeting in 1983, where France at last recognised our right to self-determination, we accepted the participation in the vote of all those of whom one, at least, of their parents was born in New Caledonia. 9 The independence movement estimated that as of 1985, a special electoral body restricted to Kanaks and second generation settlers would have numbered 50 050, comprising 34 580 Kanaks and 15 470 others. In contrast the general electorate, consisting of all citizens who had been resident in New Caledonia for at least three months, numbered 91 000, of which Kanaks comprised less than 40 per cent.10 The French government declined to make any concessions. It hoped that the Front and the FNSC would win government in the November 1984 elections and would be able to create, in the years leading up to the referendum proposed for 1989, a consensus favouring either independence with close links with France or else enlarged autonomy and a better deal for the Kanaks. But the Independence Front was dissatisfied and frustrated. It also knew that a change of government in the French national elections in early 1986, which looked increasingly likely in view of metropolitan economic and political problems, would bring a return to conservative policies. To increase the pressure on the French government, the Independence Front committed itself to boycott and obstruct the November elections. It also, in September 1984, reformed itself into a 'Liberation Front'the FLNKS (Front de Libération Nationale Kanak et Socialiste: Kanak Socialist National Liberation Front). However before discussing the nationalist revolt which began at election time, we will review the aims and composition of the FLNKS and of the other pro-independence groupings. The FLNKS and other Nationalist Groupings At the time of its formation the FLNKS defined itself as: 'the union of active forces to establish Kanak Socialist Independence. It is a

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Front to liberate the Kanak Land from Colonialism, Capitalism and Imperialism, with the aim of stablishing Socialism based on local realities but defined in the struggle by those fighting for freedom.' 11 In pursuing its goal of 'Kanak Socialist Independence', the FLNKS argued that formal independence would not in itself transform and elevate the position of the Melanesians. Accordingly it called for a form of independence which would re-order not only the economy but also the relations between the ethnic communities. The FLNKS also argued that once independence was attained, the franchise should be restricted to 'Kanak citizens'. This grouping would consist of Melanesians; of second generation settlers, so long as they had not engaged in hostile or subversive acts against the 'Kanak nation'; and of other persons who had legitimised their presence in New Caledonia through support for independence. The FLNKS view has been that other communities can find a place in New Caledonia, but only following their acceptance of a redefinition of the New Caledonian self-image to centre on Kanak tradition and culture. At first, after independence, all other residents would lack the right to vote but would have all the other rights enshrined in the Constitution. After five years of continuous residence after independence, these people would be eligible for Kanak citizenship and hence voting rights. But holding dual Kanak/French nationality would not be permitted. So after the five year transitional period, those residents who decided not to opt for Kanak citizenship would require residence visas to remain, in the same fashion as non-national residents in other countries. No doubt this stance could be moderated through negotiation, but FLNKS supporters generally believe that the nationalist movement should control the proposed independent state in its formative years, so as to help ensure that the political transition would be accompanied by social and economic reforms which benefit the Melanesian community.12 Yet while the components of the FLNKS all endorse the objective of Kanak Socialist Independence, they have interpreted this objective in varying ways. They have also varied over what are the best tactics for the independence movement. In addition, some Melanesian nationalists have been active outside the FLNKS. Table 4.1 lists the various groupings within the nationalist movement, as of 1990. The differences between parties are in part ideological, but also reflect personal rivalries, local loyalties, and tactical manoeuvring. The UC has been the key influence on the FLNKS and on the nationalist movement more generally, although the smaller, more radical parties have had a disproportionately strong impact on the rhetoric of the FLNKS. Unlike the smaller FLNKS parties, the UC has an effective territory-wide organisation. It is supported by some 55 to 60 per cent of those who favour Kanak independence. The leaders of the party have envisaged Socialism in a reformist, socialdemocratic fashion, despite the party's radical rhetoric and militant tactics, and notwith-

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Table 4.1 New Caledonia: pro-independence groupings Components of the FLNKS (Front de Libération Nationale, Kanak et Socialis) Union Calédonienne Pragmatic, Social Democratic. Suppported by some 55 to 60 per cent of Kanak nationalists. The only proindependence party with territory-wide organisation and support. Supported by both Catholic and Protestant nationalists in the Melanesian community, whereas the smaller pro-independence groups are mainly although not exclusively supported by Melanesian Protestants. PALIKA (Parti de Libération Kanak) Marxist, but pragmatic of late. Supported by some 15 to 20 per cent of Kanak nationalists. Strong on east coast and among younger Melanesians. Union Progressiste Mélanésienne (UPM) Radical, militant and marxist. Several hundred supporters. Support patchy, but significant around Poya and Ponérihouen. Parti Socialist Kanak (PSK) Marxist and radical. Supported by a few score European trade unionists and others in Noumea. Other groups Front Uni de Libération Kanak (FULK) Radical populist and ultra-militant. Some connections with Libya and North Korea. A few hundred supporters, mainly from among Protestants from the Loyalty Islands. (As of 1990, FULK remained a nominal member of the FLNKS, because it had not been formally excluded. However for all practical purposes it is now outside the FLNKS because of its non-endorsement of the Matignon Accords). Libération Kanake Socialiste (LKS) Radical but idiosyncratic. Supported by several hundred people. Centred in the Naisseline chiefly area on Maré, but with pockets of support elsewhere. OPAOParti Federal Kanak (PFK) (OPAO is a traditional name used by some Melanesians to refer to New Caledonia during their initial contacts with the French in the mid-19th century.). Moderate. Favours a federal, independent New Caledonia with close links with France. Critical of the violent tactics employed by the FLNKS. A few hundred Melanesian and other supporters, mostly in and near Noumea. Inactive as of 1989 and 1990. Note: The different stances taken by the various pro-independence parties have some ideological basis, but they also often reflect personal rivalries, local loyalties and tactical manoeuvring. standing the hard-line attitudes of many of its adherents, especially the younger ones. The party favours land reform and state intervention to encourage and facilitate much greater Melanesian participation in the cash economy. It calls for the redress of the imbalances in infrastructure, facilities and earnings between Noumea and the interior and islands. It wants to leave scope for private enterprise, but with a greater reinvestment of profits and with greater returns to the Melanesian population. 13 The UC accepts that an early transition to Kanak Socialist Independence would bring disruption and hardship. It has called on Melanesians to increase their economic self-reliance by cooperative

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ventures. It has also urged them to reduce their dependence on imports through the increased consumption of locallygrown produce, contending that they should 'throw out rice and eat manioc'. 14 But although several cooperative ventures have been launched, it has proved difficult to implement this policy. The UC has also played a central part in developing the cultural dimensions of the independence campaign. Tjibaou inspired the 1976 'Melanesia 2000' Festival, the first major manifestation of renewed interest and pride in Melanesian culture. He introduced Kanaké, the book commemorating the festival, thus: Kanaké is one of the most powerful prototypes of the Melanesian world. He is the ancestor, the firstborn . . . Melanesia 2000 was 2000 Melanesians gathered for an imposing celebration, and the 50 000 spectators who attended. Melanesia 2000 was a brief moment in the Kanak quest for an identity, and for many Europeans, the event which made them aware of the existence of an aboriginal culture. Through this book, we want to resume the dialogue, to rebuild, to tell the world that we are not survivors of prehistory, still less archaeological fossils, but men of flesh and blood. Today, Kanaké comes to you, charged with time and history, rich in his unique cultural experience. He claims his place in the sun.15 Tjibaou served as chairman of the Kanak Cultural Office when this organisation was founded by the Socialist government (198286) to promote Melanesian culture, traditions, and arts and crafts. He also set up a Kanak cultural centre in his home municipality of Hienghene, and under his direction the 1983 UC Congress chose the official Kanaky flag. He was the leading exponent of the pledge that once recognition is given to Kanak tradition and to the Kanak claim to sovereignty, the way will open up for accommodation with the other communities in accordance with Melanesian traditions of welcome. In part because of Tjibaou's influence, the UC has been relatively moderate in its choice of tactics. Its leaders generally have regarded extra-constitutional agitation essentially as a means to establish more favourable conditions for negotiation, rather than as an end in itself. The other FLNKS parties interpret Kanak Socialist Independence more radically than the UCand less realistically, given political and economic circumstances and constraints in New Caledonia. The PALIKA (Parti de Libération Kanak: Kanak Liberation Party) has the most radical policies, although it has been ready to cooperate tactically with the UC when this is to its advantage. Formed in 1976, the party was a founding member of the Independence Front. In June 1981 the party split over personal and policy differences. Those who remained in the party decided that it should withdraw from the Independence Front, which it regarded as too moderate in its policies and tactics. However the PALIKA associated itself with the FLNKS from its first

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meetings and joined forces with it in late 1984. (Those who had left PALIKA in the June 1981 split, led by Nidoish Naisseline, formed the LKS (Libération Kanake Socialiste: Kanak Socialist Liberation). The LKS remained a member of the Front until 1984, when it left because it did not support the decisions to reorganise the Front into the FLNKS and to boycott and obstruct the 1984 elections. The PALIKA has called for 'Revolutionary Kanak Socialist Independence'. It describes this goal as a form of independence in which 'capitalist exploitation' would be replaced by the collective ownership of all the essential means of production, and in which power would be held 'by the people and not by a Kanak bourgeoisie'. 16 At first the PALIKA shunned electoral politics, arguing that participation risked the encouragement of a neo-colonial independence.17 It later decided however that electoral politics could serve to strengthen its power base. It began by taking part in municipal elections, and then, as part of the FLNKS, participated in the 1985 regional elections and the 1989 provincial elections. The PALIKA has tended to dismiss the claims and aspirations of non-Kanaks, except insofar as it optimistically expects the non-Kanak proletariat to rally to its cause. The party has significant support on the east coast and took a leading part in the unrest of late 1984/early 1985 and in April and May 1988. It appears to command the adherence of some 15 to 20 per cent of those who favour independence, and is especially strong among younger people. The two other FLNKS parties are the UPM (Union Progressiste Mélanésienne: Melanesian Progressive Union) and the PSK (Parti Socialiste Kanak: Kanak Socialist Party, formerly the PSC Parti Socialiste Calédonien: Caledonian Socialist Party). The UPM has emphasised the centrality of land reform to any lasting solution of the New Caledonian problem, and has led land occupations on the west coast. Some UPM militants have been prominent in the Kanak education movement. The party employs radical rhetoric, and has taken a high profile in nationalist movement contacts with the French Trotskyist Ligue Communiste Révolutionnaire (Revolutionary Communist League). The small PSK party is the most radical of various 'Socialist' splinter groups which have surfaced from time to time in New Caledonia. It is the only one of these small groups to favour independence. It has also continued in existence, whereas the other groupings have been ephemeral. It differs from the other FLNKS parties by being Noumeabased and by having a predominantly European membership, mostly among left-wing trade unionists, numbering a few score people. The party has connections with the French Communist Party, calls for an alliance between Kanaks and European workers, and regards Communism as the 'completed form of Socialism'.18 In addition, three other groupings were initially components of the

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FLNKS, namely the FULK, the USTKE and the GFKEL. The FULK (Front Uni de Libération Kanak: United Kanak Liberation Front) is unaccommodating in its attitude towards the place of the non-indigenous communities in New Caledonia. The FULK's stance combines radical populist with marxist elements. It holds that the communitarian traditions of Melanesian society provide a basis for the setting up of a New Caledonian form of Socialism. Yet to build on this basis the Melanesians first 'must repossess their heritage . . . land, mines, natural and maritime resources, agriculture, the means of production, etc.' The FULK leader, Yann Céléne Uregei, also believes that Libyan 'grass roots organisation could be easily transferred to Kanak traditional structures'. 19 However the FULK itself lacks an extensive grassroots organisation, with much of its support coming from a few Protestant Loyalty Islander extended families. The FULK has favoured ultra-militant tactics, and has denounced the pragmatic approach of the UC. From 1988, the FULK diverged from the FLNKS in protest against the FLNKS's participation in the Rocard peace plan, with the gap widening because of FULK's continued links with Libya and because of FULK's failure to condemn the murder of Tjibaou and Yeiwene. Nominally, FULK remains a member of the FLNKS, because it has not been formally excluded, but for all practical purposes it is now outside the FLNKS. The USTKE (Union Syndicaux des Travailleurs Kanaks et Exploites: Kanak and Exploited Workers Union Federation) is a radical trade union federation, which has sought to unite Melanesian and other workers in support of Kanak Socialist independence. The USTKE secretary-general, Louis Kotra Uregei, is the nephew of FULK leader Yann Uregei. USTKE left the FLNKS in 1989, in the midst of the recriminations following the deaths of Tjibaou and Yeiwene, and has since then concentrated on industrial campaigning, with considerable success. The GFKEL (Groupe des Femmes Kanakes Exploitees en Lutte: Struggle Group of Exploited Kanak Women) was a small women's group, led by prominent militant Susanna Ounei, which sought to inject radical feminist ideas into the nationalist agenda. It ceased to be active around 1986. The present and former components of the FLNKS command the support of most nationalists, but two other proindependence parties have been active. The larger of them is the LKS, the core support for which is from the Naisseline chiefly area on the Loyalty island of Maré. As noted above, the LKS quit the Front Indépendantiste in 1984 in disagreement with the proposed formation of the FLNKS and the planned boycott and obstruction of the November 1984 elections. At that time it opposed the hardline stance and militant tactics of the FLNKS, favoured cooperation between the communities in preparation for multi-ethnic independence, and sought to foster cooperative

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Page 81 Table 4.2 New Caledonia: regional elections, September 1985 Registered voters:

89 775

Votes cast:

71 999

Turnout:

80.19 per cent

Valid votes:

71 451

Party

Votes

% Valid votes

Seats

pro-independence FLNKS LKS OPAO (PFK/exFNSC) Calédonie Nouvellea

20 545

28.75

16

4 594

6.43

1

2 318

3.24

Nil

516

0.72

Nil

loyalist RPCR Front National RPCb Totals

37 146

52

25

5 274

7.38

3

1 058

1.48

1

71 451

100.00

46

Notes: a The Calédonie Nouvelle was a centrist party which urged non-Melanesian voters to encourage and accommodate themselves to a conservative form of independence, on the grounds that a transition to independence was inevitable b The RPC: Rassemblement Paix et Coutume (Assembly [for] Peace and Custom) was a Melanesian affiliate of the RPCR Source: Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes 1 October 1985, p. 3 enterprises and broad-based economic development to help establish a more just society. 20 More recently, however, in a tradition of being out of step with the mainstream of the nationalist movement, the LKS has criticised the Matignon Accords as 'neo-colonial'.

The PFK (Parti Fédéral Kanak: Kanak Federal Party) has favoured independence with close links with France, under a federal constitution which takes account of Melanesian culture and traditions. The PFK was formed by former UC members, led by senior militant Gabriel Paita. These people left UC partly for personal reasons, partly in protest against the UC's support for the establishment of the FLNKS and for a violent election boycott, and partly to preserve Paita's membership of the board of management of the ambitious Tiaré resort hotel project. If this project had gone ahead it would have brought economic benefits to Paita and his kinsfolk in the Paita area near Noumea. In the September 1985 elections, in which the various proindependence lists won just under 40 per cent of the vote, the PFK combined with former FNSC representatives in a joint, moderate proindependence list under the title of 'OPAO', a traditional Melanesian name for New Caledonia. However the OPAO list gained only 3.24 per cent of the vote, and failed to win a seat (see table 4.2). Since then, the PFK has not been active. In addition to the adherents of the various pro-independence parties, there are several hundred Melanesians, especially among younger

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people, who regard themselves as Kanak nationalists without belonging to any particular party. Many of these people were drawn into the nationalist movement during the FLNKS's campaigns of militant and violent protest in late 1984/ early 1985 and in the second quarter of 1988. November 1984 to January 1985: The Nationalist Revolt In the months before the November 1984 elections the Socialist government stuck to its programme. It did so despite violent incidents in the interior; despite broad Melanesian support for the nationalist movement; and despite repeated declarations by the nationalists that they would boycott and obstruct the elections. The government believed that it would be able to call the bluff of the nationalist movement at the elections, and hoped until the last moment that most Melanesians would not support the proposed boycott. In a pre-election visit in October 1984, Lemoine, himself a committed Christian, appealed to the religious sentiments of the Melanesian community. He contended that the Kanaks would have to choose between Jesus and Marx, and called on them to participate in the poll. On the Thursday before the elections on Sunday 18 November, nervous tension ran high at the unofficial FLNKS headquarters in the ramshackle old house in an industrial suburb of Noumea in which the office of the UC weekly, L'Avenir, is located. Eloi Machoro arrived, haggard from days on the road giving last minute instructions. He was full of determination, but he and his colleagues were prey to uncertainties. Would the mobilisation succeed, demonstrating overwhelming Kanak support for the militant stance of the FLNKS? How would the French authorities and the settlers react? Would the boycott and obstruction of the poll be a triumph or an embarrassing reverse? Only half a mile over the ridge, but a world away, in the offices of the French High Commission on the slopes overlooking central Noumea, a different mood prevailed. A confident official displayed a row of computers, proud of how quickly the count would be processed. A large noticeboard presented estimates, based on voting patterns in previous elections and on information from police and local officials, of the support for the different political groupings in each of the territory's 32 municipalities. All would go fairly smoothly, the official predicted. Most Melanesians had reservations about FLNKS militance, and the older generation, which recalled the gaining of the franchise as a major advance for their people, disliked the idea of boycotting the poll. His confidence was misplaced. The day after the election, photos in newspapers around the world showed Eloi Machoro, wearing his trademark baseball cap, driving an axe through the ballot box at the

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Canala town hall and then burning the ballot papers. Militants burnt down two other town halls, which were targeted because they were the main polling stations, and destroyed ballot papers at several others. Apart from Noumea and its suburbs and the west coast settler towns of Bourail and Koumac, disruption occurred almost everywhere. In the absence of police protection, over half of the territory's 138 polling stations were unable to open or were closed early. In most parts of the interior and islands, militants stopped aspiring voters from reaching even those polling booths which were open by building barricades of felled trees across the roads. In Poya on the west coast, a few Europeans threaded their way past a light barricade and Kanak demonstrators to the town hall, but at the cost of smashed windscreens and bloodied faces. Rather than attempt to coordinate the upheaval, the FLNKS leadership had made a virtue of necessity by granting tactical autonomy to local comités de lutte (struggle committees) in which members of the various components of the organisation participated. The struggle committees were able to adapt their tactics to local conditions and opportunities. This decentralisation of decision-making ensured that the element of surprise rested with the local activists, although it also carried the risk of local agitations running out of control. Considerable organisational effort had been made in the months preceding the mobilisation. The militants had learnt their lessons well from Machoro, the intense, hard-driving former schoolteacher. When the gendarmes moved in to dismantle a barricade, the militants withdrew into the bush, and moved further up or down the road to build another barricade in a new location. With their local knowledge of the difficult terrain, especially on the hilly, heavily wooded east coast, and with the police exercising restraint so as to avoid further inflaming the situation, the mice revelled in the cat-and-mouse game. The participation rate in the poll was cut to 50 per cent, instead of the more usual rate of 70 to 80 per cent. Senior FLNKS leader Yeiwene Yeiwene told the press that he was agreeably surprised by the success of the boycott and disruption campaign. In many localities, militants maintained the pressure after polling day was over. In late November and early December, they kept barricades in place; threw stones at cars carrying Europeans; occupied police stations; held the administrator of the Loyalty Islands and his deputy hostage for several days; burnt down rural hotels, farm buildings, unoccupied farms, and holiday homes; and harassed settlers. Armed militants from Canala and Thio invaded the east coast mining village of Thio, blocking the access roads and confining the European, Wallisian, French Polynesian and other nonMelanesian families to their homes in a state of (mostly) non-violent siege. While supporting the use of violence against property, the FLNKS leaders had wished to avoid using violence against people. This

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reservation about the use of personal violence rested partly on moral grounds but also reflected fear of reprisals and of a strong police response. But as tensions rose some settlers and Melanesians were killed or wounded in clashes. Hundreds of settler fugitives, along with some loyalist Kanaks from the Loyalty Islands, sought refuge in Noumea. FLNKS leaders had envisaged several months of obstruction and disruption to wind up the pressure on the French administration. But in fact the momentum of the mobilisation attained the projected final stage within days rather than months. Early in December, after several days of negotiations with the FLNKS leadership, the French government at last succeeded in bringing circumstances back to relative normality. It sent Edgard Pisani as its special envoy and new High Commissioner, with a mandate to open talks with the FLNKS so as to resolve the New Caledonian problem. Pisani was a Socialist deputy in the European parliament who had served under de Gaulle as Minister for Agriculture. After meeting with Pisani on 5 December, Tjibaou agreed that the FLNKS would lift the barricades, withdraw from occupied buildings, and partake in further negotiations. But the agreement came too late for two of Tjibaou's brothers and eight other men from his village of Tiendanite. On the evening of 5 December they were part of a group of Kanaks who were returning to their village from a local UC meeting which had endorsed the proposed return to peace. The Kanaks were ambushed and massacred by local mixed-race farmers, led by a council worker and small farmer who feared the claims of the Tiendanite people to the land on which he had built his new house. Tjibaou displayed his stature and courage by holding to the deal with Pisani, despite the Hienghene tragedy. In late December and the first week of January, the territory began to return to normal, although sporadic incidents continued and tensions remained high. As a result of the unrest and the government's difficulties in coping with the nationalist challenge, New Caledonia had become a burning political issue in France. The loyalists of New Caledonia and their supporters in France bitterly denounced the militants of the FLNKS as 'terrorists' and 'extremists', and accused the government of weakness and of failing to protect settler and French national interests. So it was in a highly charged atmosphere that, on 7 January 1985, after consultations with FLNKS and RPCR leaders and with President Mitterrand and Prime Minister Fabius, High Commissioner Pisani presented his proposals for 'independence-in-association' with France. The 'Pisani plan' as it became known, set out to embody the essential interests and demands of both the Melanesian and the settler communities. Although unsuccessful at the time, it contained elements which may be present in a long-term settlement of the New Caledonian question. Pisani's independence-in-association formula offered sovereignty to the Kanaks and guarantees and safeguards to the

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The late Jean-Marie Tjibaou visiting the site of the Hienghene Massacre of 5 December 1984. The ten Melanesians killed, who included two of Tjibaou's brothers, were all from the small Tiendanite tribe. Despite the massacre, Tjibaou honoured his word and continued negotiations with French High Commissioner and special envoy Edgard Pisani. (Photos: Henningham)

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non-indigenous communities. New Caledonians would vote at a referendum in July 1985 at which they would choose between the status quo and 'independence-in-association', with the French state throwing its weight behind support for the latter option. If the vote was in favour of independence, the transfer of sovereignty would take place in January 1986, following the election of a new territorial government in October 1985. Citizenship of the new state would be offered to all residents; non-Kanaks would be able to exploit land on a leasehold basis, for which they would pay rent to traditional Kanak owners; French nationality could be retained if desired without compromising residential status; special arrangements would be made for Noumea; and France would assure the new nation's defence and would contribute expertise and funding to an extensive development and training programme. The Pisani plan was the right plan at the wrong time. Had the French government sought to implement a proposal of this kind early in its term of office, it may have had some chance of success. At that time the nationalist movement had been more inclined to compromise and the loyalists had been disorganised and confused. But in early 1985 tensions were too high to permit a sober consideration of the plan. Some members of the FLNKS denounced the proposal as neocolonial, although the FLNKS leadership was willing to consider it. Meanwhile staunch opposition came from the loyalists. They had been embittered by the violence and disruption associated with the FLNKS mobilisation. They were also encouraged by the conservative parties in France, which profited from the troubles in New Caledonia to attack the government. Pisani commented privately that he saw his proposals as 'shock therapy' to shake the European and other settlers out of their smugness and oblige them to recognise that they must accept major concessions in order to salvage their key interests. The initial response of the RPCR was to denounce the plan, condemn the nationalist movement, and reaffirm its unyielding opposition to independence. However the RPCR also agreed to take part in the proposed July referendum, provided that no changes were made to the franchise. It wanted to demonstrate again that a clear majority of the territory's inhabitants opposed independence, and especially 'Kanak Socialist Independence'. This RPCR commitment to the forthcoming elections underlined the key weakness of the Pisani plan. This was that although Pisani and his supporters in the French government favoured an early transition to independence-inassociation, they felt unable, for a mixture of constitutional and political reasons, to amend the Constitution to help ensure that the desired result would be attained. Notwithstanding initial suspicions, there was at first a possibility

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The late Eloi Machoro, 'Minister for Security' in the 'Provisional Government of Kanaky', in camp at Thio on the east coast in January 1985. He was killed soon afterwards by French gendarme sharpshooters outside a farmhouse near La Foa on the west coast. His death was one of several violent events which helped torpedo French High Commissioner Pisani's proposal that New Caledonia proceed rapidly to the status of independence-in-association with France. (Photo: Alan Robson) that if the return to peaceful conditions continued then the opportunity might emerge for a more dispassionate assessment of the plan. But any such possibility disappeared on 9 January. On that day members of Eloi Machoro's band of militants from Thio and Canala, apparently acting on their own initiative, decided to settle scores with Roger Galliot, the former mayor of Thio and an active member of the hardline Right, by moving against his relatives. After the militants arrived at the Tual farm in the La Foa area, there was an exchange of shots in which Yves Tual, Galliot's 19year-old nephew by marriage, was killed. The death of the young man, which came while the population was still assessing the implications of the Pisani proposals, was regarded as the last straw by the loyalists of Noumea. They took to the streets of the capital in their tens of thousands. One businessman set all six of his office staff to the task of working their way through the phonebook, telephoning everybody to urge them to join the street protests. This action was revealing because of the confident assumption, given

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settler dominance of Noumea, that almost everyone telephoned would be at least neutral if not actively sympathetic. Over the weekend of 1011 January the demonstrators rioted in the streets of Noumea, battling with riot police. They destroyed the pharmacy formerly owned by Maurice Lenormand; firebombed several cars owned by supporters of independence; and burned several buildings, including the USTKE office; the Noumea home of pronationalist anthropologist Jean Guiart; and a car-yard belonging to a Vietnamese sympathiser of the independence movement. The rioting only waned when the police adopted tougher measures and when the rioters heard of and rejoiced over the death of Eloi Machorokilled, along with his aide, Marcel Nonaro, by a police sniper in front of a farmstead near La Foa which he and a group of armed Kanaks had been occupying. Some of the rioters opened bottles of champagne to celebrate. The killing of Machoro remains shrouded in uncertainties. He and his supporters were in the La Foa area to attempt an occupation of the small west coast town, along the lines of that earlier carried out in Thio, to keep up the pressure on the French government. One version is that he was shot because the French security forces wanted to restore their honour, which had been slighted when Machoro's men at Thio had surrounded and manhandled a group of gendarmes. Another is that Machoro was shot under orders from a higher authority to discourage further Kanak militance and defuse European anger. Rightwing militants who had been gathering in the La Foa area to counter any move by the Kanaks later said that they had told the gendarmes that unless the gendarmes shot Machoro, they would do so themselves, at the risk of sparking an all-out settler/Kanak confrontation. The renewed violence of January 1985 was followed by continued tensions and sporadic incidents in the following months. Yet although media and other attention focused on the violence and disruption of late 1984/early 1985, the FLNKS also used peaceful means to assert a renewed pride in Melanesian identity. From 1985 some elements in the FLNKS set out to establish an alternative school system, consisting of écoles populaires kanakes (Kanak people's schools). These schools were set up by several local FLNKS campaign committees. Supporters of the schools argued that: The Kanak people's school is first [of all] the refusal of the colonial school. A refusal to submit to an acculturation maintained for too long. By the intermediary, among other things, of the school, Western society has imposed its influence, its values, its ways of thinking, its allegedly universal techniques . . . The people's school is above all the rehabilitation of the cultural and moral or religious values of our people. Our vernacular languages for example should not be considered as the subjects of specialised studies but as the material support of our culture . . . 21

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New Zealand freelance journalist David Robie approaching FLNKS militants near a checkpoint on the Thio road in January 1985, during the unrest of late 1984/early 1985. The FLNKS generally attracted strong criticism in the conservative, anti-independence media in New Caledonia, but received more sympathetic treatment from the media elsewhere in the South Pacific. (Photo: Alan Robson) Within a year or two the attempt to set up an alternative system lost momentum, although a few of these schools have continued to operate. Nonetheless Kanak criticisms stimulated the French authorities to push ahead with reforms. These included teaching French to Melanesian students as a second language; using vernacular languages at a junior level; and taking fuller account in the curriculum of Melanesian culture and traditions. Liberal-minded teachers and researchers had been urging such reforms for some years, at times at personal cost. But their efforts, combined with reforms begun under the Dijoud plan of 1979, had previously brought only modest results, although some groundwork had been laid. 22 Kanak support for the Kanak people's schools was combined with continued tensions in the interior. Meanwhile the loyalists were intransigent in their opposition to the Socialist government and to its local representative, Edgard Pisani. In Paris, sections of the government and bureaucracy urged caution and called for a vigorous defence of French national interests. In July 1985, realising that conditions were not suitable for the implementation of the Pisani plan, the government adopted the more cautious Fabius plan, named after the Prime Minister, Laurent Fabius. Under the new plan, elections would take place in late 1985 for four new regional governments. A territorial government would continue to operate, based on a Territorial Congress consisting of the members

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elected to the four regional councils sitting as a single body. But a substantial portion of the economic and social responsibilities previously held by the territorial government would be devolved to the regional governments. France also pledged substantial aid to help develop the disadvantaged interior and islands. A referendum on independence was scheduled for 1987, with the franchise to be decided after further discussions. The demarcation of the proposed regions gave the nationalist movement the certainty of controlling the north and the Loyalty Islands regions, and a fair chance of winning control of the centre region. Meanwhile the loyalists would be certain to win the rich and populous south region, which included Noumea. These electoral prospects reflected the distribution of the population. Most Melanesians live in the interior or islands, whereas most Europeans and other nonMelanesians live in or near Noumea (see map 4). Thus the Loyalty Islands region would be strongly nationalist, and the south region would be a loyalist stronghold, while the north and centre regions would combine the predominantly Melanesian east coast with the significantly non-Melanesian west coast. 23 Despite opposition from the left wing of the movement, the FLNKS agreed to participate in the new arrangements. Tjibaou argued that control over two and perhaps three regions would permit the nationalist movement to consolidate its position and work constructively towards independence. After toying with the idea of mounting their own election boycott, the loyalists also decided to take part. They were confident of their overall economic and political strength. And they were also encouraged by the strong indications that the Socialist government would lose power to the Right in the early 1986 elections in France. The FLNKS was able to demonstrate its electoral strength in the interior and islands in the September 1985 elections. Although the various nationalist parties won less than 40 per cent of the vote overall (see table 4.2), the FLNKS won decisively in the Loyalty Islands and the north. It also defeated the RPCR in the central region, winning five seats against the RPCR's four. As expected, the RPCR won the south region. But to the disappointment of the French administration, and despite much public and private encouragement by French officials, centre parties and candidates performed poorly, as table 4.2 illustrates. The territory remained deeply polarised between nationalists and loyalists, and a moderating central force had failed to emerge. In the brief time left before the March 1986 parliamentary elections in France, the FLNKS settled down to work in the regions. The territory returned to an uneasy calm. But after the national elections delighted the loyalists in New Caledonia with a conservative victory, the new French government began scaling back the reforms of its predecessor. But before discussing the new government's handling of

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New Caledonia, we will examine loyalist views during the mid-1980s on the demands of the Kanak nationalist movement and on the future of New Caledonia. The Loyalist Standpoint During the 1980s the loyalist opponents of independence comprised most of the members of the European and other non-Melanesian communities, as well as a minority of Melanesians. The Melanesian nationalists identify themselves with the indigenous peoples of the Third World who have proceeded to independence since the Second World War, but their loyalist opponents regard New Caledonia as essentially a settler colony. They compare the history of New Caledonia with that of the settler colonies (now independent) in nearby Australia and New Zealand, and occasionally with those in North America. They dismiss Kanak aspirations and demand that New Caledonia's close relationship with France be maintained. Some have wanted the links to be even closer, and have called for complete integration with France by means of 'departmentalisation'. This change would consist of the establishment of New Caledonia as an overseas department of France, with a legal and administrative status identical to that of the metropolitan departments. (The present French overseas departments are La Réunion in the Indian Ocean, French Guiana in South America, and Guadeloupe and Martinique in the Caribbean.) This idea commanded significant support among New Caledonian conservatives during the 1960s and 1970s. For example Jacques Lafleur showed some sympathy for it until he changed his position around 1980 and began to support a moderate degree of local autonomy. 24 In the early 1980s, Roger Laroque, the long-serving Mayor of Noumea, was the leading departmentalist. The leonine Laroque, who died in 1985, won the respect of even some of his bitterest opponents because of his strength of character and straightforwardness. Laroque had been born in Noumea in 1910 into a well-established New Caledonian family. His father was the New Caledonian manager of the large Ballande trading and mining company. He completed his education in France, worked and married there in the 1930s, and served as an infantry captain with the Free French forces before returning to New Caledonia to serve as a director of the Ballande firm. In the 1980s, the exponents of departmentalisation were, like Laroque, often of the older generation with close links with France. They have argued that only complete integration with France would guarantee the continued political and socio-economic stability of New Caledonia, not least by ensuring the provision of ample funding. They believed that the institution of internal self-government under a territorial

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constitution would inevitably weaken the connection with France, opening the door to independence. Despite Laroque's standing, the cause of departmentalisation attracted only minority support. Most of its advocates have formed one of the tendencies within the RPCR, the predominant loyalist party. The Front Calédonien, the Front National and other small groupings on or to the right of the RPCR have also called for the tightening of links with France, along with mass immigration to strengthen the territory's French identity and to increase its economic viability by expanding the domestic market. 25 Instead of departmentalisation, mainstream loyalist opinion has favoured a modest degree of self-government within a territorial framework, provided that ample French funding continues. For example the 1982 RPCR convention endorsed a draft constitution which proposed an expansion of the powers of the territorial government.26 Pro-autonomy loyalists have argued that increased self-government would offer advantages and opportunities to the people of the territory, permit adaptations to local circumstances, and better allow the expression of a New Caledonian sense of identity. Support for self-government in part reflects the underlying tensions in the relationship with France. As support for the old-style UC in the 1950s and 1960s by many Europeans illustrated, New Caledonians have been sceptical about how much consideration Paris gives to their concerns and aspirations. They know that the metropolitan government is subject to other imperatives, and are conscious of the constraints and pressures of French domestic politics. Their scepticism has been sharpened by differences between native-born New Caledonians and metropolitan officials, schoolteachers and businessmen in the territory on short-term tours of duty. These differences arise in part because the metropolitans are often more sophisticated and more liberal. Conservative New Caledonians also have been conscious that complete administrative integration with France would bring increased taxes and tighter controls.27 They successfully resisted the imposition of an income tax in the territory until 1982, and even then ensured that the regime was less onerous than that in France on the grounds that local welfare and social security measures were of a lower standard. By the mid-1980s most loyalists were prepared to accept the need for the devolution of some powers and responsibilities to regional administrations. But they argued that the territorial government should retain key functions and that the regions should be demarcated to reflect the geographical distribution and the relative numerical and economic strength of the loyalists and their opponents. Accordingly Dick Ukeiwe, the RPCR President of the Territorial Congress, responded to High Commissioner Pisani's independence-in-association plan of early 1985 with an alternative proposal. The

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'Ukeiwe plan' called for increased internal self-government with the territory divided into two regions. The proposed dividing line would run north to south along the central mountain spine of the main island. Thus the first region would comprise Noumea, the west coast and the Isle of Pines, an area in which non-Melanesians were in the large majority overall, while the second would consist of the remainder of the territory, comprising areas in which the Melanesians were the large majority. 28 This arrangement would have given the loyalists control of the first region, leaving the second to the nationalists. The Fabius government regarded the 'Ukeiwe plan' as impractical and divisive. Instead, as noted above, it established four regions, consisting of the south (including Noumea), the centre, the north, and the Loyalty Islands. When the FLNKS won all but the south region at the September 1985 elections, the RPCR complained that the 'rigging' of the demarcations had given it control of only one region, despite its clear majority of the overall vote (map 4).29 Although they are prepared to accept regional devolution, so long as their essential interests are preserved, most loyalists have opposed independence. They believe that their interests would be threatened by independence, and are conscious of New Caledonia's strong cultural and historical links with France. Nevertheless a minority of loyalists do not completely exclude the option of some form of independence at a later stage. The Parti National Calédonien (Caledonian National Party) was set up in early 1982. Its founders called for a transition to independence which preserved close links with France, with Noumea converted into a free port to encourage tourism and external investment.30 The party's formation, and that of Nation Nouvelle (New Nation), a party with a similar platform, reflected the uncertainty with which Europeans awaited clarification of what the newly elected Socialist government intended for New Caledonia. Neither party gathered momentum. Nonetheless their formation illustrated that opposition to Kanak nationalism at times focuses less on the call for independence than on the qualifying adjectives 'Kanak' and 'Socialist'. Indeed loyalist spokespersons, keen to emphasise their overall majority support in the population, have often reaffirmed that should the majority of New Caledonians vote in favour, the French Constitution provides for a transition to independence. But although prepared to permit some regional devolution, the loyalists resent and reject Kanak claims to special recognition and consideration. They point to the legal equality gradually extended to the Melanesians in the ten years or so after the Second World War, and dismiss as irrelevant both the disadvantaged position of the Melanesians and their status as premier occupants and as a colonised people. They argue that New Caledonia has the legal and constitutional status of a territory, and not a colony; they deny that the United Nations and its Decolonisation Committee has any jurisdiction over

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Page 94 Table 4.3 French expenditure in New Caledonia, 1986 (millions of francs) Categories

F fr m

%

% of total

Civil (by Ministry) Agriculture Veterans Culture Economy-Finance Secondary Education Industry-Research Environment Interior and Decentralisation Justice Overseas Departments and Territories & FIDES aid grants External Affairs Health-Welfare Labour-Employment Sport Town Planning-Housing-Transport The Sea Total civil expenditure Military

8.863

0.60

1.973

0.10

0.500

0.03

40.538

2.60

783.253

49.70

1.976

0.10

0.350

0.02

96.174

6.10

21.180

1.30

486.665

30.90

6.529

0.40

41.950

2.70

7.354

0.50

7.740

0.50

68.745

4.40

1.889

0.10

1575.679

100

67

315.627

13.4

459.862

19.6

Miscellaneous Advances, retirement benefits, interest, etc.

Total

2351.168 $A 470 M approx.

Source: French Budget Papers, October 1987 (Document 960) New Caledonia; and they regard sympathy for independence by the countries of the region as unwarranted interference. The loyalists argue that French colonisation brought benefits as well as costs. They often contend that the depressed condition of the Melanesian community results less from the colonial experience and legacy than from the communal characteristics of Melanesian society, which inhibit saving, reduce labour discipline and discourage individual initiative. They discount the handicaps arising from poverty and overcrowding, and from an education system mainly focused on French language and culture. Lack of contact and information encourages mutual distrust: most Europeans and nonMelanesians live in or near Noumea, and only a minority of them have much knowledge or understanding of Melanesian culture and society. Attitudes to Melanesians are frequently condescending and at times openly racist. The loyalists fear that the establishment of Socialism would harm their interests and upset their way of life. Of course they want the continuation of the French state support which traditionally has underwritten the New Caledonian economy. 31 The extent of this

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support is illustrated in table 4.3, which gives details of French spending on New Caledonia in 1986. But they believe that the state's role should be restricted to providing infrastructure and services, and to promoting commerce and investment. They oppose the substantial redistribution of resources and rewards demanded by the nationalist movement. The loyalists argue that only continued integration with France can guarantee the welfare, progress and safety of New Caledonia. Jacques Lafleur has commented that 'Most people in New Caledonia think it's better for them, for their children and their future to be with a big nation than to be alone in a difficult world'. 32 Another loyalist has contended that, should independence eventuate, 'The indépendantistes would ruin us and we would have everybody struggling against each other'.33 The loyalists have denounced the casualties and destruction during the sporadic disturbances since late 1984, which by the end of 1988 had left over 50 dead and cost millions of dollars. They contend that violence by opponents of independence has mostly occurred in defence against provocation and harassment by Kanak militants. And they point to the unhappy experience of several newly independent states and to the high average standards of living, facilities and services in New Caledonia compared with the independent Pacific island countries.34 They neglect to mention that these benefits are not equitably shared. Or else they argue that the higher living standards of the European community are justified by its greater economic productivity, playing down the dependence of the Noumea economy on transfers of funds from France. Many non-Melanesians who might otherwise have supported the reforms favoured by the nationalist movement have rallied to the loyalist cause because of their concern over where independence might lead, and because of their opposition to the violent methods employed from time to time by the FLNKS. Loyalist attitudes have mainly been defined and developed by European New Caledonians, who comprise by far the largest of the nonindigenous communities and who dominate the economy. Yet around 20 per cent of Melanesians have a strong sense of association with and loyalty to France, believe they would be worse off under independence, and oppose the militant tactics and radical sentiments of the independence movement. In particular, around a third of the Melanesians in or from the Loyalty Islands are opposed to independence. These islands were never subjected to European settlement and land confiscation, so memories of the colonial period are less bitter than on the main island. Moreover the population of the Loyalty Islands is nearly 100 per cent Melanesian, with the outsiders resident there mainly engaged in providing services of various kinds. By means of municipal and regional government and through church and customary networks, the local people run their

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own affairs, while benefiting from French subsidies. The scanty resources of these islands also encourage an awareness of the value of French educational and other assistance. In addition long-standing rivalries with the Melanesians of the main island incline some people from the Loyalty Islands to have reservations about a transition to an independence under which the more numerous Melanesians of the main island possibly could dominate them. Moreover, because of earlier exposure to Western education, and because of the scarce resources of their islands, the people of the Loyalty Islands have a long tradition of migrating to Noumea for work. They are strongly represented in the minority of Melanesians in administrative and commercial employment. Some members of this minority are of course strongly nationalist, especially where they have suffered directly from prejudice. Others however are more sympathetic to French and settler viewpoints. Such people are probably motivated in part by a wish to protect their own positions of relative privilege against changes and uncertainties, but they also regard the French connection as favouring social progress and individual freedom against the constraints of traditional culture and society. In addition, on both the main island and in the outlying islands, longstanding rivalries between neighbouring tribes have at times been transposed into divisions for and against the nationalist movement. Meanwhile, most members of the Wallisian, French Polynesian and the small Asian (Indonesian and Vietnamese) communities fear that Kanak Socialist Independence would threaten their interests. Most of these people were either born in New Caledonia or have been resident there over a long period. In February 1987 prominent members of these small communities cabled President Mitterrand to express their 'consternation' that he had criticised Prime Minister Chirac's policies for New Caledonia and to complain of his 'marked support for the pro-independence Melanesians'. They contended that should the Kanaks gain independence and expel them, they would not be able to return to their own countries. 35 These smaller communities comprise around 17 per cent of the population, and hence hold the electoral balance between the European and Melanesian communities (see table 4.4). A shift in the political allegiance of these small communities would drastically alter the political arithmetic of the territory. But Kanak nationalist efforts to gain their support have been impeded by a doctrinaire approach; by an absence of sustained effort; by tensions between Melanesians and Wallisians; by negative media treatment; and by RPCR politicking. Nonetheless a new Wallisian-supported political party, the Union Océanienne (Oceanian Union), won two seats in the southern province at the June 1989 provincial government elections. While not proindependence, this new party wishes to assert the independence of many younger Wallisians from the former dominance of their

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Page 97 Table 4.4 New Caledonia: trends in the ethnic division of the population Ethnic Group

Year (number and percentage of total population) 1969

1976

1983

1989

Melanesians

46 200 (45.9)

55 598 (41.7)

61 870 (42.6)

73 598 (44.8)

Europeans

41 268 (41.0)

50 757 (38.1)

53 974 (37.1)

55 085 (33.6)

Wallisians

6 219 (6.2)

9 571 (7.2)

12 174 (8.4)

14 186 (8.6)

Indonesians

1 809 (1.8)

5 111 (3.8)

5 319 (3.7)

5 191 (3.2)

Tahitians

3 367 (3.3)

6 391 (4.8)

5 570 (3.8)

4 750 (2.9)

109 ()

1 943 (1.5)

2 381 (1.6)

2 461 (1.5)

1 050 (0.8)

1 212 (0.8)

1 683 (1.0)

2 812 (2.1)

2 868 (2.0)

7 219 (4.4)

Vietnamese Ni-Vanuatu Others and non-declared Total

(see note) 1 607 (1.8) 100 579

133 233

145 368

164 173

Notes: In the 1969 census, Wallisians and Ni-Vanuatu were grouped together. The figure of 6219 is for this combined group. The increase in the proportion of 'Others and non-declared' in 1989 resulted from changes in the categories and collection procedures for the 1989 census, which had the effect of allowing respondents greater discretion to refrain from declaring an ethnic affiliation. Source: Adapted from Insee Première No. 41, September 1989, table 1

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community by the RPCR. In the longer term, this party could contribute to the negotiation of an accommodation between the Kanak and Wallisian communities. Although they come from different communities, the loyalists have united strongly in opposition to Kanak Socialist Independence. Like supporters of the UC in the 1950s and 1960s, they see an identity with France as enduring and essential. But unlike the supporters of the UC in that era, and in sharp distinction to the proponents of Kanak independence, they mostly reject Melanesian claims and are content with established patterns of social and economic organisation. In its early years, the UC may have demonstrated that members of the different communities could cooperate in support of modest reform. But that coalition has long since fractured, and now many Melanesians demand much more. Because they include the great majority of the various non-indigenous communities as well as some Melanesians, the loyalists have been in a position to attempt to take over the UC's pluri-ethnic 'two colours, one people' mantle. But the exercise is artificial. A bevy of Melanesian women are usually placed at the front of RPCR demonstrations; several of the Melanesian loyalist politicians are capable people; and some Wallisians and other non-Europeans find their way onto RPCR electoral lists. Nonetheless European New Caledonians have dominated the RPCR and the other, smaller rightwing parties. The members of these smaller parties have generally placed themselves to the right of the RPCR. They draw much of their support from European small businessmen and workers who resent the domination of the RPCR and of the commercial economy by the leading families of Noumea. 19862-88: The Loyalists Strike Back When Jacques Chirac became Prime Minister of France following the March 1986 elections, he set out to reassert the French presence in the territory and to erode the strength of the nationalist movement. Chirac's party, the Rassemblement Pour La République (RPR: Assembly for the Republic), was the dominant partner in the new RPR/UDF (Union pour la Démocratie Française: French Democratic Union) coalition government. Chirac was encouraged and supported by Jacques Lafleur and his colleagues in the New Caledonian RPCR. Lafleur and his colleagues were incensed by the violence and unrest of late 1984 and 1985. They believed that, despite appearances, the FLNKS lacked the majority support of the Melanesians. The links between the local loyalists and the French Right were strong. Jacques Chirac had visited New Caledonia in 1978 to endorse the affiliation of the recently formed RPCR as the local branch of the

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Jacques Lafleur, one of New Caledonia's two deputies in the French parliament and the leader of its loyalist RPCR party, denounces the policies of the French Socialist government at a press conference in Noumea in February 1985. Sixty per cent of the population support the RPCR and the other loyalist parties, but most Melanesians, who comprise just under half of the population, support the Kanak nationalist movement. (Photo: Associated Press) metropolitan RPR and to acknowledge Jacques Lafleur as the leading figure in New Caledonian politics. Since then, the two leaders had cooperated closely. The relationship had been strengthened by donations from the millionaire Lafleur to RPR campaign funds and by the way in which the ambitious Chirac was able to use the New Caledonian disturbances as a major weapon in his criticisms of the Socialist government. Encouraged by loyalist hostility towards the nationalist movement, the Chirac government office made only token attempts to encourage negotiations with the FLNKS, and was far from an impartial arbiter between the rival blocs because of its close association with the RPCR and its contempt for Kanak aspirations. At first the new government proceeded with caution, restrained by the fear of provoking renewed violence from the nationalist movement and by the presence of a Socialist President in François Mitterrand. But it soon became clear that it was committed to reversing the changes implemented by the French Socialist government. Although the Fabius regions were left in place for several months, the new government reduced the powers and funding of the regional

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governments and subjected them to bureaucratic obstruction. Chirac and his colleagues did not welcome the prospect that the nationalist movement would gain valuable experience and increase its credibility in the three of the four regional councils in which it had won control in the September 1985 elections. The men who had become the FLNKS regional presidentsJean-Marie Tjibaou (north region), Yeiwene Yeiwene (Loyalty Islands region), and Leopold Joredie (centre region)were respectively the president, vice-president and general secretary of the UC. Their administrations set out to implement the UC's economic policy by developing the production and marketing of agricultural produce and by promoting fishing and small scale tourism. They favoured joint-enterprise projects, involving participation by Melanesian communities, the regional and territorial administrations, and, where appropriate, local settlers and investors. 36 But progress was impeded by political uncertainties and administrative delays. In February 1987 the three FLNKS presidents sent an open letter to Chirac to charge that his government had thwarted progress in the regions by blocking the supply of funds and by arbitrarily redeploying key administrative staff and advisers assigned by the previous Socialist government.37 The new government merged the land reform and regional development offices into a single organisation and suspended the purchase of settler properties for eventual redistribution. It also shifted the emphasis in its allocation of the lands which it held. Thus instead of seeking to return land to Melanesians it made land available to members of all the various communities, sparking FLNKS complaints that in parts of New Caledonia a virtual 'recolonisation' was being attempted. The reputation of the reformed land office also suffered because of mismanagement and financial scandals. In addition the new government changed the name and functions of the former Kanak Cultural Office to cover all the cultures represented in New Caledonia, and replaced Tjibaou as director of the office. The Chirac government and its local allies also sought to marginalise the FLNKS politically. Funds were lavished on projects in loyalist Melanesian areas and no effort was spared to encourage Melanesians to renounce their commitment to independence. Under the 'nomadisation' programme, a strategy first developed by French forces in Algeria, troops were quartered in or near Melanesian villages throughout the countryside. The aim was to gather information, intimidate militants by the strength of the military presence, and win over the population by civic aid projects and sporting and social exchanges. The attempted marginalisation of the FLNKS was reinforced by the announcement of revisions in the arrangements for internal self-government in the territory, including a new demarcation of regions. The new arrangements were known as the Pons statute after Bernard

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Pons, Chirac's DOM-TOM Minister. They were to come into operation following fresh territorial elections in early 1988, provided of course thatas seemed certain unless the franchise was drastically revisedthe referendum to be held in late 1987 decided against independence. The Pons statute contained some novel elements designed to encourage the rival political forces in the territory to work together. The statute stipulated that a two-thirds majority would be necessary to pass budget and other important bills, and that the Council of Government should be formed by proportional representation from the main political parties voted into office. However the Pons statute threatened Melanesian cultural identity by provisions implying the abolition of the Melanesians' special legal status and threatening the traditional communal ownership of reserve lands. 38 It also favoured loyalist interests in its demarcation of regions by proposing to replace the north and centre regions with east coast and west coast regions, with the dividing line running along the central mountain chain, which runs from northwest to south-east.39 Under this reorganisation, the four regions would accordingly be the Loyalty Islands, the east (coast), the west (coast), and the south. Although four regions instead of two were demarcated, these arrangements were intended to fulfil the purpose of the Ukeiwe plan. This purpose was that of ensuring settler control of Noumea and the western coast of the main island, where the settler population, its economic interests, and the main infrastructure and wealth of New Caledonia are concentrated. As expected, in the April 1988 elections the loyalists won the new west region and the Noumea-south region. In addition, because of the FLNKS boycott, it gained at least nominal control of the Melanesianmajority east coast and Loyalty Islands regions. But the loyalist triumph was hollow: renewed unrest at election time, and a change of government in France, meant that the Pons statute did not come into operation, and was soon replaced with new arrangements. As well as dismantling the Fabius statute, the loyalists and their allies in France sought to discredit the FLNKS locally and internationally. They claimed that the organisation only represented a handful of agitators and terrorists and asserted that only a small minority of Melanesians were in favour of independence. Many loyalists succeeded in convincing themselves that the apparent strength of the FLNKS within the Melanesian community, which had been demonstrated not only by boycotts and protests but also by voting patterns in municipal, regional and territorial elections, was an illusion. The argument ran that this 'illusion' had been fostered by the failure of the police and the Socialist administration to enforce the law with appropriate rigour, and by the intimidation of ordinary Melanesian voters by a determined and well-organised minority of militants. A view expressed in one work of fiction was widespread, namely that forceful intervention by the authorities could have quickly brought to an end

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the troubles of late 1984 and early 1985, but that the Socialist government had allowed the situation to 'fester'. 40 Events would show that this line of argument reflected a massive failure of intelligence, in both senses of the term. In the months leading up to the September 1987 referendum, the government worked hard to guarantee a high participation rate in the poll and to give legitimacy to the expected majority vote against independence. The government presented the restriction of the franchise on a three years' residence basis as a major concession to FLNKS demands for franchise revisions, although this modest adjustment would not make any difference to the overall result. Along with frequent visits by senior RPR politicians, New Caledonia was subjected to a media barrage in which scant mention was made of the FLNKS but in which the voters were urged to turn out in force to support New Caledonia's continued integration with France. But although the referendum gave the expected result against independence, the low participation rate demonstrated the effectiveness of the FLNKS campaign for a non-violent boycott of the poll. Some 59 per cent of the electorate took part in the poll. Ninety-eight per cent of those who voted opted for the continued integration of the territory with France. The result was, at least in formal constitutional terms, a sweeping victory for those opposed to 'Kanak Socialist Independence'. The outcome had been foreshadowed by earlier elections which have been dominated, since 1979, by the question of independence. And like these earlier polls, the referendum also showed the absence of a broad consensus on the future of New Caledonia. A large minority, made up of some 70 to 80 per cent of Melanesian voters, spurned the referendum. Some intimidation occurred, but the great majority of non-participating Melanesians supported the nationalist stance that the referendum was not legitimate because of the failure to implement a substantial reduction of the franchise to exclude people of non-indigenous descent other than those with long-term links with New Caledonia. The French government and its allies in New Caledonia pointed out that the routine abstention rate was around 20 per cent. Accordingly they argued that the abstention level of 41 per cent showed that support for the FLNKS was waning, since 41 minus 20 left only 21 per cent. But this argument conveniently glossed over the massive administrative and public relations effort which the government and its supporters had put into encouraging a high turnout. The results of the 1987 referendum confirmed the continuation of a sharp polarisation between nationalists and loyalists. The proponents of each side have frequently preferred to preach to the converted, with the exchanges between them amounting to un dialogue de sourds (a dialogue of the deaf). The gulf was widened even further in October 1989, when those responsible for the Hienghene Massacre were found

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not guilty, on the grounds that they had been acting in self-defence. The jury included no Melanesians, and during and after the trial the accused were treated as heroes by some elements among the loyalists. While in office from 1981 to 1986 the Socialist government had sought to encourage the emergence of moderate political parties, but with no success. Thus the centrist FNSC had gained nearly 18 per cent of the vote in the 1979 Territorial Assembly elections, and seven assembly seats. But the party's (predominantly European) support slumped after it formed a governing coalition with the Independence Front in mid-1982. It won only 4.45 per cent of the vote, and one seat, in the November 1984 poll. In those elections, the Ensemble Pour l'Avenir (Ensemble for the Future), another centrist grouping, won only 2.84 per cent of the vote, and failed to win a seat. In the September 1985 elections, both the OPAO (PFK/exFNSC) and the newlyformed, moderate pro-independence Calédonie Nouvelle fared poorly, failing to win a single seat. 41 Renewed Unrest and the Rocard Settlement Notwithstanding the pro-France result of the September 1987 referendum, the continued strength and determination of the FLNKS was demonstrated by renewed unrest during the second quarter of 1988. The Chirac government held the territorial elections to inaugurate the Pons statute on 24 April 1988, the same day as the first round of the French Presidential elections. The FLNKS boycotted and obstructed the elections, sparking civil unrest throughout much of the interior and in the Loyalty Islands. The pattern of unrest was patchier than in 198485, but it was also more volatile and violent. France had 7000 paramilitary police deployed in the territory, backed up in case of need by the garrison of over 2000 troops, but Kanak militants had the advantage of local knowledge of the difficult terrain. Moreover the decentralisation of tactical responsibility to local campaign committees, while reducing central FLNKS control, also increased the difficulties faced by the French authorities. France had trouble containing the protests. It could only have repressed them by launching an extensive colonial war which would have reflected badly on French prestige and would have made the task of achieving a long-term solution even more difficult. The coming to power in France of a new Socialist government under Michel Rocard permitted a fresh approach. After defeating Chirac and being re-elected as President in early May, François Mitterrand had appointed Rocard to replace Chirac as Prime Minister. Then, following a revival of Socialist fortunes in the national parliamentary elections in June, Rocard's position had been confirmed. In New Caledonia, anxiety over the violence and disruption

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encouraged an inclination to accept a settlement. Prime Minister Rocard negotiated an agreement between France, the FLNKS, and its loyalist opponents, embodied in the Matignon Accords of late June. This settlement was confirmed when Rocard visited the territory in late August, and was endorsed by a national referendum held in November 1988. The new agreement scrapped the Pons statute and its regional demarcations and put the territory under direct rule from Paris for a year. Next, after elections in June 1989, three new provinces came into operation in July 1989, consisting of the northern and southern portions of the main island, and the Loyalty Islands (map 5). A fresh referendum was scheduled for 1998. It was to be held on a restricted franchise, under which only those voters already resident in New Caledonia in 1988, and their descendants who reached voting age between 1988 and 1998, would be eligible to vote. In addition, the Rocard government undertook to provide massive additional development funds for the interior and islands, along with special training programmes to produce several dozen Melanesians as public servants, managers and technicians. By these means, it intended to reduce the disadvantages of the Melanesian community and to diminish the economic dominance of Noumea. But the agreement concluded in August 1988 had been hard to reach. The FLNKS had demanded further concessions, and many of its supporters had opposed any compromise with France. The RPCR resisted any amendments to the Matignon Accords, while the ultra-rightwing parties denounced the settlement as a sell-out which threatened to open the way to independence in defiance of the wishes of the majority of the population. One FLNKS demand had been that only those born in the territory should vote in the referendum planned for 1998. This proposal, by excluding from the referendum franchise those who had migrated to New Caledonia over recent decades, would greatly improve the prospects for the pro-independence result favoured by the minority Kanak community, which as of 1989 comprised 45 per cent of the population. 42 But the French government would not countenance this change because of loyalist pressure, French domestic political considerations, constitutional obstacles, and questions of democratic principle. Nonetheless the French government offered some additional informal concessions to reassure the FLNKS that it intended to implement a genuine process of decolonisation. These additional measures are intended to ensure a much greater participation by Kanaks in the administration and the modern economic sector. They are also intended to encourage the departure before 1998 of those non-Kanaks who are seeking merely a life in the sun, rather than being committed to the future of New Caledonia. Measures under review include increases in income and other taxes, and the reduction of supplementary

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retirement benefits for former French officials who retire in New Caledonia. 43 The first test for Rocard's approach was the referendum on the Matignon Accords on 6 November 1988. Overall, in metropolitan France and its overseas possessions combined, 80 per cent of those who took part voted 'Yes' in support of the plan. In New Caledonia, 57 per cent of those participating voted 'Yes'. But the overall participation rate was disappointing: only 37 per cent of the total French electorate turned out at the polls. In New Caledonia, the overall participation rate was 63 per cent. In the southern electoral division, consisting of Noumea and nearby municipalities, where most of the population is loyalist, the turnout was 65.3 per cent, with a 'No' vote of 60.8 per cent. This negative vote expressed loyalist reservations about the compromise to which Lafleur and the RPCR had agreed. In contrast, reasonable turnouts and strong 'Yes' votes in the mainly Kanak areas demonstrated the acceptance by most Melanesians of Tjibaou's approach.44 Jean-Marie Tjibaou had said in late July 1988 that, despite many difficulties, he believed that the 'objective conditions' in the territory favoured a peaceful resolution. Neither side wanted a return to bloodshed and chaos, and the leaders of both sides believed that the proposals of the French government offered opportunities. Nonetheless hard-liners on both sides in New Caledonia have contined to criticise the Matignon settlement.45 Tensions within the nationalist movement were tragically expressed in May 1989, when Tjibaou and Yeiwene were killed by militants traumatised by the outcome of the Ouvéa hostage-taking and opposed to compromise with France. The death of Tjibaou left a leadership vacuum in the FLNKS, making the nationalist movement's already difficult task even harder. Because of his stature and skills, Tjibaou had possessed the capacity to make the Rocard plan work for the nationalist movement as a means of gaining eventual independence. Tjibaou liked to recall that when he had been first elected Mayor of Hienghene in 1977, establishing Melanesian control over what previously had been a European preserve, several Europeans had gathered in the public gallery during the first meeting of the new town council. They had come to see whether a Melanesian could assume the responsibilities of mayor. Tjibaou and his colleagues settled down to work, and when he next looked up the spectators had melted away, having seen that Melanesians were capable of taking matters in hand. His vision was that Melanesians could do the same in the provinces, demonstrating competence as a precursor to independence. The question of who should succeed Jean-Marie Tjibaou as FLNKS leader took several months to resolve. Eventually, in March 1990, Paul Néaoutyine, the President of PALIKA and the Mayor of Poindimié, was elected as FLNKS president, while Roch Wamytan of the UC

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Former FLNKS leader, the late Jean-Marie Tjibaou (centre) and colleagues at the Union Calédonienne office in Noumea in August 1988. Tjibaou is flanked by (from left) Roch Wamytan, the late Yeiwene Yeiwene, Union Calédonienne staffer Regis Lethezer, and another party staffer. The leadership vacuum left by the deaths of Tjibaou and Yeiwene in May 1989 was filled in March 1990, when Paul Néaoutyine of the PALIKA party becamepresident of the FLNKS, with Roch Wamytan as his vice-president. (Photo: Henningham) was chosen as vice-president with responsibility for external relations. Néaoutyine, a capable Economics graduate and former schoolteacher, had served as a senior adviser to Tjibaou when Tjibaou was president of the northern region under the Fabius statute. While the question of the FLNKS leadership was still pending, the elections to the new provincial governments under the Matignon Accords were held on 11 June 1989 (see table 4.5). The conduct and outcome of these elections showed that a broad acceptance of the Matignon Accords had developed in New Caledonia, despite the reservations of hardline militants among both loyalists and nationalists. The elections took place without incident, despite FULK threats to boycott and disrupt them. Just under 70 per cent of the registered voters took part, and 46 of the 54 seats went to either the RPCR or the FLNKS. As expected, the RPCR easily won control of the southern province, while the FLNKS was victorious in the northern province and the Loyalty Islands province (map 5). Once again, parties which sought to establish themselves as a moderating force in the political centre were mostly unsuccessful. Nonetheless, as noted above, the new Union Océanienne party won 2424 votes and gained two seats, attracting strong support from younger Wallisians. The emergence of

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Page 107 Table 4.5 New Caledonia: provincial elections, June 1989 Reg. voters: Votes: Turnout: Valid votes: Party

91 259 63 256 69.3 % 62 370 Votes

% valid votes by province

Seats

20 844

53.2

21

4 615

11.8

4

3 860

9.9

3

South RPCR FLNKS Front National Calédonie Demaina Union Océanienneb Others Total for province

2 751

7

2

2 429

6.2

2

4 679

11.9

39 178

100.0

32

9 371

63.4

11

4 041

27.3

4

1 371

9.3

Nil

North FLNKS RPCR Others Total for province

None

14 783

100.0

15

3 912

46.5

4

28 92

34.4

2

1 441

17.1

1

Loyalty Islands FLNKS RPCR Front Anti-Néocolonialistc

Others Total for province Overall totals

164 8 409

None

2 100.0

62 370

7 54

Thus the membership of the Territorial Congress is: RPCR: 27; FLNKS: 19; Front National: 3; Calédonie Demain: 2; Union Océanienne: 2; Front Anti-néocolonialiste: 1. Notes: aCalédonie Demain (Caledonia Tomorrow) is a hardline conservative party bUnion Océanienne is a Wallisian-based party c The Front Anti-néocolonial combined the LKS and some other elements which oppose the Matignon settlement as 'neo-colonial' Sources: Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes 12 June 1989; Les Nouvelles Hebdo, No. 69, 1521 June 1989; Pacific Report No. 11, 22 June 1989 this party showed that many Wallisians wished to distinguish themselves from the RPCR. The election of the provincial governments facilitated the implementation of the economic and social reforms embodied in the Matignon agreements. In 1989, there had been little progress. Yet by late-1990 the special technical and vocational programmes for several dozen young Melanesians were under way; the new provincial capitals at Koné (northern province) and Wé (Loyalty Islands province) were being built; tourism, fisheries and other 'micro-projects' were being developed; and infrastructure was being upgraded, including by the improvement of the Koné-Tikawa route between the west and east coasts.

