“You want a friend in Washington? Get a dog.” Although made in an American context, this observation by President Harry S. Truman has universal appeal.

It highlights the unpredictable and treacherous nature of politics, whether it’s the chameleon-like antics of politicians or the fickleness of voters. The precariousness of politics was felt most acutely in Suva as recently as October 2025.

Few anticipated that two of Fiji’s three deputy prime ministers, elected with much fanfare in December 2022, would be forced to resign over allegations of failure of ministerial integrity.

• READ MORE: Other Fiji reports

The Fiji Independent Commission Against Corruption (FICAC) is an autonomous body, at least constitutionally, but Dr Biman Prasad and Manoa Kamikamica’s indictments still sparked speculation about political conspiracies and high-level skulduggery.

This political earthquake was far removed from the euphoria of the People’s Alliance Coalition election victory over the FijiFirst government — on the promise of a fresh start.

Led by Prime Minister Sitiveni Rabuka, the People’s Alliance Party’s partnership with the National Federation Party and the Social Democratic Liberal Party secured electoral victory on a show of unity and a set of vote-winning pledges: cost-of-living relief, curbing government wastage and greater media freedom.

Restoring media freedom was relatively straightforward, perhaps because it was cost-free, and it was implemented almost immediately through the repeal of the draconian Media Industry Development Act.

Other pledges more difficult
Other pledges — such as addressing the national debt and the budget deficit — proved far more difficult, in part because of global economic conditions, as did the challenge of resisting the urge to increase parliamentary salaries, which went up by 130–138 percent.

Additional benefits were thrown in for good measure: tax-free vehicle purchases for cabinet ministers, increased overseas travel allowances for the prime minister and president, and non-taxable duty allowances, business-class travel, and enhanced life insurance coverage for MPs.

In comparison to other jurisdictions, the salary increases may not, in themselves, be unreasonable. The core problem, as noted by some observers, is that Parliament should not be determining its own benefits.

The approval of the benefits also stunned many because of the Coalition’s longstanding criticism of FijiFirst over pay levels, and its pre-election pledges to slash them.

Moreover, there were questions of affordability given Fiji’s ballooning debt and deficit situation, which the Coalition had pledged to address as part of its plan to eliminate what it considered were the excesses of the previous FijiFirst government.

Increasing parliamentary benefits seemed an odd way of honouring those commitments.

There is also the question of whether taxpayers are getting what they are paying for. But perhaps the increase in benefits should not have been entirely surprising, since such outcomes are often consistent with the realities of politics in Fiji, and elsewhere.

Lying could cost politicians
So much so that Wales, for example, is considering becoming the world’s first country to introduce laws that would mean politicians could lose their jobs for deliberate lying during election campaigns.

Fijian voters, who may be disillusioned, are not entirely powerless. With elections scheduled for next year, they may well turn the tables on their representatives by springing a few surprises of their own at the ballot box.

Governance, after all, is a shared responsibility between the government and the governed. Voters usually get the government they vote for, and recent experiences would be a reminder of the importance of informed participation in politics, and the prudent use of voting power.

Especially when, as a nation, Fiji has a long and arguably worsening experience with unfulfilled or broken promises, whether by politicians or coup leaders.

Fiji’s coup culture and its fallout are a reminder of the saying, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

The 1987 and 2000 coups were carried out by political and military elites claiming to represent indigenous iTaukei interests, while the 2006 coup was justified on the grounds of good governance, equality and national unity.

It is safe to assume that none of these utopian promises have fully materialised. The country appears more divided than ever, and too many people still remain trapped in poverty.

Costs of elite power struggles
According to World Bank estimates, of the roughly 258,000 people (29.9 percent) in poverty, about 75 percent are iTaukei, which underscores how ordinary communities bear the costs of elite power struggles rather than benefit from them.

Coup instigators’ rhetoric is one thing, but what is more troubling is that our elected leaders increasingly seem unbothered by going back on their word — even by their own low standards of keeping election promises.