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Land reform measures were ahead of schedule, after years of stagnation. In the northern province, only a small number of European and other non-indigenous farmers remained, because the Kanak militancy of the 1980s had accentuated an existing trend for settlers to leave the land. In addition, in early 1990 RPCR leader Jacques Lafleur agreed to sell his Société Minière du Sud Pacifique (SMSP) to the FLNKS-controlled government of the northern province, with the French government lending the funds required for the purchase. The SMSP employs 125 people, owns the mining village of Ouaco, and operates mines at two sites on the north-west coast of New Caledonia. Most of the nickel it produces is sold to the large, state-owned Société Metallurgique le Nickel (SLN) company, the dominant force in New Caledonian mining, for smelting at Doniambo on the Noumea harbour. The rest of the SMSP's ore is exported to Japan. In addition to its mining ventures, the company incorporates three small transport and tourism companies. 46 In November 1990 the SMSP, as the majority shareholder in a local joint venture company, reached an agreement with Club Med for the construction of a tourist resort with some 50 bungalow rooms in the north province.47 The sale of the SMSP, which for the first time opened up membership of the mining 'club' to Melanesians, symbolised changing circumstances, and offered new opportunities to the FLNKS. In addition an ambitious plan to build a new duty-free port in the northern province, to serve proposed tax-free light manufacturing zones in the interior, came under study. But many problems remain. KanakEuropean tensions have declined, but deep animosity endures between the two communities. Extremists at both ends of the political spectrum remain implacably opposed to the accords. The conditional acceptance of the accords by the FLNKS leadership is not echoed by many rank-and-file nationalists, who remain deeply suspicious. Neither the nationalists nor the loyalists have more than a guarded commitment to the Matignon Accords, but instead have gone along with them because they have brought peace and economic benefits. There is no doubt about the willingness of the French government to provide funds and to deploy officials and technicians, but it is not yet certain whether the new wealth and opportunities will be distributed sufficiently widely and quickly to ensure continued nationalist cooperation. The 'development' based on a massive influx of French funds may prove ephemeral, leading to longer-term frustration and disillusionment. Many nationalist militants contend that the new wealth associated with the Matignon Accords, while benefiting an emerging elite of Kanak leaders and their advisers, is yet to make a difference to the lives of most Melanesians. The cooperative and community-based forms of organisation favoured for the various new enterprises being developed with the aid of French funding have a mixed record

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of success in adapting to commercial imperatives. Meanwhile the return of proprietorship in land to Melanesian traditional owners is taking the heat out of disputes over land between Melanesians and non-indigenous farmers and graziers. Yet in a pattern resembling that elsewhere in Melanesia, new conflicts and tensions have emerged within groups of traditional owners and between rival traditional claimants. In the case of the SMSP, the government of the northern province will face the difficult task of operating the concern profitably, despite inexperience, the volatility and complexity of the nickel market, and the downward trend in prices evident as of 1990. Some Kanak nationalists have unrealistic expectations about how quickly and substantially the acquisition of the SMSP will bring tangible benefits. Some militants have complained that the man chosen to manage the newly acquired company, a Vietnamese businessman with a long association with the nationalist movement, is not of ethnic Melanesian stock. As training programmes bear fruit, Melanesians should be able to take up many of the available jobs. But substantial spending on equipment, on specialist personnel, and on interest on capital will be required, so returns are likely to be modest. And although the Matignon Accords would be difficult to reverse, because of their success in restoring peace and because they have been endorsed by a referendum, a change in government in France would bring renewed uncertainties. The Rocard government is dependent on minor party and independent votes, and only narrowly survived a no-confidence motion in November 1990. There are also tensions between Rocard and President Mitterrand. Moreover, national elections are due to be held in 1993. Uncertainties will also increase as the 1998 deadline for a fresh referendum approaches. While prepared to go along with the Matignon Accords, the major power blocs at present want different outcomes from the referendum, assuming it is held. The FLNKS wants Kanak independence; the RPCR wants New Caledonia to remain part of France. Towards 1998: An Uncertain Future The leadership of the FLNKS believes that the Rocard plan offers the possibility of building a consensus in favour of independence over the next few years. And they argue that in any case, in the absence of other realistic options, going along with the Matignon Accords will bring material and educational benefits to the Kanak community and permit the nationalist movement to work constructively towards independence. They are conscious of the economic vulnerabilities of the territory, and are aware of its heavy dependence on French funding, especially for infrastructure and services. Although Kanaks are concentrated in the agricultural workforce, much of their activity is

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directed towards subsistence agriculture and customary exchange. The territory imports much of its food, and as of the 1980s commercial agriculture comprised only 2 per cent of the gross domestic product. The FLNKS is working towards a much greater integration of Kanaks into the economic and administrative mainstream. It wants to reduce the problem of unemployment and delinquency among young Melanesians, and to show the nonKanaks that it is possible for the various communities to work together. During the 1980s a few hundred non-Melanesians emigrated from New Caledonia each year in search of better economic prospects elsewhere. The numbers per year are small, but by 1998 the cumulative total could have some political significance, given that new migrants to New Caledonia during this period will not be eligible to vote in the 1998 referendum. As the referendum draws closer, some loyalists who do not wish to adjust to changing circumstances can be expected to depart, and there are some prospects for changes in view by other loyalists, especially in the smaller communities. FLNKS supporters were encouraged by the voting patterns in the November 1988 referendum: whereas most European loyalists voted 'no', most loyalists from the other communities voted 'yes' to the Rocard plan. 48 The FLNKS leadership expects that these trends will give the nationalist movement some chance of winning a vote for independence in the referendum scheduled for 1998.49 Meanwhile, the funding and training offered by France and the opportunity to wield power in the Kanak-majority provinces should permit the Kanaks to improve their economic wellbeing and autonomy. For its part, the RPCR leadership is confident that the French government will continue to take account of loyalist interests, and accordingly has been ready to compromise. Rocard is very much a pragmatic politician of the centre, and the loyalists regard his government as fairer and more neutral than the Socialist government which sought to initiate reforms from 1981 to 1986.50 The RPCR leaders have also grudgingly concluded that they need to take account of the FLNKS and to remedy the disadvantages of the Melanesian community. The violence and unrest of April and May 1988 showed that the Chirac government had failed in its attempt to break the momentum of the nationalist movement. The FLNKS lacks the capacity to win a decisive victory in a colonial war against France.51 But it can create extensive disruption, upsetting the economy, discouraging investment, and making everyday life tense and difficult. So in the longer term, it could raise the financial, political, and other costs of hanging on to an unacceptable level.52 Meanwhile, the intensity of possible repressive measures against Kanak militance is limited by French domestic and international opinion. Within New Caledonia, one constraint on repression is the attitudes of the loyalist minority of Melanesians, a group vital to the loyalists'

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argument that their cause has multiracial legitimacy. In response to Chirac's handling of the Ouvéa affair, some Melanesian loyalists warned that their continuing adhesion to the loyalist cause was under review. They complained that the rescue of the hostages was cynically timed in an effort to gain electoral advantage in the second round of the French Presidential elections, and that the heavy casualty toll could have been avoided had negotiations continued. Their bitterness increased when it was confirmed that some of the dead Kanaks had been killed after surrendering. 53 The RPCR leadership believes that the settlement based on the Matignon Accords offers the loyalists a chance to consolidate their position, not least because the division of the territory into three provinces gives the loyalists control of the rich southern province. This province includes the Isle of Pines, the municipalities of Yaté and Thio on the east coast, and all the west coast municipalities from Noumea up to and including Bourail, as well as the southern portion of the Poya municipality. Thus as well as the main urban centre of Noumea and its suburbs, where the great majority of the non-Kanaks live, this province also encompasses the territory's nickel smelter; large reserves of nickel and other minerals; the international airport and the main domestic airport, the main tourist infrastructure and locations, including the beautiful Isle of Pines; the Yaté dam and hydro-electricity scheme, which provides a substantial part of the territory's electricity; and the reasonable grazing and farming lands on the central west coast. By controlling one of three provinces, comprising Noumea as well as more than a third of the territory's other 31 municipalities, the loyalists are better placed than they were under the territorial statute introduced by the Fabius Socialist government. Under that statute, they controlled only one out of four regions, consisting of the five municipalities of Noumea, Dumbea, Mont-Dore, Paita and the Isle of Pines. Many loyalists are dismissive of the Kanaks' culture and identity, and believe that in due course the nationalist movement will fragment. They are comforted by forecasts that on present trends the Melanesian community will not again form a majority of the population until the first decades of the next century, and are aware that a minority of Melanesians are likely to remain loyalist. They were glad to see divisions in the nationalist movement surfacing over the Matignon Accords. They believe that if the Kanaks are integrated into the administrative and economic mainstream, then most of them will become more conservative and pro-French, and less assertive of their identity. They expect that the result of such an integration would be that many Kanaks would vote against independence in the 1998 referendum.54 The French government is content to keep its options open, while seeking to retain the confidence of both sides. Rocard's appointee as Government Envoy and High Commissioner, Bernard Grasset, who

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arrived in July 1988, soon established a reputation as a mar open to dialogue who was keen to arbitrate fairly. In France, New Caledonia attracts only sporadic attention. But the disturbances in April/May 1988, especially the Ouvéa affair, were a salutary shock. These events discredited the combative policy of the Chirac government, and demonstrated the need for a conciliatory, even-handed approach which redressed the legitimate grievances of the Kanaks. Against this background, the Rocard government has managed to secure broad acceptance in France of its policy for New Caledonia, despite occasional carping by the conservative parties. This is a striking achievement, because previously the handling of New Caledonia had been a party-political issue, with the adversaries often more interested in scoring points than in contributing to a resolution. 55 Rocard's government seems likely to maintain a careful, middle-ofthe-road approach, both for philosophical reasons and because the success of the policy for the territory depends on its broad acceptance in both France and New Caledonia. The Socialist Party supports Rocard's stance on New Caledonia. The party encompasses various currents of thought. Nonetheless, while in office from 198186, the party's centre of gravity shifted right as pragmatic political concerns took precedence over grand principle.56 Meanwhile President François Mitterrand's prestige depends on his moderate, magisterial stance. He would regard progress towards a lasting compromise in New Caledonia, based on a broad consensus, as an important achievement of his second term in office. 'Decolonisation within the framework of French institutions' was how Rocard presented his government's programme during his August 1988 visit to New Caledonia.57 This comment was apparently intended to reassure the nationalist movement that independence was indeed on its way. But earlier, in July 1988, he said that his personal hope was that in 1998 the Kanaks would vote to stay French.58 Meanwhile High Commissioner Grasset commented in August 1988 that in 1998 'all formulas will be open' for New Caledonia's constitutional future.59 The outcome of the proposed 1998 referendum remains uncertain, although it is clear that the nationalists would have to broaden their support base substantially to attain a vote for independence. But French officials argue that focusing on probable voting strengths some years hence is to raise a false issue, because an outcome of 50 per cent plus one for a particular solution, with the rest of the voters bitterly opposed, would not permit an enduring, peaceful resolution. They argue that France's main task in New Caledonia is to assist in developing a broad consensus on the territory's future, no matter what the nature of that future. Some observers see independence as inevitable in the longer term, either achieved peacefully through the present plan, or else more abruptly after further disruption and violence. But other outcomes remain

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possible. In discussion in August 1988, one French official raised the example of France's Indian Ocean island of Réunion. He said continued integration with France had become widely accepted there, after a push for independence led some years ago by the Réunion Communist Party had lost momentum. He suggested that something similar could happen in New Caledonia. French commentators have argued that the close integration of France's various overseas possessions with metropolitan France in fact permits a more genuine decolonisation than would independence. In addition to the three French Pacific territories, these possessions include Réunion, French Guiana, Guadeloupe, Martinique, Mayotte, and St Pierre et Miquelon, as well as several other pieces of territoryincluding the Southern and Antarctic Landswhich are not permanently inhabited. The argument is that integration guarantees access to funding and services and to educational and work opportunities in France. In contrast independence, because of the economic weakness of the possessions, would inevitably involve greater poverty and neo-colonial dependence. 60 Possibly over the next few years New Caledonia (and French Polynesia) could follow the pattern evident in the other overseas possessions, with autonomist and pro-independence pressures being checked by increased funding and open access to France. However there are fewer opportunities in France nowadays than there were previously, and metropolitan French antagonism towards outsiders has increased. France is also less accessible to the people of the Pacific territories, because travel costs are higher than from the other, closer possessions. The indigenous inhabitants of both New Caledonia and French Polynesia also have a clear sense of identity as a colonised people which provides a basis for nationalist aspirations. In contrast, the ethnically complex populations of the other overseas possessions lack this sharply-focused sense of identity. In Réunion, for example, no indigenous population existed before European colonisation and the importation of slaves from Africa and indentured workers from India. In the West Indian possessions, the indigenous population of Amerindians has completely died out or been absorbed into the long-established and diverse immigrant populations, which have close ties with France despite their cultural distinctiveness. Moreover whereas New Caledonia and French Polynesia only became French possessions in 1853 and 1880 respectively, French Guiana, Guadeloupe, Martinique and Réunion first came under French control in the 1630s, which means that France's connections to these latter entities has much greater historical depth. Partition is another possibility. The loyalists regard a partition of the territory as a 'safety-hatch'61 should the Rocard plan and the resulting

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referendum fail to work out to their satisfaction. They are conscious of the differences between Noumea, its suburbs, and the central west coast where most of the population is non-Melanesian, and the rest of the interior and the islands, where the large majority is Melanesian. The 'No' vote in the southern electoral division in the November 1988 referendum showed the strength of the loyalists' reservations about coming to terms with the nationalist movement. Various possible solutions have been envisaged, ranging from giving Noumea a special 'Hong Kong' type status, to keeping the rich southern province French while the rest becomes independent. Partition has some apparent precedents in the history of French decolonisation. Mayotte remained part of France when the Comores became independent, and some local French officials apparently hoped to hive off Espiritu Santo and Tanna from Vanuatu in 197980. The partition of New Caledonia could be supported by a French government, especially a conservative one, under certain circumstances. Clearly, dividing a single main islandeven in a relatively sparsely populated territoryis less practicable than maintaining jurisdiction over an island from an island group. Nonetheless, in a press interview in July 1988, Prime Minister Rocard remarked that in 1998 partition along the lines of Cyprus was a possible outcome for New Caledonia. 62 However partition could be difficult to maintain in the longer term, because New Caledonia is of only sporadic interest to the French public. The nationalist movement would probably contest a partition, and if violence continued the French electorate could soon tire of costs and trouble in a tiny territory on the opposite side of the world. One indication of this is the fact that the rescue of the Ouvéa hostages, which Chirac ordered just before the final round of the Presidential elections, did little to assist his efforts to defeat Mitterrand, and may have harmed them. Another possibility is that of some form of independence-in-association. Although the Matignon Accords have achieved a truce, rather than guaranteeing a lasting peace, they have also drawn strength from, and further confirmed, an evolution of attitudes among French politicians and officials, European settlers, and Kanak leaders. This evolution of attitudes is not explicitly focused on the independence-in-association option. But it helps create conditions favourable to the consideration of independence-in-association, even if only as the lesser of evils compared with other options such as renewed unrest or partition. Among French politicians and officials, the realisation has begun to gather strength over recent years that France has no fundamental national interest in remaining in New Caledonia, especially if its presence is contested by militant indigenous nationalists and attracts regional and international criticism. France remains because of historical connections and responsibilities; and because its continuing presence is favoured by the majority of the territory's population. While most evident in the younger generation, and among those in the centre and on the left

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in their political sympathies, this realisation is becoming widespread. There is no overwhelmingly compelling reasonsimilar, for example, to the importance of the testing facilities in French Polynesiato hang on in New Caledonia if the going gets too tough. New Caledonia's nickel and other minerals have great value, but alternative sources of supply exist. In addition, any more lasting settlement of the New Caledonian question is likely to include arrangements for continued French access to these resources. Despite a general inclination to retain overseas possessions, France has been prepared, in the end, to act decisively when the balance of costs and benefits for France has tipped in favour of giving up sovereignty. This happened in Djibouti, the Comores and Vanuatu, and earlier on in Indochina and Algeria. If efforts to achieve a lasting consensus in the context of the Matignon Accords fail, then any French government, whether Right or Left, could resolve the matter summarily by endorsing independence with a national referendum. This approach would be similar to that finally adopted for Algeria by a rightwing French government presided over by General de Gaulle. This evolution in attitudes has taken place largely because the experience of the Chirac period in New Caledonia demonstrated the failure of political efforts to break the momentum of the nationalist movement. As we move towards the 21st century, no French government is likely to wish to mount a 19th century style colonial war against a small indigenous community, despite the views of some elements on the hard Right. An independence-in-association solution, based on a treaty between France and the new state, could guarantee federal arrangements of the kind initiated by the Fabius plan and reinforced by the Matignon Accords. Such a formula is likely to attract attention as an option which concedes a substantial degree of sovereignty while also satisfying minimal French national concerns and providing safeguards for the essential interests of non-Melanesians. Precedents for 'quasi-sovereignty' arrangements of this kind exist in the South Pacific. These precedents consist of the relationships which link New Zealand with the Cook Islands and Niue andmore controversiallythose which link the United States with the Federated States of Micronesia and the Republic of the Marshall Islands. Of course among Europeans, attitudes towards Melanesians often remain negative and condescending, to say the least. Memories of the violence and destruction of late 1984/early 1985 and early 1988 remain bitter. But many Europeans have also come to the realisation that their interests will not be secured unless substantial concessions are made to the nationalist movement, and unless the indigenous community is drawn much more fully into the mainstream of New Caledonian life. So some settlers have again begun pondering whether a compromise form of independence might offer a way forward. Among the leaders of the Kanak nationalist movement, commitment to eventual full independence remains unqualified. But the

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experience of the 1980s has encouraged a realisation that, given the obstacles and limited options facing the nationalist movement, tactical concessions may be unavoidable. In its response both to the Fabius plan in 1985 and to the Matignon Accords in 1988, the nationalist leadership made the best of difficult circumstances. By choosing to profit from the opportunities offered, the leadership ensured both that material benefits would flow to the Kanak people and that steps towards the ultimate goal could be taken. Towards the end of the 1990s, the nationalist leadership could well regard the option of independence-in-association in similar terms, that is as a worthwhile interim solution pending eventual fulfilment of the long-term goal. In addition, an awareness of New Caledonia's economic problems and heavy dependence on French funding could again encourage acquiescence in an arrangement which guarantees continued French aid. Conclusion In New Caledonia, bitterness runs deep; nationalist and loyalist perceptions of where the Matignon Accords should lead are contradictory; minor incidents continue to take place; many people have reservations about the accords; and an ongoing threat to peace and cooperation is posed by extremists on both sides. The deaths and casualties associated with the nationalist mobilisations of 198485 and 1988 have left a legacy of resentment and suspicion. As a result of one or two incidents, tensions could resurface. But though many problems lie ahead, prospects are fair for a period of relative peace, during which the peoples of New Caledonia can seek to work out their future together. Most people on both sides would prefer to avoid further violence, and would like to reach an enduring consensus, provided their essential interests are protected. And the French government has so far been successful in obtaining the cooperation of the leaderships of both blocs, and of a large majority of the population of the territory. The Matignon settlement will face several hurdles, and may not run its full course of ten years, but at least has provided a breathing space. New Caledonia fits neither the 'indigenous nationalist state' nor the 'settler colony' pattern. Its indigenous people comprise neither an overwhelming majority, as in the neighbouring Melanesian states, nor only a small minority, as in Australia and New Zealand. Both the nationalists and the loyalists are able to veto any proposed resolution which is not to their liking. But neither bloc is able to impose the solution it would prefer. Yet if nationalists and loyalists are willing to infuse their efforts to fashion an enduring settlement with the tolerant, pluri-ethnic spirit of the Union Calédonienne in its early years, they may find their way out of the impasse.

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5 French Polynesia, 1945-1982: From Trading Colony to Nuclear Territory At the opening session of the newly elected Assembly of French Polynesia on 5 October 1972, attention focused on the stooped figure of Pouvanaa a Oopa. Until a speaker is elected, the oldest member of the assembly takes the chair. So it was his 77 years that permitted Pouvanaa, as he was universally known, to begin proceedings. But his first words showed that his speech would be more than a formality. And before Pouvanaa could complete one full sentence, Pierre Angeli, the governor of the territory, interrupted. Angeli leapt to his feet to protest against, not the words themselveswhich he did not understandbut the language employed. For Pouvanaa, the long-time champion of proindependence sentiment, had spoken Tahitian, the language of the colonised; not French, the language of the coloniser. 1 Pouvanaa began: 'This land is called Tahiti, the language I use is the Tahitian language.' And after Angeli's interruption, he continued: 'Our language is not considered fit for humans . . . when I was in prison, another governor . . . told me Tahitian is animal talk . . . In 1914, when I joined the army to defend France, no one told me I spoke an animal language. No one asked me if I spoke French.'2 He recalled his long struggle against French rule and especially his arrest in October 1958, and subsequent conviction and exile, for alleged complicity in a reported plot to burn Papeete to the ground. His arrest had come only a fortnight after 64 per cent of the voters had voted, in a referendum held on 28 September 1958, in favour of the territory remaining French. Those assembly members who favoured autonomy for the territory, now in a minority since the elections on 10 September 1972,3 loudly applauded Pouvanaa. But he was interrupted again, this time by Nedo Salmon. Salmon also spoke in Tahitian, but won applause from the pro-France majority of assembly members by asserting that Pouvanaa, by not speaking French, was failing to show Angeli the respect appropriate to a guest of the assembly. When Pouvanaa had finished, Angeli spoke. He prefaced the customary address on the situation and prospects of the territory with a

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response to Pouvanaa's speech, the gist of which had been conveyed to him by an interpreter. He assured his listeners that he would speak in French, not in his native Corsican language, before asking whether Pouvanaa's decision to speak Tahitian reflected the unwillingness of the autonomists to engage in dialogue. After stating that he could not respond in detail to Pouvanaa's speech because it had been in Tahitian and because he had not received an advance copy, he focused on another controversial address, that given by John Teariki, the former pro-autonomist president of the assembly, when opening the previous session of the assembly in May 1972. Angeli criticised Teariki for presenting the 'No' vote in the 1958 referendum as an act of courage. He contended that everyone knew that if the 'No' vote had triumphed, then the territory would have lost everything. 'Where would we be today?', he asked rhetorically, . . . if we had listened to those who extolled this adventure, perhaps with courage but above all with blindness and a total absence of a sense of responsibility. Where would the high schools and primary schools be, the hospitals, the dispensaries, the stadiums, the youth centres, the roads, the ports, the airports? What would the standard of living of our fellow-citizens be? What hope would there be for our youth? 4 After the opening proceedings had been concluded, the assembly elected Gaston Flosse, whose supporters had defeated the pro-autonomists in the September elections, as its new President. To mark the occasion the assembly was decorated with two French flags, a portrait of President Pompidou, and a statue of Marianne, the symbol of the French Republic. In his inaugural address as President, Flosse said that by installing these emblems of France in the assembly chamber, the new majority wished to bear witness to its adherence to the French nation, one and indivisible. By the development of French culture in this country, he added, we want to reinforce our links with the nation, while also keeping alive the elements of our own culture.5 These exchanges illustrate the main themes of French Polynesian politics since the Second World War. A strong current of pro-autonomy, and occasionally pro-independence, sentiment has been expressed. Yet a counter-current favouring continued integration with France also has been present. This counter-current has been strongly supported by French politicians and officials, who have argued that only France can guarantee the welfare and security of the territory. The strength of these opposing tendencies has ebbed and flowed, reflecting underlying social and economic conditions and trends, French policies, and the varying influence and the shifting alliances of political leaders and parties. In a small, highly interconnected society, political stances also have been shaped by personal friendships and rivalries, by kinship considerations, and by personal ambition. Ideological lines

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The monument to Tahitian nationalist leader Pouvanaa a Oopa in front of the Territorial Assembly and the French High Commission in Papeete. In the early 1950s most Tahitians supported Pouvanaa, but only a minority did so at the referendum on independence in 1958. (Photos: Karin von Strokirch)

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of division have been fluid, with alliances between individuals and parties often based on political advantage rather than on policy agreement. This fluidity has been encouraged by a proportional voting system which mostly has precluded the election of commanding majorities to the Territorial Assembly. Instead, a rough balance generally has existed between conservatives and reformers. 6 As a result transfers of allegiance by a few individuals, usually mainly for personal reasons, have permitted changes of government in the periods between elections. Under Pouvanaa's leadership, support for local rule and sympathy for an eventual transition to a Tahitian republic was strong in the late 1940s and early 1950s, but ebbed in the late 1950s. In the early and middle 1960s, the beginning of mass tourism and the spending associated with the introduction of the nuclear testing programme brought rapid change and new prosperity to the territory. Support for autonomy strengthened from the late 1960s under the leadership of Francis Sanford and John Teariki, in part in response to the socio-economic problems and the possible risks of the testing programme. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, however, the supporters of close links with France rallied under the leadership of Gaston Flosse. But this revival was in part because in 1980 Flosse pronounced in favour of internal autonomy for the territory, thus stealing his opponents' clothes. In the 1980s a large majority of the voters have supported the various parties favouring internal autonomy, while a minority of some 15 to 20 per cent, mainly concentrated in Tahiti and nearby islands, has voted for the pro-independence parties. 1945 to 1958: The Rise and Fall of Pouvanaa Although the United States established a large support base on the island of Bora Bora, Tahiti and its islands were otherwise less directly affected by the Second World War than New Caledonia. However the notions of emancipation encouraged by the Allied victory over Nazi and Japanese tyranny, and the administrative and institutional changes implemented by France to begin the transformation of its colonies into territories, left their mark on French Polynesia. At the Brazzaville (Congo) Conference of February 1944, General de Gaulle and the Free French movement committed France to social, economic and political reforms in its colonial possessions. These reforms were seen as inevitable in the new environment. They were intended to act as a brake on nationalist aspirations and thus help ensure that the colonies that made up the still vast French Empire would remain with France. Hitherto political rights in most of the French colonies had been restricted. But henceforth all members of the local populations would be permitted to form political associations and to participate in the management of their own affairs.7 The EFO (Etablissments français d'Océanie), as Tahiti and its

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islands were known until 1957, had adhered to General de Gaulle's Free France movement in 1940. Over 300 young men served with the Free French forces. Seventy-six of them were killed in battle or died of wounds or disease. 8 The war experience of the French Polynesian soldiers enlarged their horizons, encouraging many of them to take a more critical view of their own society. On their return to the territory, which was delayed until 1946 because of shipping shortages, some of them were irritated to find that many of the public service positions which they had been hoping to occupy had already been taken by metropolitan civil servants. Pouvanaa provided leadership to the disaffected returned servicemen and to others dissatisfied with existing circumstances. Pouvanaa was born in Huahiné, in the Leeward Islands group, in 1895.9 He was raised as a traditional Polynesian, although his blue eyes and fair complexion indicated his part-Danish ancestry. He inherited a legacy of opposition to France: Huahiné had only been declared a French protectorate in 1888, and the Leeward Islands were not annexed until 1897, with French troops stifling local resistance. Nevertheless he served bravely in the French army during the First World War, although the inequitable treatment of the colonial contingents, consistent with the attitudes of the time, may have increased his distrust of the French. While living in Papeete after the war, he worked as a carpenter and street vendor, while remaining faithful to his fundamentalist Protestant ideals. During the Second World War Pouvanaa supported the rallying of the colony to Free France. He also campaigned for a ban on liquor sales, increased local participation in government, a fairer distribution of the scarce supplies of textiles and fuel, and the protection of traditional Polynesian economic interests against the encroachments of Chinese and European settlers. He was detained several times because of his criticisms of the administration and because of his efforts to get Anglo-American assistance. These conflicts with the authorities established his reputation as a champion of the Tahitian people. He had a commanding presence and spoke eloquently in Tahitian. He used biblical allusions, comparing the fate of the Tahitians under French rule with that of the Hebrews while in captivity in Egypt.10 In February 1947 his supporters established a Comité Pouvanaa (Pouvanaa Committee). Its platform was influenced by another new organisation, the Union des Volontaires (Volunteers' Union), which spoke for newly returned servicemen. In June 1947 Pouvanaa and his veteran and other supporters demonstrated at the docks in protest against the arrival of three new metropolitan officials, preventing them from landing for several days. The demonstrators argued that posts in the administration should go to local people, rather than being given to expatriate Frenchmen. Pouvanaa and his associates were arrested and held in custody for some months. But they were acquitted when

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their case was tried, and emerged from jail with their popularity enhanced. In October 1949, a sweeping majority elected Pouvanaa as the territory's deputy to the lower house of the French Parliament. Early the following year the Pouvanaa Committee was transformed into a political party known as the Rassemblement Démocratique des Populations Tahitiennes (RDPT: Democratic Assembly of the Tahitian Peoples). Despite the excitement caused by his election in 1949, and his reelection in 1952 and 1956, Pouvanaa made little impact in the French Parliament. In part this was because issues directly relevant to French Polynesia were only occasionally discussed there. In addition his French, adequate for routine purposes, was too unpolished to permit him to take part in the debates. Neither did the RDPT succeed in implementing substantial reforms in the colony itself, although it won majorities in the local assembly in 1953 and 1957. Pouvanaa was a dreamer and a visionary whose straightforwardness inhibited his capacity to operate as a pragmatic politician. He could inspire Tahitians with his rhetoric but could not readily translate his ideas into reality. Moreover, despite his wide popularity, the effectiveness of the RDPT was reduced by rivalry between Pouvanaa and his ambitious lieutenant, Jean-Baptiste Céran-Jérusalamy. This man, who generally was known as Céran, was a young Demi who had played a leading part in the organisation of the RDPT. Personal and policy differences overlapped within the RDPT. Those closest to Pouvanaa were strongest in their criticisms of the French and most inclined to favour independence, while supporters of Céran-Jérusalamy were more cautious. Despite its internal weaknesses and divisions, the RDPT probably would have achieved more had it not been for strong opposition from French settlers and from Demi and Chinese business people, who feared that their position would be threatened by the RDPT's reform programme. The party was also opposed and obstructed by the French administration, which was worried by Pouvanaa's pro-independence sympathies. Opposition to Pouvanaa heightened after August 1957. From that time, as part of reforms throughout the French colonial empire, the powers of the territorial government were expanded and a system of cabinet government was established. In April 1958 Pouvanaa announced that the RDPT, which held a majority of seventeen to thirteen in the Territorial Assembly, favoured the secession of the territory from France and the creation of an independent Tahitian republic. 11 In the same month, the RDPT passed a bill establishing a progressive income tax in the territory. The RDPT regarded the new tax as more socially equitable than the other, indirect taxes. Moreover the new tax was consistent with RDPT policy insofar as the proposed independent Tahiti would have to do more to pay its own way. But the reaction of local business people was

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furious. They agitated strongly in protest against the new tax, both because of opposition to taxes in general and income tax in particular, and because the income tax issue provided a convenient opportunity to express opposition to the RDPT's stance on independence. The agitation had a precedent: some four decades earlier, in 1921, the French governor had proposed to pay off the large public debt by retroactive taxes on business transactions and imports. But he had backed down following a mass demonstration and other agitation led by local conservatives. 12 In protest against the proposed tax, shopkeepers closed down on 29 April 1958, bringing Papeete to a standstill. Demonstrators gathered at the Territorial Assembly and showered the building with stones, breaking most of the windows. Pouvanaa and the other RDPT representatives, along with assembly officials, escaped under police escort. But the crowd, which numbered about 4000, marched to the residence of the governor, where Pouvanaa and his colleagues had taken refuge. The demonstrators demanded the scrapping of the proposed income tax along with an assurance that the RDPT would not attempt to implement independence. Unrest continued on the following day, until Pouvanaa eased tensions by re-opening the assembly session. With the RDPT abstaining from voting, the opposition was able to abrogate the income tax law.13 Although the tax question was thus removed from the political agenda, controversy over whether Tahiti should become independent continued. The issue came to the test in a referendum held on 28 September 1958. General Charles de Gaulle, who had come to power in France on 1 June 1958, following unrest and political instability sparked by the bloody conflict in Algeria, had decided to ask for a mandate from the voters of metropolitan and overseas France for his proposed new constitution. In place of the Constitution of the Fourth Republic, inaugurated in 1946, which had contributed to unstable government, de Gaulle wanted to establish a Fifth Republic in which the President would wield greater powers. In the referendum the voters were asked to respond yes or no to the question: 'Do you consent to the constitution which the Government of the Republic is offering you?' De Gaulle also stated that the referendum would permit France's overseas possessions to decide on their future. De Gaulle made it clear to the peoples of France's overseas possessions that a 'No' vote would be regarded as a vote for independence. In a proclamation entitled 'An Appeal to Common Sense', which was publicly read and posted on all public buildings in French Polynesia, de Gaulle argued that 'narrow nationalistic' policies had become absurd, because in the present era 'it is necessary to belong to large economic and political federations'. He warned that even those who think that they will benefit from nationalism 'will sooner or later expose themselves to the deadly risk

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of being conquered or swallowed up by one of the big imperialistic powers'. Instead, France offered the opportunity 'to become members of a great community whose inhabitants will be equal and will retain their sovereignty and their freedom to run their own affairs'. 'If you say YES,' he argued, . . . it means that you are willing to follow the same road as France, for better or worse . . . If you say NO, it means that you prefer to fly under your own power, and France will not hold you back. She will wish you luck and let you lead your own life, without giving you any further moral or material help, since you will have come to think of yourself as grown-up and able to earn your own bread. That would mean secession. 14 Should the voters in the French overseas possessions vote yes, they then would be offered a further choice between three options. These were: administrative integration into France as a French 'department'; continuation of the status quo; and expanded autonomy as a self-governing member of the 'Community' of French entities, an institutional arrangement intended to permit overseas possessions greater autonomy while keeping them under French sovereignty. The RDPT could not offer a coherent response to the referendum. The party had recently split and Céran had been expelled over personal and policy differences. With the benefit of hindsight, one can argue that the RDPT may have been best advised to support a yes vote in the referendum, and then opt for increased autonomy for French Polynesia within the French community.15 The French African possessions which adopted this course of action proceeded around 1960 to full independence, although with close cultural, economic and aid links with France. But Pouvanaa decided to call for a no vote. His decision was apparently shaped by his wish to express a distinctive and independent Tahitian identity; and by his resentment of the behaviour of his opponents during the anti-tax campaign. In addition he could not be certain, in view of the split in the RDPT, whether he would command an assembly majority when the post-referendum vote on the three options took place.16 Pouvanaa campaigned on a platform of 'Tahiti for the Tahitians, and the French into the sea'.17 He and his adherents argued that 'if we answer Yes we will continue to remain under the colonial, enslaving government which we have known for 70 years . . . Vote NO so that the enslaving yoke will be quickly removed from around our necks'.18 But some of the prominent RDPT figures who had remained allied with Pouvanaa displayed little enthusiasm for the cause. Meagre resources and official and business obstructionism reduced campaigning in the outer islands and access to the media. In addition, Pouvanaa failed to present a credible vision of what an independent Tahiti would entail.

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Page 125 Table 5.1 French Polynesia: September 1958 Referendum Island group Windwards Leewards Tuamotus & Gambiers Marquesas Australs Total

Registered voters

Valid votes (as %)

YES (%)

NO (%)

18 118

14 507 (80)

9 338 (64)

5 169 (36)

5 607

4 837 (86)

2 161 (45)

2 676 (55)

3 904

3 181 (82)

2 697 (85)

484 (15)

1 499

1 292 (86)

1 158 (90)

134 (10)

1 651

1 331 (81)

842 (63)

489 (37)

30 779

25 148 (82)

16 196 (64)

8 952 (36)

Source: Institut territoriale de la statistique 20 Ans de consultation electorales en Polynésie Française Meanwhile a formidable coalition of interests and groups coalesced in opposition. Public servants worked actively behind the scenes, and sometimes more publicly, to encourage a vote in favour of continued incorporation into France. Some senior officials presumably knew of contingency plans, in the light of the crisis in Algeria, to shift the French nuclear testing programme to French Polynesia, and hence were determined that the territory should remain French. 19 The opposition members in the Territorial Assembly also campaigned strongly against Pouvanaa, with support from their conservative business, Catholic and outer islander constituencies, and from Céran and his adherents in their breakaway faction of the RDPT. The argument of the proponents of continued French rule was that becoming independent would be a voyage into uncharted and dangerous waters, and that the peace and prosperity underwritten by the French presence would evaporate. The turning point in the campaign came when the majority of the leaders of the Protestant church decided not to support Pouvanaa.20 Adherents of the Protestant church totalled about half of the population. As table 5.1 illustrates, 82 per cent of the electors took part, with 64 per cent voting 'Yes' in favour of staying with France. The 'Yes' vote reached 85 per cent in the predominantly Catholic Tuamotu/ Gambier electoral subdivision, and 90 per cent in the overwhelmingly Catholic Marquesas. At 55 per cent, the 'No' vote was strongest in the Leeward Islands, Pouvanaa's home area and traditionally a centre of opposition to France.21 With the divisions which had developed within the RDPT over the tax question and the referendum, Pouvanaa could no longer command a secure assembly majority. On 11 October, after arson incidents in Papeete, Pouvanaa and six of his followers were arrested and jailed. Following the resignation of three members of the Council of Government, and on the grounds that Pouvanaa's defeat in the referendum had amounted to his disavowal by the majority of the electorate, Governor Bailly dissolved the Council of Government on 28 October.

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Pouvanaa and his followers were tried more than a year later, in late October 1959. The prosecution charged that Pouvanaa, embittered by defeat in the referendum and the dissolution of the Council of Government, had called on a crowd of 300 supporters to burn Papeete to the ground. The court found Pouvanaa guilty of attempted murder, arson, and the illegal possession of firearms. It sentenced him to eight years' prison and fifteen years' exile from the territory. The verdict was confirmed on appeal. Thirteen of his alleged accomplices got lesser sentences of between eighteen months' and six years' prison, with two of them also being exiled from the territory. 22 In November 1958, while Pouvanaa and his supporters were in prison awaiting trial, the Territorial Assembly voted in favour of the option of French Polynesia remaining an overseas territory of France. The trial and conviction of Pouvanaa aroused bitter controversy. Plausible prima facie arguments can be offered to urge that the case be re-opened. The evidence against Pouvanaa was subject to question. As an integral part of the French administration, especially in an overseas territory where the governor wielded extensive powers, the police and the judiciary were open to official pressure. Some of Pouvanaa's supporters had collected firearms and other weapons, but this could have been, as they argued, for self-defence, following the provocative behaviour of their opponents during the agitation over the proposed income tax. Nevertheless, as a frustrated visionary angered by the turn of events, Pouvanaa may have sought to put his rhetoric into practice. In court, he conceded that he used strong language, but said that he had been speaking metaphorically, using biblical allusions.23 In 1968, a Le Monde Diplomatique correspondent commented that in the years since the trial, numerous officials and politicians involved with the case had conceded privately that the charges against Pouvanaa 'had been considerably exaggerated'.24 Many Tahitians are convinced that more than just exaggeration was entailed, and that Pouvanaa and his supporters were framed. When President de Gaulle visited Tahiti in 1966, Pouvanaa's successor, John Teariki, argued that a miscarriage of justice had taken place. He called for a retrial, comparing the fate of Pouvanaa with that of Maurice Lenormand in New Caledonia.25 The demand for a retrial has been repeated regularly.26 In early 1989, for example, Pouvanaa's family, supported by Senator Daniel Millaud and other prominent local figures, was urging the reopening of proceedings.27 But other French Polynesians are undecided, whereas Pouvanaa's opponents are adamant that the charges and the sentences were justified.28 But whatever the rights and wrongs of the case, the practical effect of the court's decision was the removal of Pouvanaa as a force in territorial politics and a further weakening, following the referendum result, of the pro-independence movement.

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Tests, Tourism, and the Transformation of Tahiti After completing nine of his fifteen years of exile, three years of them in prison, Pouvanaa was pardoned. On his return from France in November 1968 he was welcomed by a large, respectful crowd at the airport. Yet while he was active in politics until his death in 1977, and while he remained a symbol of Tahitian nationalism, he never won back the majority support he had held in the late 1940s and early 1950s. He was now an old man, in poor health. And during his long absence Tahiti had been transformed. When he left, Papeete, which is located on the main island of Tahiti, had been a backwater, with a few cars traversing its mainly unpaved roads, but in less than a decade it had become a bustling, congested city. The airport at which he landed on his return symbolised the changes. Until 1960, although sea planes serviced Tahiti, the only international aerodrome in the territory had been on Bora Bora in the Leewards, where the Americans had built a support base and airstrip during the Second World War. But in mid-1959 work commenced on a new international airport at Faaa, the suburb adjoining Papeete, on land reclaimed from the lagoon. Once in operation from October 1960, the airport provided swifter and easier access to Tahiti and its islands, permitting mass tourism. The new airport also assisted the French government to transfer equipment and personnel into the territory to prepare for and implement the nuclear testing programme, which it shifted from the Saharan desert after Algeria gained independence in 1962. France established testing sites on the outlying atolls of Moruroa and Fangataufa, a support base on Hao atoll, and headquarters and support facilities in Papeete (see map 6). To service and shelter the large number of ships required to support and monitor atmospheric tests, Papeete was transformed from a sleepy colonial port town into a modern harbour city, with a large area of coral reef reclaimed so that new docks could be built. 29 The first of what eventually would number 42 mushroom clouds did not blanket the sky above Mururoa until July 1966, yet by then the testing programme, coupled with the development of mass tourism, already had begun to transform Tahiti. In addition to direct spending on the testing programme, France injected extra funds to encourage local acquiescence. In the early 1960s the international market for copra and vanilla had slumped, while the phosphate reserves on Makatea atoll were exhausted in 1966, with the last shipment departing in September of that year.30 As a result the territory experienced economic difficulties, and increased its economic dependence on France. Then, in the new era inaugurated by the testing programme, this dependence increased rapidly. Before testing began, French Polynesia could hope to balance its

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Major rebuilding and reclamation works transformed the port town of Papeete in the early 1960s, at considerable environmental cost. The transformation accompanied the transfer of the French nuclear testing programme from the Algerian desert to two remote and uninhabited islands in French Polynesia. The first stage of the reclamation of a large area of Papeete harbour appears (front centre) in this 1963 Qantas photograph. (Photo: Langdon collection) trade and budget, and did not rely heavily on metropolitan funding. In the 1950s, returns on exports averaged 90 per cent of the cost of imports. 31 But this ratio slumped to around 10 per cent by the early 1970s, and has sunk even lower since. In the three years 1984 through 1986, for example, the ratio averaged a mere 6.3 per cent.32 In 1960, 1961 and 1962, military spending in the territory was equivalent to some 4 per cent of Gross Domestic Product. This percentage rose sharply with the establishment of testing, peaking at 76 per cent in 1966, when the construction phase climaxed. It averaged 32 per cent in the 1960s, and 28 per cent in the 1970s. Meanwhile non-military public service spending as a percentage of GDP averaged 24.6 per cent in the 1960s and 36.9 per cent in the 1970s, with the increase compensating for the decline in military spending. Overall, metropolitan transfers as a percentage of GDP averaged 16.1 per cent from 1960 to 1963, rose to 59 per cent from 1964 to 1969, and were 39 per cent in the 1970s.33 The spending associated with the testing programme also acceler-

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ated and strengthened the trend, similar to that elsewhere in the South Pacific and in the developing world, whereby many people from the poor, isolated outer islands migrated to the main island of Tahiti. Compared with the outer islands, Tahiti and especially Papeete had more opportunities and diversions to offer. Before the arrival of the French and other Europeans, Tahiti had been the most populous of the 118 islands which later were incorporated into the EFO. Nonetheless significant populations had lived elsewhere. And with the population depending on a traditional agricultural and fishing economy, and with only a small amount of inter-island trade, Tahiti did not function as a market centre and a dominant economic force. Tahiti's importance, as both an administrative and economic centre, rose sharply following European contact and French colonisation. Nonetheless, only 48.6 per cent of the total population lived on Tahiti in 1951, and 53.7 per cent in 1962. Yet nowadays, following extensive migration in the 1960s and 1970s, and although the trend slowed in the 1980s, 70 per cent of the territory's population lives there, as table 5.2 illustrates. Indeed half of the total population of the territory is concentrated in the Papeete urban zone, consisting of the municipalities of Papeete, Faa'a, Punaauia, Pirae and Arue. The Society archipelago, which consists of the Windward and Leeward island groups, is home to over 85 per cent of the population. Meanwhile the Windward group, comprising Tahiti, Moorea and other smaller nearby islands, is home to just under three-quarters of the total population of the territory. 34 In absolute terms, the population of the Windwards increased by 235 per cent from 1956 to 1989. Meanwhile the increases in the Leewards, Tuamotu/Gambiers, Marquesas and Australs were only 45, 15, 77 and 63 per cent.35 Some of the internal migrants worked on the construction of the new airport or of the new harbour and other facilities in Papeete, or else were attracted by the new prosperity, resulting from increased public spending and the development of mass tourism, of the main island. Others worked on Moruroa, Fangataufa or Hao. Those who completed spells of work on the testing facilities in the outer islands tended to settle in Tahiti, rather than returning home. These migrants often came in family groups to Papeete and Tahiti. With apartments and houses scarce, many settled into substandard accommodation and lived in deplorable conditions. The movement of a large proportion of the adult, able-bodied population from the outer islands, along with an associated shift of many of the inhabitants of Tahiti itself from traditional agriculture and fishing to cash employment, transformed the economy. As a result of the combination of adverse international market conditions with the attraction of wage labour, both subsistence and cash crop production slumped. The transition was, to translate the title of a study of Moorea, the 'sister island' of Tahiti, from 'copra to the atom'.36

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Page 130 Table 5.2 French Polynesia: population distribution, 195689 (number and per cent) Windwards 1956 No. Per Cent: 1962

1967

1971

1977

1983

1989

Leewards

Tuamotu/Gambiers

Marquesas

Australs

41 919

15 427

10 710

4 165

4 106

(54.9)

(20.2)

(14)

(5.5)

(5.4)

49 795

16 177

9 370

4 838

4 371

(58.9)

(19.1)

(11.1)

(5.7)

(5.2)

66 095

15 337

6 719

5 174

5 053

(67.2)

(15.6)

(6.8)

(5.3)

(5.1)

84 552

15 718

8 226

5 593

5 079

(70.9)

(13.2)

(6.9)

(4.7)

(4.3)

101 392

16 311

9 052

5 419

5 208

(73.8)

(11.9)

(6.6)

(3.9)

(3.8)

123 069

19 060

11 793

6 548

6 283

(73.8)

(11.4)

(7.1)

(3.9)

(3.8)

140 341

22 232

12 374

7 358

6 509

(74.3)

(11.8)

(6.5)

(3.9)

(3.5)

Total 76 327

84 551

98 378

119 168

137 382

166 753

188 814

Source: Blanchet 1985, p. 119; 1983 and 1989 Censes

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Up until around 1960 most of the population fed itself mainly by subsistence agriculture and fishing, and earnt cash incomes from copra, vanilla and other crops. But within a decade the territory was importing most of its food. Thus compared with 37 per cent in 1960, the territory imported 57.5 per cent of its food in 1968. In the 1970s, the average annual percentage of food imports stood at 58.3 per cent. 37 Import dependence for food increased even further during the 1980s, so that by the end of the decade French Polynesia was importing close to 80 per cent of its food needs.38 This movement of population, and the abrupt shift into the cash economy, entailed social and cultural changes. Kinship and extended family structures, which hitherto had provided an informal system of social security, were eroded. In the crowded suburbs near Papeete, the demands of wage labour helped encourage the replacement of larger family units with the nuclear family. Patterns of food-sharing and labour assistance did endure in the urban environment, but only as 'pale reflections of the former situation'.39 In the space of a single generation, the Polynesians were transformed from a 'peasantry' of self-employed farmers and fishermen into a primarily working-class population. By and large they seem to have gladly embraced the new order, despite the social problems it brought. They wanted to acquire consumer goods and preferred the 'fast money' they received each month from wage labour to the 'slow money' derived from harvesting and marketing traditional crops.40 Their response resembled that of some of their ancestors a century and a half earlier, who had shown great interest in the new goods and beliefs introduced through European contact, to the neglect of their own culture and traditions.41 Under these conditions younger people began to lose touch with their Polynesian heritage. By the early 1980s, the disruptive effect of the testing era, along with several generations of French assimilationist policies, had begun to have their effects, although the use of Tahitian by the churches had helped preserve the language. Around 80 per cent of the inhabitants of the territory are of Polynesian descent. They comprise two groups, the more privileged, more westernised Demis, and the more 'traditional' Maohis. Of those who identified themselves as either Demi or Maohi in the 1983 census, 81 per cent spoke French, 70 per cent could read French, and 67 per cent could write French. Meanwhile, 80 per cent could speak Tahitian, with 59 per cent able to read and 55 per cent able to write the language. Yet although Tahitian remained a living language, the younger generation of Maohis and Demis is less inclined to write and read the language than their elders, in part because of the new availability of radio and television and because of a decline in the influence of the churches.42 Nowadays, Demi and Maohi parents resident in Tahiti complain that their children have failed to acquire more than an

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elementary level of their parents' Polynesian language, and are much more concerned with Western consumer culture than with their Polynesian roots. Yet on the other hand, especially if they drop out of school early, the command of French of these young people is often poor. Concern over the breakdown of traditional culture and values has contributed to attempts to revivify and reassert the Polynesian heritage. A renewed pride in traditional ways and beliefs and a new concern with a distinctive Tahitian identity were expressed by political and community leaders from the mid-1970s. 43 Nonetheless sceptics, thinking of similar circumstances in other societies subject to rapid change, and conscious of the limited interest in their heritage of many in the younger, urbanised generation, argued that the very presence of efforts to bring about a cultural revival was an indication that Tahitian culture was terminally ill. This cultural revival had parallels in New Caledonia. However in French Polynesia the revival focused on the heritage of the large majority of the population, in a society in which sharp ethnic divisions were relatively absent. Hence it was more widely supported and less contested than in New Caledonia, where the cultural revival associated with the indigenous minority was seen as a threat and a challenge by the other communities. Although all commentators agree on the scale and extent of the transformation of the territory from the early 1960s, they vary in their assessment of the extent to which this transformation was caused by the massive inflow of funds associated with the testing programme. Critics of the impact of the programme on the territory see most of the changes as adverse, and condemn testing as 'one hundred per cent' responsible.44 An alternative view is that the connection between testing and the transformation is largely coincidental. This view holds that the decline in the territory's economic viability was already evident in the early 1960s, before the programme began, and that the increased dependence on metropolitan transfers was not special to the territory.45 In fact, because of the combination of worsening commodity markets with rising expectations, this increased dependence followed trends not only in all of France's overseas departments and territories, but also in the great majority of the various small island states and entities throughout the world.46 Nonetheless, it seems on balance that French spending on the nuclear testing programme greatly strengthened the trend towards reduced self-reliance. Political and Constitutional Developments in the 1960s and 1970s The new prosperity, along with strong pressures against dissenters by the French administration, pushed independence off the political agenda

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during the 1960s and early 1970s. During these years supporters of increased autonomy for French Polynesia were opposed to proponents of continued close political dependence on France. The autonomists were the political heirs of Pouvanaa, but also attracted more centrist elements. They drew their support mainly from Protestant Tahitians, from most of the urban poor, and from some of the Demis. 47 The autonomists were opposed by conservative politicians who were supported by members of several partly overlapping groupings. These groupings comprised Catholic Polynesians, who usually have had Gaullist and conservative sympathies; residents of the outer islands in general and the Marquesas in particular, who have tended to be more conservative than the people of the Windward and Leeward islands, given their islands' lack of resources and their awareness of the financial contribution of the French presence to the services and infrastructure available to them; most of the Demis and many of the Maohis with jobs in, or dependent on, the administration; and most members of the European and Chinese communities.48 The RDPT, although weakened by defections, internal dissension and by the imprisonment and exile of Pouvanaa, nonetheless gained 33 per cent of the vote and fourteen of the 30 assembly seats in the October 1962 elections (table 5.3). The following year, however, it was abolished and reformed. Its demise resulted from its circulation, in November 1963, of petitions protesting against the impending arrival of large numbers of French troops, including two battalions of the French Foreign Legion. President de Gaulle responded by outlawing the RDPT and its off-shoot, the Pupu Tiama Maohi, on the grounds that they were threatening 'the integrity of the national territory'.49 With the RDPT banned, Pouvanaa's supporters and political heirs regrouped into the Here Ai'a (Patriots' Party) led by John Teariki. Teariki and the Here Ai'a cooperated with Francis Sanford and his E'a Api (The New Way) party on an autonomist platform, winning sixteen of the 30 assembly seats in the September 1967 elections (table 5.3).50 Whereas the Here Ai'a represented Protestant Maohis in particular, the E'a Api had strong support from pro-autonomy Demis. The autonomists argued that French Polynesians should be given control over their own affairs, and called for social and economic reform. They also expressed strong concern over the peremptory way that nuclear testing had been imposed on the territory, without any consultation with the local population; over the possible health and environmental risks of testing; and over the disruptive social and economic effects of the boom in spending associated with the testing programme. The autonomists did not take an explicitly pro-independence stance akin to that of Pouvanaa in the campaign for the 1958 referendum. But at times of frustration and anger, they referred to the possible virtues of independence, should France continue to ignore their demands.

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Page 134 Table 5.3 French Polynesia: Territorial Assembly election results, 196277 Party

Votes

Votes as % of valid vote

Seats won

October 1962 Rassemblement Démocratique des Populations Tahitiennes (RDPT) Union Tahitienne Démocratique (UTD) Union TahitienneUnion pour la Nouvelle République (UTUNR)a Others Totals

7 839

33

14

4 207

18

5

4 527

19

8

7 252

30

3

23 825

100

30

5 032

20

9

4 190

17

7

3 693

15

7

September 1967 E'a Api Here Ai'a (successor to RDPT) UTUNR (including the seat won by the Union MarquisienneUNR) UTD Others Totals

1 743

7

3

10 298

41

4

24 956

100

30

6 484

23

9

6 055

21

7

5 211

18

6

3 341

12

3

7 413

26

5

28 504

100

30

17 083

36.4

13

1 972

4.2

3

September 1972 Union TahitienneUnion pour la Défense de la République (UTUDR)b E'a Api Here Ai'a Te Au TahoeraaTomite Taufac Others Totals May 1977 Front Uni (Coalition between Here Ai'a, part of E'a Api, and minor parties) E'a Apid

Tahoeraa Huiraatira (successor to UTUDR) Others Totals

10 982

23.4

10

16 862

36

4

46 899

100

30

Notes: a This party was linked to the Gaullist party in metropolitan France, the Union pour la Nouvelle République. b This party was the successor to the UTUNR. The change in name resulted from the renaming of the metropolitan Gaullist party as the Union pour la Défense de la République. c This loose coalition was formed for electoral purposes only and did not endure. d E'a Api ran separate lists to the Front Uni list in the Leeward and Tuamotu/ Gambier electoral divisions. E'a Api also presented a list in the Marquesas division, where no Front Uni list was presented. However the Front Uni and the separately elected E'a Api representatives combined after the elections to form the governing majority. Sources: Compiled from Institut Territorial de la Statistique 20 Ans De Consultations Electorales En Polynésie Française Papeete: 1982 and Encyclopedie de la Polynésie, vol 1, pp. 11011.

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As table 5.3 illustrates, the Here Ai'a and the E'a Api won strong support in the 1967, 1972 and 1977 elections. They held office from 1967 to 1972 and 1977 to 1982. In addition, Francis Sanford was elected as French Polynesia's deputy in the French Parliament in 1968 and was re-elected for another five year term in 1973. Accordingly he was able to promote the autonomist cause throughout the period from 1968 to 1978, even though a conservative/independents coalition held office in the territory from 1972 to 1977. 51 Yet despite continued campaigning by the autonomists, their demands were mostly ignored by successive French governments. Many French officials and commentators believed that talk of independence and demands for greater autonomy were merely bargaining devices intended to squeeze more funding out of France. There was some truth in this assessment. For example, whereas Teariki and the Here Ai'a had opposed the testing programme from the outset, Sanford and the E'a Api seem at first to have regarded the programme primarily as a means whereby constitutional and financial concessions could be extracted from France. Indeed during the 1960s and much of the 1970s France consolidated rather than reduced its control. Already, in November 1958, in the wake of the trial and conviction of Pouvanaa, a conservative-controlled Territorial Assembly, as part of its acceptance of French Polynesia's status as an overseas territory, had agreed to a reduction in the powers of the territorial government. The assembly reaffirmed the preeminence of the governor in the institutions and administration of the territory; relinquished the individual exercise of ministerial responsibility by members of the Council of Government, replacing it with their collegial exercise; and agreed that the membership of the Council of Government be reduced from six to eight members to five.52 In the 1960s, because of continuing financial stringency, the territory found it necessary to hand over to the French government responsibility for posts and telegraphs, secondary and technical education, and some public health programmes.53 As part of reforms in metropolitan and overseas France, the French government also expanded, from 1972, the system of municipal government. Previously only Papeete had been a fully fledged municipality, with representation in other areas restricted to consultative councils. But under the new arrangements 41 municipal councils, additional to the Papeete municipality, assumed responsibility for local services. Each council had its own budget and was responsible directly to the French government rather than to the territorial government. In a territory comprising 118 islands speckled over an area the size of Western Europe, the extension of municipal government offered the opportunity for greater local participation in government and for the rectification of the previous neglect of the needs of the smaller communities on the outer islands. The new arrangements, which were well-received by the population,54 also provided further support to the

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French presence. They did this by reducing the responsibilities and funding of the territorial government, and by encouraging communities to be more aware that the funding for improvements to infrastructure and services came from France. Henceforth the territorial government would be obliged to transfer one-quarter of its revenues to the municipalities. Since election as the mayor of a local council became a routine stepping stone to election to the Territorial Assembly, politicians were further encouraged to focus on local issues and on the development and maintenance of patronage networks rather than on broader questions concerning the future of the territory. 55 Similar tendencies were evident in New Caledonia, but in that territory they were modified by greater geographical concentration and by the divisions between the Melanesians and the other communities, which created conditions in which the Kanak nationalist movement played a mobilising role, and provoked the loyalists to organise themselves more coherently in response. In the late 1960s and early 1970s Sanford and Teariki and their supporters campaigned unceasingly for greater autonomy for the territory, but were continually ignored or rebuffed. While on a visit in September 1970, for example, DOM-TOM Secretary of State Pierre Messmer told the Territorial Assembly that French Polynesia's most urgent problems were economic and social. He reminded his listeners that the current prosperity of the territory depended on French spending on the testing programme, and pointed out that 60 per cent of the salaries paid in the territory during 1970 had in effect come out of the pocket of the French government. While conceding the need for some evolution in the constitutional arrangements, he contended that the existing division of power between the state and the territory 'could not be more liberally conceived'.56 Later in the 1970s the High Commissioner compared French Polynesia favourably with the independent countries of the South Pacific. He argued that 'in all these scattered Pacific islands, as a rule, only a few privileged individuals profit from independence which is more apparent than real'. These island countries, he said, 'completely lack economic resources, whereas French Polynesia alone is flourishing'.57 Frustrated, the autonomists occupied the assembly building in June 1976, continuing the occupation until April 1977. They carefully monitored the administration's reaction, making sure that they would know in advance if the governor decided to send in the police to dislodge the occupiers. But the French administration chose to avoid confrontation and waited for the occupiers to leave. From the mid-1970s onwards increased disatisfaction with French rule and with the limited power of the territory's elected representatives was also reflected in the formation of several new pro-independence groupings. Thus for the first time since Pouvanaa's section

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Tahiti is known as an attractive tourist destination. But tourism contributes only modestly to the French Polynesian economy, which is heavily dependent on French subsidies. (Photo: Karin von Strokirch) of the RDPT had called for 'Tahiti for the Tahitians and the French into the sea', political groups came into existence demanding independence for the territory. The la Mana Te Nunaa (Power to the People) party, which was founded by Jacqui Drollet in 1975, and which explicitly committed itself in 1978 to the goal of independence, was the most significant of the new groupings. la Mana campaigned for social reforms and denounced the 'elephant in a china shop' impact on the economy and society of the territory of the testing programme. It has called on the French government to work out and implement, in consultation and cooperation with the territorial authorities, a long-term plan whereby the economy of the territory would be put on a sound footing so as to permit a genuine economic independence, with testing meanwhile being phased out. In view of the territory's severe economic dependency, la Mana has accepted that the proposed period of adjustment and reconstruction would take ten or fifteen years, but is adamant that the French government, having been responsible for the disruptive effects of testing, should take full responsibility for ameliorating them and for creating a new and sustainable economic equilibrium. Because of its moderate policies and articulate leadership, la Mana has won some support both

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French funding gives French Polynesia a high average standard of living. But the wealth is not shared equally, and many Polynesians live in poor conditions. (Photo: Karin von Strokirch) in municipal elections and in elections to the assembly. It won three assembly seats in the 1982 elections, and repeated this success in 1985. The FLP (Front de Libération de Polynésie, or Tavini Huira'atira Polynesian Liberation Front) has assumed a more militant stance than the Ia Mana. The FLP was formed in 1975 by Oscar Temaru, who in 1983 became mayor of the poor, working-class municipality of Faa'a. In this municipality Tahiti's social and economic problems are most harshly reflected, and the urban poor are most aware of the contrast between their living conditions and those of the European, Chinese and Demi elites. The FLP has argued for an immediate transition to independence for Tahiti and its islands, along with the immediate cessation of nuclear testing. Against the argument that independence and the ending of testing would have catastrophic economic results, FLP spokespersons have emphasised the existing inequalities in the distribution of wealth; argued that testing involves definite and unacceptable risks; and contended that Polynesians would live with greater dignity, and in a more 'Pacific' style consistent with their heritage, in an independent state, despite a reduction in overall wealth. 58 In addition to the Ia Mana and the FLP, around seven smaller and

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more radical pro-independence groupings were formed in the 1970s and 1980s. These small parties included Tetua Mai's Tiamaraa a te Nunaa Maohi, which established a self-styled Maohi Provisional Government during 1982, 59 Charlie Ching's Te Taata Tahiti Tiama (Tahitian People's Independence Party); the Toto tupuna (Blood of our Ancestors) guerilla group, with which Ching had been associated; and the Pomare Party. This last grouping, which consists essentially of members of the Pomare family, has called for the restoration of that family to the throne and the establishment of an independent Tahitian monarchy. Some of these groups have clashed violently with the authorities. In 1972, for example, members of Charlie Ching's group raided the Papeete armoury, escaping with some small arms and ammunition, and later escaped from jail. In November 1977 Toto tupuna bombed the telephone exchange and then murdered a French businessman as he lay sleeping, leaving behind the message: 'We do not want any more Frenchmen in our country'. After their arrest and trial, members of the Toto tupuna helped spark a prison riot in which a warder was killed, and three others were injured.60 But the smaller pro-independence parties have gained the support of only a few dozen or at most a few hundred people, and have failed in efforts to get candidates elected to local councils and to the assembly. In the late 1970s the French government at last responded to the heightening of pro-autonomy pressures and to the reemergence of explicit pro-independence sentiments. In addition, the metropolitan government had received requests from Gaston Flosse on behalf of the conservative parties in the territory for reforms which would give the territorial government greater managerial responsibility.61 Under the statute of 1977, the French government established autonomie de gestion (autonomy of management) in French Polynesia. The autonomists responded positively, but in fact the new statute represented only a small advance on previous arrangements. It fell well short of the degree of internal self-government permitted under the loi cadre or 'blueprint law' for the French overseas possessions passed in the French Parliament in June 1956 and implemented in 1957. For the French African colonies, the loi cadre had been a stepping stone towards independence.62 However in both French Polynesia and New Caledonia these arrangements had been scaled back from late 1958 onwards, following their decisions in favour of remaining with France with the status of overseas territories. Under the new arrangements the title of Governor was changed to that of High Commissioner, while the position of Vice-President of the Council of Government was re-established. In addition to being the representative of France, with responsibility for all matters of state, the High Commissioner was to be the chief executive of the territory. But the VicePresident and his Council of Government

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henceforth took responsibility for the management of the narrow range of strictly territorial affairs, although they exercised power collegially rather than through the attribution of individual portfolios. The territory also was given jurisdiction over all areas not specifically listed as state or municipal responsibilities, instead of having its areas of responsibility spelt out, as previously had been the case. This reform embodied the potential to allow, over time, the accretion of territorial prerogatives. To permit the Council of Government greater freedom of action, the High Commissioner established the custom of not attending council meetings, even though he was ex-officio president of the council. Instead he sent the Secretary-General of the territory as his representative, but only to that part of the meetings at which the councillors discussed and offered opinions and advice on matters falling under the jurisdiction of the state. The new statute also broke the nexus which previously existed between the funding and the control of services. From now on it would be possible for the territory to assume control over an area of the administration, after having reached a contractual arrangement with the French state whereby funding would be supplied. 63 Once the limitations of the new statute had become clear, the autonomists renewed their campaign for greater autonomy. Sanford demanded a transfer of the position of chief executive from the High Commissioner to the VicePresident. In 1980, the campaign for greater autonomy attracted strong support from an unexpected quarter when Gaston Flosse, who had emerged in the 1970s as the leader of conservative, anti-autonomy opinion in the territory, changed tack and declared himself in favour of autonomy.64 Flosse was born on the outer island of Rikitea in the Gambier group in 1931. His parents were a French copra trader and a Polynesian woman from Mangareva Island. Mangareva, the largest of the Gambier group, was the first island in which the Catholic church had implanted itself. Flosse came from a poorer Demi family, rather than from one of the old, established Demi families of Papeete, but he lacked neither ability nor ambition. He began a career as a schoolteacher, but developed an interest in politics. He joined the Gaullist Union TahitienneUnion pour la Nouvelle République (UTUNR) party in 1958, and campaigned actively for a 'Yes' vote in the September 1958 referendum. After serving as the secretary of UTUNR leader Rudy Bambridge in the 1960s, he was first elected to the Territorial Assembly in 1967, and has been re-elected since. He assumed the leadership of the Union TahitienneUnion pour la Défense de la Republique (UTUDR) when it was established in August 1971, and subsequently became leader of the UTUDR's successor, the Tahoeraa Huira'atira, when it was established in May 1977. Even his critics concede that Flosse has impressive political skills. He has intelligence, presence and style, and a

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shrewd political sense. A gifted orator in both Tahitian and French, Flosse is able to move easily between the European and Polynesian cultural worlds, and to act as an intermediary between them. 65 During the late 1960s and 1970s conservative French Polynesians had downplayed concerns over testing while stressing the economic benefits associated with the testing programme. Meanwhile they denounced proposals for greater autonomy. In addition to stressing the territory's long and generally harmonious connections with France, they argued that greater autonomy would lead rapidly to independence. This outcome, they contended, would be catastrophic for the economic welfare and prospects of the territory because of the inevitable decline in levels of French funding. But in 1980 Flosse and the conservatives changed their stance. Whereas previously they had opposed autonomy, they henceforth favoured it. Flosse's critics accused him of opportunism, but his defenders claimed that instead he was merely reacting to changing circumstances. Previously, they argued, he had opposed autonomy because it had appeared, in the wake of the transition to independence by France's African colonies, as 'the antechamber to independence'.66 By around 1980, in contrast, it had become apparent that a considerably greater level of local autonomy, as well as being both possible and desirable, would in no way preclude continued close links with France. Instead, a degree of local autonomy was seen as an attractive compromise between the options of complete domination by France and complete independence. As table 5.4 illustrates, Flosse and the Tahoeraa Huiraatira party, campaigning on the new autonomy platform, won the largest percentage of votes in the 1982 elections. With 30 per cent of the vote, the Tahoeraa won thirteen seats, finishing well ahead of any other single party. Meanwhile their opponents suffered from their disunity. After the Tahoeraa, the next strongest performances were by the Here Ai'a, which gained 16 per cent of the vote and six seats, and by the Ai'a Api (New Land) party, which gained 11 per cent of the vote and three seats. This new party was formed shortly before the elections after a split in Francis Sandford's E'a Api. The moderate, pro-independence Ia Mana also won 11 per cent of the vote, and three seats. Once in government in a stable coalition with three independents, Flosse and his party welcomed the prospect of reforms to the statute by the French Socialist government which had won power the previous year. The adoption by Flosse and the Tahoeraa of a pro-autonomist position meant that a large majority of the territory's elected representatives now favoured autonomy, whereas only a small minority favoured independence. This crystallisation of a broad pro-autonomy consensus reflected and reinforced the reassertion of Tahitian identity which took place from the mid-1970s onwards, based on the Polynesian ancestry of the large majority of the population.

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Page 142 Table 5.4 French Polynesia: territorial elections, May 1982 Voters registered Valid votes (as % of voters)

Windwards

Leewards

63 316

10 958

43 224

8 670

68

79

Tuamotu/ Gambiers

Marquesas

Australs

4 666

2 897

2 873

84 710

3 580

2 464

2 244

60 182

85

78

77

Parties/seats Tahoeraa Huiraatira seats: Here Ai'a seats: Ai'a Api seats: la Mana seats: E'a Api seats: Taatira Polynesia seats: Minor parties/independents

Total votes

71 Total votes (and % valid votes)

12 366 6 6 484

2 299 2

1 566

901

655

3

1

1

1 950

3

2

4 999

495

2

1 017

Seats won

17 787 (30) 13 9 451 (16)

1 672

366

297

6 6 829 (11)

1

5 077

930

2

1

2 381

861

3

321

42

152

6 522 (11) 3

531

3 773 (6)

1

1

2 894

2 894 (5)

1 9 023

1 2 135

1 021

624

123

12 926 (21)

3

Total seats 30 Source: Institut territorial de la statistique 20 Ans de consultations electorales en Polynésie Française

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Page 143 Table 5.5 French Polynesia: ethnic composition, 1983 Group

Number

Maohis

Percentage

114 280

68.5

15 851

9.5

PolynesianChinese

6 356

3.8

Polynesianother

1 418

0.8

19 320

11.6

7 424

4.5

494

0.3

Demis: PolynesianEuropean

European Chinese EuropeanChinese Others

1 610

Total (total of all Demis total of all of Polynesian descent

1

166 753

100

23 625

14.2

137 905

82.7)

Source: 1983 Census, p. 67

The Reassertion of Tahitian Culure and Identity As the census figures in table 5.5 illustrate, extensive ethnic intermixing has taken place in French Polynesia. However the census categories in fact understate the degree of ethnic mixture. Apart from the small Chinese community, all of the locally born population is of mixed racial heritage. This results from two centuries of both intermarriage and of numerous informal liaisons. Nowadays as previously, many French settlers have Polynesian wives, and the educated elite of Demis are prominent in business and dominate politics and administration. Most of the Demis are of Euro-Polynesian ancestry, but Demis of Chinese-Polynesian ancestry also are present. It is not uncommon for Chinese businessmen to support both a Chinese wife and family and a Polynesian concubine and family. In view of this intermixing, the purported ethnic differences between Demis and the more 'traditional' Polynesians, who are known as 'Maohis', lack credibility. Instead, the distinctions between the two groups arise from different levels of education and of assimilation to French culture, along with associated differences in social class and economic interests. 67 But there is no clear boundary between the two groupings and the notion of Polynesian identity is generally inclusive of all those with some Polynesian ancestry. Apart from hostility towards the Chinese community, and some suspicion of and antagonism towards Europe-ans, sharp political/cultural discontinuities and inter-communal conflicts have mostly been absent, at least so far. The contrast with New Caledonia is striking. Indeed, racial and cultural intermixing in

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French Polynesia has been characterised as a means whereby the Polynesians have adjusted to new pressures and changing circumstances while preserving important aspects of their beliefs and life style. 68 The more 'traditional' Polynesians or Maohis, who comprise two-thirds of the overall population, are farmers, fishermen, urban workers, domestic servants or are unemployed. However they are well-represented in politics, especially at the municipal level. Table 5.6 below illustrates the level of participation by the ethnic groups in different occupations. Overall, although Europeans, Chinese and Demis predominate in business, the professions and the senior ranks of the public service, the Maohis also hold some middle-ranking administrative and supervisory positions. They are relatively less disadvantaged and more integrated into the cash economy than the Melanesians of New Caledonia, as a comparison between tables 3.3 and 5.6 illustrates. The trend to a reassertion of Tahitian identity seems to have been reflected in responses to census questions, although this evidence needs to be read with caution because of the varying motives of respondents in their responses to questions on their ethnic background and because of changes in the ethnic categories and in the methods of collection. At both the 1977 and 1983 censes, the combined total of people of Polynesian descent comprised just over 82 per cent of the total population. In 1977, 65 per cent of respondents identified themselves as Polynesians, and 17 per cent as Demis. In 1983, however, the percentage of respondents identifying themselves as Polynesians increased to 68 per cent, while the Demi component declined to 14 per cent.69 The older generation of Demis mainly emphasised their French (or other European) heritage, and took pride in their cultivation of French manners and customs. It was a mark of sophistication to speak an unaccented French, and in business and the administration, 'the less Polynesian you were, the better your chances of success'.70 Nowadays, in contrast, many members of the younger generation put renewed emphasis on their Tahitian roots. In the 1950s and 1960s several metropolitan-born Frenchmen played a leading part in the Territorial Assembly. But from May 1982, with the defeat in the assembly elections of Frantz Vanizette, metropolitans have only been sporadically present and have made little mark in the assembly.71 Instead, in a reflection of the new emphasis on the Polynesian heritage, locally born politicians have taken the lead. The Tahitian cultural reassertion was encouraged by territorial government initiatives, including the establishment of an impressive territorial museum, the Musée de Tahiti et des Îles and of the Te Anavaharau (the Polynesian Centre for Human Sciences).72 It also helped bring about and in turn was facilitated by changes in French policy. Until 1980, students had been forbidden to speak Tahitian at school,

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Page 145 Table 5.6 French Polynesia: participation in selected occupations by ethnic group % of pop'n Maohis

Demis

Europeans

Chinese

Others

68.5

14.2

11.6

4.5

1.2

Occupation Farmers

Total

Numbers (per cent of occupational group) 5091 (83.3)

759 (12.4)

80 (1.3)

173 (2.8)

9 (0.2)

6112

Agricultural workers

717 (83)

124 (14.3)

9 (1)

9 (1)

6 (0.7)

865

Shopkeepers

366 (23.1)

195 (12.3)

260 (16.4)

741 (46.7)

24 (1.5)

1586

23 (8.8)

14 (5.3)

178 (68)

39 (14.9)

8 (3)

262

151 (19.4)

74 (9.5)

525 (67.5)

18 (2.3)

10 (1.3)

778

43 (20.9)

54 (26.2)

31 (15)

5 (2.4)

206

Liberal professions Public servants (managerial level) Heads of enterprises with > ten employees

73 (35.44)

Foremen

364 (58.6)

53 (8.5)

166 (26.7)

20 (3.2)

18 (3)

621

Drivers

1307 (82.9)

182 (11.5)

23 (1.5)

55 (3.5)

10 (0.6)

1577

Unskilled workers

6911 (86.7)

824 (10.3)

113 (1.4)

96 (1.2)

31 (0.4)

7975

Source: 1983 Census, p. 117

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The leader of the Rani Aotea dance group performing at the Papeete sports stadium in May 1981. In the 1970s and 1980s interest in Polynesian traditions and culture revived, reinforcing demands for greater political autonomy. (Photo: AP/AAP) and had been chastised and punished if they did so. One method of punishment consisted of requiring the child to clean up the class room and wash room at the end of the day and to write 'I must not speak Tahitian' a hundred times. 73 Insistence on the French language reflected the uncompromisingly assimilationist approach up to that time of the French administration. From 1980, however, school students were permitted to speak Tahitian, and plans were gradually implemented for the use of Tahitian and the other indigenous Polynesian languages of the territory as the teaching medium in junior school. In addition, whereas previously the use of Tahitian in the media had been prohibited unless special permission was granted, from the early 1980s Tahitian segments began to appear in the print media and on radio and television. And in an important symbolic change, the territorial government was permitted to fly the flag of preannexation Tahiti, as a symbol of the territory,

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alongside the tricolour. Earlier, attempts by autonomists to fly the Tahitian flag during demonstrations had caused controversy. In an incident in 1970, for example, a gendarme had wrested the Tahitian flag from a demonstrator and trampled it on the ground. 74 This new 'bicultural' policy began to emerge from the late 1970s but became fully established when it was embodied in the new internal automy statute instituted in 1983. Under the new statute Tahitian joined French as an official language of the territory. Until the early 1980s Tahitian had only been used intermittently in the Territorial Assembly. But from mid-1982, after first the Ia Mana and then the Here Ai'a members insisted on speaking in Tahitian,75 it was accepted that Tahitian should henceforth be the dominant language for legislative discussion, although French is still employed, especially in technical areas where French has a richer vocabulary. In a related change, all the political parties in the territory began to operate under Tahitian names, whereas in the 1950s and 1960s they had used French names. The bicultural policy was intended to permit the people of the territory to express their distinctive identity in a manner not inconsistent with a continued commitment to the territory remaining part of France. Biculturalism was reaffirmed by the actions of Prime Minister Rocard when he visited the territory in August 1989 and was welcomed to the island of Raiatea. While on the island he visited the marae at Taputapuatea. This is the holy place at which, in pre-colonial times, the Polynesian navigators had worshipped before departing on their voyages of discovery and settlement to New Zealand, Hawaii and Easter Island. At Taputapuatea Rocard listened politely to speeches from local elders and officials in Tahitian, to which no general translation into French was supplied, before responding with a speech in French in which he stressed the importance of the Polynesian heritage and of the expression of Polynesian culture and identity.76 His words and his respectful demeanour could not have contrasted more with Governor Angeli's interruption of Pouvanaa at the opening of the Territorial Assembly in October 1972.

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6 French Polynesia, 1983-1990: Towards Independence in-Association? In late 1983 Georges Lemoine, the Minister for Overseas Departments and Territories in the French Socialist government, announced plans for a modest increase in local autonomy in both French Polynesia and New Caledonia. He proposed that after elections to be held in late 1984, the two governments would operate on a cabinet basis, with an elected President and full control over a limited range of subjects. In addition, the two territorial governments were to be permitted to take some part in regional affairs, subject to French government overview. In New Caledonia the nationalist movement rejected the proposals and blocked their implementation, obliging the French government to change its policy (chapter 4). But in French Polynesia the proposals won broad support. The division of powers between the metropolitan and territorial governments as applied in French Polynesia is set out in table 6.1. The proposed arrangements for New Caledonia differed by including some measures intended to mollify the Kanaks, notably by taking some account of regional identities and customary authority, but were essentially the same. Under the new French Polynesian statute, the modest powers granted to the territorial government were supplemented by provisions embodying some sharing of authority between the state and the territory. Thus the President of the territory could suggest the discussion and adoption of agreements in economic, scientific, technical or cultural areas with the governments and administrations of the South Pacific. The French government can also delegate responsibilities in these areas to the territorial government. Under these provisions, the Rocard government has permitted the territorial government to take a leading part in fisheries negotiations. The statute also set up a territorial credit consultative committee to advise on credit matters, gave the territorial government control over the administration of imports, and authorised it to approve foreign investment up to a limit of 80 million French francs. It also permitted the territorial government to take part in negotiations on international transport regarding French Polynesia, and to give temporary landing rights to charter operations. In addition

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Table 6.1 French Polynesia: 1984 'internal autonomy' statute The French Government retained power over all matters defined as relating to the sovereignty of the French state. These matters comprised: foreign relations, defence, international sea and air transport and communications, immigration, the currency and banking, external financial relations, public order, citizenship, civil and commercial law, the general principles of the labour code, justice, the state public service, the municipalities, university and scientific research, audiovisual communications, sovereignty, and property rights to the land, air and maritime domains. Shared responsibilities: However the allocation of powers above was modified by a general commitment to consult closely with the territorial government and by several specific provisions. These included, for example, the inclusion of territorial representatives in the negotiation of international agreements affecting the territory, and the possibility, so long as international agreements are respected, of the national government delegating control over natural resources to the territorial government. The Territorial Government received jurisdiction over all other matters, subject only to a posteriori judicial review. These territorial responsibilities included: agriculture, housing, public health and social security, primary and technical education, the territorial public service, the environment, labour, handicrafts, cultural affairs, tourism, sports, marine affairs, roads and other public works, energy, lands, town planning, territorial economy and finance, and regional development. Responsibility for internal posts and telecommunications, and for secondary education, which the state had assumed in the 1960s, was returned to the territory, with arrangements for metropolitan funding and staff support. (Junior secondary education was transferred at once, while senior secondary education was transferred in 1988). The territorial government was also granted the right to express a distinctive Tahitian identity, especially in the South Pacific region, by means of a flag and other symbols. Sources: Statut du Territoire de la Polynésie Française, law 84820 of 6 September 1984, Journal Officiel de la Polynésie Française, 8 September 1984. Jean Peres, 'L'evolution des institutions politiques. De Taiti à la Polynésie Française, (unpublished), June 1989. it gave the territorial government the responsibility for implementing the labour code. Under other provisions establishing a modest amount of power sharing, the new statute made it legally possible for the French government to grant to the territory the right of exploiting the territory's underground and marine resources, so long as international agreements were respected. In addition, the metropolitan government would henceforth also be obliged to inform and consult with the territorial government over measures taken to maintain public order. The territory would be permitted to establish its own tertiary education and research institutions. And the statute provided that metropolitan control over television and radio should be exercised with respect for Polynesian cultural identity and for territorial legislation. The people of French Polynesia were under no illusions that the new arrangements gave them more than a modest degree of control

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over the territory's internal affairs. Those subjects defined as pertaining to French sovereignty covered a wide area, and included control over the territory's economy and external affairs. Moreover, as in New Caledonia, the statute was just another in a succession of statutes. It had been brought into being by a simple act of parliament, and could be abolished and replaced just as easily. 1 Yet in a symbolic and psychological sense, the statute confirmed the territory's right to express several of the attributes of sovereignty. It did so by making the President of the territory rather than the High Commissioner the chief executive of the territory, by giving the territorial government full jurisdiction over its areas of responsibility, subject only to subsequent judicial review, by confirming the territory's right to fly its own flag and to assert its linguistic and cultural identity, and by permitting the President of the territory to take some part in South Pacific affairs. In addition, in response to French Polynesian representations, the French government had accepted that the statute would be evolutionary, and would be subject to review and revision at regular intervals. Accordingly the statute was accepted as a step forward which permitted increased local control over territorial affairs and allowed the expression of a distinct identity. Flosse's Tahoeraa party is aligned with the Gaullist RPR in France. He and his party had strongly attacked the policies of the French Socialist government which held power from 198186. They had denounced its handling of New Caledonia, expressing concern during the disturbances of 19845 over the welfare of the several thousand French Polynesians resident there, and especially those in the small east coast mining village of Thio. But they had also welcomed the openings and opportunities offered by the new internal autonomy arrangements, both to exercise more power locally and to project a heightened French Polynesian profile. For the first two years after the implementation, from late 1984, of the new autonomy statute, Flosse was on the crest of a wave. He was unchallenged as the dominant figure in French Polynesian politics, and his position was consolidated when the Tahoeraa won victory in the elections in March 1986. It gained 40 per cent of the vote and 22 of the 41 assembly seats, the assembly having been expanded from 30 members to 41 under the new statute. For the first time since Pouvanaa's RDPT had held office in its own right after the 1957 elections, at least until its fragmentation, a single party held the majority without requiring support from minor parties or independents. The main results of the election are shown in table 6.2 below. After the Tahoeraa, the next strongest performances were from Here Ai'a, now led by the mayor of Papeete, Jean Juventin, since the death by accident of John Teariki in October 1983, and from the Amuitahiraa No Porinesia (Union pour la Polynésie: Union for Polynesia) party. The Amuitahiraa was a loose coalition of prominent individuals

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Page 151 Table 6.2 French Polynesia: territorial elections, March 1986 Windwards Leewards Tuamotu/Gambiers Registered voters Valid votes (as % of voters)

Marquesas Australs Total votes

77 509

12 949

5 766

3 919

3 524

53 950

10 302

4 511

3 076

2 653

70

80

78

78

75

Parties/seats Tahoeraa Huiraatira seats: Here Ai'a seats: Amuitahira'a No Polynesiaa seats: Ia Mana seats: Tavini Huiraatara (FLP) seats: Minor parties/independents seats:

103 667 74 492 72 Total vote (per cent valid vote)

19 813

4 714

9

5

8 522

877

2 037 4

2 184

1 133

2

2

141

829

4

29 881 (40) 22 10 369 (14)

1

10 094

1 884

4

1

4 410

1 165

2

1

4 547

76

144

373

Seats won

5 12 495 (16.8) 5

327

104

128

6 134 (8.2) 3

127

20

4 770 (6.4)

2

2

6 564

1 586

1

1

1 735 1

788 1

170

10 843 (14.6) 4 Total seats: 41

Note: a This party was a loose coalition of pro-autonomy centrists, assembled for electoral purposes. Despite its strong showing in the elections, it has not endured. Soon after the elections, in April 1986, its successful candidate from the Leeward Islands, Taratua 'Toro' Teriirere, shifted his allegiance to the Tahoeraa. When the Tahoeraa split in December 1988, he henceforth sat with the Te Tiarama group of former Tahoeraa members. By mid1989, after other changes, two of the assembly representatives elected on the Amuitahira'a list, Tinoma Ebb and Emile Vernaudon, formed part of the majority, with Vernaudon in the ministry. Meanwhile the other two successful Amuitahira'a candidates, Jacques Graffe and Quito Braun-Ortega, were members of the opposition, although BraunOrtega earlier had served for some months as one of Léontieff's ministers. Sources: Journal Officiel de la Polynésie Française 11 February 1986; La Dépêche de Tahiti 17 March 1986; information from the Territorial Assembly and the Territorial Statistical Institute.

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and their own parties assembled just before the elections. It had adopted a centrist, pro-autonomy platform. Its leading figures were Émile Vernaudon, who had left the E'a Api in March 1982 to form the Ai'a Api (terres nouvelles: new land) party; Quito Braun-Ortega, a prominent businessman; Tinomana Ebb, a former vice-president of Here Ai'a who had left that party in January 1985 after a power struggle with Jean Juventin, and had formed his own Te Aratia o te Nuna'a (The Voice of the People) party; and the independent Jacqui Graffe, whose support was organised into the Polynesia no Ananahi party. 2 Although Tahoeraa had performed strongly, it had also benefited from the skewed apportionment of votes whereby the sparsely populated outer islands were relatively over-represented. Thus as of early 1986, in the most populous of the electoral subdivisions, which comprised Tahiti and the other Windward Islands, there was one seat per 3500 electors. But in the other four electoral subdivisions (Leeward Islands, Tuamotu-Gambiers, Marquesas and Australs), the average number of electors per seat ranged between 1000 and 1600.3 Because of these imbalances, the Tahoeraa gained 54 per cent of the seats in the March 1986 elections on the basis of 40 per cent of the vote, winning one seat for each 1360 of the votes it received. In contrast, to give one example, the Tavini Huiraatira (FLP), support for which was highly concentrated in the Windward Islands, gained 6 per cent of the vote but only 5 per cent of the seats, winning one seat for each 2385 of its voters. This inequitable apportionment of seats in part takes account of the isolation and disadvantages of the outer island communities, and particularly the travel and communications difficulties faced by their elected representatives. However since these communities are mostly conservative and pro-French, political motives may also have contributed to the framing of the electoral system by the French government. In addition the opposition parties lacked the funds to campaign strongly in the outer areas, whereas since coming to power in May 1982, Flosse had won prestige by his numerous official visits throughout the far-flung territory. But although Flosse and the Tahoeraa had these advantages, it was also true that the various opposition groupings were disadvantaged by the personal and other rivalries which prevented them from presenting a united front. Flosse's stocks rose even higher because of the victory of Jacques Chirac and the RPR in France in the March 1986 French national elections, which were held simultaneously with the territorial elections. In the national poll Flosse and a Tahoeraa colleague were elected as the territory's deputies to the French Parliament. Prime Minister Chirac appointed Flosse as a junior minister with the portfolio of South Pacific affairs, creating the anomaly whereby a minister in the French government had his main office not in Paris but in Papeete. Earlier, Flosse had been elected, in June 1984, as one of France's deputies to

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the European Parliament. Never before had a French Polynesian politician risen so high. Flosse carried out his diverse duties with diligence and pride, but pride came before a fall. His ministerial and European parliamentary duties obliged him to spend long periods outside the territory, and he was unable to retain control over a volatile local situation. Members of his own party as well as his opponents complained of his at times autocratic style. He also engaged in rivalry with a local businessman, Enrique 'Quito' Braun-Ortega. When Flosse authorised the import of cement from Korea, pointing out that it cost less, his critics claimed that his real aim was to undercut the importation of cement from New Zealand by the family company of which Braun-Ortega was the chairman. But the rivalry proved costly for Flosse. Quito Braun-Ortega became a bitter and effective opponent, and their quarrel contributed to the industrial unrest among the dockers which led to Flosse's eventual loss of power. 4 Allegations also circulated of mismanagement by Flosse and his ministers. The establishment of the new territorial government had immediately visible results in the refurbishment of government offices and the appointment of friends and associates as advisers and aides. But critics questioned why the apparent benefits of the new dispensation were not being spread more widely, and why rising social problems and tensions were not being addressed more promptly. In addition, concern was expressed about alleged corruption within the Flosse administration. Charges and counter-charges of maladministration and corruption are frequent in French Polynesian politics, and the evidence is difficult to sift and decipher. French Polynesian society is small-scale. Personal and family links are strong; the granting of jobs, contracts and favours to relatives and friends is widely practised, especially at the municipal level; and political careers are founded on the ability to provide patronage. In the absence of a strong sense of civic consciousness, and with effective means of fiscal and administrative control lacking, a certain amount of corruption is taken for granted by most voters. Flosse's critics contend, however, that during his administration corruption developed on a new scale, with opportunists taking advantage of the influx of funds and of the new powers associated with the implementation of the internal autonomy statute. Flosse himself was subject to allegations, some of which have led to judicial proceedings. The allegations made included that he had misused public resources by arranging for the public works department to construct an access road and a retaining wall intended primarily to improve the value of a property he owns in a scenic valley near Papeete. As of late 1990, a couple of these cases were yet to be resolved.5 In January 1987, in response to murmurings within his own party, but ostensibly because of a clash between his ministerial and territorial

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duties, Flosse relinquished the presidency of the territory. However instead of this position going to the contender with the strongest claims, Alexandre Léontieff, Flosse handed it to his trusted lieutenant Jacky Teuira. Many observors assumed that Teuira's task was merely to keep the presidential seat warm until Flosse was ready to return to it. A further blow to Flosse's standing came on 23 October 1987, when a major riot took place in Papeete, leading to the declaration of a state of emergency. The riot, which left central Papeete looking like a war zone, began when paramilitary police set out to break up a picket line manned by dock workers who had been occupying the dock area for several weeks. The incident followed over a year of industrial trouble over plans to reduce the number of Tahitian dockers unloading cargo at Moruroa. The striking dockers were supported by unemployed young men in a battle with police. The police forces, which were concentrated in the dock area, were outflanked by the crowd, and the disturbances spread through the central business area on the harbour front, with looters quick to take advantage. 6 Several dozen shops and businesses were damaged or looted, and eight buildings were destroyed by fire, at an estimated cost of several million Australian dollars. At the time of the riot, Flosse was in France where, in his role as Secretary of State for the South Pacific, he was escorting a group of South Pacific politicians and officials on an official tour. He flew back at once, but in the weeks that followed was unable to prevent the emergence of an open split in the Tahoeraa. The crisis came to a head in the first week of December, with fifteen defectors from Tahoeraa uniting with other assembly members to form a bloc of 29 opposed to the Tahoeraa government. Most members of this bloc rallied round Alexandre Léontieff, who formed a government on 10 December.7 The new government represented a spectrum of parties united mainly by their wish for power, by their dislike of Gaston Flosse, by personal associations which cut across party divisions, and to some extent by membership of a younger generation of leadership. As well as the Tahoeraa dissidents, who later regrouped into the Te Tiarama (The Torch) party, the new government was supported by the five assembly members of the centre-left Here Ai'a, and by the three representative of the moderate, proindependence Ia Mana. Léontieff is known for his technocratic style and lacks Flosse's public relations skills, while his new government covered a broad span of the ideological spectrum in the territory. Te Tiarama, which is more moderate and pragmatic than Tahoeraa, is a centre-right party. Meanwhile the Here Ai'a is centre-left, and Ia Mana is moderately left-wing and pro-independence. Many people, including some of the ministers in the new government, doubted whether the coalition could hold together for more than a few

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months. But in a confidence vote in April 1988, and despite shifting patterns of allegiance within the assembly, the Léontieff government had its mandate reaffirmed. Léontieff won by 23 votes to 16, with one abstention and one assembly member, Flosse himself, absent. 8 The government retained the support of some 23 assembly members, while the opposition continued to number around 16. For their part, the two Tavini Huiratiraa (FLP) representatives held themselves aloof from both government and opposition. Meanwhile, the party system in the territory continued to be fluid and much affected by personal rivalries and loyalties. Table 6.3 provides details on the main political parties as of 1989. The parties supporting the new government consolidated their position with a strong showing in the municipal elections in March 1989. By the end of 1990, despite some tensions, the government had held together for three years. Its members had been kept united by their common interest in holding power; by their antagonism towards Flosse, whose party remained the major force in the opposition; and by the relative unimportance and fluidity of ideological distinctions in the territory. It remained to be seen, however, whether this diverse coalition would be able to hold together at the territorial elections due in March 1991 (see Postscript). Léontieff and his colleagues had sought to project an image of being good managers, better able than the flamboyant Flosse to cope with the territory's social and economic difficulties.9 These problems are so serious that some observers have suggested that French Polynesia could face a graver future over the next few years than New Caledonia, despite the bitter divisions in that territory. New Caledonia at least has some potential for economic self-reliance, based on nickel and other minerals, and supplemented by agriculture, grazing, and tourism. In contrast, French Polynesia has a chronically dependent economy, meagre economic potential, and severe social problems. These differences between the two territories are consistent with the contrast between the larger, relatively resource-rich islands of Melanesia and Fiji and the smaller, resource-poor islands of Polynesia.10 France spends over $A 1000 million annually in the territory. This is more than twice as much as in New Caledonia, although French Polynesia's population of 189 000 is only slightly larger than New Caledonia's population of 164 000. Of course much of the extra spending is linked directly or indirectly to the testing programme. Because of substantial French funding the territory's per capita GDP is higher than New Zealand's, and much higher than that of its independent Pacific island neighbours, although this high average obscures sharp social inequalities.11 Apart from its isolated testing sites, which make it a 'strategic asset' to France, French Polynesia lacks the resources and potential to cover the costs of its present services and infrastructure, or to sustain

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Page 156 Table 6.3 Main political parties in French Polynesia, 1989 Seats in Territorial Party/leader

History/policies

Social/regional base

Assembly (out of 41)

Te Tiarama (The Torch) Alexandre Léontieff

Formed by dissidents from Tahoeraa Huiraatira in December 1987. Centre-right. Favours autonomy but with strong links with France. Technocratic and managerial in orientation.

Believed to have reasonable geographical coverage. Its leading figures performed well in the March 1989 municipal elections, but at time of writing the party had not yet been tested in a Territorial Assembly election.

11

Tahoeraa Huiraatira (Rally of the People) Gaston Flosse

Formed in 1977 as the successor to the Union TahitienneUnion pour la Défense de la République (UTUDR), which in turn had replaced, in 1971, the earlier Gaullist formation, Union TahitienneUnion pour la Nouvelle République (UTUNR). The UTUNR, was formed in 1958 as the successor to the Union Tahitienne, which was founded in 1956. Conservativefavours autonomy but with strong links with France. More pro-business and less technocratic in orientation than Te Tiarama.

Demis and Europeans. Elements of Maohi community, especially Catholics and outer islanders. Territory-wide coverage.

10

Here Ai'a (Patriots' Party) Jean Juventin

Founded in February 1965 as successor to the RDPT (Pouvanaa). Centre-left. Favours substantial local autonomy and socio-economic reforms. Strong reservations about nuclear testing.

Elements of Demi and Chinese communities. Protestant Maohis. Windward Islands. (Incorporates Taatiraa, a Chinese-based reformist party).

5

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Page 157 (table continued from previous page) Ia Mana te Nunaa (Power to the People) Jacques Drollett

Founded 1976, DemocraticSocialist. Opposed to nuclear testing, and Demis and Maohis. favours transition to independence over phase of several years during Windward and Leeward islands. which the economy should be developed to compensate for the cessation of the economic contribution of testing.

3

Tavini Huira'atira (Serving the People) Oscar Temaru

Founded as the Front de Libération de.la Polynésie (FLP-Liberation Maohis, especially the poor. Front of Polynesia) in 1977. Calls for early independence, the immediate Windward Islands. ending of testing, the protection and reinvigoration of traditional values and culture, and the return of alienated land to the Maohis. Sits with neither the majority nor the opposition in the assembly.

2

Te E'a no Maohi Nu i (The way of the Great Maohi) Daniel Millaud

Formed in August 1985 as successor to the pro-autonomy E'a Api, which was founded in 1965. Favours French Polynesia becoming an 'associated state' of France.

Demis. Windward Islands.

1

Ai'a Api (New Land) Emile Vernandon

Founded in May 1982 as offshoot of E'a Api. Populist and centrist, favouring large degree of autonomy.

Demis and Maohis. Windward Islands, especially Mahina municipality

1

Te Aratia o te Nuna'a (The Voice of the People) Tinomana 'Milou' Ebb

Founded in January 1985 as offshoot of Here Ai'a after a power struggle between Ebb and Here Ai'a president Jean Juventin. Pro-autonomy.

Demis and Maohis. Windward Islands, especially Teva-I-Uta municipality (Mataiea district)

1

Others: The remaining parties, which hold the remaining 7 seats, are based exclusively on individual personalities. Source: Encyclopédie; Bulletin du Gouvernement

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present standards of living. Seabed mining could one day bring in good returns, but will not be feasible and commercially viable until early next century, if then. It also would require massive investment, so that the most that French Polynesia could expect would be modest rents on the exploitation of these resources, rather than direct and substantial profits. 12 Compared with the neighbouring Polynesian countries, French Polynesia has grave social problems: slum areas fringe the capital of Papeete, and poverty, prostitution and petty crime are present. Sharp inequalities in the distribution of wealth exist. Unemployment rates are high, and employment prospects for young people are poor.13 The tensions in French Polynesian society were reflected in both the hotel strike and riots of late 1983 and the rioting of October 1987. Yet despite these problems, the French position remains strong. France contained autonomist and pro-independence pressures in the 1940s and 1950s, at times by dubious means. In the September 1958 referendum 64 per cent of the participants voted for the territory to remain part of the French Republic (see chapter 5). Special programmes, initiated in response to the late 1987 rioting, are providing extra jobs and more public housing. During his August 1989 visit to the territory, Prime Minister Rocard pledged that his government would provide 2000 new apartments each year.14 Further measures to alleviate social problems are being implemented, including the improvement of facilities, services and employment opportunities in the outer islands in order to discourage urban drift and to encourage internal migrants to return home. These initiatives seem to be having some success. The people of the territory generally regard their pride in their Polynesian heritage as compatible with close connections between the territory and France. Interviewed shortly after he came to power, territorial president Léontieff declared that 'my country is France and French Polynesia', and said that he remained convinced that the territory should remain French.15 Only five of the 41 members of the Territorial Assembly take a clear anti-nuclear and pro-independence stance, and only some 15 per cent of the electorate has voted for parties which unequivocally support independence and oppose nuclear testing. In the March 1986 Territorial Assembly elections, the moderate, pro-independence Ia Mana won 8.2 per cent of the vote, and the more militant FLP won 6.4 per cent, while the other, minor pro-independence parties won a few hundred votes between them. In the previous assembly elections in May 1982, the nine pro-independence groups contesting the poll won 15 per cent of the vote.16 But concern over testing is more widespread. The Protestant Church, which is adhered to by about half of the overall population, and by a larger percentage of those of Polynesian descent, is strongly opposed to testing. Yet most Polynesians are also conscious of the additional funds that flow to the territory as a result of the

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A demonstration against nuclear testing and in favour of independence in Papeete in December 1990. The pro-independence, anti-nuclear parties gained around 15 per cent of the vote in the 1981 and 1986 elections. Only a minority of French Polynesians favour independence and the ending of the nuclear tests, in large part because of the heavy French subsidies to the territory. (Photo: Karin von Strokirch) testing programme. They generally accept the argument that it is only French spending which has permitted infrastructure and services to attain a higher standard than in neighbouring independent states. This viewpoint was summed up by Pouvanaa's successor, John Teariki, in his comment that 'the people want independence, but how would they live?' 17 The Léontieff government has taken a cautious stance. Léontieff and his fellow members of Te Tiarama, the largest party in the coalition, are moderate conservatives who favour the continuation of close links with France. The government's Ia Mana members, despite their commitment to the eventual independence of the territory, have been constrained by the need to keep the coalition together. The government has called on France to invest more funds to improve French Polynesia's economic self-reliance, in a long-term programme to prepare for when testing is wound down.18 While favouring the eventual cessation of testing, this stance also accepts that it will continue for some time yet, and assumes that a high level of French aid should continue. Towards Independence-in-Association? Despite testing, Tahiti and its islands retain an idyllic popular image. But some French observers are concerned by the potential for

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heightened racial tensions in a society formerly presented, notwithstanding some underlying tensions, as a model of pluri-ethnic harmony. They are equally apprehensive about the potential for increased strikes, riots, disturbances, gang violence and crime, and possibly also for violence by some of the tiny but ultra-militant radical parties which operate on the fringe of the political system. And they lack confidence that France can do more than merely alleviate some of the symptoms of the underlying problems. In the longer term, French Polynesia's social and economic problems could strengthen anti-testing and proindependence pressures. In New Caledonia, France has a political ballast in the form of a majority settler population. Such a ballast does not exist in French Polynesia, where Maohis form the large majority. They are also economically disadvantaged, relative to the European, Chinese and Demi segments of the population. So the nationalist movement, which already has a sound base and some capable leaders, could grow rapidly in strength in certain circumstances. However the Rocard and successor governments could go a considerable way in response to demands for greater autonomy and/ or independence, while maintaining the testing programme. Only a small minority of the electorate supports complete independence for the territory, but a large majority favours increased local autonomy and an evolution in the territory's relations with France in the direction of a form of associated statehood. On 16 June 1989 Alexandre Léontieff, in his capacity as one of the territory's two deputies, warned the French Parliament that France's ignorance of the special characteristics of the territory had re-awoken demands for independence. Earlier that month, he said that his government favoured a very advanced form of internal autonomy within the French Republic, under arrangements giving French Polynesia 'all the advantages of independence, without . . . the disadvantages'. 19 During the mid-1980s the then President of the territory, Gaston Flosse, proposed that French Polynesia's constitutional status should become like that of the Cook Islands, which is a sovereign state in 'free association' with New Zealand. This idea had been floated earlier by autonomist leader Francis Sanford. While visiting New Zealand in late 1980 he commented that 'No nation can be completely independent. We are among the least of the smallest with 140 000 people. We have no minerals to exploitnothing except the name of Tahiti for tourism.' Accordingly, he said, the issue was selfsufficiency, with the aim being self-government in association with France, in an arrangement similar to those between New Zealand and the Cook Islands and Niue.20 As a state in 'free association' with New Zealand, the Cook Islands has an independent international identity and full local self-government, the right to proceed to full independence should it wish to do so, and a New Zealand commitment to provide aid and guarantee its defence.