Granted, structural pressures typical of a young, transitional democracy like Fiji can make reforms around debt and budget deficits quite complex and difficult to achieve.

However, successive governments are failing even when it comes to basic good governance policies and practices, which are often the pillars of sustainable development.

As part of its self-proclaimed “clean-up campaign”, the ousted FijiFirst government promised many things, including merit-based appointments to boards and other government positions.

Instead, appointments were frequently made on the basis of offspring, as at the Fiji Sports Council; siblings, as at the Fiji Broadcasting Corporation; and in-laws and cronies in various other institutions.

This was rightly criticised ad nauseam by the Coalition when in opposition, with the promise to address it once in power. But has the Coalition honoured its word, or are we just seeing more of the same?

Disproportionately marginalised
Some observers have argued that under the FijiFirst Government, appointments made in the name of merit had disproportionately marginalised iTaukei representation in certain areas.

Against this backdrop, the Coalition’s approach to appointments has been described by some as a form of “rebalancing” by prioritising iTaukei candidates.

The concern now being raised is whether the pendulum may have swung too far in the other direction, and whether appointments continue to be made largely based on family ties, clanship, kinship and friendship.

These questions are not just about due process: appointments to key positions also shape the country’s long-term progress and development. In this context, merit should not become an afterthought, nor should appointments result in any form of blatant exclusion, as both can undermine confidence in the system, with the risk of exacerbating Fiji’s brain drain dilemma across all ethnicities, including among qualified iTaukei.

This possibility was obliquely raised recently by none other than the Chair of the Great Council of Chiefs (GCC), Ratu Viliame Seruvakula, who stated that Fiji needed other races to progress.

“If every other race left Fiji, we’d be doing exactly what we were doing to cause more pain to the country,” he said.

As Truman noted, politics can be a dirty game. To make politics cleaner, politicians must be accountable, with a longer-term vision for the country.

Punishing at the polls
One way to make politicians take voters seriously is to punish them at the polls if they fail to keep their promises.

This is the path to a healthier, performance-based political system that facilitates development — driven by the fear of and respect for the voter’s power. This depends not only on politicians, but also on an engaged, ethical and informed electorate that votes on issues, rather than on the basis of race, religion, party or personality.

As the country entered 2026, Prime Minister Rabuka offered a welcoming and constructive New Year’s message, emphasising teamwork, unity and inclusiveness: “Fijians must work together with faith, hope, and shared responsibility to overcome challenges and build a stronger, united nation.”

The Prime Minister reminded the country that the Coalition government was elected on a “promise of integrity, inclusion and reform”. Since these virtues were the Coalition’s mantra and its winning formula in the 2022 elections, the government would do well to apply this thinking consistently in its day-to-day decisions and long-term vision for the country.

The bottom line, as alluded to by the GCC chair, is that indigenous leadership now plays a central role in shaping Fiji’s political direction. With that power comes a duty to build a country that works for future generations of iTaukei while also ensuring that ethnic minorities continue to feel included and valued as equal stakeholders in a shared future.

Shailendra B. Singh is associate professor of Pacific journalism at The University of the South Pacific, based in Suva, Fiji, and a member of the advisory board of Pacific Media. This article appeared first on Devpolicy Blog, from the Development Policy Centre at The Australian National University.

Today is the 24th anniversary of renegade and failed businessman George Speight’s coup in 2000 Fiji. The elected coalition government headed by Mahendra Chaudhry, the first and only Indo-Fijian prime minister of Fiji, was held hostage at gunpoint for 56 days in the country’s new Parliament by Speight’s rebel gunmen in a putsch that shook the Pacific and the world.

Emerging recently from almost 24 years in prison, former investigative journalist and publisher Josefa Nata — Speight’s “media minder” — is now convinced that the takeover of Fiji’s Parliament on 19 May 2000 was not justified.

He believes that all it did was let the “genie of racism” out of the bottle.

• READ MORE: Coup coup land: the press and the putsch in Fiji – David Robie
• FIJI: I was just PR consultant — Joe Nata
• USP 2000 coup student journalism archive

He spoke to Islands Business Fiji correspondent, Joe Yaya on his journey back from the dark.