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Cook Islanders retain New Zealand citizenship and full immigration rights into New Zealand, but their government controls and tightly restricts settlement in the Cooks by mainland New Zealanders. Few French Polynesians would regard the Cook Islands 'model' as a blueprint for French Polynesia, but it is nonetheless seen as embodying useful ideas. Pressures for greater autonomy have been further encouraged by uncertainties over the implications for French Polynesia of the economic integration of France into Europe from 1992. They agree on little else, but almost all leaders and parties in the territory have been as one in expressing concerns. They fear that, since French Polynesia is constitutionally part of France, European economic integration, involving the removal of barriers to the free movement of people and funds, could open the door wide open to European immigrants and investors, squeezing locals out of jobs and opportunities. Similar concerns have been expressed by the nationalist movement in New Caledonia, 21 but the issue has become especially prominent in French Polynesia. French officials regard local concerns over the implications for French Polynesia of European economic integration as exaggerated and unrealistic. In the past, France has been able to control immigration. A territorial law dating to 1932 has hitherto given the French administration extensive powers over entry and residence, even by French nationals.22 In addition Article 31 of the 1984 statute makes it obligatory for the French authorities to consult the government of the territory on immigration and on the control of expatriate residents. And as part of revisions to the statute which became law in July 1990, a stateterritory consultative committee was set up to review immigration questions. French officials believe that ways can be found for restrictions to continue, whether by law or informally through special administrative arrangements. They also doubt that, given language and cultural differences and the costs involved, large numbers of Europeans from elsewhere than France suddenly would be able to come and settle in Tahiti. This view ignores the fact that only a few thousand new arrivals could have an appreciable impact, given that the population is only some 190 000. Concerns in the territory about the implications of European economic integration are strong in part because the French government is inclined to overlook the interests and views of the territory's inhabitants and to put French metropolitan interests first when negotiating international agreements. Acceptable compromises will probably be worked out, but nonetheless the immigration issue is likely to remain important in territorial politics into the 1990s. Nonetheless French willingness to respond to some extent to Tahitian aspirations was shown in late 1989. At that time, following a review of the operation of autonomy in the territory in the five years since the

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implementation of the new statute in 1984, and after consultation with the Territorial Assembly, the French government initiated legislation to modernise the statute. The changes followed earlier minor adjustments in 1985 and 1987. Rather than proposing dramatic changes, the legislation was intended to improve some aspects of the 1984 arrangements and to increase, to some extent, the territory's prerogatives. These modifications became law in July 1990. The territory assumed fuller powers over direct foreign investment, was granted greater budgetary control, and received control, subject to some conditions, over the exploration and exploitation of seabed, marine and subterranean resources. The territorial government's prerogatives in its external relations in the South Pacific were slightly expanded. As noted above, a stateterritorial consultative committee was set up to review immigration and foreign residence questions. To reduce clashes of jurisdiction, some of the powers of the assembly were redefined, and consultative councils were set up in the outer islands to facilitate consultation and planning in relation to their development. 23 Pressures on the French government to gradually enlarge the extent of internal autonomy can be expected to continue. This is so because of the inevitable tensions that arise between the metropolitan and territorial governments over areas where their jurisdictions overlap, and because the large majority of the population now favours a gradual expansion of internal autonomy, while a small but active minority favours independence. But for so long as France remains committed to retaining its overseas domains in general and to conducting nuclear tests in French Polynesia in particular, any French government is likely to resist the extension of autonomy beyond certain limits, and to ensure that control over external relations, defence and the overall management of the economy remains firmly in metropolitan hands. If France fails to manage and defuse metropolitan/territorial tensions and differences, partition, along the lines of the splitting-off of Mayotte from the Comores in the Indian Ocean, could become a possibility.24 The people of the isolated Marquesas archipelago, hundreds of kilometres to the north-east of Tahiti, are culturally distinct from the Tahitians. Marquesans can understand Tahitian, in part because of the use of Tahitian by the churches and the presence of Tahitian television and radio programmes, but the reverse is not true. Many Marquesans resent what they regard as the relative neglect of their archipelago, have mixed feelings about Tahitians, and express strongly pro-French sentiments, in part so as to help ensure a continuing flow of French funding for services and infrastructure.25 In December 1972, at a meeting of the mayors of the Marquesas to mark the visit to French Polynesia of DOM-TOM Secretary of State Xavier Deniau, the Marquesan spokesperson, Guy Rauzy, said that no matter what happened in the other archipelagos of French Polynesia, the Marquesas would never choose greater autonomy than that embodied

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in the recently expanded municipal government system. If it became necessary, he added, the Catholic Marquesas would demand the freedom to remain French. Around the same time the Mayor of Nuka Hiva, the largest island in the Marquesas, said that he would welcome the shifting of testing to the island group, provided that the safety of the population was assured, because of the economic benefits involved. The proposed testing site would be the remote, uninhabited island of Eiao in the north-east of the archipelago. The tests would take place underground, with an airstrip and other support facilities being built on Nuka Hiva. 26 In September 1980 the Mayor of the Marquesan municipality of Ua Pou reacted to a dispute between the local community and the Tahitian headmaster of the local school by claiming that unless the headmaster was replaced with someone from metropolitan France, Ua Pou would demand its independence from Tahiti.27 In the early 1980s Marquesan politicians created a stir by insisting on addressing the Territorial Assembly in Marquesan, which was incomprehensible to all the non-Marquesans present, rather than in French or Tahitian. The Marquesan regional party, Guy Rauzy's Union Marquisienne (Marquesan Union), supported territorial participation in the European elections in July 1989.28 In contrast, most of the other parties boycotted or stood aloof from the elections in an effort to demonstrate their concerns over the implications for the territory of European economic integration. Various rumours have circulated in French Polynesia as to the possible future for the Marquesas should the territory become independent. One version is that the Marquesas would stay part of France and would become the new locale for the tests, with the testing site on Eiao.29 Another is that the tests would continue at Moruroa and Fangataufa, under an agreement with the newly independent government of French Polynesia, but with the headquarters of the programme shifted to the Marquesas. Indeed, because of the roughly triangular nature of the locations of Tahiti, the two testing atolls, and the Marquesas, administering the tests from the Marquesas would involve little by way of extra travelling time and expense (see map 6). Contingency planning seems to have taken place in relation to the Marquesas, although according to one report the geological structure of the island of Eiao was found to be unsuitable for testing.30 But partition, to the extent that it figures in French planning at all, probably would be regarded as a last resort, in part because of the adverse international publicity it would stimulate. Presumably France would prefer reaching a settlement involving the maintenance of a strong French presence throughout all of French Polynesia. Meanwhile, territorial politicians are likely to remain strongly conscious of the economic weakness of the territory and of the importance to it of a substantial inflow of French funds. Accordingly, a possible longer-term outcome could be a form of independence-in-association permitting testing after 'independence' in return for a

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guarantee of continued funding. Such an arrangement could be facilitated because in 1964 the Permanent Commission of the Territorial Government, which is charged with handling government business between sessions of the Territorial Assembly, ceded possession of the testing sites to the French state. 31 Admiral Henri Fages, formerly the director of the nuclear testing centre in French Polynesia, has remarked that 'I feel that a number of the political leaders [of French Polynesia] would be ready to negotiate a long-term lease of the testing-site'.32 Moreover, the development of transport and communications facilities on Moruroa, Fangataufa and Hao33 has made it feasible to mount the tests directly from France, without the necessity of administrative and other support from Papeete. This capability was underlined in late 1987 when President Mitterrand, to the irritation of the Tahitians, travelled to the testing sites via Hao, and then returned to France, again via Hao, without stopping over in Tahiti.

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7 France's Nuclear Testing Programme In French Polynesia, the testing programme is accepted only with reservations. But in France, the nuclear deterrent and nuclear testing are supported across the political spectrum, from the National Front on the right to the Communistsalthough with reservationson the left. In the 1960s, de Gaulle's decisions to push ahead with the creation of an independent French nuclear deterrent, and to take France out of NATO, were well-received. The parties of the Left opposed nuclear defence in the 1960s and the early 1970s. But from the late 1970s the decision by Mitterrand and the Socialist Party to support nuclear defence helped pave the way for the eventual return of the Left to power in 1981. Despite the heavy costs involved, nuclear defence has been seen in France as a cheaper, and more effective, alternative to massively expensive conventional defence. And the military forms a powerful lobby group, which parliaments and governments are reluctant to challenge. Moreover France, a country with fossil fuel resources which are limited and difficult to exploit, responded to the oil price rise in 1973 by embracing nuclear power for civil as well as military purposes. In March 1974, the French government decided to 'embark on the world's most ambitious civil nuclear programme'. 1 By early 1979 nine nuclear power stations were in operation, with another thirteen under construction or at the planning stage. In addition France was contributing to the construction of power stations at Vandellos in Spain and at Tihanges in Belgium.2 The French government reportedly also considered establishing nuclear power stations in the territories of French Polynesia and New Caledonia as a cheaper alternative to hydroelectric and oil-funded systems, but did not pursue this idea.3 By the early 1980s the network of nuclear power stations in metropolitan France was providing over half of the electricity supply.4 The view of the French government is that its independent nuclear deterrent is both essential to France's security and a significant contribution to international nuclear deterrence. President Mitterrand argues that peace depends not on pacifism but on the balance of forces.5

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French Prime Minister Michel Rocard addressing the National Press Club in Canberra during his August 1989 visit to Australia, Fiji, and the French Pacific territories. Rocard reaffirmed France's commitment to its independent nuclear deterrent and to the nuclear testing programme in French Polynesia. (Photo: Department of Foreign Affairs >and Trade) While in Australia in August 1989, in a speech to members of the Australian Parliament, Prime Minister Rocard said that 'Having been invaded three times in less than a century, France cannot entrust her security to anyone else. That is why my country has built an independent deterrent.' 6 Australian listeners had to think twice before they realised that Rocard had in mind, not only the two world wars, but also the Franco-Prussian war of 187071. A French listener would have understood at once. In 187071 the Prussians humiliated the French armies within a few weeks, before occupying northern France and laying siege to Paris. In 191418 the enemy again occupied northern France. Of the 8 million Frenchmen mobilised in the First World War, 1.3 million were killed and nearly 1 million crippled in the horror of trench warfare. In the summer of 1940, Germany vanquished France. The Germans occupied much of the country and put the remainder under a puppet regime. De Gaulle's Free French forcesand not least the islander

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and settler volunteers from France's Pacific coloniescontinued the fight, but many prominent Frenchmen came to terms with the invader. Since the end of the Second World War the Soviet Union, not Germany, has comprised the threat from the east, even if the sense of danger has lessened since the late 1980s in response to Mikhail Gorbachev's disarmament initiatives and to reform in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe. Yet because of deep-seated anxieties, combined with a fierce national pride which at times degenerates into chauvinism, de Gaulle's notion of an independent nuclear deterrent retains wide support in France. The deterrent is seen as the ultimate guarantee of French security, and as the preferable alternative to relying on the United States to provide nuclear defence. Until the waning of the Soviet presence in Europe and the decline of Soviet conventional military credibility from the late 1980s, President Mitterrand consistently expressed concern about Soviet power in Europe. He also supported the Reagan and Bush administrations in their commitments to European security and in their cautious approach to Soviet initiatives. 7 In the early 1980s, Mitterrand fully supported the deployment of intermediate-range nuclear missiles (the 'Euro-missile') in Europe, as a counter to the SS-20 missiles earlier deployed by the Soviet Union. This stance aroused little domestic opposition in France, in part because, as a result of France's 1966 exclusion of NATO bases from France, none of the new missiles were to be sited on French soil.8 In addition, France's possession of its own nuclear deterrent makes it a member of the select 'nuclear club'. This membership underwrites the world power status it attains through permanent membership of the United Nations Security Council. This privilege was achieved, rather artificially, because 'Free France' was one of the victor powers in the Second World War. Admiral Henri Fages has commented, after noting that France rates as the third-ranking nuclear power, that France's possession of nuclear weaponry 'is a trump card in the exercise of our international responsibilities'.9 World power status is important to France's self-image. France was the leading force in Europe in the 18th and early 19th centuries, when the ideas of the Enlightenment and the French Revolution, and later on Napoleon's armies, swept Europe and influenced the wider world. France's adjustment to playing a lesser role has been gradual and awkward. Against this background the possession of an independent nuclear capability is seen as crucial to national prestige and influence. The much-emphasised 'independence' of the French deterrent also ensures that sentiments of French nationalism, which are strong across the political spectrum, endorse nuclear defence and the testing programme. Because France stands apart from NATO, anti-nuclear campaigners in France have not been able to profit from the anti-Americanism which has helped fuel peace movements elsewhere in

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Western Europe. The French peace movement is also highly fragmented and has lacked an effective umbrella organisation to draw it together in the way that the CND (Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament) does in Britain. In addition the appeal of the main peace group, the Mouvement de la paix (the Peace Movement) has been constrained by its close links with the increasingly marginal Communist Party. 10 Under the Rocard government, France has reaffirmed its commitment to nuclear defence and to the testing programme. French spokes-persons have said that testing will continue indefinitely. They state that the tests are essential to French security, and involve at most only infinitesimal risks. For example Brice Lalonde, Minister for the Environment in the Rocard government, has said that the underground tests do not cause environmental problems.11 Lalonde was formerly the leader of the French ecological movement, and a Greenpeace campaigner against French atmospheric testing, but has always regarded the nuclear deterrent as necessary.12 Similarly, during his visit to the South Pacific in August 1989, Rocard reaffirmed that France would continue its nuclear tests deep below the atolls of Moruroa and Fangataufa. It has been argued that France has no need to continue testing, since the mere fact of its possession of nuclear weaponry should be sufficient to act as a deterrent to a potential agressor.13 But France insists that continued testing is necessary to ensure the reliability and effectiveness of its nuclear weapons, especially in view of the increasing sophistication of anti-ballistic and other defensive capabilities, so as to preserve and increase the credibility of the French deterrent.14 In addition France believes it should do more to provide nuclear security for Western Europe, in view of the relative decline in American strength and what could be a weakening American commitment.15 France regards deterrence as the 'irreplacable guarantee of peace in Europe'.16 So at least to begin with, progress in the late 1980s in superpower arms limitation and in the reduction of tensions in the European theatre inhibited rather than encouraged changes to French policy. Some commentators have questioned whether, in the longer term, France would be able to afford to keep pace with the increasingly costly arms race, even at its own modest level of nuclear armament compared with the superpower arsenals.17 Nonetheless, from 1984 France embarked on an ambitious programme of modernisation, intended to increase the strength of its nuclear deterrent. As of the early 1980s, the French nuclear force was 'capable of only limited target coverage against Soviet territory and against Warsaw Pact forces that might invade Western territory'. By the mid-1990s, however, the new French force structure would theoretically be 'capable of inflicting massive, widespread destruction on the Soviet Union and on specific military targets in Eastern Europe'.18

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Between 1983 and 1994, the planned modernisation would involve a three-fold increase, from 285 to 930, in the total number of French nuclear warheads. Over this period warheads deployed by the tactical nuclear force are projected to increase from 153 to 238, while the number of warheads in the strategic nuclear force is to increase over five-fold from 132 to 692. 19 This expansion should greatly increase France's ability to rely on nuclear force as a guarantee of French security. But in addition, it is intended to permit France to assume greater responsibilities and a leadership role in the defence of Western Europe. It remains to be seen whether France can maintain domestic consensus in support of this expansion.20 To date, domestic support for nuclear defence has been based on the argument that it is essential as an ultimate guarantee of French security. However this guarantee can be provided by a relatively modest deterrent. If France sets out to play a grander role, acceptance of the heavy costs involved for such an expansion may diminish, especially if East/West détente is maintained and progress in disarmament continues. Yet despite changing circumstances, the nuclear deterrent has remained an 'absolute priority'.21 From 1989, France scaled back the number of tests from eight to six per year, and a further scaling back is in prospect. But this reduction reflected financial stringency, not a reduced commitment to nuclear defence. Although cuts to the military equipment budget in May 1989 involved postponements and reductions in the development of new conventional weapons, none of the strategic nuclear arms programmes were scaled back.22 Indeed in 1989 France slightly increased its defence spending relative to GDP, whereas all the other great powers made defence spending cuts. In 1990, however, the level of spending on the nuclear deterrent came under review. At present France's nuclear deterrent has three components: land-based missiles sited on the Albion plateau, Mirage IVP strategic bombers, and nuclear-powered missile submarines. The phasing out of the land-based missile force, and possibly also the bomber force, has reportedly come under consideration. Yet although further spending cuts may be made, possibly involving the suspension of some programmes, no indication has been given that France is inclined to question its overall commitment to its nuclear forces and to nuclear testing.23 What is seen as the vital national interest involved in the testing programme takes precedence over the opinions of local communities. On 24 August 1989, during his visit to French Polynesia, Rocard rejected the proposal, which has surfaced repeatedly in French Polynesia, for a local plebiscite on nuclear testing. He said that 'French defence policy is decided by the whole of the Republic and not by regions, departments and towns'.24 France has also declined to shift its tests to metropolitan France.

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French spokespersons claim that no sites exist which are suitable for underground tests, because the seismic vibrations caused by underground explosions, although at a minimal level, nonetheless could damage mines, buildings, bridges and other structures in nearby areas. However in September 1985 Bill Hayden, the (then) Australian Foreign Minister, told the Australian Parliament that an Australian government technical report had shown that 'nuclear testing could take place quite safely on the Massif Central of mainland France and in Corsica'. 25 Presumably the real reason for French reluctance to test in mainland France is concern over local political backlash,26 along the lines of the successful protest during the 1970s by the people of Larzac against the building of a military base in that area. Earlier, in the late 1950s and 1960s, the French government had encountered protests over plans to dump radioactive waste in an underwater ditch off Corsica and to build a missile base in the department of Haute-Provence.27 Despite persistent rumours,28 France also has not taken a firm decision on the possibility of eventually shifting its testing programme to the remote, uninhabited island of Kerguelen in the southern Indian ocean, though there are indications that it has developed contingency plans for this possibility. Testing on this mountainous island would be cheaper than on Moruroa and Fangataufa, in that gently sloping shafts could replace the vertical bores necessary on the atolls. A shift to Kerguelen would remove testing as a source of contention between France and its Pacific island country neighbours. But it would be of concern to Australia, given the (admittedly slim) possibility of an above-ground accident, in that Kerguelen lies in the path of the prevailing winds which blow towards western and southern Australia. Neither has France accepted informal offers by the United States to conduct its tests at the US site in Nevada. Although Great Britain tests in Nevada, France has insisted on maintaining what is proclaimed as the complete independence of its nuclear deterrent. As noted above, this stress on independence helps ensure broad support for nuclear defence in France. Nonetheless French resistance to testing in Nevada seems anomalous in an era when the superpowers exchange teams of specialists to monitor arms control arrangements. In addition, recent research indicates that the independence of the French deterrent and of the French nuclear and conventional posture has been reduced by fifteen years of 'unofficial' Franco-American scientific and technical cooperation.29 If this research is confirmed, then French grounds for declining to shift their tests to Nevada would lose credibility. Yet while remaining committed to testing, France has responded in some measure to criticisms of the programme, albeit grudgingly. In 1963 the superpowers signed a partial test ban treaty, whereby they agreed to cease atmospheric testing. For several years France refused to follow their example, and mounted a series of atmospheric tests. But in 1975,

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in part because of a diplomatic campaign led by Australia, New Zealand and Fiji, which brought France before the International Court of Justice, and following a heightening of protest in French Polynesia, France stopped atmospheric testing and henceforth only tested underground. France has sought to reduce criticisms of its testing programme by an active information programme and a strong diplomatic effort. It has accused Australia of hypocrisy in its condemnation of French testing, on the grounds that Australia has not been equally publicly critical of testing by the other nuclear powers. As part of its efforts to reduce criticism, France has been relatively more open about its testing programme than the other nuclear powers. In 1984, for example, France invited the 'Atkinson Committee', a group of scientists sponsored by the governments of Australia, New Zealand and Papua New Guinea, to inspect the Moruroa test site and to conduct a brief general enquiry. In June 1987, the renowned oceanographer Jacques Cousteau led a research mission to Moruroa. And during his visit to French Polynesia in August 1989, Rocard agreed to a roundtable conference, which was held the following October, to address concerns about the nuclear testing programme. The official responses to the questions raised at this conference were made available to the public. 30 However the Atkinson and Cousteau missions made only brief visits, and their enquiries were subject to constraints. Moreover selective quotation by French spokespersons of the findings of these missions glossed over those among their conclusions which raised concerns over possible longer-term environmental risks. French policy on a comprehensive test ban also has evolved. Before the Rocard government came to power, France stated that it would feel free to continue its tests even if the other nuclear powers stopped. It argued that it was relatively disadvantaged in the nuclear competition, compared with the superpowers, because it started later and had tested on a much smaller scale.31 But since Rocard came to power both he and President Mitterrand have committed France to honour a comprehensive test ban treaty. So in the longer term, assuming that super-power agreement on a test ban can be attained, France would follow suit and suspend its tests. Yet like the United States,32 France sees a possible test ban as only the final stage in what is likely to be, even assuming all goes well, a slow and gradual process of attaining a more modest nuclear and conventional equilibrium in the European theatre. Admiral Fages commented in 1989 that: Disarmament will be difficult to negotiate, slow to implement . . . Tomorrow, nuclear dissuasion will remain the key-stone of our defence and of our participation in European defence . . . All of our history teaches us that it is necessary to be in a position of strength to guarantee peace and also to negotiate a disarmament which does not amount to a capitulation. For

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that, a continually modernised nuclear armament is indispensible. The cessation of tests can be only the final stage in a general disarmament. 33 So at least for some time to come, France is likely to remain committed to continuing its tests. France is also likely to continue to use the sites in French Polynesia for its nuclear tests, at least for several years. Nonetheless Admiral Fages has noted that 'I am also persuaded that if the use of Mururoa or Fangataufa was forbidden us for a reason difficult to imagine today, France would know how to find another testing-site, in our sovereign territory, or even in a friendly country'.34 This comment seems to confirm that other contingencies, presumably including those of a shift to either Kerguelen or Nevada, have been considered. By around 2000 it may no longer be feasible to test on the atolls, because of geological damage. France is already testing under the Moruroa lagoon, because suitable spots on the land of the atoll have all been used up. From 1985, France began shifting part of the programme to Fangataufa, especially the larger explosions, presumably because testing on Moruroa was ceasing to be practicable.35 Environmental and Health Issues Since French testing began, political and community leaders in French Polynesia and governments, organisations and individuals in the South Pacific region have expressed strong concerns about the possible implications of testing for the environment and for public health. French spokespersons have been adamant that neither atmospheric nor underground testing has caused health risks, nor has caused more than highly localised damage to the environment. But the critics of French testing have raised a variety of concerns, relating both to possible present-day and to potential longer-term implications. Feelings run high on nuclear testing, and the debate has often generated more heat than light. Yet although some criticisms and claims have been exaggerated or incorrect, the critics of testing have succeeded in identifying areas in which further comprehensive and independent research is necessary. Concerning atmospheric testing, which took place from 1966 to 1974, the French position is that it posed no general health risks because the mainly oceanic region in which the tests took place is very sparsely populated, and because the wind conditions prevailing at the time of the great majority of the tests ensured that fall-out was carried eastwards in the direction of South America and was dispersed harmlessly over a vast area of open ocean. French Polynesia covers an area the size of Western Europe, and the testing sites are over a thousand kilometres distant from Tahiti, the main population centre

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(map 6). 36 The tests added only a tiny amount to the already low level of natural radiation in French Polynesia, which is at roughly half the level in metropolitan France.37 Yet while no convincing evidence has been presented to show that radioactivity from the atmospheric tests has harmed the health of the general population of French Polynesia, there are some indications of grave effects on the health of some of those who worked on the atmospheric testing programme. Grave health problems among members of local populations on islands relatively close to the atmospheric testing sites may also be linked directly to radioactivity from the atmospheric tests.38 The French authorities deny the validity of such claims, although they acknowledge nonradiological damage from minor industrial accidents.39 There is a need for further independent research on the question of risks to workers on the programme and to populations resident relatively close to the testing sites. Meanwhile, there are also some indirect linkages between the testing programme and public health in French Polynesia. One definite connection is with the new lifestyles and consumption patterns resulting from the new wealth and the socioeconomic changes associatedalthough by no means exclusivelywith the implementation of the testing programme. These new lifestyles and consumption patterns, along with improved health services, have greatly reduced those health problems and circumstances, characteristic of a developing country, which formerly existed in French Polynesia. Since the 1940s mortality, especially infant mortality, has declined sharply, so that it now, except on the outer islands, equals the level of industrialised countries. Meanwhile, the process of demographic transition is reasonably well-advanced.40 On the other hand, the incidence in the territory of the conditions and diseases associated with modernity have increased. These 'modern' ailments include lung and upper respiratory tract cancers and other conditions associated with cigarette smoking, as well as heart disease and other problems associated with alcohol use and an unbalanced diet.41 Similar changes have occurred in some measure in some of the other countries of the South Pacific, in association with increased wealth and changing lifestyles and consumption patterns. Notwithstanding suggestions to the contrary, the overwhelming majority of cases of cancer in the general population are linked with changes in consumption patterns and lifestyle rather than with radiation from atmospheric testing.42 There is also a connection between localised ecological disruption through construction works associated with the testing programme and the incidence of ciguatera fish poisoning in the particular islands concerned. Ciguatera is a disease which results from eating tropical fish which contain toxins produced by several coral reef plankton species. Herbivorous fish ingest the planktons and accumulate the

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toxins, and are in turn eaten by predatory fish. The toxins are concentrated as they move up the food chain. The fish themselves do not become ill from the presence of the toxins. However humans can become ill, in rare instances fatally, if they eat the affected fish. 43 Ciguatera was first recorded by Europeans in the 16th century. Its presence in French Polynesia was first noted in 1834.44 It is found wherever there are coral reefs, and is the commonest type of marine fish poisoning. Its incidence reflects damage to the ecology of reef systems, as a result of which toxic planktons proliferate and/or their toxin production increases.45 This damage can be caused naturally by storms and cyclones. It can also be caused by human intervention in the form of port construction, dredging, and pollution. Examples in the Australia/South Pacific region of locations where ciguatera has manifested itself in recent decades as a result of human intervention include the Gove peninsula in Arnhem Land, Northern Territory (alumina plant and accompanying settlement); Nuka Hiva, Marquesas (dock construction); Pokai Bay, Western Oahu, Hawaii (dredging for a breakwater); Washington Island, Kiribati (shipwreck of MS Southbank); and the Republic of the Marshall Islands (United States military construction related to nuclear testing in the 1950s and 1960s, and to missile testing).46 The connections made in some press accounts between ciguatera and the testing programme have been exaggerated. Even had French testing never taken place, ciguatera would still be widespread in French Polynesia because of natural and human disruptions to reef systems. Nonetheless construction supporting the testing programme has increased the local incidence of ciguatera in French Polynesia, notably near Hao and Mangareva but also around the formerly uninhabited islands of Moruroa and Fangataufa.47 Subsidence and fissuring directly resulting from nuclear tests may also contribute to ecological disruption, but this contribution is very small compared with the damage caused by construction work.48 Since French testing 'went undergound', concerns over health and environmental risks have greatly receded. French publicists are adamant that the tests are carried out with meticulous safety precautions and carry no risks whatsoever. But critics of the testing programme have expressed concern over damage to the geological structures of Moruroa and Fangataufa atolls and the resulting potential for the longer-term leaching into the sea of radioactive elements. These elements conceivably could find their way into the food chain. The Atkinson mission concluded that such leaching could take place in between 500 to 1000 years.49 However these findings have been queried. During the mid-1980s two scientists at the University of Auckland, Manfred Hochstein and Michael O'Sullivan, developed a computer model which predicted that leaking would occur within ten to one hundred years.50 In September 1990, an American researcher, Norm Buske, argued that leakage, at a minute level, had already taken

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The Greenpeace vessel Rainbow Warrior II in Papeete harbour, Tahiti, in January 1991. This vessel replaced the first Rainbow Warrior, sunk by bombs planted by French secret agents in Auckland harbour in July 1985. During its visit to French Polynesia in late 1990/early 1991, the Rainbow Warrior collected samples near Moruroa atoll, seeking evidence of the leakage of radioactive elements from the underground tests. (Photo: Karin von Strokirch) place. The response to this from Alain Barthoux, director of testing at the test sites, was that French research had found no evidence of the leakage of radioactive elements. He said that the most likely explanation was that the radioactive elements referred to by Buske were a result of contamination in the laboratory by fall-out from the Chernobyl disaster. 51 However in December 1990, the possible occurrence of leakage received apparent further confirmation when a Greenpeace vessel stationed just outside the 12 mile territorial waters limit off Moruruoa reported that it had collected plankton samples containing traces of radioactive elements.52 French spokespersons have argued that in any case, because the leached elements would be in very small quantities, with their toxicity reduced over time, they would pose absolutely no health or environmental risks.53 The Cousteau mission, which visited Moruroa in June 1987, found that any pollution would be localised to the immediate area. However this mission also commented that Moruroa atoll was 'a very bad site for the storage of radioactive wastes', because of the proximity of water to the locations deep underground at which the nuclear explosions were detonated, and because of the fissuring of rock and coral by the explosions.54 The mission concluded that the short-term and medium-term risks of radiological pollution were neg-

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ligible, but that the long-term risks were more difficult to evaluate on the basis of the information with which it had been provided. 55 It seems clear that notwithstanding the reassurances offered by the French government, the question of longer-term leakage at the testing sites and its possible health and environmental implications requires comprehensive and independent investigation. South Pacific Views Opposition to testing from the countries of the South Pacific has health and environmental, philosophical, and anticolonial aspects. These three aspects are interwoven in practice, as is illustrated by some of the statements by island country leaders quoted in chapter 9, but they can be separated for the purposes of analysis. First, strong concerns exist about the possible health and environmental implications of testing. Doubts and uncertainties on these questions are likely to continue, along with demands for independent research on contentious questions. Second, criticism of French testing is often reinforced by the strong opposition of sections of the community, especially members of the Protestant churches, to nuclear weapons and nuclear tests, whether French or otherwise. This kind of philosophical/religious opposition is likely to continue, even if further research confirms that underground testing involves no present-day risks and indicates that the longer-term risks of underground testing are negligible and localised. Third, the tests are opposed as a matter of anti-colonial principle. The governments of the South Pacific island countries are irritated that a power which they regard as external to the region continues with its testing programme in defiance of their objections. They often regard France's attitude as colonial. They have shown little sympathy for French arguments that the nuclear deterrent is essential to the defence of France; that it has made an important contribution, not least by complicating the planning of the prospective adversary, to the central strategic balance and hence to the avoidance of nuclear and world war; and that the avoidance of global conflict has been of benefit to all countries, including those of the South Pacific. The end of the Cold War, progress with arms control, and the Soviet Union's grave domestic problems have reduced even further island country receptiveness to these arguments. The governments of the South Pacific are also conscious that French Polynesia is a former colony which, although it now exercises local autonomy, remains firmly under French control. Only a plebiscite in which only the locally born population of French Polynesia would be permitted to vote would show whether the people of the territory accept the continuation of the tests. So far no French government has

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been willing to take such an initiative, because of the risk that the voters would opt against testing. Accordingly, regional concern over French testing is likely to continue. And while the nuclear question rankles, difficulties will continue in France's relations with the countries of South Pacific.

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8 Wallis and Futuna: Ripples in a Backwater The harbour front at Mata Utu, the capital of the French territory of Wallis and Futuna in the central South Pacific, is dominated by the Catholic cathedral, the palace of the king of Wallis, and the residence of the Prefect. These buildings symbolise three of the key institutions of the territory: the church to which almost everyone belongs; the paramount chief or monarch who embodies la coutume (custom or tradition); and the French administration. But appearances can deceive. Over the rise and out of sight is a fourth building: the Territorial Assembly, which since 1961 has permitted a modest amount of direct democratic participation by the people of the territory in the management of their affairs. With increased standards of education and living, along with improved communications with the outside world, the democratic practices and ideals embodied in the assembly are helping transform this tiny corner of France's overseas possessions. Also mostly out of sight from the shore are the shops and small businesses, predominantly owned and managed by Europeans and Chinese, which comprise the commercial sector of the mainly subsistence economy. Wallis and Futuna ceased to be a protectorate of France following a referendum on 27 December 1959. Ninety-four per cent of the voters answered 'yes' to the question 'Do you want the islands of Wallis and Futuna to become an integral part of the French Republic in the form of an overseas territory'. 1 The electorate for the referendum comprised not only the adult population of the two islands of Wallis and Futuna, but also those Wallisians who had migrated to New Caledonia and the New Hebrides. (Despite the historical and cultural differences between Wallis and Futuna, the people of both islands, and their compatriots abroad, are referred to generally as Wallisians.) The great majority of voters exercised their right to vote, and the vote was unanimous on Wallis Island and all but unanimous within the immigrant communities (table 8.1). The 'no' vote was only significant on Futuna, perhaps in part because of rivalry with, and suspicion of, the larger and more

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The residence of the French Prefect (left), the palace of the paramount chief (centre), and the cathedral (right) dominate the shore at Mata Utu, capital of Wallis and Futuna. They symbolise the importance of the French administration, the traditional chiefs and the church in this small territory. (Photo: Henningham) Table 8.1 Wallis and Futuna: December 1959 Referendum Yes Wallis

No 2261

Futuna i) Alo ii) Sigave New Caledonia New Hebrides Totals (per cent)

0

556

102

332

152

925

2

233

1

4307 (94)

257 (6)

Electors: 4695; votes cast: 4576; informal votes: 12; valid votes: 4564. Sources: Journal Officiel de Ia République Française, 16 January 1960, p. 509; Poncet Wallis p. 226. populous island of Wallis. Even on Futuna, however, 78 per cent of the electors voted 'yes'. Following the referendum a provisional assembly met in February 1960 to comment on the constitutional proposals of the French government. This assembly comprised the king of Wallis and the two kings of Futuna, the other senior chiefs of the two islands, and the archbishop. The new statute was passed in the French Parliament in

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July 1961. It established a popularly elected Territorial Assembly with powers over local regulations and the right to offer advice. However executive authority was embodied in the representative of the French state, the AdministrateurSupérieur (Chief Administrator), who represented the French High Commissioner in New Caledonia. From December 1987, in response to Wallisian requests that the territory be given greater attention, this post was filled by a full Prefect, the senior regional official in the French administrative system, rather than a deputy-prefect. To advise the chief administrator, a governing council was established, consisting of the paramount chief of Wallis and the two paramount chiefs of Futuna, or their representatives, and three additional general members nominated by the administrator subject to their approval by the Territorial Assembly. 2 The overwhelming referendum vote in favour of integration demonstrated the conservatism of the population, its conviction that its welfare and security depended on adhesion to France, and the influence of the Roman Catholic church. The Wallisians in New Caledonia and the New Hebrides, who under the protectorate merely had the status of protected persons, had been attracted by the advantages of French citizenship, especially the right to receive family allowances. In Wallis and Futuna, French officials had carefully prepared the ground for the referendum in discussions with the monarchs and the archbishop. They reassured them that a transition to territorial status would not infringe upon the social and moral authority of the chiefs and the church. This undertaking was honoured. Thus the three monarchs sat by right on the Advisory Council. The new territorial statute guaranteed the people of the territory the free exercise of their religion, and respect for their beliefs and customs, provided that these were not in conflict with the general principles of French law.3 In practice, concessions have been made to local attitudes, resulting, for example, in the non-application of laws concerning divorce and abortion.4 In addition, the three traditional chiefdoms were established as administrative districts. Before the arrival of the French some democratic elements had been embodied in the Polynesian cultures of the two islands. The kings were far from being the equivalent of European 18th century monarchs ruling by divine right. Although chosen from the royal lineage, and despite the courtesy and honour which they were accorded, they were expected to serve the interests of the people. They were elected at meetings of the noble class, and could be deposed and replaced if they failed to give satisfaction. They were served by officials whose families had inherited a right to specific positions, but particular individuals could also be replaced. The same was true of village chiefs, who similarly were expected to be the representatives and protectors of their people, rather than autocrats ruling subjects. At

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the weekly fono or village meeting, members of the general public could comment on issues of concern. Since the inauguration of the territorial statute the village chiefs, who previously came from noble families, have included increasing numbers of commoners. These chiefs are changed frequently if they fail to meet expectations. Meanwhile, the new Territorial Assembly, elected by universal suffrage, has provided a new forum. Although some members of chiefly families have served in the assembly, most of its members have been commoners. According to local officials, the assembly has both helped resolve contentious issues and worked as a safety-valve for the expression of grievances. The special arrangements embodied in the statute gave the new territory's government and institutions a distinctive character, especially bearing in mind the French tradition of administrative uniformity and centralisation. In May 1985 Georges Lemoine, the (then) DOM-TOM minister, described Wallis and Futuna as 'in fact a sort of protectorate' in which the primarily external powers of the state were juxtaposed with the authority within the Wallisian community of the chiefs and the church. 5 French Catholic missionaries had brought Wallis and Futuna into the French orbit in the mid-19th century. The informal protectorate which France exercised over the two islands until the late 1880s amounted to a virtual theocracy (chapter 1). By winning over the paramount chiefs, the church had laid the basis for the conversion of almost all the population. The church's hierarchy was superimposed on and modified the previous social structure. Some of those who had opposed the expanded influence of the Catholic church departed for Fiji and Tonga. These people had lost out in a local conflict, in which the rival sides had linked themselves respectively to the French Catholic missionaries and to Protestant missionaries from Tonga.6 The hau or paramount chief on Wallis, and the two senior chiefs on Futuna, became the 'kings' of the new order, and came under strong church influence. On Wallis, the standing of the church was upheld and expressed in the kava ceremony, in which the priests were accorded marks of respect equivalent to those accorded the king.7 Even after the protectorate was formalised in 1887 in Wallis, and the following year in Futuna, church influence remained pervasive. At first, under the agreement embodying the protectorate, the Catholic bishop served by right as the official interpreter between the French Resident and the king of Wallis, a role which reinforced his informal influence. The priests spent their lives in the protectorate, wielding great influence over the daily lives of their parishioners, whereas officials came and went. The protectorate was re-negotiated in 1910 for Wallis, but not for Futuna. On Wallis this helped reduce the direct political authority of

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the church and contributed to the assertion of greater influence by the French Resident. On Futuna, in contrast, 240 kilometres across the open sea, the influence of the Resident remained small. Until 1956, when a French official was appointed to serve as the Resident's deputy on Wallis, and despite the strong anti-clerical tradition in France, a priest acted as the intermediary between the French Resident and the chiefs, and 'fulfilled certain indispensable administrative functions'. 8 Church dominance involved oppression and the infringement of personal freedoms. Nowadays church leaders would concede that the church took upon itself responsibilities and exerted an influence which more properly should have remained in the secular domain. Yet although in decline, the church's influence remains strong. The territory is probably the most staunchly Roman Catholic place in the world, outside of the Vatican city. Its people are almost 100 per cent Roman Catholic, and 85 per cent of them are regular church-goers. Apart from the presence of several hundred American servicemen between 1942 and 1944, the non-indigenous section of the population of Wallis and Futuna always has been only a tiny minority of the total population. Some lands have been ceded to the church, to the French administration, and to traders, but most of the land has remained in the possession of the islanders. Wallis and Futuna have had relatively few visitors. This has helped them escape the scourge of the epidemic diseases which had such a devastating effect elsewhere, especially in the Marquesas and Gambier islands in French Polynesia and in parts of the New Hebrides. In addition, in Wallis and Futuna the cultural breakdown and anomie present elsewhere within indigenous communities, especially among the Kanaks of the main island of New Caledonia after they were driven off their lands, has not been evident, except to some extent among immigrants to New Caledonia and the former New Hebrides. Yet although the protectorate of Wallis and Futuna was relatively insulated from the influence of imported ideas, institutions and technology, it was by no means untouched by them. And more extensive change began with the establishment of these islands as an overseas territory, even if the pace of change has been slow. Even more than in the other French Pacific territories, the reliance of Wallis and Futuna on France for subsidies, aid and modern infrastructure and services has increased in recent decades.9 As of November 1988, only 953 members of the territory's work force earnt salaries or wages, of whom 679 were employed in the administration or in public works.10 The great majority of the work force is engaged in subsistence fishing and agriculture. The tourist industry is very modest; as of 1989 Wallis had some 25 hotel rooms, with low occupancy rates, while Futuna had no hotel facilities. Economic dualism between the subsistence and monetised sectors is characteristic of all three

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Page 183 Table 8.2 Wallis and Futuna: trade balance, 198286 Imports (annual average)

Exports (annual average)

By weight (tonnes)

1054

14.3a

By value (millions of Pacific francs)

3047

3b

Notes: a This tonnage is for trochus shells, the largest category of exports by weight. Figures for other exports are not available. b Estimate only, for trochus shells and other exports. More precise figures have not been collected. Source: IEOM Wallis and Futuna: Rapports d'Activité: Exercise 1986 pp. 1920 and Exercise 1987 pp. 223 French territories (and their Pacific island neighbours), but is especially marked in Wallis and Futuna. Apart from periods of scarcity because of drought or cyclone damage, subsistence production has kept the population well fed. A high rate of population growth has resulted from the combination of Polynesian culture, a traditional lifestyle, the attitudes of the Catholic church, and improved health care. 11 Meanwhile modern medicine and the absence of major health problems, apart from tuberculosis on Futuna, has increased longevity. With a rate of population increase at over 3 per cent per year, only out-migration has prevented excessive pressure on resources. Constraints exist to the expansion of primary production. The total land area of the territory is only 275 square kilometres, of which only one-quarter is cultivable. Wallis Island, which is home to two-thirds of the the territory's population, consists of upraised land encircled by a reef. Much of its interior is infertile. Meanwhile Futuna, a high volcanic island, has only a small area of cultivable land, and lacks a reef-protected lagoon in which fishing can be safely pursued. As well as some islets fringing the lagoon of Wallis, a third large island, Alofi, lies near Futuna. Some Futunan families grow crops on Alofi, and the island nowadays has a semi-permanent population of about 20, but traditionally has not supported a larger population because of its inadequate water supply. The territory's exports amount to virtually nothing, apart from a few dozen tonnes per year of trochus shell, handicrafts, and fruit and vegetables sent or carried privately to the Wallisian community in New Caledonia. Copra used to be the major export. But production ground to a halt in the 1940s because of the ravages of the rhinoceros beetle parasite on Wallis; because the wealth flowing from the American presence discouraged hard work; and because the plantations on Futuna were not renewed during the war following the cessation of exports as a result of the absence of shipping.12 Imports completely overshadow exports, as table 8.2 illustrates.

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Indeed the territory's main export is its people. Among all the South Pacific island countries, Wallis and Futuna is one of the most touched by emigration. 13 Small numbers of Wallisian men went to New Caledonia and the New Hebrides to work as labourers after the Second World War. Wallisian women began migrating from the late 1950s, permitting the establishment of permanent immigrant communities. This emigration expanded rapidly in the following decades because of the absence of opportunities in Wallis and Futuna and in response to the demand for labour during the nickel boom in New Caledonia in the late 1960s and early 1970s. As well as the attraction of earning cash, many emigrants wished to escape the restrictions of a society dominated by church and custom. Movement back and forth took place, but from 1947 to 1962 the positive balance of migrants to New Caledonia totalled 1998, while for the 1969 to 1977 period it totalled 1203.14 As of 1988 the resident population of Wallis and Futuna was 14 181,15 but more Wallisians now live elsewhere. A few hundred live in France, and some hundreds in Fiji, while the 1989 census recorded 14 186 Wallisians in New Caledonia, of whom over half had been born there. Wallis and Futuna is unusual within the domains of France because its young men display little reluctance to take part in compulsory military service. Instead military service is welcomed as providing an opportunity to travel abroad and earn cash. Some local people have urged that Wallisian conscripts should be demobilised in the territory rather than in metropolitan France, because at present many of them decide not to return home. Remittances from relatives overseas have contributed to living standards, in part by subsidising the purchase of imported goods. Considerable sums have also been devoted to the building of houses by people planning to return to the territory to retire.16 From 1970 to 1977 an annual average of just under 131 million French Pacific francs ($A one million approx.) were sent by money order from New Caledonia to Wallis and Futuna.17 More recently, the amount of money sent seems to have declined because of reduced prosperity in New Caledonia along with the weakening of connections with the home territory. On the other hand the return in recent years of Wallisians to retire in their country of birth has resulted in the injection into the local economy of savings and pension benefits. Prepaid air tickets and various goods sent as presents also contribute to the local economy.18 Yet although these private transfers are significant, they have been far overshadowed during the 1980s by the contribution of the French state (table 8.3). This contribution has been made both directly through aid, loans and subventions to the territorial budget, and indirectly through the operations of metropolitan public service departments along with the payment of wages and salaries to Wallisians employed in or by the public sector. In the five years to 1988 this spending averaged

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Table 8.3 French government spending on Wallis and Futuna, 198488 year 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988

amount (millions of Pacific francs) 1636 (A$ 17m approx.) 1594 1981 2131 2375

Source: IOEM Wallis et FutunaRapports d'Activité: Exercises 198589 $A 20 million per year, making up for earlier neglect, especially in Futuna. 19 Spending by the French Socialist government of 198186 formed part of a renewed French commitment to raising living standards and improving conditions in the overseas departments and territories. Then, from 1986 to 1988, the conservative Chirac government expressed a strong commitment to the territory. This commitment presumably resulted in part from the importance of the Wallisian vote in New Caledonia to the electoral majority against independence. In addition the devastation wrought by Cyclone Raja in December 1986, and, to a lesser extent, by Cyclone Ofa in February 1990, led to massive emergency and reconstruction investment on humanitarian grounds. The years from 1983 onwards were marked by the construction and improvement of roads, the building of new schools and the growth of the education system, and the expansion of electrification. Infants and primary education became universal, with 4708 students at this level in 1988. There was also an expansion of vocational education, and a sharp upturn in students undertaking secondary education. Between 1977 and 1987, the number of students at junior secondary school increased from 199 to 584 in the territory as a whole, with an especially rapid increase on Futuna, where the number grew more than four-fold from 41 to 190. As of 1988, the number of Wallisians undertaking secondary education, including over 200 who had been sent on bursaries to attend technical school or senior high school in Noumea, numbered 818, compared with 722 the year before. However students from Futuna were less well-represented than those of Wallis.20 During his August 1989 visit, Prime Minister Rocard announced the building of a new junior high school on Wallis, to be followed by a senior high school, which would reduce the need for Wallisians to go to Noumea for advanced secondary education.21 On returning to the territory in mid-1988 after a previous visit in mid-1985, I was struck by the visible changes to infrastructure. On Wallis, improved roads and new buildings were evident. In 1980 there was no electricity supply on Futuna, and no road round the island; but within a decade all homes and other buildings were connected to the electricity grid and a round-island road was open.

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As well as improving local infrastructure and services, the French government has sought to increase the economic selfreliance of the territory. An experimental pine plantation in the interior of Wallis was mostly destroyed by an accidental fire in 1989, but nonetheless potential exists for the supply of local timber needs and for the export of small quantities of timber. Traditionally fishing has been restricted to the Wallis lagoon and to the shores of Futuna, but potential for commercial deep-sea fishing exists, although on a small scale. 22 Tourism also has some potential. Wallis and Futuna have a relatively 'unspoiled' Polynesian lifestyle, while the Wallis lagoon and the wild landscape of Futuna offer natural beauty. Sites of historical and religious interest include archeological remnants from pre-colonial times, the relics of the martydom of Father Pierre Chanel at Poi on Futuna and the cathedrals and churches on both islands. But tourism is unlikely to grow rapidly because of high travel costs, limited transport links, and sharp competition from other South Pacific tourist destinations. In addition local people worry about the possible adverse impact of tourism on moral standards. In the late 1970s interest by Club Med in building a resort on one of the islets of Wallis came to nothing because of opposition to topless bathing and to other behaviours regarded as unacceptable. Joint ownership of land also impedes tourist and other development projects, as it does elsewhere in the South Pacific. All the owners of the land concerned have to agree about the merits of and the benefits offered by the project. And even where all the owners are in favour, unrealistic expectations about rents and other returns can frustrate negotiations. Nonetheless communications with the territory improved during the late 1980s, with increased access from Fiji and with the establishment of a biweekly direct flight linking Noumea, Mata Utu and Papeete, so the number of tourists may increase. French development advisers and technicians are seeking to help improve traditional methods of fishing and agriculture and to make use of modern technology and techniques to ensure that the booming population can be fed.23 Experiments are underway with rotary hoes and other small-scale machinery in an effort to increase the productivity of garden plots. Research on the possibility of using phosphorus inputs to permit the growing of crops on hitherto uncultivable lands has shown promising results.24 On Futuna, a road is being built which will improve access to the interior of the island, where there is a potential for the expansion of agriculture, although care will be required to limit environmental damage. The various development initiatives being sponsored by France should increase Wallis and Futuna's economic selfreliance, at least to a small degree. Nonetheless, like other small oceanic entities, the territory faces many economic disadvantages. The values and traditional institutions of its people are oriented towards subsistence production

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and social harmony rather than to increased productivity and competition. Wallis and Futuna are distant from markets and suppliers, which results in high transport costs. The territory has a very narrow range of resources and products, none of them unique or in short supply. It is far too small to provide significant domestic demand. Its population is growing rapidly, but its land area is small, and vulnerable to environmental degradation. The territory experiences cyclones and storms, the frequency and intensity of which may increase because of the 'Greenhouse Effect'. For the foreseeable future, and despite some potential to develop exports, the territory is likely to remain highly dependent on French subsidies for everything other than basic subsistence requirements. Because of this dependence, and because of the conservatism embodied in the church and in traditional culture, independence has never entered onto the political agenda, although it has been discussed privately by some of the younger people. Wallis and Futuna were never colonised, in the full sense of that term, but instead moved directly from the status of protectorate to that of dependent territory. Only a small amount of land has passed out of ownership by Wallisians, so the question of land alienation, which is such a burning issue in New Caledonia and which was of great importance in Vanuatu, is mostly absent. Wallisians have also been able to preserve a considerable part of their traditional culture, so they have been less impelled to protect and re-assert their identity. The politicians of the territory regard independence as unviable, and instead see the territory evolving gradually to greater local autonomy, while remaining an integral part of the French state. They have been concerned that conflict in New Caledonia could lead to the return of large numbers of their compatriots, which would pose big land, economic and cultural problems. This concern has been heightened following the return of some Wallisians from Vanuatu since independence in 1980, and from New Caledonia after the troubles there. Personal rivalries, kinship and local loyalties, land and customary disputes, and demands for further developmental spending in particular localities form the substance of Wallisian politics. Ideological questions rarely arise. Party organisations and lines of division are fluid. The two main local parties have been associated with the parties of the Right and the centre-right in France. The Left is all but nonexistent: the Socialist candidate gained less than 4 per cent of the vote in the first round of the June 1988 National Assembly elections, while in the second round Benjamin Brial (aligned with the rightwing RPR) won with 52 per cent of the vote against Kamilo Gata (associated with the centre-right UDF) with 48 per cent. But Brial's triumph was short-lived: Gata mounted a challenge, on the grounds of electoral

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The paramount chief or king of Wallis Island (left) pictured with his Uvéan/French translator. The traditional social order in the territory could be modified by moves to greater local autonomy. (Photo: Henningham) irregularities, which led to a by-election in January 1989. Gata, now identifying himself as the candidate of the 'presidential majority' in France, won with 57 per cent of the votes. However in an indication of the continuing weakness of the Left, the official Socialist candidate in the by-election won only 2 per cent of the vote. Yet despite the conservatism of local politics, and although Wallis and Futuna has generally been placid, underlying tensions manifest themselves from time to time. In November 1974, for example, protests and demonstrations over high prices culminated in the forced departure of an unpopular chief administrator. 25 On 29 October 1986, the chief administrator declared a brief state of emergency in the territory, in what may have been an attempt to suppress discontent before it led to a repetition of the 1974 expulsion. The declaration was in response to a conflict between the French administration, anxious to uphold its authority, and the customary authorities on Wallis, who wanted the second-ranking French official in the territory expelled. The official in question had offended Wallisian sensitivities by speaking badly of the king and the chiefs. Another source of discontent was that the custom authorities had protested unsuccessfully in the preceding weeks against the early recall of two well-respected French officials, following the change of government in France in March 1986. To uphold its prestige, and following a demonstration by several dozen people, France flew in 30 paramilitary

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police from Noumea, but no incidents took place and the police left within 26 hours. The Noumea daily Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes, usually the champion of republican order, criticised the chief administrator for creating bad publicity for France in the region. 26 After talks, and a visit the following month by Pons, the Minister for Overseas Departments and Territories, tensions decreased. The controversial official departed a few weeks later, although some bitterness persisted.27 In another incident, which took place in July 1986, Senator Papilio, the RPR senator for the territory, punched the director of the Post and Telecommunications Office, Gérard Forte, in the face, knocking him to the ground, and then kicked him. The senator later told the press that he believed that Forte had Socialist Party connections and had been tapping his phone discussions with RPR contacts in Tahiti and France. In addition, he demanded the transfer of Forte and his staff out of the territory.28 In March 1988, the director of the French Overseas RFO radio station came under pressure after he had sacked two announcers. The station director said that they had failed to reach the required standard after a training course and that one of them, Norbert Taofifenua, had insulted him. However Taofifenua contended that he had been victimised because of his union activities. Several prominent Wallisians complained to the director, and Taofifenua's family supported him by invading the studio and by demanding the return of the land on which the station was built, which had been ceded to France by Queen Amélie in 1888. The dispute was resolved by the reinstatement of the two announcers after further training, and by the reduction of Taofifenua's period under suspension from two months to one month. The director was replaced some months later.29 In August 1989 the conservative majority in the Territorial Assembly, which is aligned with the opposition in the French Parliament, wrote an open letter to the administrateur-supérieur to accuse him of abusing his powers. The letter claimed that he had systematically excluded the opposition and the traditional chiefs from decision making, from the distribution of development funds, and from the preparations for the forthcoming visit to the territory of Prime Minister Rocard.30 These and other incidents are trivial, compared with the tensions and violence in the other French Pacific territories, especially New Caledonia. Nonetheless they do express frustration with the lack of local responsibility and control.31 Given constitutional developments in French Polynesia and New Caledonia, Wallis and Futuna is overdue for revisions of its constitutional arrangements to give greater powers to the Territorial Assembly. In the longer-term, as educational standards improve, scope should also exist for a greater localisation of administrative positions, reducing the potential for tensions between short-term expatriate officials and the local population. There is a general recognition that constitutional evolution is

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necessary. However the task of modifying the 1961 statute, which gives a privileged position to the three paramount chiefs, to customary authority, and to the views of the Catholic church, will pose difficult questions. Bonnemaison points out that the electoral contest between Brial and Gata reflected important differences in attitudes to customary authority and social change, albeit within an overall conservative context. Brial represented the existing order, and particularly the linkages between church and chiefly authority. In contrast Gata, although cautious, presented a modern image and the desire for constitutional reform, embodying the aspirations of a younger, educated generation. 32 Greater assertiveness and the beginnings of an inclination to question the established order is present among the younger generation, encouraged by improved education, by increased contacts with the outside world, and by the temporary or permanent return to the home islands of Wallisians resident in New Caledonia. After the freedoms of New Caledonia, the heavy weight of customary and church authority is difficult to bear. Some of those who have returned have departed again soon afterwards. The small minority of Wallisians who have shown an interest in engaging in commercial activity complain that the weight of custom stifles initiative, while young people complain of boredom and resent their reduced freedom to go their own way. One sign of changing times is the modification of views on contraception. For several years the contraceptive pill and other contraceptives have been available from the hospital on Wallis, but received no publicity because of concern over upsetting the church. However returnees from New Caledonia have spread awareness of these products, and some local women have begun using them.33 An increased inclination to seek change is also likely to be encouraged by connections with the other French Pacific territories, and by a modest but growing awareness of developments elsewhere in the South Pacific. The people of the territory would like to expand their links with Tonga and Samoa, with which they have historic and cultural links. Some have commented that if they speak French they cannot communicate with Polynesians from nearby countries, but that they can communicate with them quite well if they speak their own Polynesian languages. As constitutional arrangements in French Polynesia and New Caledonia evolve, Wallisians are also likely to want greater autonomy. Meanwhile, with new generations of high school leavers finding almost no job opportunities within Wallis and Futuna, continued interest in out-migration is likely, along with sharpening criticism of France's stewardship, and calls for increased spending. Yet although conscious of the need for constitutional evolution, the French government wants to proceed slowly. During his August 1989 visit, Prime Minister Rocard said that France was offering a policy of 'development and solidarity' to Wallis and Futuna. He indicated that

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priority was not being given to a reform of the institutions of the territory, noting that the debate on this issue was divisive. 34 He also underlined that 'progress must be respectful of custom'. Lemoine's comment that Wallis and Futuna is in a sense still a protectorate, despite its formal status as a French overseas territory, is apt. The provisions of the 1961 statute defend established interests. Constitutional reform, as well as implementing greater local autonomy, is also likely to erode the position of the chiefs and the church. The society of the territory also has significant internal fissures, and not least those between Wallisians and Futunans. Indeed some Futunans, conscious of the relative neglect of their island, have resented the relative advantages of Wallis. In November 1983, the kings of Futuna reportedly announced their intention of asking France for the establishment of Futuna as a distinct overseas territory, separate from Wallis.35 So achieving agreement on political and constitutional change may prove difficult. Meanwhile, Wallisian protestations of loyalty and deep attachment to France need to be assessed with reference to the economic weakness of the territory. Wallisian affection for France amounts in part to cupboard love, focused on French subsidies. In addition, Wallisians display a characteristically Polynesian pride in their own heritage and language, and accordingly have reservations about French cultural and administrative models. But with its options so limited, Wallis and Futuna is likely to remain a loyal French overseas possession indefinitely.

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9 France and the Region Like all good photographers, Fernando Pereira cherished his cameras. So when the first explosion rocked the Greenpeace vessel Rainbow Warrior on the night of 10 July 1985, he rushed to rescue them. But the second explosion killed him. It also sank the Rainbow Warrior, preventing it from voyaging to French Polynesia to protest against French nuclear testing. In the months that followed, as the responsibility of French secret service agents for the bombing was gradually exposed, it became clear how far some in France would go in efforts to defend the nuclear testing programme in French Polynesia. The sinking of the Rainbow Warrior had been intended to weaken the anti-testing movement. But, once French responsibility for this act of state terrorism had been established, the bombing had precisely opposite results. France's relations with Australia and New Zealand and the South Pacific island countries deteriorated. The reaction to the Rainbow Warrior bombing marked one extreme in the fluctuating fortunes of France in the region during the 1980s. The decade opened with the countries of the region concerned by French obstruction of the transition to independence in Vanuatu. From 1981 to 1986, when a Socialist government favouring moderate reform in New Caledonia held office in France, French relations with the region improved, at least until the revelations about the Rainbow Warrior affair. Relations initially worsened, before making some improvement, while the government of Jacques Chirac held office from March 1986 to May 1988. Then, at the end of the decade, the image of France in the region improved sharply following the implementation of new policies from June 1988 by a Socialist government under Michel Rocard. The apparent transformation under Rocard should be kept in perspective. The Rocard government has been more moderate and constructive in its Pacific policies, and more temperate in its language, than its combative predecessor. But French policy in the region has displayed strong continuities, despite variations in government and in policy emphasis. French governments consistently have sought to uphold France's presence in the region.

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The Rainbow Warrior I, sunk in Auckland harbour in July 1985 by French saboteurs. One crew member was killed. The governments of the South Pacific region responded angrily when French responsibility for the sinking became known. (Photo: Greenpeace/Miller) France regards three of its attributes as vital. These are its overseas possessions, its independent nuclear deterrent, and its strong leverage in several of its ex-colonies, above all in Francophone Africa. 1 The French view is that these attributes ensure France's international prestige and influence. Without them France would slip to the middling rank of powers, consistent with its size and relatively modest economic strength, despite its rich cultural heritage and proud memories. France's various overseas possessions are scattered around the world (table 9.1). In an April 1990 speech Louis Le Pensec, the Minister for Overseas Departments and Territories in the Rocard government, argued that France retains its overseas territories first and foremost because it is the wish of their inhabitants to remain French.2 It is correct that in each of the overseas possessions only a minority of voters, and often a very small minority, favours independence. But the minister made no mention of Kanak complaints that the population and hence electoral balance had been shifted against them in recent decades by government-encouraged immigration. Neither did he mention that French politicians and officials, consistent with a traditional French reluctance to decolonise, have worked hard to discourage proindependence sentiments. Le Pensec also listed the various ways in which the overseas possessions were of value to France. These included the geostrategic

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Page 194 Table 9.1 France's overseas possessions Location and status

Population

Land area (sq km)

North Atlantic St Pierre and Miquelon (TC)

6 041

242

West Indies Guadeloupe & dependencies (D) Martinique (D)

337 500*

1 780

335 100*

1 100

90 200*

91 000

569 600*

2 510

South America French Guiana (Guyane) (D) Indian Ocean Réunion (D) Mayotte (TC)

72 000*

375

164 173

19 000

South Pacific New Caledonia (T) Wallis and Futuna (T)

14 181

French Polynesia (T)

188 814

275 4 000

Antarctic and Southern Indian Ocean French Southern and Antarctic Lands (T) (Includes Kerguelen Island). No permanent population North Pacific Clipperton Island (O) No permanent population Note: (D = Department, T = territory, TC = Territorial Collective, O = Other) Population figures are for 1988 or 1989, except that the figure for Saint-Pierre and Miquelon is for 1982. Figures asterisked are 1988 estimates; other figures are from censes. In addition to Clipperton Island (see map 1, 10°N), France also owns or lays claim to several uninhabited islands and reefs. These specks of territory are mostly located in the southern Indian ocean, but include the small islands of Mathew and Hunter to the east of New Caledonia, the ownership of which is disputed between Vanuatu and France. Source: Adapted from Aldrich and Connell, France's Overseas Frontier, Table 1, and Connell, New Caledonia, p. 383. value of the nuclear testing sites in French Polynesia and the missile testing site at French Guiana (Guyane) in South America. In addition, the overseas possessions were of present or potential economic value. New Caledonian nickel, even though there were deposits of nickel in several other countries, was 'in sufficient quantity to constitute a certain economic stake' for metropolitan France. 3 Meanwhile France's retention of its various overseas possessions gave it, under the provisions of the Law of the Sea, the third largest Exclusive Economic Zone in the world. As well as some returns from fisheries, this gave France the possibility of benefiting at a later stage from the exploitation of undersea resources. In addition, the maintenance of French sovereignty in several overseas possessions permitted the rayonnement (dissemination) of French language and culture. In the South Pacific, global concerns do much to shape French policy. The nuclear testing sites in French Polynesia are of crucial importance to France (chapter 7), and French policy on the South

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Pacific territories fits in part into the framework of policies developed for the overseas possessions as a whole. But within this broader context, the territories and the other aspects of the French Pacific presence are of considerable significance in their own right to France. The three territories have a total population of less than 400 000. But as of the late 1980s they accounted, as a group, for several hundred million Australian dollars per year in direct spending by French government departments. 4 And France is likely to invest further and to act firmly to protect its South Pacific presence, in the belief that the region has increasing importance. The French presence also has important implications for regional stability and inter-regional relations.5 Few French commentators have doubts about the legitimacy of the French presence in the South Pacific. They argue that this presence is justified because of France's close historical and economic links with its Pacific territories and because of the wish expressed by the majority of voters in these territories for France to remain. In contrast many regional observers regard France as essentially a European power. They have been sceptical about whether a continuing French presence in the South Pacific is justified, now that the other European powers, (and the former British settler colonies of Australia and New Zealand), have relinquished their possessions there. And they have argued that French policies, for example during the decolonisation of Vanuatu, and on nuclear testing and New Caledonia, have contributed to instability. France would prefer to subordinate local pressures in its Pacific territories to its global interests and aims. Yet as recent developments in New Caledonia demonstrate, these pressures, strengthened to a modest extent by regional influences, have their own logic and momentum, which require France to respond to them. This chapter examines France's relations with the region during the 1980s and considers prospects into the early 1990s. It reviews in turn French relations with the Melanesian states; with Fiji, Polynesia and Micronesia; and with Australia and New Zealand. The chapter considers the variations in the intensity with which concerns have been expressed, especially as a result of a more active French diplomacy in Fiji and elsewhere in the central South Pacific. It also discusses the way in which the moderate, constructive approach of the Rocard government has reduced the concerns of the South Pacific governments, especially by achieving an interim settlement in New Caledonia. Melanesia In the Melanesian countries in the west of the South Pacific region, French diplomacy traditionally has had little success. Melanesian leaders feel a strong sense of brotherhood with the Kanaks of New Caledonia,

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and strongly oppose French nuclear testing. Indeed in mid-1986 Papua New Guinea, the Solomon Islands and Vanuatu formed the 'Melanesian Spearhead' group, to express Melanesian solidarity and to lobby for a strong line on New Caledonia in the South Pacific Forum. They have taken a strongly critical stand on the French presence. This stance has differed from that of Fiji, which has strong affinities with the Polynesian as well as the Melanesian cultural zones and which has taken a more conservative stance. In the following section I discuss the stance of the Melanesian Spearhead states, before drawing some general conclusions. The Spearhead states number only three among the fifteen members of the South Pacific Forum, the regional body comprising the independent and quasi-independent island countries and Australia and New Zealand. But they have a special prominence among the island countries because of their relatively greater land areas, resource bases, and populations. Papua New Guinea is by far the largest and most populous of the independent Pacific island countries. And these three countries rank first, third and fifth among the independent island countries in population size, and first, second and fourth in land area (see table 9.4, below). Since even before independence in September 1975, the leaders of Papua New Guinea have been consistently critical of the French Pacific presence. In April 1975, for example, external affairs spokesperson Kiki referred to what he called the 'arrogance' and 'cynicism' of nuclear testing in the Pacific. 6 This newly independent country also vigorously supported the decolonisation of the French Pacific territories, and from the late 1970s favoured the involvement in this question of the United Nations Committee of 24 on Decolonisation.7 In April 1975, a Post-Courier editorial responded to French interest in opening a diplomatic post in Port Moresby by warning that the granting of this request 'could be construed as a victory for French policies on testing, which have been roundly condemned by most Pacific countries'.8 Papua New Guinea delayed a decision on the proposal, and France's first resident Ambassador did not present credentials until November 1980. The delay seems to have resulted in part from reservations about the French presence in the South Pacific. And the eventual favourable decision was related to French technical and educational assistance, and to the prospective inclusion of Papua New Guinea under the Lomé Convention, which offered Papua New Guinea exports preferential access to the French and European Community markets.9 Papua New Guinea took a close interest in the troubled transition of the New Hebrides to independence, and expressed strong criticisms of French obstruction. Moreover, after discussions between Papua New Guinea Prime Minister Sir Julius Chan and Vanuatu Prime Minister Father Walter Lini at the South Pacific Forum meeting in Kiribati in July 1980, Papua New Guinea helped Vanuatu by sending 450 troops, with Australian logistics and communications support, to quell Jimmy

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Stephen's secessionist bid on Espiritu Santo (see chapter 2). Stephens had been supported by French expatriates and local French officials, with the French government playing an ambiguous role. Prime Minister Chan said that the time had come for the people of the region to show that they did not exist to be manipulated by 'outsiders'. 10 The Santo intervention demonstrated a sense of Melanesian and wider South Pacific solidarity, and strengthened the links between Papua New Guinea and Vanuatu. The election of a Socialist President and government in France in mid-1981 made the government of Papua New Guinea hopeful of a 'positive change in the attitude of the French Government towards the future of its Pacific territories and the desire of Pacific nations for an end to nuclear testing in the region'.11 But these hopes were disappointed: the new French government moved slowly in New Caledonia and affirmed its commitment to continued nuclear testing. Accordingly throughout the 1980s, Papua New Guinea remained strongly critical of French policy and actions. The Papua New Guinea government was a co-sponsor of the AustraliaNew ZealandPapua New Guinea scientific mission to Moruoa atoll in November 1983. But it distanced itself from the report, which said that the present-day health and environmental risks from the tests were negligible. Thus in July 1984 Tony Bais, the acting minister for Foreign Affairs and Trade, expressed doubts about the mission's findings. He said that: 'Papua New Guinea appreciates the report but is unmoved by the conclusions because the danger is there and must be stopped now . . . we take the findings as ''purely scientific in nature''. The political and moral aspects are by far more important than the scientific aspect.12 Papua New Guinea also took a militant line on New Caledonia. It consistently supported the reinscription of the territory by the United Nations Decolonisation Committee and played a leading role in forming the Melanesian Spearhead Group to lobby on the New Caledonian and other questions in the South Pacific Forum. The Papua New Guinea government treated New Caledonia and nuclear testing as closely associated issues.13 In an October 1984 editorial the Papua New Guinea Post-Courier commended this approach, arguing that the two issues were made as one by France's attitude of 'We don't give a damn what the rest of the world thinks'.14 Papua New Guinea's reservations about the French presence were also expressed in support for the idea of single regional organisation, to replace the existing organisations. This was combined with suspicion of, and a lack of close involvement in, the South Pacific Commission (SPC), the regional welfare and economic development agency established by the colonial powers in 1947. Papua New Guinea has regarded the SPC as a neo-colonial body in which France has too much influence, especially because the SPC's headquarters are located

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in Noumea, the capital of New Caledonia. However in the late 1980s a compromise solution of the dispute over a proposed single regional organisation was reached, with the formation of a special committee, known as the South Pacific Organisations Coordinating Committee (SPOCC), to help coordinate the activities of the various regional organisations, so as to minimise overlaps and maximise cooperation. SPOCC held its first meeting in Suva in February 1989. Strong statements from Papua New Guinea spokespersons and in the press have been complemented by criticism from the opposition and by sections of the public. Moreover these comments have been made in the absence of the presentation of countervailing or more measured points of view. Some examples follow. In May 1985 Mr Torato, the deputy leader of the Opposition, described French testing as an international criminal offence, and said that the French were worse than the Nazis. 15 In September of that year, in reaction to a visit by French President Mitterrand to the South Pacific, the president of the National Union of Students, Mr Opeari, called for the closure of the French Embassy in Port Moresby, in protest against what he described as France's 'bullying' tactics. He argued that the real issue in the region now was the fight against imperialism and colonialism, that France and other countries were bullying little countries in the Pacific, and that the French should get out of the Pacific.16 Some years earlier, in September 1981, following the murder of Kanak Independence Front leader Pierre Declerq, the Port Moresby Waterside Workers and Seamens' Union put a one-day ban on handling the cargo of a French ship.17 Relations became especially difficult while the rightwing government of Jacques Chirac held power in France from March 1986 to May 1988. They improved following the coming to power of the Rocard government and its negotiation of an interim settlement in New Caledonia. However Papua New Guinea, like the other Melanesian countries, has strong reservations about the Rocard plan for New Caledonia. At a conference held at the Australian National University in December 1988, Steven Mokis, the Secretary of Papua New Guinea's Defence Department, said that he expected difficulties to continue in relations between Papua New Guinea and France, despite the change of government in France, and described the bilateral relationship as 'lukewarm'.18 The Solomon Islands, the second largest Melanesian state after Papua New Guinea, and the second to become independent, has also been strongly critical of the French presence. In the late 1970s, while Solomon Islands was moving smoothly to self-government and political independence, the transition to independence in the neighbouring New Hebrides was delayed by French opposition. The Solomon Islands press gave a detailed coverage of developments in the New Hebrides/

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Vanuatu, 19 and the government supported an early transition to unitary independence and the involvement by Papua New Guinea troops in the suppression of the Santo rebellion. The Solomon Islands government also condemned French nuclear testing: in December 1980, for example, it told the French government that it had learnt 'with much regret and dismay that France has again exploded a nuclear device underground at Muroroa atoll', and pointed out that the Solomon Islands did not 'under any circumstances condone any form of nuclear activity in the Pacific'.20 In response to the publication of the 'Atkinson Report', the Solomon Islands government announced that it would continue to deplore French nuclear testing and to be convinced of its adverse effects.21 The Solomon Islands established diplomatic relations with France in 1980, and it was envisaged that a non-resident French ambassador be accredited to Honiara. However successive Solomon Islands governments refused to accept a French ambassadorial visit to Honiara for the presentation of credentials. By delaying accreditation the Solomon Islands expressed its reservations about dealings with the French, and its concern over testing and New Caledonia. In response, France temporarily blocked the presentation of credentials by the Roving Ambassador for Solomon Islands to the European Community.22 French accreditation in Honiara was delayed until 1990, a decade after it had been first proposed. The Solomon Islands government also followed post-independence events in Vanuatu with interest. In March 1981 Prime Minister Peter Kenilorea criticised the stance taken by France in its aid negotiations with Vanuatu. Kenilorea also reaffirmed that the Solomon Islands was firmly committed to supporting decolonisation in the Pacific, and expressed support for United Nations involvement in the New Caledonian question.23 In November 1986, however, Kenilorea was obliged to step down from his second term as Prime Minister after controversy arose over his acceptance of an offer of French cyclone relief aid for his village from Flosse, France's Secretary of State for the South Pacific. Kenilorea's critics expressed strong reservations about the acceptance of French aid outside normal diplomatic channels and for what seemed to be a self-interested project. His replacement, Ezekiel Alebua, was sharply critical of the policies of the Chirac government. In January 1987 he said that France's continued colonial attitude showed disrespect for the interests of the people of the Pacific. Describing France as arrogant and reactionary, he commented that France's: . . . attempt to divert attention from the New Caledonia independence and Mururoa nuclear issues has not succeeded . . . France has not been doing well . . . in the Pacific. From the

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bombing of the Rainbow Warrior to the expulsion of Australia's Consul General in New Caledonia, France has only been causing more problems for herself. 24 Although attitudes to France softened somewhat in the late 1980s, Solomon Islands nonetheless called, at the United Nations General Assembly in October 1990, for French Polynesia to be reinscribed on the list of territories considered by the United Nations Committee of 24 on Decolonisation.25 The suggested reinscription of French Polynesia was intended as a follow-up to the earlier reinscription of New Caledonia. The strong line taken in government statements has been echoed, and at times surpassed, by press statements and comments by members of the public, with hardly any contrary views being put. For example the Solomon Star editorial of 5 September 1986 condemned France for ignoring the wishes of island countries, concluding that for these countries, 'The blowing up of the Rainbow Warrior is France's true message'.26 Earlier, in February 1985, a correspondent to the same newspaper had expressed regret that, apart from Vanuatu, the Melanesian countries of Fiji, Solomon Islands, and Papua New Guinea were not clearly supporting the Kanak struggle for independence. The writer concluded by thanking the: . . . former government of Julius Chan for liberation of Vanuatu, Vanuatu for her prominent diplomatic support, Mamaloni government [i.e. the then government of Solomon Islands, headed by Solomon Mamaloni] for his contribution and importantly Colonel Gadaffi for his pledge to assist our Kanak brothers [sic].27 Unlike Papua New Guinea and the Solomon Islands, both of which have had only scanty direct connections with France, Vanuatu has been much affected by its historical connections with France (see chapter 2). In the 1970s, the French wish to retain its overseas possessions conflicted with Britain's intention to relinquish its Pacific colonies and clashed with the emergence of a nationalist movement, represented by the Vanua'aku Pati (VP). French relations with the new state of Vanuatu were soured from the outset by the colonial legacy, by French resistance to the coming of independence, and by the support of local French officials for secession attempts on Tanna in 1979 and Santo in 1980. With French-schooled people and associated nativist custom groupings comprising around a third of the population, and with this segment of the population generally at odds with the ruling VP, the French connection has continued to have domestic political implications. Relations with France became difficult in 198081, when French insistence on implementing substantial controls on the nature and spending of French aid, so as to preserve French influence, conflicted

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with the Vanuatu government's efforts to uphold its sovereignty and independence. They reached a crisis in February 1981, when French officials at Tontouta airport refused to let Vanuatu's roving Ambassador, and the secretary-general of the ruling Vanua'aku Pati, Barak Sope, enter New Caledonia and attend the annual Congress of the Independence Front. The local administration apparently regarded the intended visit as provocative. Sope was obliged to return to Vila on the next plane. The Vanuatu government responded by expelling the French Ambassador, and France in turn reduced its aid to Vanuatu. Relations remained difficult throughout the 1980s, and deteriorated sharply again in October 1987, a few weeks before national elections were to be held, when the government stated that it had proof that France was funding the opposition, Francophone-based, Union of Moderate Parties (UMP). Vanuatu expelled the French Ambassador; France cut its aid spending; Vanuatu expelled further diplomats; and France reduced its aid even further. By early 1988 the size of the staff of the French mission had dwindled from over 30 expatriate staff to only two, with the acting-head of the mission not accorded diplomatic status. For much of 1988, a 'normalisation' of the relationship was delayed by the government's preoccupation with a domestic political conflict between the VP and a loose alliance between the UMP and a small group of former VP members led by Barak Sope. However in late 1988, after consolidating its position and in response to the fresh approach on New Caledonia of the new French government, the Lini government set out to improve relations with France. Vanuatu also needed French aid money, and the government wanted to avoid the charge of being anti-Francophone in the lead-up to the December by-elections. Relations between France and Vanuatu under a VP government are always likely to be difficult, because of the inevitable implications of the French connection for Vanuatu's domestic politics. The Vanuatu government contends that French language and culture will remain important in Vanuatu and that educational and cultural bilingualism will persist superimposed on the bedrock of traditional culture and the national language of Bislama. 28 But the longer-term trend seems to be one of decline in the proportion of the population educated in French, because young ni-Vanuatu have found that English-language education opens up more educational and job opportunities. Nonetheless should the UMP, possibly allied with Sope's group, win power in the elections scheduled for late 1991, this would be a major breakthrough for France in Melanesia, and could lead to a revival of French influence and of local interest in French language and culture.29 In a press interview in early March 1990, Prime Minister Lini said that he wanted the re-installation of a French Ambassador in Port Vila and a return to normal relations. He emphasised the prospective

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importance of renewed French educational, technical and financial aid to Vanuatu, and noted that while Australia and New Zealand were supplying aid according to their capacity, France had a larger economy than these countries. His remarks indicated Vanuatu's need for aid because of its economic problems. However they probably also resulted from a wish to counter Sope's suggestions, by improving relations with France well before the late 1991 national elections, that a renewal of French aid would depend upon a victory by Sope and his supporters and allies in the elections. 30 Consistent with the improvement of relations with France, there were indications that by the end of the 1980s Vanuatu had opted for a more cautious and pragmatic foreign policy.31 Nonetheless Vanuatu is likely to remain critical of the French presence and its implications. It has been the only South Pacific country to join the Non-Aligned Movement, and has spoken out strongly against colonialism. In 1983, it hosted the conference of the Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific Movement. In August 1984, Father Lini commented as follows on the findings of the Atkinson report: Our position . . . still is, that we oppose the French nuclear tests on moral grounds and not necessarily on the premise that the tests are scientifically dangerous. Obviously if the French government thinks the tests are safe, why does it not experiment with them in France? The fact that the French government continues to carry out its nuclear tests in the South Pacific thousand of kilometres from France is itself morally wrong and no scientist can convince us otherwise.32 Vanuatu also has taken an absolutist stance on New Caledonia. It has done this by supporting a strong line in meetings of the Melanesian Spearhead Group, by arguing that efforts by the French Socialist government which held power from 1981 to 1986 to bring compromise were doomed to failure, by favouring an early move to 'total Kanak independence', and by lobbying for this goal at meetings of the South Pacific Forum.33 Vanuatu has regarded the fresh approach of the Rocard government on New Caledonia as preferable to the confrontationist policy of the preceding Chirac government. But it also has expressed reservations about the Matignon Accords. Father Lini said that the ten year period leading up to a referendum on independence was too long, that it should be shortened, and that in fact New Caledonia was ready for independence at once.34 In early 1990, Vanuatu joined with Papua New Guinea and the Solomon Islands in pledging to push for membership in the South Pacific Forum for the FLNKS, even though the FLNKS is ineligible because it does not represent an independent or fully selfgoverning country. However the 1990 Forum meeting decided that FLNKS membership was not appropriate, but agreed to

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continue informal arrangements whereby FLNKS representatives meet with island country leaders. As the above review has illustrated, the Melanesian countries have taken a strong line on issues relating to the French presence, and have given these issues considerable prominence in their foreign policies. Contrasts in approach between the Melanesian countries and the other island countries of the South Pacific can be overdrawn, but it does seem clear that the Melanesian countries have taken a consistently more absolutist line. In addition to condemning aspects of the French presence, especially testing and the handling of New Caledonia, they have also condemned the very presence itself, arguing that its continuation is an anomaly which should be ended. This stance reflects the strong sympathies felt by many in the independent Melanesian countries for their Kanak 'brothers' campaigning for independence in New Caledonia. It relates in a general way to the sense of common Melanesian identity which has emerged in recent years. This consciousness has been facilitated by the presence of the various forms of Pidgin English in Papua New Guinea, Solomon Islands and Vanuatu. It has been strengthened by a range of personal contacts, including church connections and the links formed by young Melanesians from different countries while studying, notably at the University of Papua New Guinea in Port Moresby and at the University of the South Pacific in Suva. Compared with the other countries of the region, the Melanesian stance also seems to reflect the more open, volatile, and less conservative character of Melanesian societies. It also reflects the later imposition of colonialism, in part as a result of which early contacts and conflicts, and memories of injustice, exploitation and oppression, often remain strong in local tradition. This heritage and perception shapes present thinking. 35 Moreover the Melanesian countries attained political independence relatively later than their Polynesian counterparts. As a result, the intellectual formation of their leaderships was influenced by the more liberal and radical sentiments of the late 1960s and the early 1970s in the wider world. These underlying features help explain the strong Melanesian opposition to French nuclear testing. The strength of the Melanesian stance might seem surprising, given that the Melanesian countries are located further from the test sites, and hence further from any possible risks, than the Polynesian countries, which have been more measured in their approach. But the Melanesian countries oppose testing not merely because of concern over health and environmental risks, but more importantly because testing is seen as expressive of and integral to continued French colonialism in the region. The Melanesian position on testing is also expressive of a strong overall anti-nuclear stance based on a moral condemnation of nuclear weapons. These countries have also been dissatisfied with the Treaty of

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Rarotonga, on the grounds that it does not go far enough. This treaty, which dates from 1986, established the South Pacific Nuclear-Free Zone, within which nuclear testing and dumping and the stationing of nuclear weapons are banned. However the treaty accepts the right of nuclear-powered or armed vessels to high sea passage and the right of individual countries to permit such vessels to make port visits. Vanuatu has refused to support the treaty, while Papua New Guinea and Solomon Islands delayed their ratification of it. Yet despite the similarities between the foreign policies of Papua New Guinea, the Solomon Islands and Vanuatu in relation to the French presence, there are also some differences and nuances. Because of its history and political characteristics, issues relating to the French presence are of special importance in the foreign policy of Vanuatu. In contrast to the other two Melanesian states, foreign policy shifts in Vanuatu relating to France have important domestic political implications, and this domestic dimension interacts with broader questions of principle and national interest. The VP government has particular reasons to be antagonistic towards France, and Vanuatu often has taken the lead in condemning the French presence. However Vanuatu's partial reliance on French aid, especially to fund the Francophone part of its education system, has helped shape the evolution of the relationship. In 1980, although the VP at first favoured letting the Kanak independence movement set up a 'provisional government' in Vila, it changed its mind after the French government warned that if this step was taken, then no French aid would be forthcoming. 36 In 198081, differences emerged within the VP between those who urged a complete break with France, even at the cost of no more aid, and those who favoured reaching a compromise over the aid question, with the latter group eventually having its way. In Papua New Guinea, foreign policy issues relating to the French presence have fewer domestic implications, French aid is too negligible to give France much leverage, and the bilateral relationship is too weak for there to be many constraints on Papua New Guinea's freedom of action. For a commodity exporter like Papua New Guinea, however, France's important position in the European Community could have increasing significance. Papua New Guinea's approach has also reflected its leaders' belief that it should lead in regional affairs, because in size, population and potential wealth it dwarfs the other Pacific island countries. Accordingly it has been inclined to take strong stands. Unlike Papua New Guinea and Vanuatu, the Solomon Islands has not aspired to a leadership role, although in 1984 Prime Minister Mamaloni, in one of the initiatives that contributed to the eventual formation of the Melanesian Spearhead Group, did call for the formation of a separate Melanesian grouping. The approach of the Solomon Islands, although broadly similar to that of its Melanesian neighbours, has generally been more cautious and measured. A mid1985 statement

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on foreign policy comments that, as a small country dependent on, and vulnerable to, changes in the world economy, and lacking military power, the Solomon Islands has adopted 'a broadly-based multi-dimensional approach to foreign policy which seeks to develop equal partnerships bilaterally, regionally and multilaterally'. Accordingly the Solomon Islands has supported the United Nations and the Common-wealth, and has endeavoured to be 'both selective and cautious' in opening and developing diplomatic relations with other countries. The Solomon Islands has taken a firm stance against nuclear testing and the dumping of nuclear and other toxic wastes. It has opposed 'all forms of colonialism'. However in a formulation which suggests an awareness of the political difficulties involved, the foreign policy document states that the Solomon Islands has set out to do 'whatever is possible and sensible to assist the colonised peoples in the South Pacific region to gain their independence [my emphasis]'. 37 The new Papua New Guinea government which assumed power in July 1988, with Michael Somare as Foreign Minister, has been more reserved in its comments on French policy than its predecessors. And French relations with all three Melanesian countries improved following the FLNKS's acceptance of an interim settlement in New Caledonia under the Matignon Accords. Nonetheless the Melanesian countries seem likely to continue to take a strong anti-colonial and antinuclear stand in relation to the French presence, and to remain relatively impervious to French blandishments. Their stance is important to them as a matter of principle. It may also perform a useful psychological purpose. It perhaps does this by providing a set of issues on which these three countries can agree heartily, expressing that sense of distinctive Melanesian identity which is central to their national and regional self-image, while overlooking other dissimilarities and differences. The differences include those between Papua New Guinea and Vanuatu over Vanuatu's sympathies, on the basis of Melanesian solidarity, for the OPM (Organisasi Papua Merdeka), the loose and diverse collection of opponents of the incorporation of the western half of the island of New Guinea into Indonesia. Despite considerable popular sympathy in Papua New Guinea for protests against Indonesian rule in Irian Jaya, successive Papua New Guinea governments have declined to support the OPM, and have cooperated with Indonesia to police the border area. Fiji and Polynesia The policies of the Polynesian states and Fiji have contrasted with those of the Melanesian states. The societies of Polynesia are generally smaller in scale and more cohesive than those of Melanesia.

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Compared with their Melanesian counterparts, they have been subject for a longer period to modern and western influences, especially from the churches. They attained independence or self-government in an intellectual environment less influenced by criticisms of colonialism and charges of neo-colonialism. Compared with Melanesia, some observers would argue, outsiders are viewed with less suspicion than in Melanesia. Chiefly systems and respect for elders encourage conservative policies. The Polynesian states are wary of Melanesian claims to regional leadership, whether based on size (Papua New Guinea) or on moral authority (Vanuatu). They were irritated by the formation of the Melanesian Spearhead Group. They believe that the formation of blocs within the Forum is not conducive to consensus, and resent the assertion of Melanesian independence via the Spearhead Group. In response, some Polynesian leaders have considered the notion that the Polynesian countries and entities form a Polynesian 'community' or confederation, as a counter-weight to the Spearhead. 38 As smaller countries with narrow resource bases, the Polynesian countries are inclined to caution. They display a positive attitude to the South Pacific Commission, because it provides a forum in which smaller countries can be heard and because it unites sovereign, self-governing and dependent entities in a single organisation. This permits a strengthening of the cultural ties and the friendly linksfor example those between Western Samoa and American Samoa, or between the Cook Islands and French Polynesiawhich transcend differences in constitutional status. Compared with the Melanesian countries, the Polynesian countries, along with Fiji, responded more positively to France's aid and diplomatic drive from 1987, which was intended to contain and reduce opposition to the French presence. The most conservative Polynesian state is Tonga, which was a British protectorate until 1970. Tonga is a constitutional monarchy in which the government is dominated by the chiefly class. The Tongan government has adopted a conservative foreign policy. It has refused to sign the Treaty of Rarotonga, because it believes that the treaty compromises western strategic interests. Tongan policy-makers were sympathetic to the view of the United States government. This was that the treaty set an unhelpful precedent for the establishment of similar, but more all-exclusive zones elsewhere. Such zones would disdvantage the United States and its western partners, which require naval mobility and a complex alliance system to protect their interests, while assisting the Soviet Union, which is essentially a landbased power and which is not dependent on alliances. Tongan spokespersons have occasionally been critical of French nuclear testing,39 but have not given the issue the emphasis it has received in Melanesia. Tonga has followed along in cautious support for Forum country stances on nuclear testing and New Caledonia, but

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mainly for the sake of preserving regional consensus and with some reservations. But despite this conservatism, the at times idiosyncratic influence of the king and the crown prince can endow the foreign policy of Tonga with a maverick character. The quasi-sovereign state of the Cook Islands, which is in 'free association' with New Zealand, has also been less critical of the French presence than other states in the region. Because of close kin and cultural links with French Polynesia, the Cook Islands has been keen to develop connections with that territory. Cook Island governments, while opposed in principle to French nuclear testing, have been more cautious in their approach than the governments of the Melanesian countries. Whereas the Melanesian countries did not accept the findings of the Atkinson Report, even though a representative of Papua New Guinea had participated in the mission, the Cook Islands government was reassured. In November 1983, Prime Minister Geoffrey Henry remarked that he saw the Atkinson mission 'as a means of starting useful dialogue between France and Pacific countries', and expressed the hope that this dialogue would lead to France making a greater contribution to the economic development of the South Pacific. Henry's successor as Prime Minister, Sir Thomas Davis, commented that the Atkinson mission had established that 'the Cook Islands is not threatened with nuclear radiation'. 40 The Cook Islands has also encouraged the Forum to take moderate positions on New Caledonia. In July 1985 Sir Thomas Davis suggested that consideration of the New Caledonian question by the South Pacific Forum could amount to 'an exercise in futility', said that he did not envy the position of France, and remarked that 'It's really a matter for France to solve, and the best we can do is give assistance and help where we can'.41 Cook Island leaders have also shown some dissatisfaction over New Zealand's policy on nuclear ship visits and its implications for ANZUS, the defence and security agreement linking Australia, New Zealand and the United States. After the rift in ANZUS in the late 1980s over New Zealand's refusal to permit nuclear-capable US naval vessels to visit New Zealand's ports, Sir Thomas Davis commented that 'I feel very let down, I had really supported ANZUS and now there's no umbrella'.42 This disquiet over the ANZUS rift was characteristic of Fiji and the countries of Polynesia and Micronesia. In contrast the Melanesian countries were sympathetic to New Zealand's stance which they regarded as a worthwhile example of small country independence and assertiveness.43 Fiji has also been inclined to take a cautious stance on issues relating to the French presence. Indigenous Fijian culture combines Melanesian and Polynesian elements, especially in the eastern parts of the island group. Fiji attained independence relatively early, and assumed a leadership role in the Forum and other regional organisations.

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This role resulted from Fiji's standing as the second most populous island state after Papua New Guinea, from its economic strength, and from its central location in the region. Fiji Prime Minister Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara expressed reservations about the intervention by Papua New Guinea troops in Vanuatu in mid-1980 to quell the Santo uprising. Fiji has also opposed proposals for a single regional organisation. 44 On the other hand Fiji has been consistently strongly critical of French nuclear testing. In early 1987, when a mildly radical government won a narrow election victory in Fiji, sharpened criticism of France by Fiji seemed likely. But this government, which was led by the late Dr Timoci Bavadra, was deposed within a few weeks by the coup of 14 May 1987. Micronesia Like the Polynesian countries and Fiji, the Micronesian entities also have taken, compared with the Melanesian countries, a more qualified stance on the French presence. Like the other smaller countries, they put considerable value on their membership of the South Pacific Commission, both as a useful forum for the smaller countries and because it brings the full range of Pacific islanders together. In the South Pacific Forum, they support consensus positions, and generally do not expect to play a leading role.45 The sense of Micronesian identity is less well-developed than the senses of Melanesian and Polynesian identity. This is explicable in part by the diversity of the Micronesian entities. The two fully independent Micronesian states, Kiribati and Nauru, are very different. Kiribati, a widely scattered collection of atolls, is a very poor country. As of 1986 its per capita GNP was $US 333. Its key resource in colonial times, phosphate, had been exhausted before independence was granted. It has sought to be as self-reliant as possible, but for the forseeable future will continue to depend on aid even for basic services and infrastructure. In contrast Nauru, which still had massive phosphate reserves when it became independent, is at present one of the world's richest states. Its per capita GDP as of 1984 was $US 20 000. But this wealth has been gained at great environmental cost and is unlikely to last once the phosphate runs out, which is expected to happen during the mid-1990s.46 The other Micronesian entities are either dependencies of the United States (the Commonwealth of the Northern Marianas, Guam, and Palau), or else are quasi-sovereign, self-governing states in free association with the United States (Federated States of Micronesia, and the Republic of the Marshall Islands). All these entities are tied closely to the metropolitan power through substantial aid and subsidies and through rights of immigration to the mainland. The sovereignty of the

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Federated States of Micronesia and the Republic of the Marshall Islands is qualified by treaty arrangements which leave defence and other aspects of sovereignty in the hands of the United States on a long-term basis. These latter two states-in-free association became members of the South Pacific Forum in 1987, on the basis that they were self-governing and had a reasonable capacity to implement Forum decisions within the region. Their status was endorsed by the United Nations Security Council in December 1990. Their geographical location; their distinctive colonial experience under first Spanish, then German, then Japanese and finally American rule; and their economic links with Asia incline them to give the South Pacific a low priority. They are yet to make a particular mark in the Forum, but their approach seems likely to be measured. So far, the various Micronesian members of the Forum have generally favoured moderate consensus positions on issues relating to the French presence. French Diplomacy: Making Friends in Fiji, Polynesia and Micronesia When France's relations with the South Pacific worsened in late 1985 because of outrage over the revelation that French agents had bombed the Rainbow Warrior, the French government decided to mount a new diplomatic offensive in the South Pacific. This offensive focused in particular on Fiji, and on the countries of Polynesia and Micronesia, because these countries were seen as less unreservedly hostile to the French presence than their Melanesian neighbours. President Mitterrand distanced himself from the Rainbow Warrior affair, but also visited the Moruroa testing site in late 1985 to reaffirm France's commitment to its testing programme. 47 On his return, he made a commitment to increased French spending and diplomatic activity in the region, and also breathed new life into the moribund proposal for a French university of the Pacific.48 As well as having a Pacific context, these iniatives also reflected a renewed commitment by France, evident from the early 1980s, to assert its presence and expand its influence throughout the developing world, both in its own possessions and with independent countries.49 France faces financial and resource constraints, but increased aid spending on the South Pacific has been at acceptable levels to the French public, and has attracted no criticism in parliament or press. From 1987 to 1990, an estimated annual average of $A 12 million has been required for France's new aid initiatives in the South Pacific. This is a modest amount, compared with the sum of over $A 1400 million which France already spends annually in relation to its own Pacific territories. The central importance to France of its nuclear

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Australia's ratification of the South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone Treaty (the Treaty of Rarotonga) in December 1986 by Prime Minister Bob Hawke (seated) and colleagues. The endorsement of the treaty by most of the South Pacific countries was a diplomatic reversal for France. The treaty sought to stop nuclear testing in the region, but France declined to stop its tests. (Photo: Canberra Times) testing programme has also encouraged a readiness to invest resources to help allay criticism. Mitterrand's approach was endorsed and pursued by the Chirac government after it won power in March 1986. In addition the Chirac government strongly criticised Australian policies, both on their merits and also under the misapprehension that Australia was orchestrating regional criticisms of France. France suffered two diplomatic reversals in late 1986. At the behest of the South Pacific Forum, the United Nation's Committee of 24 on Decolonisation reinscribed New Caledonia on its list of colonial territories subject to United Nations review. In addition, by the end of the year most South Pacific Forum countries had ratified the Treaty of Rarotonga. These diplomatic initiatives raised the international profile of the Forum island countries, and confirmed that they had some capacity to put diplomatic pressure on France. French commentators tended to belittle the influence of the South Pacific Forum. But the validity of their assessment was belied by the money and effort which the Chirac government devoted to seeking to head off criticism at the United Nations in 1986 and 1987. Moreover, the diplomatic reverses which France suffered over the Treaty of Rarotonga and New Caledonia confirmed the view of the French government that it should do more to seek to allay island country concerns and to improve France's image.

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Despite France's reverses in 1986, French efforts began to yield some results in Fiji and Polynesia, and to some extent in Micronesia, from 1987, although in Melanesia they were mostly abortive. French diplomacy centred on Gaston Flosse, the President of French Polynesia until February 1987. Flosse was appointed Secretary of State for the South Pacific in early 1986, and given a special grant of about $US 4 million to offer as aid, along with the authority to commit larger amounts through normal channels. 50 Flosse played on his part-Polynesian ancestry to project himself and French interests in a series of visits to South Pacific countries and entities. He addressed Polynesian audiences in Tahitian, making a favourable impression on speakers of the other Polynesian tongues. He also gave strong support to the suggestion that the Polynesian countries and entities should form a Polynesian 'community' or confederation. The French government presumably saw such an organisation as a potential counter-weight to the 'Melanesian Spearhead' bloc in the South Pacific Forum.51 The heightened French commitment was highlighted by the 1987 decision to open a Consulate General in Honolulu, with accreditation to the American Micronesian entities, even though several similar posts elsewhere had been closed down, as an economy measure, in the preceding few years.52 The mission would be able to present French views and emphasise common French and American interests in contacts with the Honolulu-based headquarters of the United States Pacific Command, and to pursue links with the Federated States of Micronesia and the Republic of the Marshall Islands, which had just become members of the South Pacific Forum. French diplomats were bemused by Flosse's flamboyance and shuttle diplomacy, but conceded that he had considerable impact. One of his advisers recalled that after the Rainbow Warrior bombing, France's standing had been at the nadir, but that thanks to Flosse it had recovered greatly.53 Some of the bilateral projects negotiated directly by Flosse were funded through French Polynesia, while other funds were channelled through the French embassies in Suva and Wellington. The aid included a soft loan of $A 10 million to the Cook Islands for cyclone reconstruction,54 agreed on in August/September 1987, but mostly was on a smaller scale. In Western Samoa, France funded several projects during 1987, including a hospital surgical theatre, the building of schools, the upgrading of domestic airstrips and the renovation of the residence of the Head of State.55 The aid and associated spending covered a wide range of activities, as is illustrated in table 9.2 below, which gives details of funds directed through the French Embassy in Suva in 1987. Direct French aid to Fiji, Polynesia and Micronesia was a new initiative, although France previously had contributed indirectly to some of these countries, via European Community grants and through

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Page 212 Table 9.2 French Embassy, Suva: aid projects and associated activities, 1987 Project/activity

Expenditure (F fr)a

Notes

Multi-lateral Ethnology Two lecturers in French at USP Fellowships/training students Three experts in various fields One lecturer in sciences Fellowships in geology Equipment and training

50 000 1 140 000 100 000 432 900 667 200 35 000 350 000

1 in Vanuatu, 1 in Fiji In-training course (French): Noumea 2 marine biology, 1 electronics (for USP) For USP centre in Vanuatu Student trips to New Caledonia/Vanuatu For/during experts' tours For marine geology data

Two experts for the South Pacific Geosciences Commission

850 000

Equipment & funds for the South Pacific Geosciences Commission

Co-financed with IFREMER (French Marine 660 000 Research Organisation)

Invitation to South Pacific Geosciences Commission Books for schools/libraries

65 460

Visit to France by Director

15 000

Fiji Coconut expert Expert mission to Fiji Cyclone reliefRed Cross Miscellaneous cultural activities Alliance Française in Suva Health professional visit

969 500 56 760 200 000

1 expert & provision for equipment Study trip: Yaqara project onion Housing assistance for cyclone victims

25 000 12 000

Audio-visual equipment

by Health Permanent Secretary to France for Aids 45 000 conference

Tonga Scientific cruise Two teachers of French Two experts in agronomy One fellowship in French studies French language laboratory

600 000 306 300

by Jean Charcot 2 teachers & equipment

1 in vanilla growing, 1 in renewable energy plus 829 040 expenses 53 400 430 000

Audio-visual equipment

157 000

Fisheries

100 000

Study trip

35 000

Equipment for outer islands Solar kits for refrigeration Research by CNRS experts

Tuvalu Solar kit Total

300 000 F fr 8 484 560

($A 1.7, $US 1.4 million approx.)

Source: French Embassy, Suva, August 1988 Note: a $A 1 = 5 French francs approx. as of 16 September 1988

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the South Pacific Commission and other multilateral channels. In Melanesia, France had given Vanuatu, formerly the Anglo-French Condominium of the New Hebrides, several $A million per year in bilateral aid until aid was reduced after the break-down in relations in late 1987, but had not given bilateral aid to the other Melanesian countries. 56 Flosse lost his position as Secretary of State following the fall of the Chirac government in May 1988. But although the position of Secretary of State for the South Pacific lapsed after the change of government, the new French government continued efforts to win friends in the South Pacific, although in a more low-key way and by more routine diplomatic means. To this end, it revived the South Pacific Council which Mitterrand had founded in 198586, and established a secretariat for it in Paris. A change of style was evident, with French officials seeking to be more relaxed and less combative. Because of Suva's central position in the South Pacific and because of the cordial relations which France established with the post-coup administration of Fiji, French aid and diplomatic initiatives were centred there. When interviewed in July 1989, Philippe Baude, the secretarygeneral of the South Pacific Council, commented that until 198586, 'almost all French aid was bilateral and was channelled to Vanuatu' with only a very small amount of bilateral aid going to other South Pacific countries. Since then, however, bilateral aid to other countries had increased quite substantially, and France had also expanded its multilateral aid.57 Between 1989 and 1990, the staff at the French Embassy in Suva doubled, from nine to twenty. The new personnel included a trade officer and an officer responsible for the administration of French aid, notably through the South Pacific Cooperation Fund, the expanded continuation of the discretionary fund administered by Flosse. Between 1986 and 1989, as table 9.3 illustrates, France provided aid from this fund to all of the South Pacific countries and entities, with the exception of phosphate-rich Nauru, the United States Micronesian entities, and the tiny British possession of Pitcairn Island.58 Some details of this and other French aid in the period 19871990 follow. In 198889, France funded community halls and water cisterns in several villages in Tonga, as well as a small freezer plant to assist the domestic fishing industry. France also spent around $A 2 million building a stadium in Tonga for the 1989 South Pacific games, and has provided specialised sports coaching to island countries.59 In addition, the French government has encouraged improved liaison and cooperation between French research and scientific organisations and island governments and regional organisations. From 1990, France began to offer language and technical training to Pacific island students at the French University of the Pacific, which began operations in late 1988, with campuses at both Papeete and

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Page 214 Table 9.3 Aid from the South Pacific Cooperation Fund, 198689 1986 Cook Islands

nil

Fiji

nil

Kiribati

nil

Niue

nil

PNG

nil

Sol. Islands

nil

Vanuatu

nil

Western Samoa

nil

Totals

nil

900 000 2 200 000

3 600 000 3 900 000

nil

nil 14 000 000 1 500 000 162 000

17 410 000 600 000

330 000

2 353 000

26 827 000

24 930 000

nil

nil

nil

nil

nil

nil

900 000

1989

nil

nil

833 000

Tuvalu

1988

525 000

920 000

Tonga

Regional projects

1987

nil nil nil 18 600 000

600 000 nil 1 147 700 nil 1 510 010 nil 6 347 000 34 534 710

Note: Amounts are in French francs. These figures do not include aid conveyed through multilateral channels, and some aid directed bilaterally through individual embassies. Figures for 1989 include commitments for 1989 as well as spending on projects carried over from 1988. Source: Figures provided by French Embassy, Suva, October 1990. Noumea. At the meeting of its South Pacific Council in Papeete in May 1990, the French government responded to regional concern over the Greenhouse Effect and over environmental questions. It announced that it would set up an environment monitoring observatory to collect and disseminate data, in liaison with similar observatories elsewhere in the region. It also pledged that France would take an active part in supporting the Noumea convention on the protection of natural resources in the South Pacific and the Wellington convention banning drift-net fishing in the region. In addition, the French government said that it would establish reserve stocks of emergency rescue and first aid supplies in its territories for use in disaster relief in the region. And it confirmed its readiness, when requested, to help island countries in the surveillance of their Exclusive Economic Zones. 60 These initiatives were well-publicised, including by the circulation of the communique at the South Pacific Conference of the South Pacific Commission in Noumea in October 1990. France has also provided a sophisticated computer centre for the headquarters of the South Pacific Geosciences Commission, a regional organisation based in Suva which conducts research relating to the evaluation and prospective exploitation of marine mineral resources.61 By this and other assistance, France had become, by 1989, the leading single bilateral donor to the Geosciences Commission. In addition, France had joined the Honolulu-based Pacific Islands Development Program, and had continued to be active in the South Pacific Commission, not least by increasing its contributions.62 France also has expanded its programme of naval visits to Fiji and

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the Polynesian countries. 63 In addition France is encouraging the movement of French business and investment into the Anglophone Pacific, especially into Fiji. This effort is facilitated by the tied character of French aid. Renault is already well-established in Fiji; the Noumea-based Sofrana shipping line, which is well-established in the South Pacific, has recently expanded its operation in Fiji; and the Fiji-based airline Air Pacific is purchasing two ATR42 turbo-prop aircraft. The French government is also sponsoring the activities of the Alliance Française, which opened a branch in Tonga in 1987 and one in Fiji in late 1988. In Fiji, the Alliance's founding President was Filipe Bole, Minister for Education in the interim administration established after the coups.64 Assisted by its initiatives, France has improved its image among politicians and officials in several South Pacific countries. French standing also has benefited from the cultivation of personal contacts, especially in Polynesia and Fiji. In the late 1980s several Polynesian leaders accepted invitations to visit French Polynesia and Moruroa and/or France. For example visitors in late 1987 included the Prime Minister and the Foreign Minister of the Cook Islands, the Deputy Prime Minister of Western Samoa, the Pacific Director from the Western Samoan Foreign Affairs Ministry, the Apia Manager of the Pacific Forum Line, the Lieutenant-Governor of American Samoa, the Tongan Minister for Education, Civil Aviation and Public Works, and senior Tongan and Cook Island officials.65 In 1987, not long after the first Fiji coup, Prime Minister Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara was agreeably impressed when the French government turned what he had expected to be a low-key visit to Paris into virtually a state visit, featuring meetings with the French Prime Minister and President.66 The benefits gained by France by its active diplomacy were illustrated in the remarks made by Tupuola Efi, Western Samoa's Deputy Prime Minister, during a stopover in Auckland while returning from Paris in late October 1987. After calling for a calm dialogue rather than the maintenance of rhetorical positions on New Caledonia, he commented that: 'The French, who have a Polynesian Minister, which in itself is a considerable step . . . are talking with states of the South Pacific outside their traditional sphere of influence, in a way they did not before. In the Cook Islands and in other countries, they are offering their aid constructively.' He added that differences over nuclear testing and other issues remained, but that France, if it intended to play a more positive role in the region, should be permitted to do so.67 In a similar vein, Le Tagaloa Pita, Western Samoa's Minister for Economic Affairs, told Parliament in December 1987 that despite Western Samoa's strong opposition to French nuclear testing, French aid should be accepted. He said that political issues should be separated from economics and trade, and that, as a developing country, Western Samoa needed all the assistance it could get.68

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In the Cook Islands, which was predisposed to improved relations with France because of its links with French Polynesia, the French diplomatic drive also had considerable success. During a visit to French Polynesia in September 1989, Prime Minister Geoffrey Henry, who had replaced Sir Thomas Davis the previous January, described the French nuclear tests as 'a non-issue'. As of 1990, the Cook Islands government was considering the negotiation of a treaty of friendship with France, and had arranged for the joint surveillance with France of the adjoining Exclusive Economic Zones of the Cook Islands and French Polynesia. The Cook Islands government was also exploring the possibility of a joint fishing venture between the Cook Islands, Kiribati and French Polynesia, and had applied for a low interest loan for some $A 5.7 million from the Caisse Centrale de Cooperation Economique, the French Development Bank, for the construction of a thermo-electricity plant in Rarotonga. 69 French diplomacy has been especially successful in Fiji. France 'neither condemned nor condoned' the 1987 coups.70 This stance was similar to that taken in Francophone Africa.71 There, while pursuing diplomatic advantages, France has turned a blind eye to human rights abuses on a scale far worse than that in Fiji. The French government was conscious that Fiji is the second-largest South Pacific state after Papua New Guinea, and of its important role in regional affairs because of its central location, its relative wealth and level of economic development, and its cultural affinities with both Melanesia and Polynesia. France took advantage of the uncertainties following the coup, when Fiji's relations with traditional friends such as Australia and New Zealand became frosty. Meanwhile, the Fiji administration resented the stance taken by Australia and New Zealand, and was keen to accept French aid to offset the post-coup economic downturn.72 France also benefited from the ambivalence of regional responses to the coup. The Forum country governments regretted the coup in itself. Yet once it had taken place, most of them took the view that Fiji should not be subject to external pressures. In most South Pacific island countries the coup was perceived, and attracted sympathy, as a reassertion of indigenous rights and interests. In Papua New Guinea, for example, a prominent official named his newborn son after coup leader Sitiveni Rabuka. This re-assertion was often regarded as taking precedence over democratic principle and the rights of nationals from originally immigrant stock. As well as profiting from the coup, French initiatives in Fiji also benefited from Fiji's long-term association with France in the negotiation of the Lomé Convention, which gives Fiji, as part of a grouping of African, Caribbean and Pacific countries, privileged access and prices for sugar, its major export to the EC market. Ratu Mara had impressed French officials and played a key role in the regular Lomé negotiations. Receptiveness to French initiatives also had been increased by

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French/Fijian cooperation in UNIFIL (the United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon). 73 The Rocard government has gone ahead with the implementation of a $A 16 ($US 12.8 approx.) million aid package with Fiji, agreed in early 1988 on the basis of groundwork laid by Flosse. The package consists of $A 8.6 ($US 6.9 approx.) million in loan funds, half in a soft loan and half at commercial but low rates, along with a grant of $A 8 ($US 6.4 approx.) million. The loan money was for equipment and technical assistance and training for civil aviation, the sugar industry and rural telecommunications, while the grant was for 53 Renault 'Mack' type trucks, one small helicopter, and civil emergency equipment. All purchases have been from French suppliers.74 The infrastructure and equipment is said to be primarily for civil use, but also has been used by the military. In any case, the civil/military distinction will remain blurred while the army remains a key political player. The French aid initiative had diplomatic repercussions, assisting the Fiji administration in its efforts to gain acceptance. Until it suspended aid in response to the coup, Australia was Fiji's most important donor. Australia provided nearly $A 9 ($US 7.2) million in 198384, $A 11 ($US 8.8 approx.) million in both 198485 and 198586, and was scheduled to provide $A 14 ($US 11.2 approx.) million in 198687.75 However European Community and Japanese aid to Fiji had continued without interruption. Shortly after the France/Fiji aid deal was announced, Australia decided henceforth to recognise states rather than governments, a policy which had been pursued for several years by Britain, France, the United States and other countries. This change permitted the recognition of Fiji, and the reduction of diplomatic tensions. Australia recommenced providing aid, while keeping the defence cooperation programme in suspension, on the broad understanding that Fiji would be returning to constitutional rule. Australia's policy shift was denounced by Dr Bavadra.76 The warmth of the Fiji administration towards France was shown in the final months of 1988: senior Fiji Foreign Affairs officials believe that Fiji made an important contribution to ensuring that the Forum submission on New Caledonia to the early August 1988 meeting of the UN Decolonisation Committee was moderate. They also were pleased that the discussion of this issue permitted Fiji to begin resuming its position as a key member of the South Pacific Forum. Fiji expects to maintain its positions on New Caledonia and testing, but its stance is likely to reflect an effort to ensure that differences over New Caledonia and testing do not conflict with good relations in other areas. The Polynesian countries and entities are likely to take a similar line, although Tonga could take a more conservative position. France's aid and associated cultural policies traditionally have been

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mounted with a view to the longer term: they set out to create local constituencies, and to ensure that French views get a full hearing and some local support. France presumably would not expect to be able to 'buy' the foreign policies of the proudly independent Pacific island states so as to bring about a complete reversal of policies, but would hope to contain and mute criticisms, and to ensure that reasonable relations can be maintained despite differences over particular issues. France appears to be attaining some success in achieving these objectives, although anti-nuclear sentiment in the South Pacific is strong. This is in part because of the legacies of health and environmental damage and social and cultural disruption from atmospheric testing during the 1950s and 1960s by the United States in parts of the former Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands. In addition, as Georges Lemoine has argued, an unbridgeable gap exists between scientific arguments over whether or not testing is safe and the 'metaphysical' absolutist anti-nuclear position of the Protestant churches in French Polynesia and elsewhere, which is that all nuclear weapons and anything associated with them is evil and completely unacceptable. 77 He has a point, although of course anti-nuclear sentiment in the region also has important anti-colonial and health/environmental aspects (chapter 7). With church and trade union support, the Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific movement has helped keep criticism of French testing high on the regional political agenda.78 French spokespersons do not expect to reverse opposition to testing, but have set out to allay concerns and to raise doubts about the accuracy of some anti-nuclear criticisms.79 French diplomacy also has benefited indirectly from dissatisfaction in some of the more conservative countries with the Treaty of Rarotonga. Some leading figures in these countries have perceived the treaty as having been a fruitless exercise, imposed on them by Australia and New Zealand.80 Even in the unlikely event that island country leaders became fully reassured that underground testing bears no health or environmental risks, many of them still would argue that the tests should take place in France, not in an overseas territory on the other side of the globe (see chapter 7). For example, the Fiji representative told the UN General Assembly in October 1988 that the tests should be shifted to France, on the grounds that if, as France maintains, the testing is safe and poses no danger to human or marine life, then France should have no fears in conducting the tests in its home territory. Similarly in November 1983, while accepting on the basis of the Atkinson Mission that the French tests did not threaten the Cook Islands with nuclear radiation, Cook Islands Prime Minister Sir Thomas Davis had queried: 'if it's safe why do it in our back-yard?'81 Yet despite continuing differences, above all over testing, the French diplomatic offensive in the South Pacific has secured broader acceptance

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there of the view that France has a legitimate role, and contributions to make to the region's economic welfare. France has had most success with Fiji and with the countries of Polynesia and Micronesia, but by 198990 relations with Melanesia had also improved. 82 The 'Regional Powers': Australia and New Zealand Australia and New Zealand, while sharing island country concerns about testing and New Caledonia, have sought to encourage consensus positions and a constructive approach. Their stance in relation to France has been important because of the influence they exercise in the region. On the world stage, Australia is a small or at most a medium power. New Zealand's profile is yet more modest. But in the South Pacific their standing is much greater. There are great disparities in wealth, size, level of economic development and military power between Australia and New Zealand and the island countries, as tables 9.4, 9.5, and 9.6 below illustrate. Accordingly these two countries have the potential to exert the influence of 'big powers' within the region. Meanwhile, the island countries lack the resources to establish a network of diplomatic posts and to implement diplomatic campaigns, so Australia and New Zealand have contributed substantially to the international presentation and pursuit of South Pacific Forum initiatives. The two countries have close links. In the South Pacific, their interests and policies have shown considerable convergence. This is so even though their main economic relationships lie elsewhere, and their trade with the countries of the region is minimal. In 198788, for example, Australian exports to the South Pacific countries (excluding New Zealand) amounted to only 2.7 per cent of its total exports, while its imports from these countries comprised only 0.57 of its total imports.83 But the importance of the region in defence and security terms to Australia and New Zealand far outweighs its economic importance to them. Accordingly the two countries have sought to encourage stability and peaceful change. They are major aid donors to the region, both bilaterally and multilaterally through the South Pacific Commission and other international organisations. Australia's aid to Papua New Guinea comprises one-quarter of that country's annual government income, while Australia traditionally has been the leading donor to several other South Pacific countries. Australia and New Zealand also assist the island states through defence cooperation. They coordinate their aerial and naval surveillance of island country EEZ's. In addition, to assist the island countries in the patrolling of their maritime zones, Australia has given them nine patrol boats, with six more to be provided, and is helping cover the maintenance and running costs involved.84

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Page 220 Table 9.4 Sovereign and quasi-sovereign countries: populations/areas Population

Land area (square kms)

Sea area (square kms)

Sovereign states (year of independence) Australia (1901)

16 468 600

7 682 300

8 900 000

3 300 000

268 000

1 200 000

3 649 503

462 243

3 120 000

Solomon Islands (1978)

312 196

27 556

1 340 000

Vanuatu (1980)

154 691

11 880

680 000

715 375

18 272

1290 000

178 045

2 935

120 000

99 620

699

700 000

8 475

26

900 000

66 461

690

3 550 000

8 400

21

320 000

17 995

240

1 830 000

3000

259

390 000

86 094

701

2 978 000

66 110

181

2 131 000

25 134 565

8 476 003

29 449 000

412 766

40 438

1 448 385

91 008

4 108

1 358 090

New Zealand (1907) Melanesia Papua New Guinea (1975)

Fiji (1970) Polynesia Western Samoa (1962) Tonga (British Protectorate until 1970) Tuvalu (1978) Micronesia Kiribati (1979) Nauru (1968) Quasi-sovereign entities (associated with/since) Cook Islands (NZ 1965) Niue (NZ 1974) Federated States of Micronesia (USA 1987) Marshall Islands (USA 1987) Total population/areas Averages excluding Australia and New Zealand Averages excluding Australia, New Zealand, Papua New Guinea and Fiji

Sources: For populations of Pacific island countries, John C. Dorrance, The Pacific Islands (National Defence University, forthcoming), table I; for land and sea areas of Pacific island countries, South Pacific Commission, South Pacific Economic Statistical Summary, 9, 1987; for Australia and New Zealand (all figures), Australian Yearbook 1989 and New Zealand Official Year Book 198788.