The Fiji government kept you in jail for 24 years [for your media role in the coup]. That’s a very long time. Are you bitter?

I heard someone saying in Parliament that “life is life”, but they have been releasing other lifers. Ten years was conventionally considered the term of a life sentence. That was the State’s position in our sentencing. The military government extended it to 12 years. I believe it was out of malice, spitefulness and cruelty — no other reason. But to dwell in the past is counterproductive.

If there’s anyone who should be bitter, it should be me. I was released [from prison] in 2013 but was taken back in after two months, ostensibly to normalise my release papers. That government did not release me. I stayed in prison for another 10 years.

To be bitter is to allow those who hurt you to live rent free in your mind. They have moved on, probably still rejoicing in that we have suffered that long. I have forgiven them, so move on I must.

Time is not on my side. I have set myself a timeline and a to-do list for the next five years.

What are some of those things?

Since I came out, I have been busy laying the groundwork for a community rehabilitation project for ex-offenders, released prisoners, street kids and at-risk people in the law-and-order space. We are in the process of securing a piece of land, around 40 ha to set up a rehabilitation farm. A half-way house of a sort.

You can’t have it in the city. It would be like having the cat to watch over the fish. There is too much temptation. These are vulnerable people who will just relapse. They’re put in an environment where they are shielded from the lures of the world and be guided to be productive and contributing members of society.

It will be for a period of up to six months; in exceptional cases, 12 months where they will learn living off the land. With largely little education, the best opportunity for these people, and only real hope, is in the land.

Most of these at-risk people are [indigenous] Fijians. Although all native land are held by the mataqali, each family has a patch which is the “kanakana”. We will equip them and settle them in their villages. We will liaise with the family and the village.

Apart from farming, these young men and women will be taught basic life skills, social skills, savings, budgeting. When we settle them in the villages and communities, we will also use the opportunity to create the awareness that crime does not pay, that there is a better life than crime and prison, and that prison is a waste of a potentially productive life.

Are you comfortable with talking about how exactly you got involved with Speight?

The bulk of it will come out in the book that I’m working on, but it was not planned. It was something that happened on the day.

You said that when they saw you, they roped you in?

Yes. But there were communications with me the night prior. I basically said, “piss off”.

So then, what made you go to Parliament eventually? Curiosity?

No. I got a call from Parliament. You see, we were part of the government coalition at that time. We were part of the Fijian Association Party (led by the late Adi Kuini Speed). The Fiji Labour Party was our main coalition partner, and then there was the Christian Alliance. And you may recall or maybe not, there was a split in the Fijian Association [Party] and there were two factions. I was in the faction that thought that we should not go into coalition.

There was an ideological reason for the split [because the party had campaigned on behalf of iTaukei voters] but then again, there were some members who came with us only because they were not given seats in Cabinet.

Because your voters had given you a certain mandate?

Well, we were campaigning on the [indigenous] Fijian manifesto and to go into the [coalition] complicated things. Mine was more a principled position because we were a [indigenous] Fijian party and all those people went in on [indigenous] Fijian votes. And then, here we are, going into [a coalition with the Fiji Labour Party] and people probably
accused us of being opportunists.

But the Christian Alliance was a coalition partner with Labour before they went into the election in the same way that the People’s Alliance and National Federation Party were coalition partners before they got into [government], whereas with us, it was more like SODELPA (Social Democratic Liberal Party).

So, did you feel that the rights of indigenous Fijians were under threat from the Coalition government of then Prime Minister Mahendra Chaudhry?

Perhaps if Chaudhry was allowed to carry on, it could have been good for [indigenous] Fijians. I remember the late President and Tui Nayau [Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara] . . .  in a few conversations I had with him, he said it [Labour Party] should be allowed to . . . [carry on].

Did you think at that time that the news media gave Chaudhry enough space for him to address the fears of the iTaukei people about what he was trying to do, especially for example, through the Land Use Commission?