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Page 221 Table 9.5 Sovereign and quasi-sovereign countries: economic data Per capita GDP in $US GDP ($US 000)

(year of GDP figure)

Sovereign states (year of independence) New Zealand (1907) Papua New Guinea (1975) Solomon Islands (1978) Vanuatu (1980) Fiji (1970) Western Samoa (1962) Tonga (British Protectorate until 1970) Tuvalu (1978) Kiribati (1979) Nauru (1968)

Australia (1901)

36 790 000 2 544 900 115 000 84 000 1 165 000 102 000 58 783 2 799 21 711 160 000 (GNP)

729 (1986) 380 (1986) 580 (1986) 1 600 (1987) 520 (1986) 623 (1985) 325 (1985) 333 (1986) 20 000 (GNP 1984)

Federated States of Micronesia

Cook Islands (NZ 1965) 3 000 (GNP) 106 500

1 080 (GNP 1980) 1 249 (1985)

(USA 1987) Marshall Islands (USA 1987)

37 900

13 595 (198788)

11 149 (198788)

Quasi-sovereign entities (associated with/since) Niue (NZ 1974)

223 890 000

1 121 (1983)

Source: For Pacific Island countries, John C. Dorrance, The Pacific Islands (National Defence University, forthcoming), table II; for Australia and New Zealand, The Military Balance, 198990

21 000

1 170 (1986)

Table 9.6 South Pacific Forum countries: security forces Armed forces Australia New Zealand Papua New Guinea Fiji

Police forces

69 600

36 742

12 400

5 203

3 350

4 824

5 000

1 700

Solomon Islands

445

Vanuatu

520

Western Samoa Tonga

330 350

282

Tuvalu

34

Kiribati

234

Nauru

57

Cook Islands

63

Federated States of Micronesia

60

Projection capability modest modest none none none none none none none none none none none

Notes: Figures for armed services do not include reserves. The Vanuatu police forces include a 270-strong paramilitary unit, the Vanuatu Mobile Force (VMF). Figures for the Marshall Islands and Niue were not available. French military, paramilitary and police forces in the South Pacific rank a close third in number to total New Zealand forces, with numbers increasing at times of tension in New Caledonia. They have a reasonable projection capability, as has been shown in cyclone relief operations. Their activities focus on support for the testing programme in French Polynesia and on maintaining order in New Caledonia. Sources: The Military Balance, 198990; Hegarty and Polomka (eds) Security of Oceania 1989: p. 8; Australian Yearbook, 1989; and New Zealand Official Yearbook, 19878

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Until the mid-1980s the key theme of Australian and New Zealand policy for the South Pacific was that of the strategic denial of the region to powers which could potentially be hostile to, or which were likely to act against, broad western interests. This approach was expressed in efforts to keep the Soviet Union from developing diplomatic and other connections within the region and in concern over Libyan activities. These Libyan probings increased Australian and New Zealand irritation with aspects of French policy in the region, because Libyan interest in creating difficulties for France in the South Pacific mainly derived from its quarrel with France over the African state of Chad. However this policy of strategic denial has evolved because of the changes in Soviet policy during President Gorbachev's era and in response to an awareness that the island states have become less amenable to advice about how they should conduct their external affairs. In addition, during the second half of the 1980s, the Fiji coups, tensions in Vanuatu, and the conflict on Bougainville brought home to both countries a clearer sense of the limits of their power and influence in the region. Nowadays, their emphasis is on demonstrating and implementing a 'constructive commitment' to the region by acting as friendly and supportive partners to the island countries. 85 In regional forums and initiatives, Australia and New Zealand have sought to play a constructive and moderating role. To some extent both countries have seen themselves as go-betweens and caretakers, representing South Pacific interests in the wider world while also bringing the interests and concerns of the western association of nations to the attention of island leaderships. On decolonisation issues, Australia and New Zealand have favoured a moderate approach. They have welcomed the Micronesian self-governing associated states, which formerly were part of the United States Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands, as participants in the Forum and in regional affairs. They have strongly endorsed the approach of the Rocard government on New Caledonia, whereas the Melanesian countries have expressed reservations. Earlier, they had joined with the Polynesian countries in supporting a measured approach on the reinscription of New Caledonia by the United Nations Committee of 24 on Decolonisation, notwithstanding Melanesian pressures to move quickly. Reinscription was first proposed to the Forum in 1978, but in the early 1980s the Forum postponed action because of indications of progress in New Caledonia. But in 1986, when the Chirac government reversed some of its predecessor's reforms, the Forum felt obliged to support reinscription. In the reinscription process Australia and New Zealand provided substantial administrative support to permit the implementation of the Forum's decision. While critical of continued French nuclear tests, Australia and New Zealand also took the leading part in the Atkinson Mission to Moruroa and French Polynesia in 1983. This mission's report, while expressing

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concern over the possible longer-term leaching of radioactive materials, did not give support to the claims being made around that time about the present-day health and environmental risks of underground testing. 86 (Since then, however, concern about possible short-term leaching has revived in response to further research, as is discussed in chapter 7.) Australia also played an important part in helping shape the Treaty of Rarotonga to reflect a regional consensus while not conflicting with rights of high sea passage and entry into friendly ports. Australia and New Zealand have expressed concern over aspects of French policy both on grounds of anti-nuclear and anti-colonial principle and because of the view that some French policies were working against broad western interests in the region. Thus France's handling of New Caledonia has encouraged radical sentiments in the region and opened the way for meddling by Libya and potentially by other maverick and hostile states. They have favoured a prompt and generous negotiated settlement in New Caledonia, lest the situation fester and lead to a worse outcome. They regard the stances taken by Vanuatu, which at times have made it difficult to achieve regional consensus, as resulting in part from the difficulties caused by French settlers and officials for that country during its decolonisation. Australian governments also have been concerned that continued French nuclear testing in the region, in an era when both the United States and Britain have chosen to test at Nevada, has given anti-nuclear sentiment in the region a radical tinge inconsistent with Australia's measured approach. Both countries have generally been unsympathetic to French arguments that the testing programme is justified because of the contribution of the French deterrent to the central balance of deterrence in Europe. Australian governments have been inclined to believe that the French contribution to the central balance, though present, is less important and more ambiguous than French spokespersons would contend. In addition they have taken the view that in any case testing should proceed either in metropolitan France or in Nevada. Australia, along with New Zealand, has also favoured early moves by the nuclear powers to a comprehensive test ban. For its part, the New Zealand government has, in recent years, taken a more absolutist view. It has questioned the validity of nuclear deterrence as a guarantee of security, and has called for different approaches to the pursuit of international peace. In 1984, David Lange's Labour government decided to implement a policy banning visits by nuclear ships to New Zealand ports. His government's intention to decide in advance whether a prospective visiting ship was nuclear-armed or powered was, in practical terms, in conflict with the United States policy of neither confirming nor denying the presence of a nuclear capability. US naval visits to New Zealand were infrequent, and of small importance in themselves to US naval operations. But the Reagan (and subsequently the Bush) administration was concerned

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about the possible demonstration effect, on countries and regions of more direct importance to US and western strategic arrangements, of any acquiescence in New Zealand's new policy. After conciliation efforts failed, those provisions of the AustraliaNew ZealandUnited States (ANZUS) treaty relating to New Zealand ceased to be operative, and New Zealand ceased to be regarded as an ally of the United States. The policy on nuclear ship visits was popular with the New Zealand electorate, and drew attention away from the painful restructuring of the New Zealand economy undertaken by the Lange government. From 1985, the Rainbow Warrior affair, by further entrenching anti-nuclear sentiment, helped strengthen the commitment of the Lange government to its ship visits policy. In response to the electoral popularity of the policy, the (then) opposition National Party shifted position in February 1990, and pledged its support for the ban on nuclear ship visits. In the October 1990 elections, which mainly were fought on domestic issues, the Nationals swept into office. In view of the bipartisan support for the ban on visits by nuclear-powered or armed ships, the return of New Zealand to active partnership in ANZUS is unlikely. The differences between Australia and New Zealand over nuclear ship visits reflect the underlying contrasts between the two countries. 87 While probably apocryphal, the remark, attributed to a United States official, that 'New Zealand is a dagger pointed at the heart of the Antarctic' nonetheless underlines the remoteness of New Zealand. This isolation from the potential centres of major conflict, and New Zealand's relatively harmonious history, despite a recent heightening of racial tensions between those of immigrant and indigenous stock, has encouraged an idealistic trend, with isolationist overtones, in foreign policy. New Zealand's stance also has been shaped by its location in the South Pacific, by the fact that 12 per cent of its population is of either indigenous Maori or immigrant Polynesian stock, and by the attenuation of its links with Britain, especially since Britain joined the European Community. New Zealand increasingly has been inclined to regard itself as a South Pacific country. In a speech given in October 1987, for example, Prime Minister Lange said: 'We not only accept but celebrate what the map tells usthat we are a South Pacific nation'.88 But this perception is not endorsed by island country leaderships, which regard New Zealand, along with Australia, as external to the inner circle of Pacific island countries.89 Few in Australia think of Australia as being a South Pacific country. The cliché is that Australia is geographically part of Asia. Australian governments have been conscious of the vast land area and extensive maritime zone of their island continent, of its proximity to the volatile countries of Southeast Asia, and thus of the enormous difficulties in defending 'a coast too long'.90 Although none of

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Australia's neighbours is at present perceived as a threat, decision-makers are conscious of the possibility of rapid change, in ways harmful to Australian interests, in the Asia/Pacific region. Against this background, Australian governments have emphasised the central importance of Australia's close alliance, expressed through the ANZUS treaty and in other ways, with the United States. In contrast, even before the rift in ANZUS because of New Zealand's stance on nuclear ship visits, New Zealand's relationship with the United States was less close and less substantial. The rift within ANZUS created tensions between Australia and New Zealand, and concerns were expressed in Australia that New Zealand could drift towards isolationism. However the Australian and New Zealand governments have worked to maintain the relationship, not least by participating in a joint frigate building programme designed to consolidate the blue water naval capabilities of both countries. Despite their differences over relations with the United States, Australia and New Zealand have generally adopted a common approach on issues relating to the French presence. They have sought to have constructive relations with France, which they regard as an important and influential member of the western association of nations. While critical of both testing and of aspects of French policy in New Caledonia, both countries also believe that an important French presence, although in modified form, is likely to continue in the region, and think that France has an important aid and cultural contribution to make. Their relations with France have depended in part on whether the Left or the Right is in power in France. Conservative governments in France have been inclined to detect an 'Anglo-Saxon and Presbyterian' conspiracy to oust France from the region. They have also believed that Australia and New Zealand have been encouraging the island country governments to present an anti-French front, in a manner comparable to the way in which France influences the foreign policies of several of its former colonies in Africa to suit its interests. 91 In contrast, although suspicions persist among many French officials and politicians, Socialist governments in France have generally shown more understanding of the Australian and New Zealand approach, while not necessarily agreeing with it, and have sought to encourage a constructive dialogue. Thus on 29 July 1985 French Foreign Minister Dumas, in response to a parliamentary question, told the French Parliament that Australia had 'shown considerable moderation in its assessment of the situation in New Caledonia', and added that the measured stance adopted by recent meetings of the South Pacific Forum 'can be attributed in part to the moderating influence of the Australian authorities'.92 Yet despite the difference in approach between rightwing and leftwing

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French governments, there also have been strong underlying continuities in French policy, above all in relation to nuclear testing. Thus the sinking of the Rainbow Warrior and the death of Fernando Pereira took place while a French Socialist government was in power. The revelation that French agents had been responsible caused outrage in New Zealand and the South Pacific, but in France the focus of disquiet was the bungling of the operation. The affair and its aftermath created sharp tensions between France and New Zealand, particularly after the Chirac government came to power in March 1986. The French government approached the question as if France was in the right and New Zealand was the transgressor. In international law all sovereign nations have equal status. But in the hard world of power relations disparities in strength and influence count, so some nations are more equal than others. In November 1985 New Zealand sentenced and jailed two of the agents responsible for the bombing, namely Alain Mafart and Dominique Prieur. But it was soon obliged to back-track after France mounted commercial pressures. New Zealand wool exports to France were impeded; New Caledonia stopped buying New Zealand lamb; and France halted the import of New Zealand sheep's brains. And the prospect loomed of France using its leverage in the European Community to reduce the quota of New Zealand butter imported into the Community. 93 New Zealand had no choice but to accept a settlement, negotiated by United Nations Secretary-General Peres de Cuellar. It received an apology, and $US 7 million compensation. In addition France was instructed not to obstruct New Zealand access to the European Community for its butter till 1989, and for its mutton, lamb and goatmeat. But New Zealand was obliged to release Mafart and Prieur into French custody. The deal was that they should be detained for three years on Hao atoll in French Polynesia.94 To add insult to injury, the Chirac government dishonoured even this favourable settlement. Within two years, both agents had been flown home to France and returned to normal duties. New Zealand arranged further international arbitration, on the grounds that the agreement had been broken. But this was a face-saving gesture designed to remove the issue from the political agenda. Finally, on 30 April 1990, the arbitration tribunal decided that France had breached its obligations to New Zealand under the 1986 settlement. However it did not require France to return Prieur and Mafart to Hao. It also recommended that France and New Zealand should set up a fund to promote close and friendly relations between the citizens of the two countries, into which France should pay $US 2 million.95 France acted as directed, and accordingly both countries now regard the question as closed. Australia's relations with France were also tense during the period

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of the Chirac government. Chirac responded sharply to the prediction by Australian Prime Minister Hawke that the Chirac government's confrontationist approach in New Caledonia would lead to further conflict and bloodshed. As well as descending to personal insults concerning Hawke, Chirac also expelled John Dauth, the Australian Consul General in Noumea, from New Caledonia on the trumped-up grounds that Dauth had been supplying aid to the FLNKS. There was some easing of tension in the months that followed, but relations between France and Australia remained difficult until the Chirac government lost power in May 1988. Against this background, both Australia and New Zealand welcomed the fresh approach of the Rocard government. On Australia's behalf, Foreign Minister Evans underlined this stance during his successful mid-September 1988 visit to New Caledonia. On 6 December 1988, Senator Evans gave a substantial speech on 'Australia's Place in the World' at the Australian National University. In an indication of the relaxation in former bilateral tensions, and of the relatively low priority of the French Pacific presence on the Australian foreign policy agenda, the senator made no mention whatsoever of either France, or New Caledonia, or French nuclear testing. But in his responses to questions, he noted the great improvement in French/Australian relations since the election of the Rocard government, and expressed confidence that Rocard's fresh approach would bring peace in New Caledonia. He also described New Caledonia as the key issue in French/Australian relations, remarking that Australia and France had 'agreed to disagree' over nuclear testing. 96 French/Australian relations warmed even further during 1989, with a visit by Prime Minister Hawke to Paris and a return visit to Australia and the South Pacific by Prime Minister Rocard. France is substantially more powerful and influential than Australia, yet both countries can be considered as among the middle-range powers in world affairs, and both seek to maximise their influence through an active diplomacy. So there is scope for cooperation between them. In addition there were many issues on which the Rocard and Hawke governments saw eye to eye, including efforts to ban chemical weapons and to establish the Antarctic as an International Wilderness Reserve. By the end of the decade, the two governments were putting areas of disagreement, notably over continued French testing, to one side while they sought to cooperate constructively. Meanwhile, a complete rapprochment between France and New Zealand had been delayed by the nagging sore of the Rainbow Warrior affair. During his August 1989 visit to Australia, while prepared to publicly concede that the bombing had been 'an immense, a tremendous mistake' and to renew France's apologies to the international community,97 Rocard indicated no inclination to reverse the release from custody of Mafart and Prieur. Any such initiative would

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All smiles between Australian Prime Minister Bob Hawke and French Prime Minister Michel Rocard in Canberra during Rocard's August 1989 visit to Australia, Fiji, and the French Pacific territories. The visit confirmed the new warmth in attitudes to France in the region, reflecting the conciliatory, constructive approach of the Rocard government. (Photo: Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade) have exposed him to bitter French domestic criticism. However around this time, New Zealand Prime Minister Geoffrey Palmer commented that a definite improvement had taken place in Franco-New Zealand relations. At this stage a visit by Rocard to New Zealand was precluded because the Rainbow Warrior affair remained under arbitration, but in September 1989 New Zealand Foreign Minister Russell Marshall visited New Caledonia. He spoke positively of the Matignon Accords, offered New Zealand assistance in training and other aid to help make them successful, and noted that France 'had played a very important role' and would leave an enduring legacy in the South Pacific. 98 Then, from May 1990, after the final settlement of the Rainbow Warrior affair, New Zealand/French relations returned to normal. Thus by 1990 relations between France and Australia and New Zealand had become more cordial than they had been for several years. Australia and New Zealand are likely to continue to seek to

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have constructive relations with France, and not least because of the importance to them of access to the European Community market, over which France has significant influence. This consideration, which is especially important for New Zealand, and over which New Zealand has only modest influence, will become even more salient as the full integration of the European Community into a single market proceeds during the early 1990s. With a similar amelioration in attitudes towards France across the region, despite some reservations, especially in the Melanesian countries, about the Matignon Accords, and notwithstanding continued opposition to nuclear testing, a new era in French/South Pacific relations had opened. French willingness to provide aid to the South Pacific island countries has played an important part in this change, and is likely to continue to be influential because of the small scale and the limited resources of the South Pacific island countries (see tables 9.4 and 9.5). But the longevity of this new era also appeared likely to depend on the maintenance of a constructive approach by the French government, and the preservation of peace in New Caledonia.

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10 Conclusion: The French Pacific into the 1990s In 1980, when the Condominium of the New Hebrides became the Republic of Vanuatu, some French observers feared that a 'domino effect' could lead to overwhelming pressures on France to relinquish control over New Caledonia and French Polynesia. But in 1990, despite challenges from militant nationalism in New Caledonia, and from regional critics of French policy, France's presence in the South Pacific remained strongly implanted. Even so, in recent decades the French Pacific presence has undergone important changes. Fully fledged colonialism came to an end during the first two decades after the Second World War. In New Caledonia and French Polynesia, the suffrage became universal, after several piecemeal advances. The indigenous inhabitants became citizens of the French Republic, instead of subjects of the French Empire. When consulted by referenda in 1958 and 1959, the inhabitants of New Caledonia and French Polynesia and of the protectorate of Wallis and Futuna chose to remain with France. The alternative was bleak: immediate, complete independence with no further aid. The French Constitution provides for independence in response to the majority vote of a territory's inhabitants. As citizens, the inhabitants of the three territories elect representatives to the French Parliament, and have an unqualified right to reside in metropolitan France or elsewhere in overseas France. Their territorial governments exercise a modest degree of internal autonomy. Yet several colonial characteristics have endured, especially in New Caledonia. From the mid-1960s, the establishment of the nuclear testing facilities in French Polynesia subordinated local to French national interests, and reinforced France's commitment to remaining in the South Pacific. Then, during the 1970s and 1980s, chronic economic difficulties, and a rise in French spending, increased the economic dependence of all three territories. In this concluding chapter, I review the various aspects of the French Pacific presence, and France's relations with the countries of the South

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Pacific, as of late 1990. In addition, chancing my arm, I discuss prospects into the 1990s. Nuclear Testing From mid-1988 onwards, when Michel Rocard's moderate Socialist government came to power, France's image in the region improved. After negotiating an interim settlement in New Caledonia, Rocard set about improving relations with the countries of the South Pacific. But Rocard also reaffirmed that France would continue its nuclear tests deep below the remote atolls of Moruroa and Fangataufa, despite regional criticism. French policies in relation to its territories and to the South Pacific have been modified in the late 1980s, but change has been least evident on nuclear testing. France regards continued testing in French Polynesia as vital to its security. A broad spectrum of the French electorate supports the independent nuclear deterrent, regarding it as the ultimate guarantor of French security. The French public is also supportive of the deterrent because its possession makes France a member of the 'nuclear club', complementing the world power status France attains through permanent membership of the United Nations Security Council. The French government argues that its underground tests pose no health or environmental risks. Its reduction in the number of tests in the late 1980s resulted from financial stringency, not from a decline in its commitment to nuclear defence. The French government has rejected repeated suggestions that a local referendum on nuclear testing be held in French Polynesia. France has also declined to shift its tests to the United States. Great Britain tests in Nevada, but France has insisted on testing separately. French governments have been determined to maintain the complete independence of the nuclear deterrent, in part because this independence increases the domestic political acceptability of nuclear defence. Yet this attitude seems anomalous in an era when the superpowers are exchanging teams of specialists to monitor arms control arrangements, and in view of evidence of close informal American/French cooperation in the development of France's nuclear capability. The end of testing in response to a comprehensive test ban is a possibility, although it will be difficult to obtain agreement from all the nuclear powers on this question. The present French government has committed France to honouring a comprehensive test ban treaty, whereas previous French governments had stated that France would feel free to continue its tests even if the other nuclear powers stopped. In about ten years' time, cumulative damage to the structure of the atolls on which the tests take place may also lead to the suspension

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or transfer of the tests. Some years hence, as discussed below, France's commitment to its nuclear deterrent may decline, assuming sustained progress in arms control and enduring détente in Europe. This too might lead to a suspension of testing. But at least for the time being, France is committed to continuing its tests in French Polynesia. New Caledonia While reaffirming France's commitment to testing, the Rocard government has altered French handling of New Caledonia. Its predecessor, the conservative government led by Jacques Chirac, sought to break the momentum of the nationalist movement and to marginalise it. This policy failed, creating instead the anger which fuelled the new upsurge of protest and violence in April and May of 1988. In contrast, the Rocard government has been conciliatory and constructive. It has adopted an even-handed approach which takes account of Kanak grievances and aspirations while also reassuring the other communities. The policy of the present government has similarities with the policy developed by the Socialist government which held office from 198186. These similarities include the division of New Caledonia into regions or provinces; the devolution of some powers to regional/provincial governments; the implementation of land reform and redistribution; and the allocation of generous development funds to the interior and islands, which are primarily Melanesian in population. The policy also harks back to the earlier Dijoud reform proposals of 197879, especially in their attempt to shift the focus of the nationalist movement from political campaigning to economic development. An important difference, however, is that Rocard, unlike Dijoud, did not call on the nationalists to renounce their demand for independence for ten years. When negotiating the Matignon Accords of June 1988, Rocard combined these various elements at a time when the leaders of both sides in New Caledonia, fearful that the conflict would deteriorate into a bloody civil war, were prepared to accept an interim compromise. With the tragic exception of the murder in May 1989, by extremist nationalists opposed to the accords, of FLNKS leaders Jean-Marie Tjibaou and Yeiwene Yeiwene, and despite tensions in parts of the interior, New Caledonia has in general returned to peace and calm. Under the new arrangements the FLNKS controls the north and Loyalty Islands provinces, in which the great majority of the population is Melanesian, whereas the RPCR controls the southern province, in which the great majority of population consists of members of the other communities. Although slow to gather momentum, by 1990 the implementation of the economic and social reforms embodied in the accords was underway. By committing France to a fresh referendum in 1998, with the franchise excluding post-1988 immigrants to

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the territory, the Rocard peace plan took some account of the nationalists' complaint that the balance in electoral contests has been tipped against them by the votes of recent immigrants. In addition, the plan has kept open the possibility of an eventual transition to a form of independence. Yet although Melanesian-European tensions have declined, deep suspicion endures between the two communities. Neither the nationalists nor the loyalists have more than a guarded commitment to the Matignon Accords. They have gone along with them for the sake of peace and economic benefits. The accords would be difficult to reverse because of their success in restoring peace and because they were endorsed by a French national referendum in late 1988. Yet the return of the conservatives to power in France at the next national parliamentary elections in 1993 could bring renewed problems. Uncertainties will also increase as the 1998 deadline for a fresh referendum approaches. The major power blocs at present want different outcomes from the referendum, assuming it is held. The FLNKS wants Kanak independence; the RPCR wants New Caledonia to remain part of France. Thus the Matignon Accords have achieved a truce, rather than guaranteeing a lasting peace. But they have also drawn strength from, and further confirmed, an evolution of attitudes among French politicians and officials, European settlers, and Kanak leaders. This evolution of attitudes is not explicitly focused on the independence-in-association option. Nonetheless it helps create conditions favourable to the consideration of this option, even if only as the lesser of evils compared with other possibilities such as renewed unrest and deaths, or partition. Among French politicians and officials, opinions on how best to respond to the New Caledonian question vary widely. But the realisation has gathered strength that France has no fundamental national interest in remaining in New Caledonia, especially if its presence is contested by militant nationalists and attracts regional and international criticism. So over the next few years some attention is likely to focus on an independence-in-association solution. A solution of this kind could be embodied in a treaty between France and the prospective new state which includes safeguards to protect the rights of all the communities and which guarantees federal arrangements of the kind initiated by the Fabius statute of 198588 and reinforced by the Matignon Accords. This option could satisfy minimal French national concerns, and permit the protection of the essential interests of the non-Melanesian communities, while conceding a substantial amount of sovereignty. Meanwhile many Europeans have realised, even if only grudgingly, that their interests will not be secured unless they make concessions to the nationalist movement, and unless the Melanesian community is drawn much more fully into the mainstream of New Caledonian life.

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For their part, the leaders of the Kanak nationalist movement remain fully committed to eventual full independence. But the experience of the 1980s has demonstrated that, given the obstacles and limited options facing the nationalist movement, tactical concessions may be unavoidable. So the option of independence-in-association may come to be seen as a worthwhile interim solution pending eventual fulfilment of the longer-term goal, especially given New Caledonia's economic problems and its heavy dependence on French funding. Independence-in-association or some other form of political independence may issue from the Rocard plan, or else could emerge following renewed militant mobilisation by the independence movement. But if the rival blocs fail to find a way of working together, partition also remains a possibility. French Polynesia In French Polynesia during the 1980s, constitutional evolution has occurred much more smoothly than in New Caledonia. In New Caledonia the nationalist movement mobilised in late 1984 in protest against the proposed new limited internal autonomy arrangements but a similar internal autonomy statute was accepted in French Polynesia. As of late 1990 internal autonomy had been in operation for over five years. Under internal autonomy, the territorial government has substantial control over education, health, public works, agriculture, fisheries, tourism and other domestic portfolios. These arrangements are accepted by the great majority of the population. The pro-independence parties have so far gained only some 15 per cent of the vote. Half of this vote has gone to the gradualist Ia Mana party, which campaigns for a transition to independence over several years. Despite tensions, relations between the main ethnic groupings are reasonable. Most French Polynesians are conscious of the economic weakness of the territory, and its heavy dependence on French funding. But though pressures for independence are modest, there is broad support in the territory for a gradual evolution to more extensive internal autonomy. When visiting French Polynesia in late 1989, Prime Minister Rocard announced only minor modifications and amendments to the statute. But pressures for further constitutional evolution are likely to mount over the coming decade. Such pressures could reflect in part the social tensions and the economic distortions and inequalities arising from the implementation of the nuclear testing programme, along with associated social and economic changes over the last quarter-century. In addition, French Polynesian politicians would like to expand the powers they have attained. Meanwhile the long-standing frictions between the metropolitan and the territorial administrations will reinforce calls for greater autonomy, as will a growing sense of Tahitian identity.

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Any French government, whether of the Right or Left, is likely to resist such demands, because the nuclear testing sites on Moruroa and Fangataufa are seen as vital to the defence of France and to France's international standing. That said, a future French government may feel obliged to respond to French Polynesian demands, particularly insofar as the indigenous or part-indigenous (Demi) population comprises some 80 per cent of the total, rather than comprising a minority as in New Caledonia. Further extensions of internal autonomy could lead to full internal self-government, followed by the negotiation of independence-in-association. France would have great bargaining power, because the territory has hardly any resources on which to base a modern economy, and is heavily dependent on French spending. Under independence-in-association, France could secure its essential interest in the territorynuclear testingby providing substantial aid in return for the right to test. France would thus pay a large 'rent' for the use of the testing facilities, as in a sense it already does. In another scenario, assuming the cessation or the transfer of the testing programme, France would have less need to maintain its presence in French Polynesia. It therefore would probably be more inclined to accept an evolution towards some form of independence. Regional Opinion and Regional Examples of Quasi-Sovereignty Regional opinion is also likely to have some influence on the continued constitutional evolution of the French Pacific territories. The development of New Caledonia remains under routine review by the South Pacific Forum. Under certain circumstances, the Forum could also focus attention on French Polynesia. Regional diplomatic influence on the constitutional evolution of sovereign French territories is modest. But it has some significance, especially in view of France's desire to maintain a positive image in the South Pacific, the Pacific Basin and the wider world. In 1986, France's concern over the diplomatic support of the South Pacific Forum countries for the reinscription of New Caledonia by the United Nations Committee of 24 on Decolonisation was demonstrated by its highpowered diplomatic initiatives to defend its position. The trend towards consideration of independence-in-association as a likely constitutional outcome for one or both of the French Pacific territories could be reinforced by the presence of credible examples of quasi-sovereign states in the South Pacific region. These states are the Cook Islands and Niue, which are states in free association with New Zealand under bilateral treaty arrangements; and the Federated States of Micronesia and the Republic of the Marshall Islands, both of which are linked to the United States of America through 'compacts of free association'.

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The 'Cook Islands model' has attracted the attention of a wide range of political leaders in French Polynesia, and has also stimulated some interest among centrist elements in New Caledonia. Of course in any movement towards independence-in-association by the French Pacific territories, the Cook Islands or any other model would not be followed slavishly. Nonetheless the presence of such models, and their regional acceptance, could have some influence. If they attain a form of independence, New Caledonia and French Polynesia could be comparable to the Federated States of Micronesia and the Marshall Islands, where the former administering power has continued to provide massive funding in return for political and strategic benefits. The relationship between the United States and the 'freely associated' states of Micronesia has attracted criticism. Nonetheless these states, like those associated with New Zealand, have been recognised as credible participants in international relations within the region, as has been shown by their acceptance as members of the South Pacific Forum, and by the endorsement of their status by the United Nations Security Council. Most of the South Pacific countries would probably regard 'quasi-sovereignty' solutions as acceptable, provided they were broadly supported in the territories concernedwhich would be more easy to achieve in French Polynesia than in New Caledonia. French Policy: The Shift from Assimilationist Traditions Until the 1980s, French educational and cultural policy towards New Caledonia and French Polynesia was strongly assimilationist, even if, in practice, assimilationist ambitions were constrained by lack of resources and indigenous noncompliance and resistance. The main exceptions to the assimilationist tradition were the acceptance of customary law as applying to the Melanesians in New Caledonia, and the partial acceptance of Polynesian land-holding and inheritance systems in French Polynesia. Indigenous language, culture and traditions were actively discouraged. The French educational system operated with no concessions to local circumstances and needs. Full acculturation to French manners and style were regarded as the ideal for all inhabitants of the territories, whether of indigenous or immigrant stock. But during the 1980s, in response both to a liberalisation of some French views and to indigenous political and cultural mobilisation, local languages and traditions have been given much greater recognition. This is so especially in French Polynesia, where the two official languages of the territory are Tahitian and French, and where Tahitian is routinely used in the debates in the Territorial Assembly. In New Caledonia, where nearly 30 Melanesian languages are spoken, French remains the lingua franca. However in both territories indigenous

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languages are now widely employed at the junior level as the medium of instruction for indigenous students. French is taught to indigenous students as a second if essential language, and some teaching of indigenous language and culture continues at the secondary level. Much money and effort is also being directed towards the preservation and encouragement of the indigenous heritage in the two territories. The assertion of traditional culture and identity is of course not necessarily incompatible with the maintenance of French sovereignty over New Caledonia and French Polynesia. But the shift in policy, insofar as it both recognises and helps promote an assertion of distinct local identities, could serve to reinforce movement towards forms of independence-in-association. Superpower Détente, European Economic Integration and Generational Change Changes on the world scene, in Europe, and in metropolitan France are also likely to have important implications for the future of New Caledonia and French Polynesia. The issues, influences and factors involved are many, diverse, and highly complex. What follows is merely an attempt, necessarily speculative, to single out some potentially relevant aspects. In the late 1980s an unexpected and striking reduction in tensions between the United States and the Soviet Union took place, along with associated advances in disarmament. So far, however, France's commitment to its independent nuclear deterrent has in no way been reduced by the suspension of the Cold War. Instead, in view of the prospective decline in the United State's presence in Western Europe, France has continued to modernise and expand its nuclear capability. Moreover, in late 1990 and early 1991, optimism about a 'new world order' was tempered by the strengthening of the forces opposed to reform in the Soviet Union, by the associated stalling in the implementation of arms control in Europe, and by crisis and war in the Persian Gulf. Nonetheless in the longer-term, provided that progress in nuclear disarmament continues, France's perceived need to undertake nuclear testing could come under question from sections of the electorate. And, if reduced tensions in Europe endure, and provided that conflicts elsewhere in which French interests are involved can henceforth be handled primarily by diplomatic means, then domestic pressures could develop in metropolitan France for reduced spending on defence. Meanwhile, the economic integration of the European Community, along with the incorporation of Eastern Europe and parts of the Soviet Union into a 'Greater Europe', is in prospect over the next decade or so. This trend will have a variety of implications and repercussions. Many obstacles, difficulties and uncertainties lie ahead. But unless the

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momentum for change is abruptly checked, Europe and France's place within it will be transformed, with Paris and Berlin likely to emerge as the twin focal points of the new Europe. What would all this mean for French attitudes towards and France's relations with the French Pacific territories? Any answers to this question can only be speculative. But it may be that French commitment to retaining the territories could be weakened by preoccupation with the new Europe, and by closer links with and greater influence from other European powers which have lost or given up their former colonial territories. In addition, environmentalist and anti-nuclear testing sentiments in France, which at present are weak, could strengthen through closer French contacts with the 'Greens' of Germany and with similar movements elsewhere in Europe. Generational change may also be relevant. Over the next decade the generations of French policy-makers and opinionleaders whose outlooks were shaped by the Second World War, the Cold War, and the decolonisation of Indochina and Algeria will be moving from centre-stage. The leaders of the new generation may be more inclined to want France to focus all its energies on Europe; and more sceptical about the benefits of retaining far-flung remnants of empire, especially when the French presence is contested. They may also be more relaxed and less competitive in their pride in their heritage; and more ready to accept that France's prestige and fundamental interests would be best served by a graceful partial withdrawal from New Caledonia and French Polynesia. Regional Relations Whatever the longer-term future for the French Pacific territories, the return to peace in New Caledonia has facilitated an improvement in French relations with the countries of the region. The present French government has displayed some continuities with previous governments in its approach to relations with the countries of the South Pacific. The Socialist government of 1981 to 1986 had set out to improve relations with the region, in part by involving the territories more fully in South Pacific affairs. At first it had some success, although progress was cancelled out by the troubles in New Caledonia and by the Rainbow Warrior tragedy. Under Chirac, relations initially worsened. In 1986 the South Pacific Forum supported the reinscription of New Caledonia on the agenda of the United Nations' Committee of 24 on Decolonisation, and endorsed the Treaty of Rarotonga, which sought to prohibit testing in the region. Nonetheless Gaston Flosse, Chirac's Secretary of State for the South Pacific, succeeded, in part by the judicious provision of French aid, in developing French links with Fiji and the Polynesian countries, and

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in strengthening the view that in some respects France could play a positive role in the South Pacific. The present French government has maintained this diplomatic momentum, not least by consolidating relations with Fiji, a country of central importance in the region. In part because of the success of this diplomatic and aid offensive, the French presence in the South Pacific seems likely to attract less criticism into the early 1990s than it did during most of the 1980s, despite strong concerns over nuclear testing and notwithstanding reservations about whether the Rocard plan will lead to an acceptable settlement in New Caledonia. Overall, there seems to be an increased readiness among the Forum governments to accept the likelihood of a continuing French presence, and to believe that benefits could flow from this presence. There are also now, compared to the early 1980s, a greater number of pressing issues which preoccupy, and at times divide, the countries of the region. These issues include intractable problems of economic development, the secessionist revolt in Bougainville, the question of how best to handle increased outside interest in the region, and the protection of fragile and vulnerable environments. As a result, questions relating to the French presence could attract less attention than previously. The new salience of other issues and the intractable economic problems of most of the South Pacific island countries have also made some island country governments more open to French representations about the prospective aid and security benefits of an enduring French presence. But the modifications in French policy should not be exaggerated. The present French government is more temperate in its language, and more constructive in its approach, than its combative predecessor. Rocard himself is a leader of considerable appeal, who so far has been able to present his government's policies in a credible way. Nonetheless French policy in the region has displayed strong underlying continuities, whether the Right or the Left holds power in Paris. In New Caledonia, Socialist governments have attempted conciliation, whereas conservative governments have engaged in confrontation. But both have sought to ensure that French influence endures. Rocard has said that he hopes that, in the referendum planned for 1998, New Caledonia will opt to remain part of France. In French Polynesia, France has made it clear that it intends to continue nuclear testing indefinitely. Basic sources of tensions remain. South Pacific governments have differed fundamentally from French governments in their attitude to the French Pacific territories. In France, the territories are widely seen as French soil, comprising small parts of the indivisible French Republic. In contrast, the majority of regional observers think of France as primarily a European power, retaining, in the South Pacific, some vestiges of its once vast colonial empire in an era when the former empires of the European states have collapsed or been dismantled.

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This difference in attitude fuels regional concerns over New Caledonia. It is also fundamental to opposition to nuclear testing. Testing is viewed as a colonial question. Even ifwhich seems unlikelythe French government succeeded in completely reassuring island leaders that the tests posed no health or environmental risks, island country concern over the tests would continue. Most island country leaders believe that it is wrong and unacceptable for France to conduct its tests in a territory, and former colony, on the other side of the world from France, in defiance of opposition to them from most of the countries of the region. If the tests are so safe, is the refrain, why not conduct them in metropolitan France? For French governments, however, this option is not attractive because of the potential for French domestic opposition. More than its predecessors, the present French government is aware of this contrast in basic outlook. It is trying to reduce questioning of its presence in the region, in part by developing its bilateral relations with the countries of the region, and in part by developing a dual identity for the French Pacific territories, whereby they can assume a higher profile within the region while also retaining close connections with France. So far this policy has had considerable success. By the end of the 1980s the French government had succeeded in blunting criticism by taking some account of Forum country concerns and by demonstrating that the French presence can bring aid and other benefits. But to ensure that France's relations with the South Pacific island countries remain reasonable, the French government will need to display continuing ability and finesse in its handling of its territories and in its regional diplomacy, and also will require a fair share of good luck. Renewed unrest in New Caledonia, or in French Polynesia, would embarrass France and strengthen regional concerns. Condemnation of nuclear testing in French Polynesia will continue, although its intensity will vary over time and from country to country. Tensions over testing and New Caledonia will persist, and will surface intermittently. A Continuing Presence Since Bougainville anchored off Tahiti in April 1768, the relations between France and the peoples of those areas which later became French territories have formed a complex story of interaction, accommodation and conflict. As this story develops over the next ten to fifteen years, the political connections between France and its Pacific territories are likely to evolve towards greater autonomy and forms of independence, but French influences will remain strong. In the two larger territories of New Caledonia and French Polynesia, the trend seems to be towards some form of independence-in-association. In contrast Wallis and Futuna, because of its small size

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and lack of resources, is likely to remain politically integrated with France, although with its people exercising greater local autonomy. But whatever the final constitutional arrangements, France is likely to maintain close links with the new sovereign or quasi-sovereign states. The relationship would be similar to that between France and most of its former colonies in subSaharan Africa. But it probably would be even closer, in part because of the large European French population in New Caledonia. Meanwhile the small scale and limited resources of all three French Pacific territories, and especially of French Polynesia and Wallis and Futuna, would encourage continuing economic dependence. Although accentuated, this continuing economic dependence would resemble that experienced by most of the island countries of the South Pacific, despite their political independence.

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Postscript The following events relevant to this book have taken place since it went to press. In January 1991 Alain Christnacht replaced Bernard Grasset as High Commissioner and French Government Envoy to New Caledonia. Christnacht is well-regarded in the territory. His earlier posts have included service as a senior adviser to Louis Le Pensec, Minister for Overseas Departments and Territories in the Rocard government, and as the SecretaryGeneral of New Caledonia. In March 1991 Gaston Flosse replaced Alexandre Léontieff as President of French Polynesia, following the strong showing of Flosse's Tahoeraa Huiraatira party in the March 1991 Territorial Assembly elections. Tahoeraa, with 31.5 per cent of the vote, won eighteen of the 41 seats. L' Union polynésienne, an alliance between Léontieff's Te Tiaramaa and Jean Juventin's Here Ai'a, won 23.5 per cent of the vote and eleven seats. After the elections Flosse and the Tahoeraa formed a coalition government with Emile Vernaudon's centrist Ai'a Api, which had won 12.3 per cent of the vote and five seats. Flosse's triumph was made even sweeter because, by early 1991, all but one of the cases pending against him had been resolved with judgements that he had no case to answer. In the elections the overall vote for proindependence parties and candidates declined slightly to some fourteen per cent, and the relative strength of the main pro-independence parties changed. Oscar Temaru's Tavini Huiraatira (FLP) party gained 11.4 per cent of the vote and four seats, compared with 6.4 per cent and two seats in the 1986 elections. In contrast Jacky Drollet's Ia Mana Te Nunaa, which had won 8.2 per cent of the vote and three seats in 1986, won only 2.4 per cent of the vote and failed to win a seat. In April 1991 Prime Minister Michel Rocard visited New Zealand. The visit had been postponed from January because of the Gulf War. While in New Zealand he repeated apologies for the Rainbow Warrior bombing, and reaffirmed the French position that French underground nuclear testing entails no health or environmental risks for the South Pacific. He also said that samples from the waters of the Moruroa lagoon were being tested for traces of radioactivity at laboratories in Monaco and the United States, and that the results would be published. In May 1991 President Mitterrand replaced Rocard as Prime Minister with Edith Cresson. Cresson is regarded as more leftwing and less conciliatory than Rocard. Soon after assuming office she stated that no change was envisaged in French policy for New Caledonia. In June 1991 President Mitterrand announced that France would sign the nuclear non-proliferation treaty, twenty-three years after its inception. He also called for the destruction of chemical weapons, a ban on biological weapons, negotiations to restrict the conventional arms trade, and the reduction of nuclear arsenals to a minimum level. However French spokespersons said that French underground nuclear testing in the South Pacific would continue indefinitely.

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Endnotes 1 A Colonial Past 1 John Dunmore French Explorers in the Pacific Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1965, 2 vols., vol. 1, pp. 7177. Bougainville's was the first French expedition to the South Pacific, but the first Frenchmen to enter the region were the nineteen anonymous seamen who sailed with Magellan. None survived the voyage. Dunmore, p. 7. 2 Louis Antoine de Bougainville Voyage autour du monde Paris: 1771, p. 190. English translation by J.R. Forster A Voyage round the World London: 1772. Secondary accounts in English include Dunmore French Explorers, J.C. Beaglehole The Exploration of the Pacific London: Adam and Charles Black, 3rd edn. 1966; Gavan Daws A Dream of Islands. Voyages of Self-Discovery in the South Seas Milton: the Jacaranda Press, 1980; and K.R. Howe Where the Waves Fall. A new South Sea Islands history from first settlement to colonial rule Honolulu: Center for Pacific and Asian Studies, University of Hawaii, 1984. 3 Dunmore French Explorers pp. 8790. According to some accounts, some members of Bougainville's expedition left with an unwelcome souvenir: syphilis, possibly brought by Wallis's expedition the year before. The souring of the Tahitian dream had begun. However the disease which some writers have taken to be syphilis may have been the tropical disease yaws, which probably was already present in Tahiti. Alternatively some of the sailors in the French ships may have carried syphilis with them from Europe. 4 Howe Where the Waves Fall pp. 8488, and W.H. Pearson 'European Intimidation and the Myth of Tahiti' The Journal of Pacific History 4, 1969, pp. 199217, 211. See also Greg Dening Islands and Beaches. Discourse on a Silent Land. Marquesas 17741880 Honolulu: Hawaii University Press, 1980, p. 127. 5 See Caroline Ralston 'Changes in the lives of ordinary women in early post-contact Hawaii' in Margaret Jolly and Martha Macintyre (eds) Family and Gender in the Pacific. Domestic contradictions and the colonial impact Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989, pp. 4564. 6 However La Pérouse's last expedition may have visited New Caledonia in 1788 before sailing to its tragic end on the reefs of Vanikoro in the Solomon Islands. See Bernard Brou 'La Perouse à Balade? Une hypothese

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raisonnablement fondée', Bulletin de la Société d'Etudies Historiques de Nouvelle Caledonie 59, 1984, pp. 2353. 7 Robert Aldrich The French Presence in the South Pacific, 18421940 London: Macmillan, 1990, ch. 1 8 See Howe Where the Waves Fall chapters 13 for an account of the peoples of the region before and at the time of European contact. This chapter draws at several points on Howe's valuable synthesis. 9 ibid.; Jean Guiart La terre est le sang des morts Paris: Editions Anthropos, 2nd edn., 1985, ch. 1; Nicholas Thomas, 'The Force of Ethnology. Origins and Significance of the Melanesia/Polynesia Division', and the 'Comments' by various authors, in Current Anthropology 30, 1, February 1989, pp. 2741. 10 Hubert Deschamps and Jean Guiart Tahiti, Nouvelle-Calédonie, Nouvelles-Hébrides Paris: L'Union Française, 1957, p. 27 11 Robert Langdon has suggested that the Tahitians had already come under some European influences, before the Wallis and Bougainville expeditions arrived, thanks to the crew of a Spanish vessel wrecked in the Tuamotus in 1526. See his The Lost Caravel Sydney: Pacific Publications 1975, revised 1987. 12 See Howe Where the Waves Fall pp. 5965. Howe in part follows Bronwen Douglas 'Rank, power, authority: a reassessment of traditional leadership in South Pacific societies' Journal of Pacific History, 1979, 14, pp. 227. 13 ibid. 'Introduction'; Guiart La terre ch. 1 14 Quoted in Deryck Scarr Fragments of Empire: A History of the Western Pacific High Commission, 18771914 Canberra: Australian National University Press, 1967, p. 307 15 Dorothy Shineberg They Came For Sandalwood. A Study of the Sandalwood Trade in the South-west Pacific 18301865 Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1967; Aldrich French Presence ch. 6. 16 Roselène Dousset (Dousset-Leenhardt) Colonialisme et Contradictions. Étude sur les causes socio-historiques de l'Insurrection de 1878 en Nouvelle-Calédonie Paris: Mouton, 1970, chs 2 and 3. See also her Terre natale, terre d'exil Paris: Maissonneuve & Larose, 1976. Madame Dousset cites the experience of Captain Tardy de Montravel, who voyaged around New Caledonia in 1853, and received a warm reception almost everywhere. See her Colonialisme et Contradictions p. 99. For a detailed analysis of European/Melanesian relations in the north-eastern part of the main island, the area most affected by early interactions, see Bronwen Douglas, A History of Culture Contact in NorthEastern New Caledonia, 17741870, Canberra: Australian National University, PhD thesis, 1972. See also John Connell New Caledonia or Kanaky? The Political History of a French Colony Canberra: National Centre for Development Studies 1987, pp. 2223. 17 See Pearson 'European Intimidation', and also his 'The reception of European voyagers on Polynesian Islands' Journal de la Société des Océanistes 26, March 1970, pp. 121154. During Bougainville's visit to Tahiti, notions of reciprocity came under test when a young Tahitian man quickly recognised one of the crew as a young woman disguised in men's clothing. Despite suspicions, Jeanne Baré, the servant and

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presumably the lover of the naturalist Commerson, had concealed her gender all the way from France, except from Commerson himself. Assuming reciprocity, given the sexual availability of Tahitian women to the French, and enticed by curiosity, the Tahitian made advances, as did his compatriots on later occasions. (Harassed from then on by her shipmates, Baré went ashore at Mauritius on the voyage home.) See Beaglehole Exploration of the Pacific and Daws Dream of Islands. 18 Dening Islands and Beaches p. 247 19 Scarr Fragments of Empire pp. 1771 20 See Shineberg Sandalwood p. 200 and chs 14 and 16 21 Scarr Fragments of Empire pp. 1735 22 See I.C. Campbell 'Imperialism, Dynasticism, and Conversion: Tongan Designs on 'Uvéa (Wallis Island), 183552' The Journal of the Polynesian Society 92, 2, June 1983, pp. 15567 23 See Alexandre Poncet Histoire de l'Ile Wallis. Le Protectorat français Paris: Société des Océanistes, 1972, pp. 38, 523, 55, 74, 93, 197, 152 24 Dening Islands pp. 212, 220, and chs 6 and 7 25 For an overview of resistance in the EFO see Pierre-Yves Toullelan 'Comment la Polynésie est devenue française', in Annales du Centre Universitaire de Pirae, No. 3, 1988/89, pp. 5668 26 Dousset-Leenhardt Colonialisme et Contradictions pp. 11523. For incidents relating to the sandalwood trade in New Caledonia and the New Hebrides between 1842 and 1865, see Shineberg Sandalwood pp. 2479. See also, Bronwen Douglas 'Almost Constantly at War? An Ethno-graphic perspective on fighting in New Caledonia' Journal of Pacific History XXV, 1, June 1990, pp. 2246. 27 See Bronwen Douglas 'Conflict and Alliance in a Colonial Context. Case Studies in New Caledonia 18531870' The Journal of Pacific History 15 January 1980 pp. 2151. The French initially called the new town Port-de-France, but reverted to Noumea, the Melanesian name for the location, because of confusion with Fort-de-France, the capital of Martinique. 28 Connell New Caledonia pp. 6273; Guiart La Terre, pp. 7177; Linda Latham 'Revolt re-examined: the 1878 insurrection in New Caledonia' The Journal of Pacific History 10, pp. 4863. 29 Connell New Caledonia pp. 7376; Jean Guiart 'Les événements de 1917 en Nouvelle-Calédonie' Journal de la Société des Océanistes 29, pp. 26582. 30 Colin Newbury Tahiti Nui. Change and Survival in French Polynesia 17671945 Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1980, pp. 11522 31 See Douglas, 'Conflict and Alliance' 32 Howard Van Trease The Politics of Land in Vanuatu: from colony to independence Suva: Institute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific, 1987; Scarr Fragments of Empire pp. 199, 21213, 219, 230 33 Scarr Fragments of Empire p. 207; C.W. Newbury 'Aspects of French Policy in the Pacific, 18531906' Pacific Historical Review 27, 1, Feb 1958, pp. 4556. 34 See Jeremy MacClancy To Kill A Bird With Two Stones. A Short History of Vanuatu Vila: Vanuatu Cultural Centre, 1980

35 Alaín Saussol L'Héritage. Essai sur le problème foncier mélanésien en Nouvelle-Calédonie Paris: Société des Océanistes, 1979

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36 Pers. comm., Dorothy Shineberg, November 1990 37 See Poncet Wallis chapters x, xi; pp. 80, 81, 90, 93, 105, 106, 117, 118, 141, 142, 146, 147, 149 38 Dornoy New Caledonia pp. 223; Bernard Brou Peuplement et Population de la Nouvelle-Calédonie. La société moderne Noumea: Société d'Études Historiques de la Nouvelle-Calédonie p. 55. 39 Union Agricole Calédonienne Notice sur la Nouvelle-Calédonie, ses richesses, son avenir Paris: Société D'Éditions Littéraires et Artistiques, 1900, p. vi 40 See Brou Peuplement et Population pp. 279 41 See Campbell 'Imperialism, Dynasticism, and Conversion' 42 Nancy J. Pollock 'Doctor Administrators in Wallis and Futuna' Journal of Pacific History, XXV, 1, June 1990, pp. 4767 43 Newbury Tahiti pp. 140; Daws, Islands 44 Newbury Tahiti pp. 13940. However part of this population decline may have resulted from migration to Tahiti. 45 ibid. chapters 6, 8, 9, 10; Newbury 'Aspects of French Policy' pp. 4950. See also Gabriel Tetiarahi 'The Society Islandssqueezing out the Polynesians' pp. 1007 and François Ravault 'Land Problems in French Polynesia' pp. 11217 in Nancy J. Pollock and Ron Crocombe (eds) French Polynesia. A Book of Selected Readings Suva: Institute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific, 1988. 46 Robert Langdon Tahiti: Island of Love Sydney: Pacific Publications, 5th edn., 1979 47 Shineberg Sandalwood, ch. 12 48 See Dorothy Shineberg 'Un nouveau regard sur la démographie historique de la Nouvelle-Calédonie' Journal de la Société des Océanistes 39, 1983, pp. 3343 49 Newbury Tahiti 50 Deschamps and Guiart Tahiti pp. 512 51 Jean-Louis Rallu, 'The Historical Demography of the French Pacific Territories', seminar, Demography Department, Research School of Social Sciences, Australian National University, 14 August 1990 52 Alain Saussol 'The Colonial Chimera: From Annexation to the Reemergence of Kanak Identity', in Michael Spencer, Alan Ward and John Connell (eds) New Caledonia. Essays in Nationalism and Dependency St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press, 1988, pp. 3855, p. 50 53 See for example Stephen Henningham 'How the Men of Maré went to war' Pacific Islands Monthly January 1989, pp. 367 54 Connell New Caledonia ch. 11; Robert Langdon Tahiti pp. 2538 55 Deschamps and Guiart Tahiti, Nouvelle-Calédonie, Nouvelles-Hébrides 56 ibid. pp. 29799

2 Debacle in Vanuatu 1 ABC Radio News, 8 May 1988 2 Scarr Fragments of Empire pp. 22930 3 See Thompson Australian Imperialism in the South Pacific 4 Scarr Fragments of Empire p. 210 5 Jeremy MacClancy Short History p. 86 6 ibid. 7 Cyril S. Belshaw Island Administrators in the South West Pacific.

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Government and Reconstruction in New Caledonia, the New Hebrides, and the British Solomon Islands London and New York: Royal Institute of International Affairs 1950 p. 60; Edward Jacomb, France and England in the New Hebrides. The Anglo-French Condominium Melbourne: George Robertson & Company, 1914, pp. 2246; Scarr Fragments of Empire, pp. 183, 198205, 21213, 219, 2237. 8 Scarr Fragments of Empire pp. 2324; Jacomb Condominium p. 77; MacClancy Short History p. 82 9 MacClancy Short History p. 91 10 Norma McArthur and J.F. Yaxley, Condominium of the New Hebrides. A Report on the First Census of the Population 1967 Vila, Sydney: New South Wales Government Printer, 1968, pp. 667. The term ni-Vanuatu only came into usage from the late 1970s but is used throughout the chapter for the sake of continuity. 11 Article XLV of the Convention Respecting 'The New Hebrides', London 27 February 1906. The Convention is reprinted as Appendix II to Jacomb Condominium. 12 See R.J. Fletcher [(pseud.) Asterisk] Isles of Illusion. Letters from the South Seas London: Century 1986, first pub. 1923 13 Jacomb Condominium ch. 9; Scarr Fragments of Empire pp. 198205; Barak Sope Land and Politics in the New Hebrides Suva: South Pacific Sciences Association, 1974; Van Trease Land in Vanuatu. 14 Guiart La Terre pp. 1689 15 ibid. pp. 169172; MacClancy Short History pp. 1234; John Beasant, The Santo Rebellion. An Imperial Reckoning Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, Heinemann, 1984, pp. 1618. 16 Beasant Santo Rebellion pp. 1224; Erich Kolig, 'Kastom, Cargo and the construction of utopia on Santo, Vanuatu: the Nagriamel movement' Journal de la Société des Océanistes 85, 1987, pp. 18199; Jimmy Stevens (sic), 'Nagriamel' in Chris Plant ed. New Hebrides. The Road to Independence Suva: Institute of Pacific Studies, 1977, pp. 3541. 17 See Kolig, 'Nagriamel Movement' and Jean Guiart, 'Forerunners of Melanesian Nationalism,' Oceania, XXII, 2, December 1951, pp. 8190 18 MacClancy, Short History; Beasant, Santo Rebellion, pp. 1516; Guiart La Terre, pp. 172 ff; Guiart, 'Melanesian Nationalism'. 19 R.J. May (ed.) Micronationalist Movements in Papua New Guinea Canberra: Australian National University, Department of Political and Social Change, Monograph 1, 1982, pp. 2, 442 20 Beasant Santo Rebellion p. 22; MacClancy Short History p. 142. 21 MacClancy Short History p. 123. See also Charlene Gourgechou L'Archipel Des Tabous Paris: Robert Laffont, 1974, pp. 327, 328. 22 Quoted in Beasant, Santo Rebellion p. 25 23 Patrick Paitel L'Enjeu Kanak Paris: Editions France-Empire, 1985 p. 116 24 Beasant Santo Rebellion p. 26 25 'La Santé malade de la politique?' Nabanga 94, 19 December 1978 26 Terry Crowley, 'English in Vanuatu' in World Englishes, 8, 1, 1989, pp. 3746, pp 3940

27 Beasant Santo Rebellion, pp. 2425; Kalkot Matas Kele-Kele 'The Emergence of Political Parties' in Plant New Hebrides pp. 235; James Jupp, 'The development of party politics in the New Hebrides,' Journal of Commonwealth and Comparative Politics, 17, 3, November 1979,

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pp. 26382; James Jupp and Marion Sawer, 'Colonial and postindependence politics: Vanuatu' in R.J. May and H. Nelson (eds) Melanesia: Beyond diversity, Canberra: Australian National University, 1982, vol. 2 pp. 54970. 28 Beasant Santo Rebellion, pp. 2728; Jimmy Stevens 'Nagriamel', in Plant, New Hebrides pp. 3541; Kele-Kele 'Political Parties' pp. 3233. 29 Beasant Santo Rebellion pp. 2124, 2728 30 Land and Politics p. 35 31 Aimé Maléré, 'Movement Autonomiste des Nouvelles Hebrides' in Plant, New Hebrides pp. 4345 32 Paitel L'Enjeu Kanak pp. 24, 49, 58, 65, 7982, 94, 95, 99, 115, 162 33 Hilda Lini, cited in Bill Standish, Melanesian Neighbours: The Politics of Papua New Guinea, the Solomon Islands and the Republic of Vanuatu, Canberra: the Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia, Basic Paper Number 9, 1984, p. 140 34 Sope Land and Politics p. 38; Kele-Kele 'Political Parties' pp. 2628 35 Sope Land and Politics; Kele-Kele, 'Political Parties' pp. 2832; Maléré, 'Movement Autonomiste' and Vincent Boulekone 'Union ders Communantés des Nouvelles Hébrides' in Plant New Hebrides pp. 4753. 36 See Paitel L'Enjeu Kanak pp. 67, 7677, 82, 95, 96, 101, 102, 10447 37 Nabanga 5, 20 June, 1975; 14, 25 October 1975 and 55, 4 June 1977. The article on Papua New Guinea was a reprint from The Guardian. 38 This interest seems to have begun with the attendance by a Tanzanian spokesman at a conference in Vila in 1973 organised by the World Council of Churches. See George K. Tanham, 'Understanding Vanuatuor how to regain the high moral ground' Pacific Defence Reporter July 1988. 39 A.L. Jackson 'Towards Political Awareness in the New Hebrides' Journal of Pacific History 7, 1972; A.G. Kalkoa 'The political situation in the New Hebrides' in Marion W. Ward (ed.) The Politics of Melanesia Canberra: Australian National University/University of Papua and New Guinea, 1970. 40 Francis Saemala, 'Solomon Islands: uniting the diversity', in A. Ali and R.G. Crocombe (eds) Politics in Melanesia. Suva: University of the South Pacific, 1982 41 See Paitel L'Enjeu Kanak p. 94 42 Plant New Hebrides pp. 8889; Beasant Santo Rebellion pp. 30, 3438. 43 Plant, New Hebrides, chs 5 and 8 44 Beasant Santo Rebellion p. 41; Nabanga and New Hebrides News, November and December 1977. 45 Standish, Melanesian Neighbours, p. 140 46 Beasant Santo Rebellion pp. 4243 47 See Paitel L'Enjeu Kanak, p. 170 48 ibid. pp. 12122

49 Beasant Santo Rebellion p. 73 50 See James Jupp, 'Elections in Vanuatu', Political Science, 35, 1, July 1983, pp. 115 51 ibid. 52 See Richard Shears The Coconut WarThe Crisis on Espiritu Santo Melbourne: 1980 53 Guiart La Terre pp. 15759

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54 See Fletcher, Isles of Illusion 55 For developments on Tanna, discussed in the context of a lucid overview of Vanuatu's history, see Joel Bonnemaison, La dernière île, Paris: Arléa/ ORSTOM 1986 56 Paitel L'Enjeu Kanak pp. 16869 57 Leder Les Cent Jours du Bout du Monde (Autopsie d'une Tragédie) Noumea: 2nd edn 1981 pp. 24965 58 Standish, Melanesian Neighbours, pp. 1434; Kolig, 'Nagriamel movement', p. 184. 59 See Bonnemaison, La dernière île 60 Contacts with Kanak leaders have been close. For example PALIKA leaders Nidoish Naisseline and Dewe Gorodey visited the New Hebrides in 1976, while Yann Céléne Uregei, then the leader of the Union Multiraciale party, visited in 1977 and signed a 'friendship and solidarity' agreement between his party and the VP. In 1979, Uregei helped organise the VP vote among the several hundred ni-Vanuatu resident in New Caledonia. See Plant New Hebrides p. 184; New Hebrides News 74, 4 May 1977, p. 8. 3 New Caledonia, 1945-1978 1 Interview, Tadine, Maré, 5 August 1988. See also Jean-Marie Colombani L'Utopie calédonienne Paris: Editions Denoël 1985, pp. 6667. 2 'Lettre Ouverte aux Français' L'Avenir Calédonien 967, 27 April 1987 3 L'Avenir Calédonien, the weekly UC newsletter, provides details of UC attitudes and policy in the 1950s and 1960s. General accounts include Bernard Brou 30 Ans D'Histoire de la Nouvelle Calédonie, 19451977 Noumea: n.d.; Colombani L'Utopie; John Connell New Caledonia or Kanaky? The Political History of a French Colony Canberra: National Centre for Development Studies, 1987; Marc Coulon L'Irruption Kanak Paris: Messidor-Editions Sociales, 1985; Myriam Dornoy Politics in New Caledonia Sydney: Sydney University Press, 1984; Claude Gabriel and Vincent Kermel Nouvelle-Calédonie. La révolte kanake Montreuil: PresseEditionCommunication 1986; Martyn Lyons The Totem and the Tricolour. A Short History of New Caledonia Since 1774 Sydney: New South Wales University Press, 1986; Virginia Thompson and Richard Adloff The French Pacific Islands: French Polynesia and New Caledonia Berkeley: University of California, 1971; and Alan W. Ward Land and Politics in New Caledonia Canberra: Political and Social Change Monograph 2, Australian National University, 1982. The arguments presented in this chapter owe much to the work of Colombani and Ward. 4 Brou 30 Ans D'Histoire pp. 16, 17; Alain Christnacht La Nouvelle Calédonie Paris: Notes et études documentaires no. 4839, 1987 p. 18; Lenormand, L'Évolution Politique des Autochtones de la Nouvelle Calédonie Paris: Société des Océanistes, Musée de l'Homme, Paris, 1954, (pamphlet) pp. 280, 282; Dornoy New Caledonia pp. 15460; Thompson and Adloff French Pacific Islands pp. 281, 290, 298, 305. 5 Thompson and Adloff French Pacific Islands p. 292 6 L'Avenir Calédonien 11 September 1954 7 Thompson and Adloff French Pacific Islands p. 299 8 Dornoy Politics in New Caledonia, p. 64, n. 102 and p. 225; Brou 30 Ans D'Histoire p. 2. 9 Lenormand L'Evolution Politique p. 279

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10 Dornoy New Caledonia p. 60 11 Thompson and Adloff French Pacific Islands pp. 25560 12 Dornoy New Caledonia, p. 31 13 Brou 30 Ans D'Histoire, pp. 1, 2 14 Ward Land and Politics pp. 8, 9, 13, 27, 28, 3033, 40; Thompson and Adloff French Pacific Islands p. 299. 15 Ward Land and Politics p. 7 16 J-C Roux cited in Connel New Caledonia p. 154 17 Lenormand L'Evolution Politique p. 279 18 Dornoy New Caledonia pp. 165, 225 19 Colombani L'Utopie pp. 4044; Connell New Caledonia pp. 24448; Thompson and Adloff French Pacific Islands, pp. 299300; 38081. 20 Lenormand L'Evolution Politique pp. 2945 21 Election pamphlet printed in L'Avenir Calédonien 354, 14 April 1962; election pamphlet reproduced in Brou 30 Ans D'Histoire p. 68b 22 Thompson and Adloff French Pacific Islands p. 292 23 Brou 30 Ans D'Histoire p. 4 24 Lenormand L'Evolution Politique Annex III, p. 299. See also Dornoy New Caledonia, pp. 165, 168, 170, 171. 25 Colombani L' Utopie, pp. 47, 14950 26 Thompson and Adloff French Pacific Islands pp. 3035; Brou 30 Ans d'Histoire, p. 48; Christnacht NouvelleCalédonie p. 40. The bill for the loi cadre became law on 23 June 1956, and was modified in the National Assembly in March and April of 1957. It was applied in the territory from 22 July 1957, with elections under it held on 6 October 1957. 27 L'Avenir Calédonien 179, 9 September 1958, p. 1 and 181, 26 September 1958, p. 1 28 See Thompson and Adloff French Pacific Islands p. 299 29 See Dornoy New Caledonia p. 170 30 Dorothy Shineberg 'French Colonization in the PacificWith special reference to New Caledonia' Sydney: Evatt Memorial Foundation paper, 1986, p. 10 31 See for example L'Avenir Calédonien 439 14 January 1964 pp. 12 32 Thompson and Adloff French Pacific Islands pp. 318, 3257; Christnacht, La Nouvelle-Calédonie p. 20. 33 Thompson and Adloff French Pacific Islands pp. 32527, 334

34 ibid. p. 307 35 Brou 30 Ans D'Histoire pp. 61, 81, 101; Thompson and Adloff French Pacific Islands pp. 294, 301. 36 See Brou 30 Ans d'Histoire pp. 32, 33 and Dornoy New Caledonia p. 166 37 Thompson and Adloff French Pacific Islands pp. 27175 38 Brou 30 Ans d'Histoire pp. 61, 81 39 ibid. pp. 31417 40 In a 1962 election manifesto, for example, the UC makes it clear that it is against conservative suggestions that New Caledonia become a department of France, against increased taxes, and against a planned subsidy to the SLN nickel company, but does not present any positive policy goals. Election pamphlet in L'Avenir Calédonien 354, 14 April 1962. 41 Connell New Caledonia pp. 1245; Bernard Brou Richesses Minières en Nouvelle-Calédonie Paris: Nouvelles Editions Latines, n.d.

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42 Brou 30 Ans D'Histoire p. 176b 43 ibid. p. 133 44 Connell New Caledonia p. 217 45 Quoted in Gabriel and Kermel Nouvelle-Calédonie p. 51. Messmer feared that some Wallisian and French Polynesian immigrants would support the Kanak nationalist movement. So far, however, most members of these communities have opposed Kanak nationalism. 46 Alan Ward 'Labour Policy and Immigration 19451955' in Spencer, Ward and Connell (eds) New Caledonia; see also Bernard Brou Peuplement et Population de la Nouvelle-Calédonie. La société moderne de Noumea Société d'Etudes Historiques de la Nouvelle-Calédonie 1980, p. 13. 47 Connell New Caledonia p. 211 48 Résultats de Recensement de la Population dans les Territoires d'OutreMer. Nouvelle Calédonie et Dépendances Paris: Institut National de la Statistique et des Etudes Economiques, 1984. See also Dornoy New Caledonia pp. 8588. For a detailed discussion of the social and economic position of the Melanesians, see J.M. Kohler Colonie ou Démocratie. Eléments de sociologie politique sur la Nouvelle Calédonie Noumea: Edipop, 1987, pp. 1419. This essay appears in an abridged form as 'Colony or Democracy. A Political Sociology of New Caledonia' Australian Journal of Politics and History 2, 1987. 49 Richard Taylor, Nancy Davis Lewis, and Sue Levy 'Societies in Transition: Mortality Patterns in Pacific Island Populations' International Journal of Epidemiology September 1989, especially tables 2, 3, 5 and 7 50 Yearbook Australia No. 65, 1981 Canberra: Australian Bureau of Statistics, 1981 p. 90 51 Taylor et. al 'Mortality Patterns' as cited in note 49 above 52 Dornoy New Caledonia pp. 2049 53 ibid. pp. 17885, and Appendix F, p. 276 54 ibid. p. 276 (translation by Dr Dornoy) 55 ibid. p. 184 56 ibid. p. 177 4 New Caledonia 1978-1989 1 See John Connell New Caledonia: the Matignon Accord and the Colonial Future Sydney: Research Institute for Asia and the Pacific, University of Sydney, Occasional Paper No. 5, 1988, pp. 1315 2 Michael Ovington, 'The Impact of the Dijoud Plan on New Caledonian Politics' in Spencer, Ward and Connell New Caledonia pp. 106124; Ward Land and Politics pp. 3442. 3 See Helen Fraser New Caledonia Anti-Colonialism in a Pacific Territory Canberra: Parliamentary Library Discussion Paper 2, 198788, p. 8 4 ibid. pp. 910; Connell New Caledonia p. 286.

5 Fraser New Caledonia p. 10, quoting Le Monde 30 September 1981 6 Jean-Paul Besset, Le dossier calédonien. Les enjeux de l'après-reféréndum Paris: Edition La Découverte, 1988, p. 87 7 Fraser New Caledonia p. 9 8 ibid. p. 15 9 'Lettre Ouverte aux Français' L'Avenir Calédonien 967, 27 April 1987 10 L'Avenir Calédonien 970, 24 June 1987 11 FLNKS Charter, 24 September 1984, unofficial translation. See also Pacific

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Islands Monthly November 1984, pp. 2829. A translation is appended to Connell New Caledonia or Kanaky, and extracts from the charter form an appendix to Claude Gabriel and Vincent Kermel Nouvelle-Calédonie. La révolte kanake Montreuil: Presse-Edition-Communication, 1985. 12 FLNKS responses to the questions of High Commissioner Pisani, 22 December 1984, reprinted as an appendix to Gabriel and Kermel Nouvelle Calédonie ; 'Independence Without Racism' Bwenando 57, 18 September 1986, p. 5; discussions with FLNKS activists. 13 See Jean-Marie Tjibaou 'Mon idée de développement' Trente Jours, October 1983, pp. 1318; and Hamish McDonald's interview with Tjibaou 'Forward with Caution' Far Eastern Economic Review 10 October 1985. 14 l'Union Calédonienne XIIIème Congrès de l'Union Calédonienne, Couli 1114 Novembre 1982 Noumea: l'Union Calédonienne, Congress Proceedings 1983, p. 5 15 Jean-Marie Tjibaou and Philippe Missotte, Kanakéthe Melanesian Way Papeete: Les éditions du Pacifique 1978, trans. by Christopher Plant, p. 5 16 Kanak No. 94, 28 April5 May 1984, p. 7. See also Dornoy New Caledonia pp. 20911. 17 See, for example, 'Lettre Adressée par Le PALIKA', 1'Union Calédonienne XIIIème Congrès p. 53 18 'Discours de J. Violette, PSC', l'Union Calédonienne XIVème Congrès de l'Union Calédonienne, Ouvéa 2931 Octobre 1983 Noumea: l'Union Calédonienne, 1983, p. 59; Ward Land and Politics p. 43 19 Yann Céléne Uregei 'New Caledonia: Confrontation to Colonial Rule' in Ron Crocombe and Ahmed Ali (eds) Politics in Melanesia Suva: University of the South Pacific, 1982 pp. 118135, p. 128; Yann Céléne Uregei 'The Struggle for Kanak Independence' paper presented at the University of Papua New Guinea, 1978; Karen Magnall 'Libya Look Urged for New Caledonia' New Zealand Herald, 10 September 1987. 20 Pacific Islands Monthly, October 1984, p. 26; Proposition de Dialogue Noumea: LKS, March 1985. Before the 1985 elections the LKS set up an 'inter-ethnic commission' in an unsuccessful effort to rally pluriethnic support for its platform. 21 Wapone 'Quelle Sera l'Ecole de Demain?' Bwenando 1 July 1985; see also Claude Gabriel and Vincent Kermel Nouvelle-Calédonie. Les sentiers de l'espoir Montreuil: La BrèchePEC, pp. 536 22 Marie-Adèle Néchéro-Joredié 'Interview: A Kanak People's School' in Spencer, Ward and Connell New Caledonia pp. 198218; Pacific Islands Monthly April 1985 p. 27; Le Journal de Nouvelle Calédonie 16, 3 March 1986; 'The teaching of vernacular languages in New Caledonia (collective authorship)' and 'Teaching in New Caledonia: a Few ProblemsInterview with André Gopea' in Ethnies, Spring 1989, vol. 4, no. 8910, pp. 4955 and 5660; Philippe Bernard, 'Education is a sham for native New Caledonia', The Guardian 5 February 1989, p. 14; and discussions with teachers. 23 See Rebecca Weisser, Regionalism and Development in New Caledonia, Canberra: Australian National University Geography Honours Thesis 1989 24 See Dornoy New Caledonia p. 257 25 Interview, Guy George, secretary-general of Front National, August 1988; Gabriel and Kermel Les sentiers de l'espoir pp. 214, 215

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26 Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes 4 October 1982, p. 35 27 See Besset Le dossier calédonien pp. 39, 117 28 L'Express 15 February 1985; Associated Press and Agence France Presse reports 26 March 1985. 29 Pacific Islands Monthly June 1985, p. 22; Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes 1 October 1985, p. 5; Far Eastern Economic Review 10 October 1985. 30 Programme for the Congrès du Parti National Calédonien, Koné, le 13 Juin 1982. See also Fraser New Caledonia p. 22. 31 See Dorothy Shineberg 'French Colonization' pp. 78 32 Pacific Defence Reporter June 1987, p. 35 33 Islands Business December 1984, p. 17 34 See for example Lafleur's comments as reported in Pacific Defence Reporter June 1987, p. 35. See also the warm endorsement by Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes, on 12 December 1987, p. 9, of comments in Christnacht La Nouvelle Calédonie. 35 Sydney Morning Herald 26 February 1987, p. 7 36 For the aims and activities of the FLNKS regions see their monthly Construire, published from August 1986 to the end of 1987. Issue 5, December 1985/January 1986, for example, contains articles on fruitgrowing on Maré Island, and on prospects for fishing and associated activities at Arama in the extreme north of La Grande Terre, as well as a supplement outlining decisions and initiatives taken by the FLNKS councils. See also Weisser 'Regionalisation and Development'. 37 L'Avenir Calédonien 963, 27 February 1987. 38 Connell Matignon Accord p. 12 39 Le Monde 11 December 1986; Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes 27 October 1986; Pacific Islands Monthly December 1987 40 'A.D.G.' [Alain Camille] Les billets nickelés Cherbourg: Gallimard, Série Noire, 1988, p. 88 41 Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes 19, 20 November 1984 and 1 October 1985 42 Interview, Jean-Marie Tjibaou, 26 July 1988; Daniel Carton 'New Caledonia marathon ends in agreement' Le Monde English Section, The Guardian Weekly, 28 August 1988. 43 Helen Fraser 'Small steps may take the Kanaks to independence' The Australian Financial Review 29 August 1988, p. 11; Helen Fraser New Caledonia. Anti-Colonialism in a Pacific Territory Canberra: rev. edn, Peace Research Centre, 1988, pp. 6061; Sarah Walls 'FLNKS decision on Matignon Accord imminent' The Sydney Morning Herald 13 August 1988. 44 See Le Monde, 8 November 1988, pp. 1, 2, 3, 6, 8

45 Interview 26 July 1988; interviews with Yann Céléne Uregei, leader of FULK and formerly FLNKS Foreign Affairs spokesperson, 25 July 1988 and Guy George, President, Front National, 2 August 1988; 'Separatists still divided on Caledonia's future' (AFP Report) The Sydney Morning Herald 18 July 1988, p. 14; 'Kanaks Ratify Matignon Plan The Sydney Morning Herald 12 September 1988, p. 13. 46 'Fenêtres ouvertes sur la SMSP', Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes, 9 May 1990, pp. 2528 47 Sydney Morning Herald 17 November 1990, p. 21 48 Sarah Walls 'Poll catches French Govt on the hop' The Sydney Morning Herald, 12 November 1988, p. 34

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49 Interview with Tjibaou, 26 July 1988, and discussions around this time with Union Calédonienne organisers; Fraser 'Small steps'. 50 Interview with Harold Martin, RPCR spokesperson, 8 August 1988 51 Sarah Walls 'Why the Kanaks accepted the accord' The Sydney Morning Herald 3 September 1988, p. 29 52 See Jean Houbert 'Settlers and Natives in Decolonization. The Case of New Caledonia' The Round Table No. 295, 1985, pp. 21729, pp. 21819; Fraser New Caledonia (1987) pp. 412. 53 See Connell, The Matignon Accord, pp. 1315 54 Fraser 'Small steps'; 'Seeking the centre' Far Eastern Economic Review 30 June 1988, pp. 28, 29, last paragraph; interview Pierre Maresca, RPCR secretary-general, 29 August 1988, and discussions with loyalists in 1988 and 1989. 55 See Maurice Satineau Le Miroir de Nouméa Paris: L'Harmattan 1987 56 See Sonia Mazey and Michael Newman (eds) Mitterrand's France London: Croom Helm, 1987 especially ch. 1 and the conclusion 57 Sarah Walls 'It's time to share, PM tells Noumea' The Sydney Morning Herald 29 August 1988, p. 14 58 Interview by Libération 29 July 1988, reported by Reuter in The Sydney Morning Herald 30 July 1988, p. 19; also quoted in Gabriel and Kermel Le sentiers de l'espoir p. 183 59 Interview, 1 August 1988 60 On the limited options of microstates, see John Connell Sovereignty and Survival. Island Microstates in the Third World University of Sydney, Department of Geography, Monograph 3, 1988 61 The phrase quoted was used by a prominent loyalist in discussion. See also Besset Le dossier calédonien p. 127. The partition theme arose in several discussions with loyalists in July/August 1988, and various notions of it have surfaced over the last few years. See, for example, Groupe d'Etude et de Réflexion sur l'Avenir en Pays Mélanésien, Note d'Information sur la Situation en Nouvelle Calédonie, (mimeo 4, 4 November 1987). This paper proposes the establishment of Noumea and its suburbs as a separate zone, to be administered jointly by France and 'Kanaky' on a long-term lease from the prospective newly independent state. 62 Rocard, interviewed by Libération 29 July 1988, quoted in Gabriel and Kermel Les sentiers de l'espoir p. 183 5 French Polynesia 1945-1982 1 La Dépêche de Tahiti 6 October 1972 pp. 1, 811; Pacific Islands Monthly [hereafter PIM] 43, 11, November 1972, pp. 15, 1719; William Tagupa Politics in French Polynesia 19451975 Wellington: New Zealand Institute of International Affairs 1976, p. 29. 2 PIM, as cited in ibid. 3 PIM 43, 10, October 1972, pp. 13, 127 4 La Dépêche de Tahiti 6 October 1972 p. 8 5 ibid. p. 11

6 'Apercu sur l'evolution statutaire de la Polynesie Française de 1842 à nos jours: interview de Phillipe Lechat', Te Vevo, special edition, April 1989, [hereafter Lechat interview], p. 33 7 ibid. pp. 2122

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8 ibid. p. 18 9 The following account of Pouvanaa's character and career draws on Gérald Coppenrath, 'L'Evolution Politique de la Polynésie Française depuis la Première Guerre Mondiale' Journal de la Société des Océanistes XV, 15, December 1959; John C. Dorrance, The Pouvanaa Movement and Political Development in Post-War French Polynesia, Honolulu: University of Hawaii Master's Thesis, submitted April 1964; Robert Langdon Tahiti: Island of Love 5th edn, Sydney and New York: Pacific Publications, 1979; Lechat interview, pp. 1920, 246; Tagupa Politics in French Polynesia pp. 312, 18, 29; Thompson and Adloff, French Pacific Islands; F.J. West Political Advancement in the South Pacific. A comparative study of colonial practice in Fiji, Tahiti and American Samoa Melbourne: Oxford University Press 1961, pp. 1028; and on an interview in June 1989 with Alexandre Ata, a former territorial minister and senior public servant, who earlier served as a senior aide to Pouvanaa. 10 Lechat interview p. 20 11 Langdon Tahiti p. 254 12 Coppenrath 'Evolution Politique' p. 241; Thompson and Adloff French Pacific Islands p. 21. 13 Langdon Tahiti p. 2567; Thompson and Adloff French Pacific Islands p. 44. 14 Quoted in Bengt and Marie-Thérèse Danielsson Moruroa, Mon Amour. The French Nuclear Tests in the Pacific 1977: rev. English edn, Penguin, p. 36 15 See West Political Advancement pp. 1067 16 ibid. p. 106, note 13; Danielssons Moruroa, Mon Amour p. 37. 17 Langdon Tahiti p. 257 18 RDPT leaflet quoted in Tagupa French Polynesia p. 10 19 See Georges Chaffard 'Les essais nucléaires français stimulent les sentiments autonomistes des Polynésiens' Le Monde Diplomatique 24 September 1968, p. 24 20 West Political Advancement p. 120 21 Institut Territorial de la Statistique 20 Ans de Consultations Electorales en Polynésie Française Papeete: 1982 p. R6 22 Langdon Tahiti p. 257 23 Lechat interview p. 25 24 Chaffard 'Les essais nucléaires' 25 Langdon Tahiti pp. 2578 26 Tagupa Politics in French Polynesia p. 18 27 Lechat interview p. 24 28 See for example the account by Senator Gérald Coppenrath in 'L'Evolution Politique' pp. 2645; and the letter by Bernard Covit in PIM 35, 7, pp. 612

29 In his Tahiti, facing p. 141, Robert Langdon provides 'before' and 'after' photos. See also PIM 38, 8, August 1967, pp. 5355. 30 PIM 37, 10 September 1966, p. 142 31 ibid. p. 22 32 Alexandre Léontieff Bilan et Perspectives de l'Economie de la Polynésie Francaise: Elements de Réflexion et de Decision pour un Plan de RelanceNote de Synthèse Papeete: Assemblé Territoriale, November 1987, pp. 34; Institut Territorial de la Statistique, French Polynesia at a glance, Papeete: pamphlet 1987

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33 Calculated from Gilles Blanchet L'économie de la Polynésie française de 1960 à 1980 Paris: ORSTOM, 1985, p. 128 34 ibid. p. 27; Institut National de la Statistique et des Études Économiques [INSEE] R Paris: 1984 p. 19 [hereafter 1983 Census]; Deschamps and Guiart, Tahiti, pp. 512; Barry Shineberg 'The Image of France: Recent Developments in French Polynesia' Journal of Pacific History, 21, 1986, pp. 15368, pp. 1578. 35 Calculated from the 1983 Census figures 36 Claude Robineau Du Coprah à l'atome Paris: ORSTOM, 1984 37 Blanchet, L'économie p. 128 38 Association pour la Developpement et la Promotion des Actions Economiques de la Polynésie Française, Investir à Tahiti et dans ses îles, Pamphlet 12 on 'Agriculture', Papeete: Office of the President of French Polynesia, 1989 39 Ben R. Finney 'A Vulnerable Proletariat: Tahitians in the 1970s' in Ravan W. Force and Brenda Bishop, (eds) The Impact of Urban Centers in the Pacific Honolulu: 1975, pp. 181191, pp. 1857 40 ibid. p. 188 41 See Anne Lavondès 'Culture et Identité Nationale en Polynésie' Cahier Orstom Human Sciences series, XXI, I, 1985, pp. 13750, p. 142 42 1983 Census pp. 957 43 Karen Stevenson 'Heiva: Continuity and Change of a Tahitian Celebration' The Contemporary Pacific. A Journal of Islands Affairs 2, 2, pp. 25578; Turo A. Raapoto 'Maohi: On Being Tahitian' in Nancy J. Pollock and Ron Crocombe (eds) French Polynesia. A Book of Selected Readings Suva: Institute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific, 1988, pp. 37 44 Interview with Jacky Van Bastolaer, Ia Mana spokesperson, June 1989 45 Interview with Daniel Millaud, Senator for French Polynesia, June 1989 46 See John Connell Sovereignty and Survival. Island Microstates in the Third World Sydney: University of Sydney Geography Department Monograph 1988 47 See Jean-Marie Pambrun, Bruno Saura and François Ravault, 'La vie politique' in Encyclopedie de la Polynésie: Vivre en Polynesie Papeete: ORSTOM, 1986, 1, pp. 10520 48 ibid. 49 Langdon Tahiti p. 160; PIM December 1963, p. 13 50 ibid. p. 262 51 See William Tagupa 'Electoral Behaviour in French Polynesia' in Political Science 35, 1, July 1983, pp. 3857, p. 40 52 West Political Advancement pp. 93, 1078; Albert Daussin-Charpantier 'L'experience polynésienne d'autonomie interne: avatar de la décentralisation ou étape vers l'Indépendance Association? La Vie Départmentale et Régionale 45, 46, 47, and 48, March, April and May 1988, 45, p. 21. 53 Lechat interview, p. 34

54 PIM 43, 8, August 1972, p. 16 55 ibid. p. 35 56 PIM 42, 10, October 1971, p. 25 57 ibid. 50, 3, March 1979, p. 28 58 Interview with Oscar Temaru, Mayor of Faa'a, Faa'a, June 1989 59 PIM 53,10, October 1982, p. 17

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60 ibid. 49, 4, April 1978 pp. 1517; 49, 8, August 1978, p. 29; 50, 4, April 1979, pp. 911; 50, 7, July 1979, pp. 279; 52, 3, March 1981, pp. 223 61 ibid. 44, 12, December 1973, p. 10 and 45, 3, March 1974, p. 17 62 Jean Peres, L'evolution des institutions politiques. De Tahiti à la Polynésie Française, unpublished manuscript June 1989, pp. 1819 63 ibid. pp. 2630 64 PIM 51, 5, May 1980 pp. 278 65 Pambum, Saura and Ravault, 'La vie politique' pp. 11920 66 Interview with Edouard Fritch, member of the Territorial Assembly and spokesperson for Tahoeraa Huiraatira, Papeete, June 1989 67 Michel Panoff, pers. comm., 19 Novermber 1989; and Michel Panoff Tahiti métisse Paris: Denöel, 1989 68 See Panoff Tahiti métisse 69 1983 Census pp. 6667; interview with M. Gérard Baudchon, Director of the Territorial Statistics Institute, Papeete, June 1989 70 Manouche Lehartel, Director of the Museum of Tahiti, quoted in PIM 59, 8, June 1988, p. 15 71 PIM 53, 7, July 1982, p. 22 and 53, 8, August 1982 p. 24 72 Lavondes 'Culture et Identité' pp. 1459 73 Ron Crocombe and Pat Hereniko (eds) Tahiti. The Other Side Suva: English edn., trans. Kushnam Patel, University of the South Pacific, 1985, pp. 6, 27 74 Langdon Tahiti p. 266 75 PIM 53, 8, August 1982, p. 25 76 Pers. comm. Professor Jean Chesneaux, October 1989; La Dépêche de Tahiti 26 August 1989 p. 21. 6 French Polynesia 1983-90 1 Philippe Lechat 'Le statut de la Polynésie Française du 6 septembre 1984 cinq ans après: autonomie interne ou autonomie internée? in Annales du Centre Universitaire de Pirae 3, 198889, pp. 6998. 2 Encyclopedie 1, p. 107 3 Pambrun, Saura and Ravault 'La vie politique' in ibid. p. 109 4 PIM 57, 9, September 1986, p. 23; PIM 58, 2 February 1987 5 See PIM July 1987 p. 25 6 Realités du Pacific November-December 1987; PIM December 1987, p. 11

7 La Dépêche de Tahiti 11 December 1987 8 Le Bulletin du Gouvernement no. 4 April 1989; no. 5, April/May 1989 p. 2; and no. 6 May 1989 p. 8 9 ibid. May 1989 pp. 26; 'La Première Interview du Nouveau Président du Gouvernement' La Dépêche de Tahiti 16 December 1987 pp. 1213. 10 See R. Gerard Ward 'Earth's Empty Quarter? The Pacific Islands in a Pacific Century' The Geographical Journal vol. 155 no. 2 July 1989 pp. 22546 11 Léontieff Plan de Relance; Assemblée Nationale de la France, Rapport sur le Projet de Loi de Finances pour 1988, Annexe 13, Document 960, Paris: DOMTOM Ministry, 1987; Shineberg 'French Polynesia'; Laurent Greilsamer 'That's the Way it Goes in Tahiti' Le Monde English Section, Guardian Weekly 22 November 1987.

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12 Ward 'Pacific Islands' p. 244 13 A. Le Minter 'La Misere au Paradis!' La Dépêche de Tahiti 16 January 1985 pp. 1517; Ron Crocombe and Pat Hereniko (eds) Tahiti. The Other Side Suva: English edn., trans. Kushnam Patel, University of the South Pacific, 1985. 14 La Dépêche de Tahiti, August 1989 15 La Dépêche de Tahiti 16 December 1987 p. 13 16 PIM 53, 7, July 1982, p. 7 17 Quoted by Emy Vialo Dufour, who served as an adviser on constitutional matters to Teariki, in La Dépêche de Tahiti 3 October 1986 p. 23. See also 'The Political Testament of John Teariki', PIM 55, 1, January 1984, pp. 3940. 18 Léontieff Plan de Rélance 19 Interview of Léontieff by Christine Bourne, La Dépêche de Tahiti, 10 June 1989 20 Quoted in PIM 51, 10, October 1980, p. 23 21 See Jacques Boengkih 'Economic Barriers Against Indigenous People's Development in the French Territories of the Pacific' in Grant McCall Sydney Talk. Australia in the South Pacific Sydney: University of New South Wales Pacific Studies Monogroph 1, pp. 1328 22 Peres, De Tahiti à la Polynésie Française p. 30 and PIM 41, 10, October 1970 p. 17 and 41, 11, November 1970 p. 31 23 Statut du Territoire de la Polynésie Française, law 84820 of 6 September 1984, as modified by law 851337 of 18 December 1985, law 87556 of 16 July 1987, and law 90612 of 12 July 1990. For a brief discussion see Pacific Report, Vol. 2, No. 24, 21 December 1989, p. 1. 24 See Charpantier 'L'expérience polynésienne' (part 3) p. 26 25 PIM 55, 1, January 1984 p. 40 26 PIM 44, 2, February 1973, pp. 1314. Eiao was inhabited intermittently until the mid-20th century, but has been uninhabited since then because of the absence of a safe anchorage and following the severe ecological damage caused by pigs, sheep and other introduced animals. 27 La Dépêche de Tahiti 25 September 1980 p. 9 28 See 'Voeu' in La Dépêche de Tahiti, 13 June 1989 29 PIM 41, 10, October 1970, p. 17 and 36, 7, July 1965, pp. 77, 79 and 81 30 PIM 44, 2, February 1973, p. 14 and 44, 5, May 1973, p. 10 31 PIM 35, 3, March 1964, p. 18; La Dépêche de Tahiti, 27 June 1986, pp. 1920. 32 Henri Fages 'Un intérêt majeur de la France en Océanie: Le Centre d'Expérimentation Nucléaire du Pacifique' Journal de la Société des Océanistes 87, 2, 1989, pp. 1119, p. 17 33 ibid.

7 France's Nuclear Testing Programme 1 Tony Chafer 'Politics and the Perception of Risk: A Study of the AntiNuclear Movements in Britain and France' West European Politics 8, 1, 1985 pp. 523, p. 7 2 Le Monde 3 April 1979 p. 15 3 PIM 45, 10, October 1974

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4 Chafer 'Anti-Nuclear Movements' p. 11 5 A.W. DePorte 'France's New Realism' Foreign Affairs 63, 1, Fall 1984, pp. 144165, p. 147 6 Michel Rocard 'Speech to Members of the Australian Parliament' August 1989, p. 6 (text provided by Information Service, French Embassy, Canberra) 7 DePorte 'France's New Realism', pp. 1459 8 ibid. p. 147; Chafer 'Anti-Nuclear Movements' pp. 14, 16; Dominique Moisi 'French Foreign Policy: The Challenge of Adaption' Foreign Affairs Fall 1988 pp. 151165, p. 156. 9 Fages 'Le Centre d'Expérimentation Nucléaire' p. 11. See also Alfred Grosser 'Sommes-Nous Une Grande Puissance?' L'Expansion October/ November 1985 pp. 22833. 10 Chafer 'Anti-Nuclear Movements' pp. 1417 11 The Sydney Morning Herald 4 June 1988 p. 23; The Canberra Times 30 July 1988, p. 4. 12 Chafer 'Anti-Nuclear Movements' pp. 1516; PIM 53, 2, February 1982, pp. 1415. 13 See Andrew Mack 'Pacific and the Bicentenary could do without la bombe' Australian Financial Review 27 July 1989 p. 71 14 Secretariat General de la Defense Nationale French Nuclear Tests Paris: November 1987, pp. 7, 11 and Fages 'Centre d'Expérimentation Nucléaire' pp. 1314 15 The Sydney Morning Herald 23 December 1987 and 27 February 1988 16 Michel Rocard, Speech, 29 June 1988 La Politique Etrangère de la France. Textes et Documents MayJune 1988 Paris: Foreign Affairs Ministry, 1988 p. 66 17 See Diana Johnstone 'How the French Left Learned to Love the Bomb' New Left Review 146 July/August 1984 pp. 536, p. 15 18 Robbin F. Laird 'French Nuclear Forces in the 1980s and 1990s' Comparative Strategy 4, 4, 1984 pp. 387412, p. 389 19 ibid. 20 ibid. pp. 40910 21 Jean-Pierre Chevènement, interviewed by Pierre Biot Paris Match 30 September 1988 22 Le Monde 25 May 1989 p. 14 23 ibid. 22 October 1990; Defense News, 22 October 1990, pp. 1, 28 24 Quoted in Pacific Research November 1989, 2, 4, p. 22. See also 'La Danseuse au Boulot', La Dépêche de Tahiti 26 August 1989 p. 13. 25 Parliamentary Papers: House of Representatives 11 September 1985, Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service, p. 734 26 Danielssons Moruroa Mon Amour p. 195

27 Chaffard 'Les essais nucléaires' Le Monde Diplomatique 24 September 1968, p. 24 28 See, for example, PIM 58, 3, March 1987 pp. 1011 29 Richard H. Ullman 'The Covert French Connection' Foreign Policy 75 Summer 1989 pp. 334 30 Ministere de la Defense, Dossier de Synthèse: Reponses aux questions posées au cours de la table ronde à Papeete, du 2 au 5 Octobre 1989, Papeete: Direction des Centres D'Expérimentations Nucléaires/Commissariat à L'Energie Atomique, 1989

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31 Secretariat General de la Defense French Nuclear Tests pp. 57 32 See 'US opposes amendment to Nuclear Test Ban Treaty', United States Information Service, East Asia and Pacific Wireless File, 13 November 1989 pp. 235 33 Fages 'Centre d'Expérimentation' p. 19 34 ibid. 35 PIM 55, 7, July 1984 pp. 312; Cousteau Foundation, Mission Scientifique de la Calypso sur le site d' experimentations nucleaires de Mururoa, Paris: 1988, pp. 40, 50; Dossier de Synthese, Dossier 3, p. 11. Another indication that testing at Morurua and Fangataufa may end in some years time has come from FLNKS contacts. According to them, French officials let it be understood during the negotiation of the Matignon Accords that France wanted to secure its presence in the South Pacific for another decade, so that testing could continue in French Polynesia, after which the testing programme would come under review. 36 Secretariat General de la Defense French Nuclear Tests pp. 1722 37 ibid.; interview of Patrick Howell, Director of the Public Dental Health Service and founding President of the Peace and Development Committee of French Polynesia, by Prue Goward on Radio 2CN (ABC Canberra), 6 September 1990; Australian National University Peace Research Centre seminar by Dr Howell, 5 September 1990. 38 See PIM October 1990, pp. 1112, 1416; and Pacific Report 2, 19, 12 October 1989 p. 1. 39 See Dossier de Synthèse, Dossier 2, pp. 1012 40 John F. May 'French Polynesia' Population Today 16, 7/8, July/August 1988, p. 12 41 See Emmanuel Vigneron, Jean Paul Boutin, Jean Louis Cartel, Jean Claude Roullet, Allain Bertrand and Jean Roux 'Aspects de la sante en Polynésie Française: Essai d'approche chrono-spatiale', in Centre de Recherche d'Étude et de Documentation en Économie de la Sante, Proceedings of the conference on Geographie et Socio-Economie de la Sante Paris: January 1989; as well as the accompanying papers by Emmanuel Vigneron on 'Relations between health levels, services and demand in French Polynesia' and 'The epidemiological transition in an overseas territory: disease mapping in French Polynesia'. 42 Patients suffering from cancer and other serious illnesses are usually flown abroad, generally either to France or New Zealand, to receive the specialist care not available in French Polynesia because of its small population. In this respect the territory resembles a country town in Australia, from which patients are obliged to travel to a major centre for specialist care. Press reports about large numbers of patients being flown out of French Polynesia with radiationinduced cancers are not accurate. 43 Tilman Ruff 'Fish Poisoning in the Pacific: A Link with Military Activities' Canberra: Australian National University Peace Research Centre, Working Paper 63, 1989, pp. 14 44 Dr Raymond Bagnis, Institut Louis Malarde, interviewed by Paul Murphy on SBS Dateline programme, 27 October 1990 45 Tilman Ruff 'Fish Poisoning' pp. 1, 5 46 ibid. pp. 59 47 see ibid. pp. 1013; PIM 56, 12, December 1985 pp. 2930; 57, 7, July 1986 p. 21; and 58, 6, June 1987 pp. 256.

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48 See Dossier de Synthèse, Dossier 3, pp. 1316; Dr Raymond Bagnis, Institut Louis Malarde, interviewed by Paul Murphy on SBS Dateline programme, 27 October 1990. 49 New Zealand Government Report of a New Zealand, Australian and Papua New Guinea Scientific Mission to Mururoa Atoll Wellington: 1983 50 M.P. Hochstein and M.J. O'Sullivan, Geothermal systems created by underground nuclear testing: implications for long-term, direct effects of underground testing, paper presented to an International Scientific Symposium on a Nuclear Test Ban, Las Vegas, January 1988; Interview of Dr O'Sullivan on SBS Dateline programme, 27 October 1990. 51 Norm Buske, Cesium-134 at Moruroa-Review of the Calypso Water Samples, Davenport: Search Technical Sevices, 1990; Alain Barthoux, Director of tests, interviewed on SBS Dateline programme, 27 October 1990. 52 Radio Australia, International Report, 7 December 1990; Canberra Times 8 December 1990, p. 16 53 See Secretariat General de la Defense French Nuclear Tests pp. 2122 54 Cousteau Foundation, Mission Scientifique, pp. 456, 51 55 ibid. p. 52. 8 Wallis and Futuna: Ripples in a Backwater 1 Poncet Wallis p. 226 2 Journal Officiel de la République Française 30 July 1961, pp. 701921 3 ibid. p. 7019 4 See Poncet Wallis pp. 2237 5 Georges Lemoine 'Ouverture des Travaux' in Paul de Deckker and Pierre Lagayette (eds) Etats et Pouvoirs Dans Les Territories Français du Pacifique Paris: L'Harmattan, 1987, p. 10 6 Campbell 'Imperialism, Dynasticism and Conversion' pp. 164, 166; Jean-Claude Roux 'Pouvoir religieux et pouvoir politique à Wallis et Futuna' in De Deckker and Lagayette (eds) Etats et Pouvoirs pp. 5480, pp. 578, 64 7 Poncet Wallis p. 56, note 3 8 ibid. p. 227, note 2 9 See Karl Rensch 'Wallis and Futuna: Total Dependency' in Ron Crocombe (ed.), Politics in Polynesia Suva: University of the South Pacific, 1983, pp. 317 10 Chef de Circonscription, Wallis and Futuna, 'Statistiques Demographiques et Economiques' Mata Utu: n.d. 11 John Connell Migrations, Emploi et Developpement dans le Pacifique Sud. Rapport National No. 21: Iles Wallis et Futuna Noumea: South Pacific Commission, 1983, p. 9 12 J.C. Roux 'Migration and change in Wallisian society' in R.T. Shand The Island States of the Pacific and Indian Oceans: anatomy of development Canberra: Australian National University Development Studies Centre, 1980, pp. 167175, p. 169

13 Connell Wallis et Futuna p. 12 14 ibid; Roux, 'Migration and change', p. 170. 15 Chef de Circonscription 'Statistiques Demographiques et Economiques' 16 Connell Wallis et Futuna p. 24 17 Calculated from the figures given in Roux, 'Migration and change'

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18 ibid. 19 IEOM Wallis and Futuna: Exercise 1987 p. 40 and Exercise 1988 p. 42 20 Information supplied by Director of Wallis and Futuna Education Department, August 1988 21 La Dépêche de Tahiti 24 August 1989 p. 13 22 La Dépêche de Tahiti 14 January 1985, p. 48; Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes 25 July 1988 23 Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes 14 March 1988 p. 30 24 Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes 8 July 1987 25 Jean-Claude Guillebaud Les Confettis De L'Empire Paris: Editions Du Seuil, 1976, pp. 1214 26 Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes 30 October 1986 27 ibid. 17, 30 and 31 October (p. 4); 13 November, p. 26; 25 November pp. 67; and 5 December 1986, p. 45 28 Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes 12 July 1986 p. 42 29 Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes 10, 14 (p. 32), and 16 March 1988 and 18 July 1988 30 Pacific Report 2, 15, 17 August 1989, p. 3 31 See Jean-Luc Mathieu Les Dom-Tom Paris: Presses Universitaires de France 1988, p. 175 32 Joël Bonnemaison 'Wallis and Futuna' The Contemporary Pacific 2, 1 pp. 1758 33 Pers. comm. Ms Valerie Deruelle (ORSTOM), May 1990 34 Les Nouvelles de Tahiti 25 August 1989 p. 34; La Dépêche de Tahiti 25 August 1989 p. 13. 35 Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes, 18 November 1983, cited in Connell Wallis et Futuna, p. 2 9 France and the Region 1 John Chipman French Military Policy and African Security. London: International Institute of Strategic Studies, Adelphi Paper 201, 1985; Francis Terry McNamara France in Black Africa Washington: National Defence University, 1989; Richard Bernstein, 'Why France is so Wedded to its Lost African Empire' Times on Sunday 26 April 1987, p. 3. 2 'Une politique pour l'Outre-Mer Français', Défense Nationale, AugustSeptember 1990, pp. 923. This speech was given on 3 April to the Institute des hautes études de défense nationale (IHEDN), the French national staff college. 3 ibid. p. 13

4 As of 1986, direct French government spending in relation to the territories totalled $A 1454 million ($US 1164 million). This spending consisted of $A 470 million relating to New Caledonia ($US 375 million), of which military spending comprised 13.4 per cent; $A 960 million ($US 770 million) relating to French Polynesia, of which military spending, mainly on the nuclear testing programme, comprised 60 per cent; and $A 24 million ($US 19 million) relating to Wallis and Futuna, of which military spending formed a negligible part. These figures are for direct spending by French government departments; additional funds were disbursed indirectly. The figures are from Assemblée Nationale, Rapport sur le Projet de Loi de Finances pour 1988, Annexe 13, Document 960, 1987, pp 39, 48, 62. ($A 1 equalled 5 F fr as of September 1988.) Much

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of this spending was absorbed in expatriate salaries or spent on French goods and supplies or was otherwise repatriated to metropolitan France. See Stephen Henningham 'French Spending' in the South Pacific Pacific Economic Bulletin 4, 2, 1989, pp. 3038. 5 See Stephen Bates France and the Pacific Island Countries. A Study in Inter-state Relations Canberra: Australian National University Department of International Relations Monograph, 1990 6 Papua New Guinea Post-Courier [hereafter PC], 24 April 1975 7 PC 27 September, 1976, p. 4; 27 October, 1978, p. 3 and 27 September 1979, p. 1 8 PC 23 April 1975 9 ibid. 6 February 1976, p. 3; 13 November 1980 10 PC 11 August, 1980, p. 1 11 Acting Prime Minister Okuk, quoted in PC 12 May 1981, p. 3 12 Quoted in PC, 12 July 1984, p. 2 13 See, for example, comments by Prime Minister Somare reported in ibid. 9 October 1984, p. 3 14 ibid. p. 4 15 PC 6 May 1985 16 ibid. 23 September 1985, p. 3 17 ibid. 29 September 1981, p. 2 18 Mokis made these comments in response to a question after he presented a paper on the Papua New Guinea/ Indonesia border to a conference on 'Australia and the World' held by the Strategic and Defence Studies Centre at the Australian National University on 69 December 1988 19 See, for example the items in Solomon Islands News Drum [hereafter News Drum] on 18 January 1980, p. 4; 13 June 1980, p. 5; 20 June 1980, p. 5; 1 August 1980, p. 8; and 29 August 1980, p. 8 20 Francis Bugotu, Secretary for Foreign Affairs, quoted in ibid. 12 December 1980, p. 1 21 Prime Minister Mamaloni, quoted in Solomon Star, 13 July 1984, p. 7 22 Solomon Star 24 October 1986, p. 2 and 11 June 1987, p. 1 23 Prime Minister Kenilorea, quoted in News Drum 13 March 1981, p. 2 24 Quoted in Solomon Star 23 January 1987, p. 3 25 Pacific Islands Monthly October 1990, p. 18 26 5 September 1986, p. 2 27 15 February 1985, p. 2

28 Interview with Joe Natuman, Principal Private Secretary to Prime Minister Lini, 22 July 1988 29 Terry Crowley, 'English in Vanuatu,' in World Englishes 8, 1, pp. 3746, pp. 4144. 30 Luc Dellanoy 'Walter Lini s'explique' Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes, 17 March 1990, p. 5 31 See Huffer, Elise Politique extérieure blong Vanuatu 19801990. Noumea: ORSTOM 1989. Some of the initiatives of the government had involved more costs than benefits. Thus Vanuatu's interest in Libya had waned when hoped-for aid did not eventuate, and when the connection caused internal dissent and had an adverse impact on investor confidence and tourist arrivals. Meanwhile Barak Sope, the politician most associated with the Libyan connection, had become a notable rival to Prime Minister Lini. And the Vanuatu government may have been chastened be-

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cause, during the political disturbances of 1988, it had been obliged to seek support from Australia and New Zealand, the two countries which it had earlier condemned for alleged neo-colonialism. 32 Interview with David Robie, in Vanuatu Weekly 25 August 1984, pp. 1516 33 Vanuatu Weekly 17 August 1985, p. 2 34 Quoted in Pacific Report 14, 29 September 1988, p. 3 35 George Kejoa, 'Australia's proper role in the South Pacifica personal perspective', keynote address to the Australia/ Pacific Conference at the University of New South Wales, 2 December 1988, published in Grant McCall Sydney Talk pp. 15 36 See the comments of Father Lini, interviewed in News Drum 18 January 1980 37 Solomon Islands Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Foreign Policy of Solomon Islands Government Honiara: 1985 pp. 16 38 New Zealand Herald 23 January 1988; A letter from the Minister for the South Pacific [hereafter South Pacific letter] November 1987, p. 5; David Robie, 'Three Ways to Split a Forum'. The Dominion, 22 March 1988. 39 See, for example, the statement by the Minister for Lands, Survey and Natural Resources, Sione Tongilava, condemning nuclear testing and dumping, reported in the Tonga Chronicle 17 June 1983, pp. 1, 8 40 Cook Islands News 8 November 1983, pp. 1, 7 and 9 November 1983, pp. 1, 12 41 ibid. 30 July 1985, p. 1 42 ibid. 29 July 1985, p. 1. See also Iaveta Short, 'Autonomy, Self-government and Independence', paper presented to the Auckland Conference on Pacific Studies, 1922 August 1985, consulted in the Pacific collection at the University of the South Pacific library. 43 See, for example, the comments of Solomon Islands Prime Minister Ezekial Alebua, reported in the Cook Islands News 30 July 1985, p. 1 44 Fiji Times 14 July 1980, p. 2 and 16 July 1980, p. 2. See also the Fiji Times, 12 September 1980, p. 9. 45 In 1985, the government of Kiribati reached a fishing agreement with the Soviet Union, despite the concern of Australia, New Zealand and other powers that the agreement could open the path for further Soviet expansion in the region. But the Kiribati government was not interested in developing a more substantial relationship. It wanted merely to increase its self-reliance by taking advantage of the generous fees offered. It was also keen to assert its independence of judgement and exercise its sovereignty. So external criticism strengthened rather than reduced its commitment to the deal. Irritation with 'tuna piracy' by US trawlers also helped shape the policy of the Kiribati government. Kiribati did all it could to ensure that the Soviet Union honoured the agreement to the letter, and declined to renew the agreement when the Soviets were unwilling to continue to pay a high premium. 46 Once the phosphate is exhausted, the continuing prosperity of Nauru will depend on the wisdom and good fortune with which the profits from phosphate have been invested. Nauru is very different from other South Pacific countries because of its wealth, because many of its people have given up work to live on the proceeds of phosphate, and because of the grave ecological damage caused by phosphate mining.

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47 Firth Nuclear Playground, p. 89; Le Monde, 19 September 1986; The Age, 22 September 1986. 48 See French Embassy, Canberra, Press release 5/86, 6 March 1986 49 David A.L. Levy 'Foreign Policy: Business as Usual', in Mazey and Newman Mitterrand's France; Pacific Islands Monthly September 1984; Le Monde, 19 September 1986; Speech by Rocard 29 June 1988, Ministère Des Affaires Etrangères, La Politique Etrangère de la France. Textes et Documents Paris: MayJune 1988, pp. 6566. 50 Assemblée Nationale Projet de Loi; Nicholas Rothwell 'France Makes Peace in the Pacific'. The Weekend Australian 2627 December 1987; Marie-Thérèse and Bengt Danielsson 'Flosse's Promotion Proves too Much' Pacific Islands Monthly May 1987. 51 New Zealand Herald 23 January 1988; South Pacific letter November 1987, p. 5 52 South Pacific letter November 1987 p. 7 53 Interview with Jean-Jaques Brot, adviser to Gaston Flosse, 23 March 1988 54 Wellington Dominion 22 February 1987 55 AAP report, Apia, 19 December 1987 56 See Huffer 'Politique Extérieure Blong Vanuatu' pp. 24, 31 57 Interviewed by Helen Fraser, Pacific Report, 2, 13, 20 July 1989, p. 3 58 Interview with Henry Jacolin, French Ambassador, Suva, 19 October 1990 59 Interview with Francis Josephe, Counsellor for Cultural and Technical Cooperation, French Embassy, Suva, 12 August 1988; Francis Josephe, 'France Commemorates the 199th Bastille DayScientific and Cultural Co-operation', Fiji Times, 14 July 1988; AFP report, Suva, 15 February 1988. 60 Presidence de la République, South Pacific Council, Papeete, 17 May 1990: Communique 61 This organisation was previously known as the Committee for the Coordination of Joint Prospecting for Mineral Resources in South Pacific Offshore Areas (CCOP/SOPAC). Robert Keith-Reid, 'Riches from under the Sea', Islands (Air Pacific In-flight Magazine) JulySeptember 1988, pp. 59. 62 Baude interview Pacific Report, 2, 13, 20 July 1989, p. 3 63 South Pacific letter, November 1987, January 1988 64 Interview with Josephe, 12 August 1988 65 South Pacific letter November 1987 66 Interview, Fiji Foreign Affairs Officials, 12 August 1988 67 Radio New Zealand interview reported in South Pacific letter November 1987 68 AAP report, Apia 19 December 1987 69 Al Prince, 'More than Kissing Cousins', Pacific Islands Monthly October 1989 pp. 2122

70 Interview with Josephe, 12 August 1988 71 See Levy 'Foreign Policy' 72 Interview with Fiji Foreign Affairs officials, 12 August 1988 73 ibid. 74 Interview with Josephe, 12 August 1988 75 Australian International Development Assistance Bureau, Australian

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Relations with the South Pacific. AIDAB Submission to the Joint Committee on Foreign Affairs and Defence Canberra: AIDAB International Development Issues Paper No. 2, 1987 76 The Weekend Australian, 1617 January 1988: 11, and 1314 February 1988 p. 4; The Australian Financial Review 19 January 1988 p. 4; The Sydney Morning Herald 30 January 1988, p. 6; The Canberra Times 25 January 1988 and 1 February 1988; The Sydney Morning Herald 7 September 1988, p. 16. 77 Lemoine, 'Ouverture des travaux' in De Deckker and Lagayette Etats et Pouvoirs pp. 1415 78 Firth Nuclear Playground pp. 133147 79 Interview with Brot, 23 March 1988 80 See David Hegarty and Peter Polomka (eds) The Security of Oceania in the 1990s Vol. 1: Views From the Region Canberra: Strategic and Defence Studies Centre, Australian National University, 1989, p. 2 81 Fiji Times 17 October 1988; Cook Islands News 9 November 1983, p. 1 82 Baude interview Pacific Report; Interview with Jacolin, 19 October 1990. 83 Ross Babbage, 'Australian Interests in the South Pacific', in Henry S. Albinski et. al. The South Pacific: Political, Economic and Military Trends Washington: Brassey's, 1989, p. 64 84 Commonwealth of Australia, Australia's Regional Security. Ministerial Statement by Senator the Hon. Gareth Evans QC Canberra: 1989, p. 19; Stephen Merchant, 'Australia's Defence Cooperation Program and Regional Security', in Hegarty and Polomka, Security of Oceania, pp. 7177. 85 See Australia's Regional Security pp. 456 86 New Zealand Ministry of Foreign Affairs Atkinson Mission Report 87 On New Zealand's stance and policies, see Helen Clark 'New Zealand's Non-Nuclear Initiative' in Ranginui Walker and William Sutherland, The Pacific. Peace, Security and the Nuclear Issue London: Zed Books and Tokyo: The United Nations University, 1988, pp. 17584 and Dennis Mclean 'Perspectives from New Zealand: Interests, Objectives, Means, and Prospects' in Albinski et. al. The South Pacific ch. 5. 88 McLean, ibid. pp. 8586 89 See the complaint by John Henderson, a senior adviser to (then) New Zealand Prime Minister Lange, that senior islander officials made the assumption that 'somehow New Zealand is not a Pacific island state' in John Henderson 'New Zealand's Non-Nuclear, Regional Approach to Security' in Hegarty and Polomka, Security of Oceania pp. 5965, p. 59 90 See Ross Babbage A Coast Too Long. Defending Australia beyond the 1990s Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1990 91 See Chipman French Military Policy; Bernstein, 'Lost African Empire'; Guy Martin, 'The Historical, Economic and Political Bases of France's African Policy' Journal of Modern African Studies 23, 2, June 1985, pp. 189208. 92 Les Débats de l'Assemblée Nationale 2 December 1985, Paris 93 Firth Nuclear Playground pp. 912; United Nations Secretary-General, Ruling pertaining to the Differences between France and New Zealand arising from the Rainbow Warrior Affair, New York: United Nations 1986, pp. 78, 1920, 245

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94 United Nations Secretary-General, Ruling, pp. 216 95 United Nations, New Zealand vs. France: International Arbitration. Award of the Tribunal, New York: 1990, pp. 11112 96 The conference, organised by the University's Strategic and Defence Studies Centre, dealt with 'Australia and the World: Prologue and Prospects' 97 French Embassy, Canberra, Unofficial Transcript of Questions and Answers, Press Conference given by the French Prime Minister, Canberra, 18 August 1989, National Press Club, p. 2 98 La Dépêche de Tahiti 22 August 1989, p. 49; Les Nouvelles de Tahiti 1 September 1989, p. 6.