I think the Fijians saw what he was doing and that probably exacerbated or heightened the concerns of [indigenous] Fijians and if you remember, he gave Indian cane farmers certain financial privileges.

The F$10,000 grants to move from Labasa, when the ALTA (Agricultural Landlord and Tenants Act) leases expired. Are you talking about that?

I can’t remember the exact details of the financial assistance but when they [Labour Party] were questioned, they said, “No, there were some Fijian farmers too”. There were also iTaukei farmers but if you read in between the lines, there were like 50 Indian farmers and one Fijian farmer.

Was there enough media coverage for the rural population to understand that it was not a one-sided ethnic policy?

Because there were also iTaukei farmers involved. Yes, and I think when you try and pull the wool over other people, that’s when they feel that they have been hoodwinked. But going back to your question of whether Chaudhry was given fair media coverage, I was no longer in the mainstream media at that time. I had moved on.

But the politicians have their views and they’ll feel that they have been done badly by the media. But that’s democracy. That’s the way things worked out.

Pacific journalism educator, David Robie, in a paper in 2001, made some observations about the way the local media reported the Speight takeover. He said, “In the early weeks of the insurrection, the media enjoyed an unusually close relationship with Speight and the hostage takers.”

He went on to say that at times, there was “strong sympathy among some journalists for the cause, even among senior editorial executives”.

David Robie is an incisive and perceptive old-school journalist who has a proper understanding of issues and I do not take issue with his opinion. And I think there is some validity. But you see, I was on the other [Speight’s] side. And it was part of my job at that time to swing that perception from the media.

Did you identify with “the cause” and did you think it was legitimate?

Let me tell you in hindsight, that the coup was not justified
and that is after a lot of reflection. It was not justified and
could never be justified.

When did you come to that conclusion?

It was after the period in Parliament and after things were resolved and then Parliament was vacated, I took a drive around town and I saw the devastation in Suva. This was a couple of months later. I didn’t realise the extent of the damage and I remember telling myself, “Oh my god, what have we done? What have we done?”

And I realised that we probably have let the genie out of the bottle and it scared me [that] it only takes a small thing like this to unleash this pentup emotion that is in the people. Of course, a lot of looting was [by] opportunists because at that time, the people who
were supporting the cause were all in Parliament. They had all marched to Parliament.

So, who did the looting in town? I’m not excusing that. I’m just trying to put some perspective. And of course, we saw pictures, which was really, very sad . . .  of mothers, women, carrying trolleys [of loot] up the hill, past the [Colonial War Memorial] hospital.

So, what was Speight’s primary motivation?

Well, George will, I’m sure, have the opportunity at some point to tell the world what his position was. But he was never the main player. He was ditched with the baby on his laps.

So, there were people So, there were people behind him. He was the man of the moment. He was the one facing the cameras.

Given your education, training, experience in journalism, what kind of lens were you viewing this whole thing from?

Well, let’s put it this way. I got a call from Parliament. I said, “No, I’m not coming down.” And then they called again.

Basically, they did not know where they were going. I think what was supposed to have happened didn’t happen. So, I got another call, I got about three or four calls, maybe five. And then eventually, after two o’clock I went down to Parliament, because the person who called was a friend of mine and somebody who had shared our fortunes and misfortunes.

So, did you get swept away? What was going on inside your head?

I joined because at that point, I realised that these people needed help. I was not so much as for the cause, although there was this thing about what Chaudhry was doing. I also took that into account. But primarily because the call came [and] so I went.

And when I was finally called into the meeting, I walked in and I saw faces that I’d never seen before. And I started asking the questions, “Have you done this? Have you done that?”

And as I asked the questions, I was also suggesting solutions and then I just got dragged into it. The more I asked questions, the more I found out how much things were in disarray.

I just thought I’d do my bit [because] they were people who had taken over Parliament and they did not know where to go from there.

But you were driven by some nationalistic sentiments?

I am a [indigenous] Fijian. And everything that goes with that. I’m not infallible. But then again, I do not want to blow that trumpet.