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Select Bibliography Aldrich, Robert and Connell, John (eds) France in World Politics London: Routledge, 1989 Aldrich, Robert and Connell, John (eds) France's Overseas Frontier. The Départements et Territoires d'Outre-Mer Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, in press Aldrich, Robert The French Presence in the South Pacific, 18421939 London: Macmillan, 1990 Bates, Stephen France and the Pacific Island Countries. A Study in Interstate Relations Canberra: Australian National University Department of International Relations Monograph, 1990 Beasant, John The Santo Rebellion. An Imperial Reckoning Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, Heinemann, 1984 Belshaw, Cyril S. Island Administrators in the South West Pacific. Government and Reconstruction in New Caledonia, the New Hebrides, and the British Solomon Islands London and New York: Royal Institute of International Affairs 1950 Besset, Jean-Paul Le dossier calédonien. Les enjeux de l'après-reféréndum Paris: Edition La Découverte, 1988 Blanchet, Gilles L'économie de la Polynésie française de 1960 à 1980 Paris: ORSTOM, 1985 Boengkih, Jacques 'Economic Barriers Against Indigenous People's Development in the French Territories of the Pacific' in Grant McCall (ed) Sydney Talk. Australia in the South Pacific Sydney: University of New South Wales, Pacific Studies Monograph 1, 1990 Bonnemaison, Joel La dernière île Paris: Arléa/ORSTOM 1 1986 'Wallis and Futuna' The Contemporary Pacific 2, 1, pp. 1758 Bougainville, Louis Antoine de, 1971 Voyage autour du monde Paris: 1771. English translation by J.R. Foster, A Voyage round the World London: 1772 Brou, Bernard 30 Ans D'Histoire de la Nouvelle Calédonie, 19451977 Noumea: Société d'Études Historiques de la Nouvelle-Calédonie, n.d. Peuplement et Population de la Nouvelle-Calédonie. La société moderne Noumea: Société d'Études Historiques de la Nouvelle-Calédonie, 1980 Buske, Norm Cesium-134 at MoruroaReview of the Calypso Water Samples, Davenport: Search Technical Sevices, 1990 Chafer, Tony 'Politics and the Perception of Risk: A Study of the AntiNuclear Movements in Britain and France' West European Politics 8, 1, 1985 pp. 523

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Chipman, John French Military Policy and African Security. London: International Institute of Strategic Studies, Adelphi Paper 201, 1985 Christnacht, Alain La Nouvelle-Calédonie Paris: Notes et études documentaires no. 4839, 1987 Colombani L'Utopie calédonienne Paris: Editions Denoël, 1985 Connell, John Migrations, Emploi et Developpement dans le Pacifique Sud. Rapport National No. 21: Iles Wallis et Futuna Noumea: South Pacific Commission 1983 New Caledonia or Kanaky? The Political History of a French Colony Canberra: National Centre for Development Studies, 1987 New Caledonia: the Matignon Accord and the Colonial Future Sydney: Research Institute for Asia and the Pacific, University of Sydney, Occasional Paper No. 5, 1988 Sovereignty and Survival. Island Microstates in the Third World Sydney: University of Sydney Geography Department Monograph 3, 1988 Coppenrath, Gérald 'L'Evolution Politique de la Polynésie Française depuis la Première Guerre Mondiale' Journal de la Société des Océanistes 15, December 1959 Cousteau Foundation Mission Scientifique de la Calypso sur le site d'experimentations nucleaires de Mururoa Paris: 1988 Coulon, Marc L'Irruption Kanak Paris: Messidor-Editions Sociales, 1985 Crocombe, Ron and Pat Hereniko (eds) Tahiti. The Other Side Suva: English edn., trans. Kushnam Patel, University of the South Pacific, 1985. Danielsson, Bengt and Marie-Thérèse Moruroa, mon amour. The French Nuclear Tests in the Pacific rev. English edn, Penguin, 1977 Danielsson, Bengt and Marie-Thérèse Poisoned Reign. French Nuclear Colonialism in the Pacific Ringwood: Penguin (Australia), 1986 Daussin-Charpantier, Albert 'L'experience polynésienne d'autonomie interne: avatar de la décentralisation ou étape vers ''l'Indépendance Association?''' La Vie Départmentale et Régionale 45, 46, 47, and 48, March, April and May 1988 de Deckker, Paul and Pierre Lagayette (eds) Etats et Pouvoirs Dans Les Territories Français du Pacifique Paris: L'Harmattan, 1987 DePorte, A.W. 'France's New Realism' Foreign Affairs 63, 1, Fall 1984, pp. 14465 Deschamps, Hubert and Jean Guiart Tahiti, Nouvelle-Calédonie, Nouvelles Hébrides Paris: L'Union Française, 1957 Dornoy, Myriam Politics in New Caledonia Sydney: Sydney University Press, 1984 Dorrance, John C., The Pouvanaa Movement and Political Development in PostWar French Polynesia, Honolulu: University of Hawaii Master's Thesis, 1964 Douglas, Bronwen, A History of Culture Contact in North-Eastern New Caledonia, 17741870, Canberra: Australian National University Ph. D thesis, 1972

'Rank, power, authority: a re-assessment of traditional leadership in South Pacific societies' Journal of Pacific History 14, pp. 227 "'Almost Constantly at War"? An Ethnographic perspective on fighting in New Caledonia', Journal of Pacific History 25, 1, June 1990, pp. 2246 'Conflict and Alliance in a Colonial Context. Case Studies in New Caledonia' Journal of Pacific History 15, 1980, pp. 2151 Dousset (Dousset-Leenhardt), Roselène Colonialisme et Contradictions. Étude

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sur les causes socio-historiques de l'Insurrection de 1878 en Nouvelle-Caledonie Paris: Mouton, 1970 Terre natale, terre d'exil Paris: Maissonneuve & Larose, 1976 Dunmore, John French Explorers in the Pacific Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1965, volume 1 Ethnies, Spring 1989, vol. 4, no. 8910, pp. 4955 and 5660 (articles on Melanesian education in New Caledonia) Fages, Henri 'Un intérêt majeur de la France en Océanie: Le Centre d'Expérimentation Nucléaire du Pacifique' Journal de la Société des Océanistes 87, 2, 1989, pp. 1119 Finney, Ben R. 'A Vulnerable Proletariat: Tahitians in the 1970s' in Ravan W. Force and Brenda Bishop (eds) The Impact of Urban Centers in the Pacific Honolulu: 1975 Firth, Stewart Nuclear Playground Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1987 Fletcher, R.J., [(pseud.) Asterisk] Isles of Illusion. Letters from the South Seas London: first. pub. 1923, Century, 1986 Fraser, Helen New Caledonia. Anti-Colonialism in a Pacific Territory Canberra: Parliamentary Library Discussion Paper 2, 198788 New Caledonia. Anti-Colonialism in a Pacific Territory Canberra: rev. edn, Peace Research Centre, 1988 Gabriel, Claude and Vincent Kermel Nouvelle-Calédonie. La révolte kanake Montreuil: Presse-Edition-Communication 1985 Gabriel, Claude and Vincent Kermel Nouvelle-Calédonie. Les sentiers de l'espoir Montreuil: La Brèche-PEC, 1988 Guiart, Jean 'Forerunners of Melanesian Nationalism' Oceania 22, 2, December 1951, pp. 8190 La terre est le sang des morts Paris: Editions Anthropos, 2nd edn, 1984 Guillebard, Jean-Claude Les Confettis de L'Empire Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1976 Hegarty, David and Peter Polomka (eds) The Security of Oceania in the 1990s Vol. 1: Views From the Region Canberra: Strategic and Defence Studies Centre, Australian National University, 1989 Henningham, Stephen 'French Spending in the South Pacific' Pacific Economic Bulletin 4, 2, 1989, pp. 3038 Hochstein, M.P. and M.J. O'Sullivan, Geothermal systems created by underground nuclear testing: implications for longterm, direct effects of underground testing, paper presented to an International Scientific Symposium on a Nuclear Test Ban, Las Vegas, January 1988 Houbert, Jean 'Settlers and Natives in Decolonization. The Case of New Caledonia' The Round Table 295, 1985, pp. 21729 Howe, K.R. Where the Waves Fall. A New South Sea Islands history from first settlement to colonial rule Honolulu: Center for Pacific and Asian Studies, University of Hawaii, 1984 Huffer, Elise Politique extérieure blong Vanuatu 19801990 Noumea: ORSTOM 1989 Institut D'Emission d'Outre-Mer [IEOM] Exercises/Rapports d'Activité for Nouvelle Calédonie, Polynésie Française, and Wallis et Futuna Paris: annual, 198089

Institut National de la Statistique et des Etudes Economiques [INSEE] Résultats de Recensement de la Population dans les Territoires d'Outre-MerNouvelle Calédonie and Polynésie Française Paris: 1983, 1989

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Institut Territorial de la Statistique 20 Ans de Consultations Electorales en Polynésie Française Papeete: 1982 Jacomb, Edward France and England in the New Hebrides. The Anglo-French Condominium Melbourne: George Robertson & Company, 1914 Jupp, James 'The development of party politics in the New Hebrides' Journal of Commonwealth and Comparative Politics 17, 3, November 1979, pp. 26382 'Elections in Vanuatu' Political Science 35, 1, July 1983 Jupp, James and Marion Sawer 'Colonial and post-independence politics: Vanuatu' in R.J. May and H. Nelson (eds) Melanesia: Beyond diversity Canberra: Australian National University, 1982, vol. 2, pp. 54970 Kohler, Jean-Marie Colonie ou Démocratie. Eléments de sociologie politique sur la Nouvelle Calédonie Noumea: Edipop, 1987 'Colony or Democracy. A Political Sociology of New Caledonia' Australian Journal of Politics and History 33, 2, 1987, pp. 4759 Kolig, Erich 'Kastom, Cargo and the construction of utopia on Santo, Vanuatu: the Nagriamel movement' Journal de la Société des Océanistes 85, 1987, pp. 18199 Laird, Robbin F. 'French Nuclear Forces in the 1980s and 1990s' Comparative Strategy 4, 4, 1984 pp. 387412 Langdon, Robert Tahiti: Island of Love fifth edn, Sydney and New York: Pacific Publications, 1979 Le Pensec, Louis 'Une politique pour l'Outre-Mer Français' Défense Nationale August-September 1990, pp. 923 Lechat, Phillipe 'Le statut de la Polynésie Française du 6 septembre 1984 cinq ans après: autonomie interne ou autonomie internée? in Annales du Centre Universitaire de Pirae 3, 198889, pp. 6998 'Apercu sur l'evolution statutaire de la Polynesie Française de 1842 à nos jours: interview de Phillipe Lechat' Te Vevo, special edition, April 1989 Leder, Jean Les Cent Jours du Bout du Monde (Autopsie d'une Tragédie) Noumea: 2nd edn, 1981 Lemoine, Georges 'Ouverture des Travaux' in de Deckker and Lagayette Etats et Pouvoirs Lenormand, Maurice L'Évolution Politique des Autochtones de la Nouvelle Calédonie Paris: Société des Océanistes, Musée de l'Homme, 1954 Levy, David A.L. 'Foreign Policy: Business as Usual', in Mazey and Newman Mitterrand's France Léontieff, Alexandre Bilan et Perspectives de L'Economie de la Polynésie Française. Elements de Réflexion et Décision pour un Plan de Relance. Note de Synthèse Papeete: Assemblée de la Polynesie Française, 1987 Lyons, Martyn The Totem and the Tricolour. A Short History of New Caledonia Since 1774 Sydney: New South Wales University Press, 1986 MacClancy, Jeremy To Kill A Bird With Two Stones. A Short History of Vanuatu Vanuatu Cultural Centre, Vila, 1980 Martin, Guy 'The Historical, Economic and Political Bases of France's African Policy' Journal of Modern African Studies 23, 2, June 1985, pp. 189208

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McNamara, Francis Terry France in Black Africa Washington: National Defence University, 1989 Médecine & Guerre Nucléaire (special issue on tests in French Polynesia), 5, 3, July/August/September 1990 Ministère de la Defense, Dossier de Synthèse: Réponses aux questions posées au cours de la table ronde à Papeete, du 2 au 5 octobre 1989, Papeete: Direction des Centres D'Expérimentations Nucléaires/Commissariat à L'Energie Atomique, 1989 Ministère des Affaires Etrangères La Politique Etrangère de la France. Textes et Documents Paris: Foreign Affairs Ministry, various dates, 19801990 Moisi, Dominique 'French Foreign Policy: The Challenge of Adaption' Foreign Affairs Fall 1988 pp. 151165, p. 156 New Zealand Government, Report of a New Zealand, Australian and Papua New Guinea Scientific Mission to Mururoa Atoll Wellington: 1984 Newbury, Colin Tahiti Nui. Change and Survival in French Polynesia 17671945 Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1980 Paitel, Patrick L'Enjeu Kanak Paris: Editions France-Empire, 1985 Pambrun, Jean-Marie, Bruno Saura and François Ravault, 'La vie politique' in Encyclopedie de la Polynésie: Vivre en Polynésie Papeete: ORSTOM, 1986, 1, pp. 10520 Panoff, Michel Tahiti métisse Paris: Denöel, 1989 Pearson, W.H., 'European Intimidation and the Myth of Tahiti', The Journal of Pacific History 4, 1969, pp. 199217 'The reception of European voyagers on Polynesian islands, 15681797' Journal de la Société des Océanistes 26, March 1970, pp. 12154 Peres, Jean, L'evolution des institutions politiques. De Tahiti à la Polynésie Française, Papeete: unpublished manuscript, June 1989 Plant, Chris (ed) New Hebrides. The Road to Independence Suva: Institute of Pacific Studies, 1977 Pollock, Nancy J. and Ron Crocombe (eds) French Polynesia. A Book of Selected Readings Suva: Institute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific, 1988 Pollock, Nancy J., 'Doctor Administrators in Wallis and Futuna' Journal of Pacific History, 25, 1, June 1990, pp. 4767 Poncet, Alexandre Histoire de l'Ile Wallis. Le Protectorat Français Société des Océanistes, Paris, 1972 Rensch, Karl 'Wallis and Futuna. Total Dependency' in A. Ali and R.G. Crocombe (eds) Politics in Polynesia pp. 417. Suva: Institute of Pacific Studies, 1983 Robineau Claude Du Coprah à l'atome Paris: ORSTOM, 1984 Roux, Jean-Claude 'Migration and change in Wallisian society' in R.T. Shand (ed) The Island States of the Pacific and Indian Oceans: anatomy of development Canberra: Australian National University Development Studies Centre, 1980 'Pouvoir religieux et pouvoir politique à Wallis et Futuna' in De Deckker and Lagayette Etats et Pouvoirs pp. 5480

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'The Colonial Chimera: From Annexation to the Re-emergence of Kanak Identity' in Spencer, Ward and Connell New Caledonia pp. 3855 Scarr, Deryck Fragments of Empire. A History of the Western Pacific High Commission, 18771914 Australian National University Press, Canberra,1967 Secretariat General de la Defense Nationale French Nuclear Tests Paris: November 1987 Shineberg, Barry 1986 'The image of France. Recent developments in French Polynesia' The Journal of Pacific History 21, 34, JulyOctober, pp. 153168 Shineberg, Dorothy They Came For Sandalwood. A Study of the Sandalwood Trade in the South-west Pacific 18301865. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1967 'French Colonization in the PacificWith special reference to New Caledonia' Sydney: Evatt Memorial Foundation paper, 1986 Short, Iaveta 'Autonomy, Self-government and Independence', paper presented to the Auckland Conference on Pacific Studies, 1922 August 1985 (Pacific collection, University of the South Pacific library) Sope, Barak Land and Politics in the New Hebrides Suva: South Pacific Sciences Association, 1974 Spencer, Michael, Alan Ward and John Connell (eds) New Caledonia. Essays in Nationalism and Dependency St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press, 1988 Standish, Bill Melanesian Neighbours: The Politics of Papua New Guinea, the Solomon Islands, and the Republic of Vanuatu Canberra: Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia, Basic Paper 9, 1984 Tagupa William Politics in French Polynesia 19451975 Wellington: New Zealand Institute of International Affairs 1976 'Electoral Behaviour in French Polynesia' in Political Science 35, 1, July 1983, pp. 3857 Taylor, Richard, Nancy Davis Lewis, and Sue Levy 'Societies in Transition: Mortality Patterns in Pacific Island Populations' International Journal of Epidemiology September 1989 Thompson, Virginia and Richard Adloff The French Pacific Islands: French Polynesia and New Caledonia Berkeley: University of California, 1971 Tjibaou, Jean-Marie 'Mon idée de développement' Trente Jours, October 1983, pp. 1318 Tjibaou, Jean-Marie and Philippe Missotte, Kanakéthe Melanesian Way Papeete: Les éditions du Pacifique, trans. by Christopher Plant, 1978 Toullelan, Pierre-Yves 'Comment la Polynésie est devenue française', in Annales du Centre Universitaire de Pirae 3, 1988/89, pp. 5668 Tahiti colonial (18601914) Paris: Presses de la Sorbonne, 1984 Ullman, Robbin F. 'The Covert French Connection' Foreign Policy 75, Summer 1989, pp. 334 Van Trease, Howard The Politics of Land in Vanuatu: from colony to independence Institute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific, Suva, 1987

Vigneron, Emmanuel, Jean Paul Boutin, Jean Louis Cartel, Jean Claude Roullet, Allain Bertrand and Jean Roux 'Aspects de la sante en Polynésie Française: Essai d'approche chrono-spatiale', in Centre de Recherche d'Etude et de Documentation en Economie de la Sante, Proceedings of the conference on Geographie et Socio-Economie de la Sante Paris: January 1989

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Ward, Alan W. Land and Politics in New Caledonia Canberra: Political and Social Change Monograph 2, Australian National University, 1982 Ward, R. Gerard 'Earth's Empty Quarter? The Pacific Islands in a Pacific Century' The Geographical Journal 155, 2, July 1989 West, F.J. Political Advancement in the South Pacific. A comparative study of colonial practice in Fiji, Tahiti and American Samoa Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1961

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Index (Note: companies, parties and other organisations are listed by acronym when one is in common use.) A Administrateur-Supérieur, (Wallis and Futuna), 180, 188, 189 Advisory Council (New Hebrides), 36 agriculture, 20, 21, 28, 52, 53, 108, 110, 129, 183 Ai'a Api, 141, 142, 151, 157 AICLF (I'Association des indigènes calédoniennes et loyaltiens français), 50 Alebua, Ezekiel, 199-200 Algeria, 56, 57, 100, 115, 123, 125, 127, 128, 238 Alliance Française, 215 Ambryn, 29 Americans, 4, 5, 21, 23, 30, 35, 44, 183 American Samoa, 206; see also Samoa, Western Samoa Amuitahiraa No Porinesia, 150, 151, 152 Angeli, Pierre, 117-18, 147 anti-nuclear movements and sentiments, 10, 35, 46, 120, 176-7, 192, 195-209, 215-28 passim, 238 ANZUS, 207, 224, 225 Aoba, 2, 29 Arue, 129 assimilation, 20, 21, 54, 131, 144, 146, 236 Atkinson report, 171, 174, 197, 199, 207, 218, 222 Australia and Australians, xi, xii, 4, 5, 12, 14, 19, 20, 22, 25, 33, 44, 56, 66, 91, 116, 171, 174, 195, 196, 200, 202, 210, 216, 217, 218; and France, 219, 222-5, 226-9;

Rocard visit to Australia, (1989), 166-7, 227; and Santo uprising, 34 Australs, 6, 125, 129, 130, 142, 151, 152 autonomy and autonomist movements, 23; autonomie de gestion (1977 statute in French Polynesia), 139-40; French Polynesia, 118, 120, 124, 133, 135, 136, 139-40, 141, 158, 160; New Caledonia, 55-6, 67, 68, 92, 113, 118; Wallis and Futuna, 189, 190; see also internal autonomy statute (French Polynesia) l'Avenir Calédonien, 50, 51, 59, 82 B Bailly, 125 Bais, Tony, 197 Balade, 7 Ballande, 51, 91 Baré, Jeanne, 251-2 (n. 17) Barrau, 51 Barthoux, Alain, 175 Baude, Philippe, 213 Bavadra, Dr Timoci, 208, 217 'bicultural' policy, 147

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Bislama, 19, 29, 45, 201 Bole, Filipe, 215 Bonnemaison, Joël, 190 Bora Bora, 23, 120, 127 Bougainville, Count Louis Antoine de, 1, 2-3, 240 Bougainville (island of), 222, 239 Bourail, 83, 111 Braun-Ortega, Quito, 151, 152, 153 Brazzaville Conference, 120 Brial, Benjamin, 187-8, 190 British subjects, see Great Britain and British subjects Buluk, Paul, 28, 31 Bureau des Migrations vers la Nouvelle-Calédonie, 62 Buske, Norm, 174, 175 C Caisse Centrale de Cooperation Economique, 216 Calédonie Demain, 107 Calédonie Nouvelle, 81, 103 Canada and Canadians, 3, 44 Canala, 68, 72, 83, 87 Canaques, see Kanaks Cape Horn, 3 cash cropping, 21-2, 53, 183 censes, French Polynesia, 130, 143, 144; New Caledonia, 63, 64-5, 97;

New Hebrides, 26 Céran-Jérusalamy, Jean-Baptiste, 122, 124, 125 Chan, Sir Julius, 196 Chanel, Saint Pierre, 9, 15 Chernobyl, 175 chiefs and chiefly systems: Fiji and Polynesia, 206; New Caledonia and the EFO, 18; New Hebrides, 37; Wallis and Futuna, 26, 180-1 Ching, Charlie, 139 Chinese, 16, 17, 121, 122, 133, 143, 144, 145, 156, 157, 160 Chirac, Jacques, 25, 96, 98, 99, 100, 103, 112, 114, 115, 152, 192, 198, 199, 210, 213, 222, 226, 227, 238 Christianity, 16, 17, 18, 22, 82 Christnacht, Alain, 242 churches, 17, 18, 21, 26, 32, 33, 45, 47, 95, 131, 162, 203; Catholic church in Wallis and Futuna, 181-2, 190; and formation of the Union Calédonienne 49; and 1958 referendum in French Polynesia, 125; and nuclear testing, 158, 218 ciguatera, 173-4 Clipperton, 4, 194 CND (Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament), 168 coffee, 22, 53 Comité Pouvanaa, 121 comités de lutte, 83, 103 Commonwealth, 205 Commonwealth of the Northern Marianas, 208 Commune of 1871, 14, 16

Communist Party (French), 79, 165, 168 Comores, 114, 115, 162 Compagnie Calédonienne des Nouvelles-Hébrides, 26 comprehensive test ban treaty, 171 Condominium of the New Hebrides, xi, xii, 2, 5, 12, 18, 19, 21, 23, 24, 25, 27, 28, 36, 38, 44, 45, 230 Cook, James, 2, 7, 8 Cook Islands, 115, 160, 161, 206, 236; and France, 207, 214, 215, 216, 218, 235 copra, 21, 26, 28, 127, 183 Corsica, 170 Cousteau report, 171, 175-6 (la) Coutume (in Wallis and Futuna), 178, 180-1, 187, 188, 190-1 Cresson, Edith, 242 cyclones, 183, 185 D d'Argenlieu, 59 Dauth, John, 227 Davis, Sir Thomas, 207, 216 Declercq, Pierre, 72, 198 de Gaulle, Charles, 31, 57, 58, 84, 115, 120, 121, 126, 133, 165, 167 Demis, 16, 122, 131, 133, 140, 143, 144, 145, 156, 157, 160, 235 demographic trends, 16, 17, 22, 62-3, 110, 111, 129, 130 Deniau, Xavier, 162 d'Entrecasteaux, Antoine de Bruni, Chevalier, 2, 7, 8 departments and 'departmentalisation', 91-2, 124 Deschamps, Hubert, 23

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Dianou, Alphonse, 69 Dijoud, Paul, 38, 41, 70 Dijoud Plan, 70, 89, 232 Djibouti, 115 Doniambo, 53, 108 Dornoy, Myriam, 51 Drollet, Jacqui, 137, 157 Du Coprah à l'atome, 129 Dumas, 225 Dumbéa, 111 E E'a Api, 133-5, 141, 142, 152, 157 Easter Island, 147 Eastern Europe, 167, 168 Ebb, Tinomana 'Milou', 151, 152, 157 écoles populaires kanakes (Kanak people's schools), 88-9 economic conditions, 241; colonia period, 5, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21-2; comparison French Polynesia and New Caledonia, 155; French Polynesia, 127-8, 129, 131, 132, 137, 155, 158, 160, 234; New Caledonia, 51, 52-3, 54, 60, 61-2, 63-6, 72, 92, 94-6, 100, 101, 107-9, 109-10, 111, 113, 230, 234, 235; New Hebrides/Vanuatu, 26, 27-8, 44; South Pacific countries, 220-1, 239, 240, 241; Wallis and Futuna, 182-7 Efate, 11, 19, 21, 23, 28 Efi, Tupuola, 215 EFO (Etablissements français d'Océanie), 5, 6, 16, 18, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 120-1, 129;

chiefs and chiefly system in, 18 Eiao, 163 elections, 69, 101, 122, 136, 230; European parliamentary, (1984) 152-3; (1989) 163; French parliamentary and presidential, (1981) 71; (1986) 90; (1988) 25, 103, 111, 114; French Polynesia, (1962) 133; (196277) 134, 135; French parliamentary in 1968, 1973: 135; (1972) 117; (1982) 142; (1986) 150-2; municipal 1989: 155; (1991) 155, 242; New Caledonia, (1951) 50; (195673) 50; (1979) 70, 71; (1984) 82-3; (1985) 81, 89-90; (1988) 101, 103; (1989) 104, 106-7; New Hebrides/Vanuatu, (1975) 36; (1979) 39; 1987 and 1991: 201; Wallis and Futuna, French parliamentary 1988 and by-election 1989: 188-9 emigration: from New Caledonia, 110; from Wallis and Futuna, 184

Emmanuelli, Henri, 71 Enlightenment, 1, 167 Ensemble Pour l'Avenir, 103 Espiritu Santo, xi, 11, 19, 21, 23, 28, 29, 30, 32, 35-44 passim, 114 ethnicity: in French Pacific territories, xvii; in these territories compared with other French overseas possessions, 113; French Polynesia, 16, 121, 131-2, 141, 143-7, 160, 162, 234, 235; French Polynesia and New Caledonia compared, 143, 144, 235; New Caledonia, 14, 48, 55, 62, 64, 65, 68, 76, 91, 96, 97, 98, 109, 116; New Hebrides, 34, 40 Europeans, 1, 2, 5, 6, 8, 11, 20, 40; French Polynesia, 16, 121, 122, 124, 133, 137, 138, 139, 140, 143, 145, 156, 157, 161; New Caledonia, 14, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 58-9, 60, 61, 62-3, 64-5, 66, 68, 69, 78, 91, 95, 96, 97, 98, 103, 108, 110, 115; Wallis and Futuna, 178, 182 European Community, 196, 199, 204, 211, 216, 217, 224, 226, 229, 237; European economic integration from 1992 and French Pacific territories, 161 Evans, Gareth, 227 EEZs (Exclusive Economic Zones), xi, 194, 214, 216, 219 F Faa'a, 10, 127 Fabius, Laurent, 84, 89 Fabius plan, 89-90, 99-100, 106, 115, 116, 232, 233 Fages, Henri, 164, 167, 171-2 Falklands, 3 Fangataufa, xii, 127, 129, 164, 170, 172, 174, 235

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Federated States of Micronesia, 115, 208-9, 211, 235, 236 Fiji, xi, 30, 66, 68, 171, 184, 186, 206, 222; and France, 207, 208, 212, 213, 216-17, 218, 239 First World War, 10, 20, 49, 117, 121, 166 fishing and fisheries, 21, 100, 129, 148, 183, 194, 214, 216 Flosse, Gaston, 118, 120, 139, 152-5, 156, 160, 242; background and attributes, 140-1; as junior minister for South Pacific affairs, 152-3, 154, 199, 211-13, 217, 238 FLNKS (Front de Libération Nationale, Kanak, et Socialiste), 81, 82, 84, 86, 88, 89, 90, 98, 99, 101, 102, 103, 106, 108, 109, 110, 205, 227, 232, 233; formation and composition, 75-80; and membership South Pacific Forum, 202-3 FLP (Front de Libération de Polynésie/Tavini Huira'atira), 10, 138, 151, 152, 155, 157, 158, 242 FNSC (Fédération Pour Une Nouvelle Société Calédonienne), 71, 72, 73, 75, 81, 103 Forte, Gérard, 189 Forum, see South Pacific Forum Foulards Rouges, 66, 67 France, passim, aims in South Pacific, 2, 3, 4, 14, 20, 25-6, 31, 41-2, 89, 192-5, 209-13, 216, 238-41; colonisation by France and its effects, 5-24; early contacts with South Pacific, 1-4; establishment Pacific presence, 5; and former African colonies, 193; and French Polynesia, 117-64 passim, 234-5, 238; and New Caledonia, 47-116 passim, 232-4, 238; and the 'new Europe', 237-8; and the New Hebrides, 11, 12, 25-46 passim; and nuclear deterrent, 165-72, 193, 231-2;

and nuclear testing, 165-77 passim; overseas possessions of, 113, 124, 132, 193-5; relations with South Pacific countries, xi, xii, 43-5, 46, 192-229 passim, 230-1, 238-40; (with the Melanesian countries: 195-205, with Fiji and the Polynesian countries: 205-8, 209-19, with the Micronesian countries: 208-9, with Australia and New Zealand: 219, 222-9); spending in South Pacific, French territories in general, 195, 230, 269-70, n. 4; French Polynesia, 127-9, 155; New Caledonia, 94-5, 104, 107, 108; South Pacific countries, 209-10, 211-17, 229; Vanuatu, 31, 44, 201-2, 213; Wallis and Futuna, 184-5, and Wallis and Futuna, 178-191 passim, 240-1 Francophone Africa, 35, 124, 139, 141, 193, 216, 225, 241 Franco-Prussian War, 166 Free French, 23, 91, 120, 121, 166-7 French Foreign Legion, 133 French Guiana (Guyane), 113, 194 French Polynesia and French Polynesians, xi, xii, xvii, 4, 5, 9, 55, 113, 115, 117-64 passim, 165, 172, 176, 94, 216, 230, 232, 234-7 passim, 242; comparisons with New Caledonia, 5-7, 14, 144, 155, 160, 234, 235, 241; French Polynesians at Thio, New Caledonia, 83, 150; income tax protest, (1958) 123; internal autonomy statute, 148-50, 153, 160-1; 1958 referendum, 117, 118, 123, 124-5; nuclear testing and health/environmental issues, 172-6 French Revolution, 3, 167 French Southern and Antarctic Lands, 194 French Pacific territories, xi, xii, xvii, 113, 155, 160, 194-5, 196, 240, 241, see also French Polynesia, New Caledonia and Wallis and Futuna French University of the Pacific, 209, 213 Front Anti-néocolonial, 107

Front Calédonien, 58, 92, 98

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FI (Front Indépendantist), see Independence Front Front National, 52, 58, 92, 98, 107, 165 Front Uni, 134 FULK (Front Uni de Libération Kanak), 77, 80, 106 Futuna, 6, 9, 178-9, 180, 181, 183, 185, 186, see also Wallis and Futuna G Gadaffi, 200 Galliot, Roger, 52, 87 Gambiers, 6, 16, 125, 129, 130, 140, 151, 152, 182 Gata, Kamilo, 187-8, 190 Germany and Germans, 4, 18, 21, 166, 167, 209 GFKEL (Groupe des Femmes Kanakes Exploités en Lutte), 80 Gorbachev, Mikhail, 167, 222 Gorodey, Dewe, 67 Gosanah, 70 Graffe, Jacques, 151 Grasset, Bernard, 111-12, 242 grazing, 13, 22, 28, 32-3, 52 Great Britain, and British subjects, 3, 4, 5, 9, 11, 18, 19, 25, 26, 27, 30-1, 33, 34, 38, 45, 170 Greenhouse Effect, 187, 214 Greenpeace, xi, 168, 175, 192 'Greens' (of Germany), 238 Groupe 1878, 10, 67 Guadeloupe, 113, 194 Guam, 208

guano, 4 Guiart, Jean, 23, 24, 88 Guillemard, Justin, 14 Guyane, see French Guiana H Hao, 127, 129, 164, 174, 226 Hawaii, 147, 174 Hawke, Bob, 210, 227, 228 Hayden, Bill, 170 Henry, Geoffrey, 207, 216 Here Ai'a, 133-5, 141, 142, 147, 150, 151, 152, 154, 156, 157, 242 Hienghene, 10, 68, 84, 85, 86-7, 105 Higginson, John, 20 Hochstein, Manfred, 174 Honiara, 199 Huahiné, 121 Honolulu, 211, 214 I Ia Mana Te Nunaa, 137-8, 141, 142, 147, 151, 154, 157, 158, 159, 234, 242 immigration, 16, 21, 55, 62, 92, 161, 184, 193, 232-3 INCO (International Nickel Company), 61 Independence Front (New Caledonia), 71, 72, 74, 75, 80, 103, 201, see also FLNKS independence-in-association, 'Cook Islands model' and, 236; French Polynesia, 160-1, 163-4, 235, 236, 240; New Caledonia, 84, 86, 87, 92, 114-16, 233-4, 235, 236, 240 indigénat, Regime de l', 13, 23, 49

Indonesia, 205 intermediate-range nuclear missiles, 167 internal autonomy statute (French Polynesia), 148-50, 153, 161-2, 234 International Court of Justice, xi, 171 Irian Jaya, 205 Iririki, 25 Island of Love, 17 Isle of Pines, 7, 111 J Japan, 108, 217 John Frum movement, 30, 35, 36 Joredie, Léopold, 100 Juventin, Jean, 150, 152, 156, 157, 242 K Kamouda, Richard, 67 Kanak Cultural Office, 72, 78, 100 Kanaké, 78 Kanaks (Canaques), 5, 19, 25, 48, 68, 93, 99, 109-10, 111, 112, 148, 193, 195, 200, 203, 204, 233, 234; 'Deputy for the Canaques' (Lenormand), 54, 55, 60; redefinition of term, 66; see also Melanesians (New Caledonia) Kanaky, 78 kastom ('custom' in the New Hebrides/Vanuatu), 28, 29, 32, 36, 37, 39, 43, 44, 45, 200

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Kenilorea, Peter, 199 Kerguelen, 170, 172, 194 Kiki, 196 Kiribati, 174, 208, 271 (n. 45); and France, 214, 216 Koindé, 73 Koné, 107 Koné-Tikawa route, 107 Korea, 153 Koumac, 83 Kuwait, 62 L labour and labour trade, 9, 12, 19, 27 La Foa, 73, 87, 88 Lafleur, Henri, 58 Lafleur, Jacques, 51, 57, 70, 91, 95, 98, 99, 105, 108 Lalonde, Brice, 168 land, 11, 12-13, 16, 24, 27-8, 32, 33, 35, 44, 52, 53, 108, 109, 187, 189; land reform office (New Caledonia), 72, 100 Lange, David, 223, 224 language, 6, 7, 19, 20, 45, 89, 94, 117, 118, 141, 144, 146, 147, 201, 203, 211, 236, 238 La Pérouse, Jean-François de Galaup, Count of, 4 Laroque, Roger, 58, 91 Law of the Sea, 194 Leconte, André, 32 Leeward Islands, 9, 18, 121, 125, 129, 130, 133, 142, 151, 152, 157 Lemoine, Georges, 74, 148, 181, 191, 218

Le Monde Diplomatique, 126 Lenormand, Maurice, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 68, 88, 126; biographical details, 50; bombing incident in 1962, 59, 60 Léontieff, Alexandre, 154, 155, 156, 158, 160, 242 Le Pensec, Louis, 193-4, 242 Lèques, Jean, 51-2 Les Nouvelles Calédoniennes, 189 Lethezer, Régis, 106 Leymang, Gérard, 35 Libya, 80, 222, 223 Lifou, 7, 14, 50 Ligue Communiste Révolutionnaire, 79 Lini, Walter, 32, 33, 41, 196, 201 LKS (Libération Kanake Socialiste), 77, 78, 80-1 loi cadre, 55, 139 Lomé Convention, 196, 216 London Missionary Society, 11, 21, see also missions Lostau, Henri, 57 loyalists (New Caledonia), 52, 57, 58, 72, 73, 84, 86, 87, 89, 90, 102, 108, 110, 111, 116, 136, 185, 233, 241; attitudes and support base, 91-8; and partition, 114 Loyalty Islands, 4, 13, 14, 57, 80, 83, 84, 90, 95, 96, 101, 103, 106, 232 Luganville, 19, 21, 28, 29, 34, 37, 42, see also Santo Town Luganville estate, 28, 32 M Machoro, Eloi, 68, 72, 74, 82, 83, 87, 88

Maewo, 29 Makatea, 5, 20, 127 Malekula, 28, 29, 30, 35 Maléré, Aimé, 33, 35 Malo, 29 Mamaloni, Solomon, 200, 204 Mangareva, 16, 140, 174 MANH, (Mouvement Autonomiste des Nouvelles Hébrides), 33, 34-5, 36 Maohis, 131, 133, 143, 144, 145, 156, 157 Mara, Ratu Sir Kamisese, 208, 215, 216 Maré, 7, 47, 48, 68, 77, 80 Marquesas, 4, 6, 9, 16, 22, 125, 129, 130, 133, 142, 151, 152, 182; and partition, 162-3 Marshall, Russell, 228 Marshall Islands, Republic of the, 114, 174, 208, 211, 235, 236 Martinique, 113, 194 Mata Utu, 178, 179, 186 Matignon Accords, 81, 106-16 passim, 202, 205, 228, 229, 232-3; provisions of, 104; referendum on, 105 Mayotte, 40, 41, 42, 113, 114, 162, 194 Melanesia and Melanesians, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 14, 19, 21, 22, 23,

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30, 203, 207; cultural revival in New Caledonia, 66, 72, 78, 88-9, 132; Melanesians and Polynesian countries compared, 203; Melanesian countries and France, 195-205; New Caledonia, 47-116 passim, 233 Melanesian Spearhead Group, 196, 197, 202, 204, 206, 211 Melanesia 2000 Festival, 78 Messmer, Pierre, 62, 136 Messmer letter, 62 Michel, Louise, 66 Millaud, Daniel, 126, 157 mining, 22, 52, 61-2, 194; of seabed, 158, 194 missions and missionaries, 4, 7, 8, 9, 11, 13, 14, 15, 19, 21, 26, 38 Mitterrand, François, 25, 71, 84, 96, 99, 103, 109, 112, 114, 164, 165, 167, 171, 198, 209, 210, Modérés (New Hebrides), 39, 41, 44 Mokis, Steven, 198 Montcalm, Louis Joseph de Montcalm-Grozon, 2 Mont-Dore, 111 Moorea, 4, 18, 129 Moruroa, 127, 129, 154, 164, 170, 171, 172, 174, 209, 222, 231, 235 Mouvement de la paix, 168 municipalities, 56-7, 82, 95, 105, 111, 135-6, 144; comparison French Polynesia and New Caledonia, 136 Musée de Tahiti et des îles, 144 N

Nabanga, 35, 39 Nagriamel, 28-31, 32, 35, 36, 37, 40, 43 Nainville-les-Roches, 74, 75 Naisseline, Henri, 47 Naisseline, Nidoish, 47, 48, 66, 79 Napoleonic wars, 3, 167 Nation Nouvelle, 93 National Front, see Front National nationalism, 10-11, 23, 24, 30, 46; in French Pacific compared with other French oveseas possessions, 113; in French Polynesia, 118, 120, 124, 126, 127, 132, 136-9, 158, 160, 234; nationalist groupings in New Caledonia, 75-82; in New Caledonia, 25, 40, 46, 48, 66, 67, 69, 70, 71, 81, 82, 93, 95, 100, 102, 108, 113, 115-16, 136, 230, 233, 234; in the New Hebrides (Vanuatu), 25, 31-4, 36-46 passim, 200 nativist movements, 30, 31 NATO, 165, 167 Nauru, 208, 213, 271(n. 46) Néaoutyine, Paul, 105, 106 Nevada, 170, 172, 223 New Caledonia, xi, xii, xvii, 120, 126, 132, 148, 150, 155, 179, 180, 187, 193, 194, 195, 203, 206, 210, 217, 223, 225, 229, 230, 232-4, 235, 236, 237, 239, 240, 241, 242; chiefs and chiefly system, 18; colonial period, 4, 5, 7, 9, 11, 12, 13, 18, 19, 20, 22, 23; comparisons with EFO/French Polynesia, 5-7, 14, 144, 155, 160, 234, 235, 241; 'discovery', 2; 1878 revolt, 9-10, 11, 12, 47, 49, 66, 67; 1917 revolt, 10, 13, 49; 1958 referendum, 24, 56; French spending, 94-5;

and New Hebrides/Vanuatu, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46; as penal colony, 14; since 1945, 47-116, passim, 232-4 New Hebrideans, 26, 30 New Hebrides, xi, xii, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 11-12, 18, 19, 20, 24, 25-46 passim, 57, 179, 180, 182, 196-7, 198-9, 230; see also Vanuatu New Hebrides News, 39 NP (New Hebrides National Party), 31-2, 33, 34, 35, 36 New South Wales, 4 New Zealand, xi, xii, 4, 5, 12, 14, 22, 56, 91, 115, 116, 147, 153, 160, 161, 171, 195, 196, 202, 207, 216, 218, 235, 236; and France, 219-229 passim nickel, xi, 5, 20, 108, 109, 111, 115, 194; nickel boom, (196972) 61-2, 68 Niue, 115, 160, 235; and France, 214 ni-Vanuatu, 26, 27, 34, 35, 36, 40, 254 (n. 10) Nonaro, Marcel, 88 Non-Aligned Movement, 202

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Noumea, 9, 11, 18-19, 20, 47, 56, 61, 77, 79, 82, 83, 87, 88, 90, 98, 101, 105, 108, 111, 114, 186, 198, 214 Nucci, Christian, 72 Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific Movement, 202, 218 nuclear testing, xi, xii, 18, 46, 56, 115, 120, 125, 127, 132, 133, 137-9, 141, 155, 158-9, 163-4, 165-77 passim, 194, 205, 206, 210, 230, 235; environmental and health issues, 172-6, 223, 242; and expansion of French deterrent, 168-9; French attitudes and motivations, 165-72, 231-2, 237, 239, 242; South Pacific views, 176-7, 192, 195-209 passim, 215, 216, 218, 219, 222-4, 226, 227-8, 229, 240 Nuka Hiva, 163 O ODIL (Office de Développement de l'lnterieur et des Iles), 72 Office Culturel, Scientifique et Technique Canaque see Kanak Cultural Office Oliver, Michael, 37 OPAO, see PFK Opeari, 198 OPM (Organisasi Papua Merdeka), 205 O'Sullivan, Michael, 174 Ouaco, 108 Ounei, Susanna, 80 Ouvéa, 7, 25, 69, 105, 111, 112, 114 P Paama, 29 Pacific Islands Development Program, 214 Paddon, James, 20

Paita, 81, 111 Paita, Gabriel, 81 Palau, 208 PALIKA (Parti de Libération Kanak), 67, 73, 77, 78-9, 105, 106 Palmer, Geoffrey, 228 Papeete, xi, 18, 119, 123, 127, 128, 129, 139, 140, 146, 152, 153, 164, 186, 213, 214; hotel strike and riots, 1983, 158; October 1987 riot, 154, 158 Papilio, Sosefo Makape, Senator, 189 Papua New Guinea, 18, 30, 42, 63, 66, 202, 206, 216, 219; and France, 196-8, 214 Papua New Guinea Post Courier, 196, 197 Parti National Calédonien, 93 Partition, New Caledonia, 113-14, 234, 261; French Polynesia, 163 Peacock, Eugene, 32, 37 Pereira, Fernando, 192, 226 PFK (Parti Fédéral Kanak)OPAO, 77, 81, 103 phosphate, 5, 20, 127, 208 PIDP (Pacific Islands Development Program), 214 Pirae, 129 Pisani, Edgard, 84, 85, 87, 89, 92 Pisani plan, 84, 86, 89, 92 Pita, Le Tagaloa, 215 planters and plantations, 5, 9, 16, 21, 26, 27, 32, 38 Poigoune, Elie, 67 Poindimié, 105 police, 43 political parties and groupings:

French Polynesia, 121-2, 132-5, 137-9, 150-2, 154-5, 156-7; New Caledonia, 49-50, 57-8, 66-8, 71, 75-82, 91-8, 103; Vanuatu, 31-5, 44; Wallis and Futuna, 187-8; see also individual parties Polynesia and Polynesians, 1, 2, 5, 6, 11, 23, 69, 147, 207; cultural revival in French Polynesia, 132, 143-4, 146; French Polynesians, 117-64 passim; notion of Polynesian 'confederation', 206, 211; Polynesian countries and Fiji compared with Melanesian countries, 206, 207; Wallisians, 178-91 passim, Polynesia no Ananahi, 152 Pomare: dynasty, 3, 139; party, 139; Pompidou, 118 Pons, Bernard, 100-1, 189 Pons statute, 100-1, 103, 104 Port Vila, see Vila Pouvanaa (Pouvanaa a Oopa), 24, 117, 118, 119, 120, 136-7, 147,

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150, 159, 121-7 passim; arrest and trial, 125-6 Poya, 74, 83, 111 PSC (Parti Socialiste Calédonien), 79 PSK (Parti Socialist Kanak), 77, 79 Punaauia, 129 Pupu Tiama Maohi, 133 Q Quiros, 2 R Rabuka, Sitiveni, 216 Raiatea, 147 Rainbow Warrior, xi, 175, 192, 193, 200, 209, 211, 224, 226-8, 238 Rani Aotea, 146 Rapa, 6, 11 Rauzy, Guy, 162, 163 rayonnement, 194 RDPT (Rassemblement Démocratique du Peuple Tahitien, 23, 24, 122-5, 133, 134, 137, 150 Reid, Ernest, 34 referendums, 74, 86, 90, 230; franchise, New Caledonia, 75, 86, 90, 102, 104; (1958) 24, 56, 118, 123, 124-5, 126, 133, 158; (1959) (Wallis and Futuna), xvii, 178-9; (1987) 101, 102, 103; (1988) 104, 105, 114; (planned for) (1998) 104, 110, 112, 114, 232-3, 239 Representative Assembly (New Hebrides), 36, 37

resistance to French contact, colonisation, 9-10, 11, 12 (La) Réunion, 113, 194 Rikitea, 140 Robie, David, 89 Rocard, Michel, 70, 80 103, 104, 105, 109, 110, 111, 112, 114, 147, 166, 168, 169, 171, 185, 189, 190, 192, 193, 198, 202, 217, 222, 227, 231, 233, 234, 239, 242 Roynette, Jacques, 73 RPC (Rassemblement Paix et Coutume), 81 RPCR (Rassemblement Pour la Calédonie dans la République), 57, 58, 71, 72, 74, 84, 86, 90, 92, 96, 98, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 232, 233 RPR (Rassemblement pour la République), 58, 98, 99, 150, 187 S Salmon, Nedo, 117 Samoa, 19, 190, see also American Samoa, Western Samoa sandalwood, 4, 19 Sanford, Francis, 120, 135, 136, 140, 160 Santo, see Espiritu Santo Santo rebellion, 39-44 passim, 196-7, 199, 208 Santo Town, 19, 34, see also Luganville Saussol, Alain, 22 Second World War, 22, 23, 49, 118, 121, 166-7, 183, 238 Seven Years War, 3 SFNH (Société Française des Nouvelles Hébrides), 26, 28, 31 SLN (Société le Nickel), 53, 58, 108 SMSP (Société Minière du Sud Pacifique), 108, 109 Socialist party (French), 71, 103, 112, 165 Society Islands, 6, 9, 129

SODEPAC (Societe d'Elevage du Pacifique), 32 Solomon Islands, 63, 66, 202, 204-5; and France, 198-200, 214 Solomon Star, 200 Somare, Michael, 205 Sope, Barak, 25, 33, 201, 202 South America, 172 South Pacific, passim, xi, xii, 149; ciguatera poisoning in, 174; early French contacts with, 3; and France, 192-229 passim, 235-6, 238-41; South Pacific countries, general features, 155, 220-1; South Pacific countries, compared with French Pacific territories, 95, 136, 155, 173; South Pacific peoples and French contact, colonisation, 7-24 South Pacific Commission, see SPC South Pacific Cooperation Fund, 213, 214 South Pacific Council, 213, 214 South Pacific Forum, xi, 196, 202,

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206, 207, 209, 211, 222, 225, 235, 236, 239, 240 South Pacific Geosciences Commission, 214 South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone Treaty, see Treaty of Rarotonga Southern and Antarctic Lands, 113 Southwest Pacific Command, 23 Soviet Union, 167, 168, 222, 237 Spain, 3, 209 SPC (South Pacific Commission), 23, 197-8, 206, 213, 214, 219 SPOCC (South Pacific Organisations Coordinating Committee), 198 St Pierre et Miquelon, 113, 194 Stephens (also known as Stevens), Jimmy, 28-31, 32, 39, 40-1, 43, 197 Stirn, Olivier, 67 Suva, 198, 211, 212, 213 Switzerland, 45, 54 T Taatira Polynesia, 142, 156 Tahiti and Tahitians, 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 13, 16, 17, 18, 21, 23, 117-64 passim, 152, 172; cultural revival, 132, 143-4, 146-7, 150, 240; 'discovery', 2 Tahoeraa Huiraatira, 134, 140, 141, 142, 150, 151, 152, 154, 156, 242 Tanafo, 29, 30 Tanna, xi, 28, 30, 36, 38, 39, 41, 114; separatist movement, 44 Tanzania, 35 Taofifenua, Norbert, 189

Taputapuatea, 147 Tavini Huira'atira see FLP Teariki, John, 118, 120, 126, 135, 136, 150, 159 Te Anavaharau, 144 Te Aratia o te Nuna'a, 152, 157 Te Au Tahoeraa-Tomité Taufa, 134 Te E'a no Maohi Nui, 157 Te Taata Tahiti Tiama, 139 Te Tiarama, 151, 154, 156, 159, 242 Temala, 73 Temaru, Oscar, 10, 138, 157, 242 Teriiere, Taratua 'Toro', 151 Teuira, Jacky, 154 Thio, 83, 87, 88, 89, 111, 150 Tiamaraa a te Nunaa Maohi, 139 Tiaré, 81 Tiendanite, 69, 84, 85 Tigha, 7 Tjibaou, Jean-Marie, 10, 49, 69-70, 72, 75, 78, 80, 84, 85, 90, 100, 105, 106, 232 Tonga, 9, 19, 190 Torato, 198 Toto tupuna, 139 Touho, 73 Tour de Calédonie, 72 tourism, French Polynesia, 127, 138, 160; New Caledonia, 107, 108, 111; Wallis and Futuna, 186 traders, 4, 11, 14, 17, 21, 27

Treaty of Rarotonga, 204-5, 206, 210, 218, 223, 238 trochus, 183 Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands, 218, 222 Tual, Yves, 87 Tuamotus, 6, 16, 125, 129, 130, 142, 151, 152 Tuvalu, 212, 214 U Ua Pou, 163 UC (Union Calédonienne), 23, 48-61 passim, 63, 67, 68, 70, 72, 74, 76-8, 81, 84, 98, 100, 106, 116 UCNH (Union des Communautés des Nouvelles Hébrides), 34, 35, 36 UDF (Union pour la Démocratie Française), 98, 187 UICALO (l'Union des indigènes calédoniens amis de la liberté dans l'ordre), 50 Ukeiwe, Dick, 52, 92 Ukeiwe plan, 93, 101 UMNC (Union Multiraciale de Nouvelle Calédonie), 67 UMP (Union of Moderate Parties), 201 UNIFIL (United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon), 217 Union des Volontaires, 121 Union Marquisienne, 134, 163 Union Océanienne, 96, 106-7 United Nations, xi, 30, 75, 93, 205; decolonisation committee (committee of 24), 93, 196, 199, 210, 217, 222, 235; and Rainbow Warrior dispute, 226-8; Security

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Council, 167, 209, 231, 236 United States of America, 115, 167, 168, 170, 171, 174, 206, 207, 208, 211, 218, 223, 235, 236, 237 University of Papua New Guinea, see UPNG University of the South Pacific, see USP UPM (Union Progressiste Mélanésienne), 77, 79 UPNG (University of Papua New Guinea), 203 UPNH (Union de la Population des Nouvelles-Hébrides), 34 Uregei, Louis Kotra, 80 Uregei, Yann Céléne, 67, 73, 80 USP (University of the South Pacific), 203, 212 USTKE (Union Syndicaux des Travailleurs Kanaks et Exploités), 80, 88 UTD (Union Tahitienne Democratique), 134 UTUDR (Union Tahitienne-Union pour la Défense de la République), 134, 140 UTUNR (Union Tahitienne-Union pour la Nouvelle Republique), 134, 140 V vanilla, 127 Vanizette, Frantz, 144 Vanua'aku Pati, see VP Vanuatu, xi, xii, 25, 33, 44, 63, 66, 114, 115, 187, 192, 195, 204-6, 223, and France, 43-5, 46, 200-2, 204, 214, 222, 223, 230 Vernaudon, Emile, 151, 152, 157, 242 Vila, 19, 21, 25, 31, 201 Voh, 8 Voyage autour du monde, 1 VP (Vanua'aku Pati-Our Land Party), 25, 28, 37-40 passim, 42, 43, 44, 200, 201, 204;

formation, support for, 37, 45 VP Provisional Government, 37-8 W Wallis (Uvèa), 2, 6, 9, 178-9, 181, 183, 185, 186, see also Wallis and Futuna Wallis, Captain Samuel, 1, 2 Wallisians, 96, 98, 106, 178-91 passim; in New Caledonia, 83, 184 Wallis and Futuna, xi, xii, 2, 4, 5, 6, 9, 15, 16, 19, 21, 23, 55, 178-91 passim, 194, 240-1; chiefs and chiefly system, 21, 180-1, 188, 'discovery', 2; emigration and remittances, 184; French resident, 15, 181-2; government and administration, 179-81; politics, 187-90; referendum (1959) 24, 25-6; state of emergency, March 1986, 188 Wamytan, Roch, 105, 106 Ward, Alan, 63 Waterside Workers and Seamens' Union (Port Moresby), 198 Wé, 107 Wellington, 211 Western Australia, 4 Western Samoa, 206; and France, 214, 215 whalers, 4 Windward Islands, 129, 130, 133, 142, 151, 152, 156, 157 Wright, James, 14 Y Yaté, 55, 111 Yeiwene Yeiwene, 69, 80, 83, 100, 105, 106, 232

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