Did the group see themselves as freedom fighters of some sort when you went into prison?

I’m not a freedom fighter. If they want to be called freedom fighters, that’s for them and I think some of them even portrayed themselves [that way]. But not me. I’m just an idiot who got sidetracked.

This personal journey that you’ve embarked on, what brought that about?

When I was in prison, I thought about this a lot. Because for me to come out of the bad place I was in — not physically, that I was in prison, but where my mind was — was to first accept the situation I was in and take responsibility. That’s when the healing started to take place.

And then I thought that I should write to people that I’ve hurt. I wrote about 200 letters from prison to anybody I thought I had hurt or harmed or betrayed. Groups, individuals, institutions, and families. I was surprised at the magnanimity of the people who received my letters.

I do not know where they all are now. I just sent it out. I was touched by a lot of the responses and I got a letter from the late [historian] Dr Brij Lal. l was so encouraged and I was so emotional when I read the letter. [It was] a very short letter and the kindness in the man to say that, “We will continue to talk when you come out of prison.”

There were also the mockers, the detractors, certain persons who said unkind things that, you know, “He’s been in prison and all of a sudden, he’s . . . “. That’s fine, I accepted all that as part of the package. You take the bad with the good.

I wrote to Mr Chaudhry and I had the opportunity to apologise to him personally when he came to visit in prison. And I want to continue this dialogue with Mr Chaudhry if he would like to.

Because if anything, I am among the reasons Fiji is in this current state of distrust and toxic political environment. If I can assist in bringing the nation together, it would be part of my atonement for my errors. For I have been an unprofitable, misguided individual who would like to do what I believe is my duty to put things right.

And I would work with anyone in the political spectrum, the communal leaders, the vanua and the faith organisations to bring that about.

I also did my traditional apology to my chiefly household of Vatuwaqa and the people of the vanua of Lau. I had invited the Lau Provincial Council to have its meeting at the Corrections Academy in Naboro. By that time, the arrangements had been confirmed for the Police Academy.

But the Roko gave us the farewell church service. I got my dear late sister, Pijila to organise the family. I presented the matanigasau to the then-Council Chairman, Ratu Tevita Uluilakeba (Roko Ului). It was a special moment, in front of all the delegates to the council meeting, the chiefly clan of the Vuanirewa, and Lauans who filled the two buses and
countless vehicles that made it to Naboro.

Our matanivanua (herald) was to make the tabua presentation. But I took it off him because I wanted Roko Ului and the people of Lau to hear my remorse from my mouth. It was very, very emotional. Very liberating. Cathartic.

Late last year, the Coalition government passed a motion in Parliament for a Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Do you support that?

Oh yes, I think everything I’ve been saying so far points that way.

Do you think it’ll help those that are still incarcerated to come out and speak about what happened in 2000?

Well, not only that but the important thing is [addressing] the general [racial] divide. If that’s where we should start, then we should start there. That’s how I’m looking at it — the bigger picture.

It’s not trying to manage the problems or issues of the last 24 years. People are still hurting from [the coups of] 1987. And what happened in 2006 — nothing has divided this country so much. Anybody who’s thought about this would want this to go beyond just solving the problem of 2000, excusing, and accusing and after that, there’s forgiveness and pardon.

That’s a small part. That too if it needs to happen. But after all that, I don’t want anybody to go to prison because of their participation or involvement in anything from 1987 to 2000. If they cooked the books later, while they were in government, then that’s a different
matter.

But I saw on TV, the weeping and the very public expression of pain of [the late, former Prime Minister, Laisenia] Qarase’s grandchildren when he was convicted and taken away [to prison]. It brought tears to my eyes. There is always a lump in my throat at the memory of my Heilala’s (elder of two daughters) last visit to [me in] Nukulau.

Hardly a word was spoken as we held each other, sobbing uncontrollably the whole time, except to say that Tiara (his sister) was not allowed by the officers at the naval base to come to say her goodbye.

That was very painful. I remember thinking that people can be cruel, especially when the girls explained that it was to be their last visit. Then the picture in my mind of Heilala sitting alone under the turret of the navy ship as she tried not to look back. I had asked her not to look back.

I deserved what I got. But not them. I would not wish the same things I went through on anyone else, not even those who were malicious towards me.

It is the family that suffers. The family are always the silent victims. It is the family that stands by you. They may not agree with what you did. Perhaps it is among the great gifts of God, that children forgive parents and love them still despite the betrayal, abandonment, and pain.

For I betrayed the two women I love most in the world. I betrayed ‘Ulukalala [son] who was born the same year I went to prison. I betrayed and brought shame to my family and my village of Waciwaci. I betrayed friends of all ethnicities and those who helped me in my chosen profession and later, in business.

I betrayed the people of Fiji. That betrayal was officially confirmed when the court judgment called me a traitor. I accepted that portrayal and have to live with it. The judges — at least one of them — even opined that I masterminded the whole thing. I have to decline that dubious honour. That belongs elsewhere.

This article by Joe Yaya is republished from last month’s Islands Business magazine cover story with the permission of editor Richard Naidu and Yaya. The photographs are from a 2000 edition of the International Press Institute’s Global Journalist magazine dedicated to the reporting of The University of the South Pacific’s student journalists. Joe Yaya was a member of the USP team at the time. The archive of the award-winning USP student coverage of the coup is here.   

The last time the Australian Labor Party came to power (in 2007), Australia was imposing sanctions against Fiji as a result of the country’s fourth coup in 2006.

Relations worsened before they improved and, partly at Australia’s prompting, Fiji was suspended from the Pacific Islands Forum (PIF) in 2009.

Fast forward to 2022. Fiji’s 2006 coup leader is now its prime minister, Fiji is chairing the Pacific Islands Forum, and it was the first Pacific country that Australia’s new Foreign Minister, Penny Wong, visited.

• READ MORE: Other Fiji politics reports

In fact, not only is Voreqe Bainimarama Prime Minister, but his main rival in elections scheduled for later this year is the leader of Fiji’s first coup, in 1987, Sitiveni Rabuka.

How did this come to pass?

The only coup leader to have actually suffered as a result of their actions is George Speight, who led Fiji’s third coup. Significantly, Speight was not a soldier, and was only backed by one faction of the army.

He was sentenced in 2000 to life imprisonment and remains in jail to this day.

Both senior military leaders
By contrast, both Bainimarama and Rabuka were senior military leaders. And they were clever and powerful enough after their coups to ensure that Fiji’s constitution was rewritten to absolve them of any legal wrongdoing.

Rabuka was the pacesetter in terms of rewriting the constitution, and the first coup leader to become PM, returning five years after his coup to successfully contest the 1992 elections. He served as PM to 1999.

Bainimarama was Fiji’s first coup leader to decide not to step back, but rather to stay in politics. He gave himself eight years of uncontested rule before facing elections, enough time to put him in a position to win.

Fiji’s coups have been bad for both the country’s economy and for its democratic standing.  Today, it is classified by Freedom House as “partly free”. The think-tank sums up the situation in Fiji as follows:

The repressive climate that followed a 2006 coup has eased since democratic elections were held in 2014 and 2018. However, the ruling party frequently interferes with opposition activities, the judiciary is subject to political influence, and military and police brutality is a significant problem.

Combine this with whatever genuine support Bainimarama commands, and it has been difficult, indeed impossible so far, to dislodge him from power. This in turn has made those who want him out think that their only way to depose him is to back another strongman, another former coup leader and PM.

Rabuka is seen as more moderate than some of the other alternatives to Bainimarama. But also, only Rabuka, it is now thought, can take on Bainimarama.

Is this progress to democracy, or entrenchment of a coup culture? It has been 16 years since the last coup, in 2006. If Fiji was on a path to democracy, one might accept this dominance of coup-turned-political leaders as a necessary transition, a price to be paid to return Fiji to liberal democratic ways.

Ethnic tensions
If only this were the case.

It is certainly true that the coups have led to a massive out-migration of Fijian Indians, whose share in the population has fallen from a threatening 50 percent in the late 1980s to only about 34 percent now. Ethnic tensions, a driving factor behind all the coups to date, have lessened, though by no means disappeared.

But it would be a serious mistake to think that coups are a thing of the past. Rabuka and Bainimarama are both ageing: Rabuka is 74; Bainimarama is 68, and recently had serious heart surgery.

Once they retire or die, it is quite possible that the Fijian political scene will become unstable and/or unpredictable, and that the army will, over time, see it as necessary to intervene. After all, it now has the constitutional role, given to it by Bainimarama, of ensuring not only Fiji’s security and defence but also its “well-being”.

The military describes itself as its country’s “guardian”.

In the meantime, Fiji remains stuck as, at best, a semi-democracy. Just last year, several MPs were arrested for opposing government legislation. A recent US government report on Fiji notes credible reports of “cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment by government agents [and] serious restrictions on free expression and media, including censorship; substantial interference with the freedom of peaceful assembly; and trafficking in persons”.

Personalised authoritarianism
Fiji’s brand of authoritarianism is highly personalised:

• A group of women are challenging a new law that requires married women who change their name to also change their birth certificate if they want to vote, a rule introduced last year that may disenfranchise up to 100,000 women.
• This change apparently arises from a court case involving an opposition MP who incurred the government’s ire. The courts refused to disqualify the MP on the basis of the name he used to register to vote — not the one on his birth certificate. (The MP in question has since been sent to jail on other charges.)
• The government also, at the start of last year, expelled the vice-chancellor of the University of the South Pacific (USP) and has refused him entry back into the country, because he blew the whistle on the former VC who is a government ally.
• The government has this year charged prominent opposition-affiliated lawyer Richard Naidu with contempt of court because of a social media post he made responding to a spelling mistake in a court judgement. Amnesty International has highlighted the “climate of fear” this charge contributes to.

As James Loxton has recently shown, the re-emergence of authoritarian leaders after democratic transitions is a global phenomenon.

Thailand provides perhaps the closest parallel to Fiji. In that country, after enduring decades of alternating coups and democracy, the 2014 coup leader General Prayut Chan-o-cha decided that he would not relinquish power, and transitioned out of his military role into political leadership.

Since then he has stayed as prime minister, winning elections in 2019, and protected by the same sort of rigging of rules that Bainimarama has engaged in.

Vying for power
However, while Thailand has had many more coups than Fiji, only in the latter do we see two former coup leaders vying for power.

The situation in Fiji seems widely accepted. In 2014, former soldier turned academic Jone Baledrokadroka wrote of the “acquiescence to military intervention” of the Fijian people as “a hallmark of politics in the country”.

Many coup critics have left the country; some have died. A number linked to the coup and/or subsequent governments now hold leadership positions within regional and international organisations.

International partners have also changed tack. Australia’s Coalition, when it came to power in 2013, promised and delivered a new, more constructive approach to Fiji, on the basis that the adversarial approach of earlier years was driving Fiji into the arms of China.

In the decade since, as concerns about China have escalated, those about democracy and human rights have been put on the back burner. Australia is now even supporting Fiji’s army, building a base to support its export of peacekeeping forces.

Rabuka first went up against Bainimarama in the last, 2018 elections, and lost. His prospects are thought to be better this time round according to public opinion polling, but the lack of a united opposition makes predictions difficult.

If Bainimarama is defeated in November, it will be the first time Fiji has changed its PM through the ballot box since 1999. That itself would be a victory for democracy.

However, the fact remains that, whatever the outcome of this year’s election, it is most likely that the country’s next prime minister will be someone who first came to power through the barrel of a gun. This is a clear sign of how deeply entrenched in Fiji’s politics its military has become.

Sadhana Sen is the regional communications adviser at the Development Policy Centre. Stephen Howes is director of the Development Policy Centre and professor of economics at the Crawford School of Public Policy, Australian National University. This article was first published here by DevPolicy Blog and published with permission under a Creative Commons licence.