by Mosmi Bhim
Many developing countries have been afflicted with problems of governance. These problems have been associated with maladministration, malpractice, corruption, nepotism, and abuse of office for private gain. Leadership is one of the prime areas where governance problems appear to occur. Many countries have experienced misappropriation of public money by politicians and heads of government agencies. [1] In the Pacific, public leadership appears to have its own peculiar problems due to the smallness of the countries and the regionâ€TMs unique cultural characteristics and different colonial histories. This essay will attempt to trace the roots of why so much public leadership in the Pacific is so ethically challenged. My main argument will be that the reason for this is the duality of the legal and cultural systems in the Pacific. There is a duality of values, a duality of laws and a duality of leadership authority. This duality has been compounded by development, which has brought access to goods and services and a need to have the material benefits of development.
In order to understand ethical challenges to leadership, one must first define “ethics.†The Microsoft Encarta Encyclopedia states that the word ethics comes from the Greek word ethika. Ethika comes from ethos, which means character or custom. Ethics is defined as principles or standards of human conduct, sometimes called morals (which comes from the Latin word mores, or “customs†). Every culture has developed its own system of ethics. Ethics studies human conduct; it is concerned with questions such as “When is an act right?†; “When is an act wrong?†; and “What is the nature, or determining standard, of good and bad?†[2]
Leadership itself is hard to define. To define ethics of public leadership, however, one can examine some qualities of leadership in democratic societies, since most countries in the Pacific are deemed democratic. Argumentation, persuasion, and the maintenance of popular support are regarded as essential ingredients of effective leadership in democratic societies. [3] Max Weber, in 1947, identified three types of leadership authority that are distinguished by the source of their legitimacy. [4] These are rational-legal — arising out of norms and regulations defining the personâ€TMs status; traditional — arising out of the sanctity of immemorial traditions; and charismatic — arising out of the personâ€TMs individual personal characteristics that set him part from others. Mughan and Patterson say that “democratic political leaders are expected to be attentive and responsive to the demands and wants of followers. By contrast, the same relationship in authoritarian political systems is relatively strained and subject to follower dissatisfaction.†[5]
Public leadership instantly brings to mind the questions of who is in authority. In the Pacific, there was a traditional mode of authority prior to colonization. Since then, however, there appear to have evolved two modes of authority that exist simultaneously: the traditional and the modern. Traditional leadership and values, to a degree, have been accommodated in the Pacific nationsâ€TM constitutions, which are said to have played an important role in the decolonization of the region: “There were several debates about the power structures of government and administration, and the appropriate ways to blend traditional systems of authority with the demands of modern statehood.†[6]
â€TMI Futa Helu describes traditions and customs as “those ways of doing things which work in a particular geographic or social environment — they promote a societyâ€TMs interests and facilitate the achievement of common goals.†[7] A consequence of attempting to blend in traditional authority was that legitimacy was provided for the administrative structures that had been established by colonial powers for their own purposes: “Institutions which we have been asked to revere because of their traditional nature, such as the Samoan matai (chiefly) system, the Tongan monarchy or the Fijian Great Council of Chiefs, were all colonial compromises between traditional and modern forms of government.†[8] Further, “colonialism virtually created and nurtured in Fiji a ‘nationalâ€TM chiefly elite that was to become the very embodiment of a conceptually unified ‘Fijianâ€TM tradition, antipathetic to democratic principles of political participation and inclusion , and arguably the most powerful force in post-independence Fijian politics.†[9]
In Micronesian societies, too, the traditional system underlies the modern system and has a large — and sometimes undemocratic — influence on contemporary politics and governance. [10] US district administrators consulted chiefs, which gave the latter a feeling of respect and participation in governing their people and, at the same time, lent legitimacy to the US administration. In the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM), chiefs played a crucial role in the approval of the constitution. [11] In Yap, the traditional chiefs have a formal role in government; in the Marshall Islands the chiefs have a formal role in the national congress; and in Palau, the chiefs have a formal role in an advisory capacity at the national level. [12] In fact, Haglegam says that few politicians can win an election in Micronesia without the support of traditional leaders.
In most Pacific countries, traditional modes of authority were acknowledged in some manner in the constitutions. This means that the colonizers (and those collaborating with the colonizers) recognized the importance of acknowledging traditional authority. However, it does not necessarily mean that the Pacific peoples also regarded the constitution as the absolute authority. In fact, Pacific peoples appear to be having great difficulty in accepting the constitution as the highest authority of their country. Yash Ghai contends that the 1987 coups of Fiji exposed the ambivalence of its leaders toward constitutionalism, and the sympathy for coups in neighbouring countries might suggest that it is not particularly valued elsewhere, either. [13] This may help explain the reason for the attempted coup in Fiji in 2000, the “copycat†coup in the Solomon Islands shortly thereafter, a case of kidnapping of the President in Vanuatu, the murder of a cabinet Minister in Samoa, and the high vulnerability of prime ministers in Papua New Guinea to constant threats of votes of no-confidence in Parliament. Moreover, many Pacific Islanders are now questioning the appropriateness of the constitution to their country.
A contention also exists that Pacific countries received independence too soon and there was not enough time, nor were there enough locally qualified people, to enable decolonization and rule under the new system to be a smooth process. This is evident in Vanuatu, where a leadership crisis occurred within the Vanuaâ€TMaku Pati in 1991 because the quality of the leader who had been leading since independence was falling and no one was groomed for succession to the top position (the leader was also not entertaining any thought of handing over power). [14] Molisa explains: “Our people did not have the time to learn about the functioning of a modern democracy — what it is; how it works; or how to maintain and sustain it. We had no option but to learn through experience. People as a whole lack the sound information required to make effective judgments and decisions. [15] This is a very important point, as many other countries, especially those in Melanesia, have complained that their people did not have enough time to learn about democracy or the new political system and there were not enough qualified people to take up key positions after independence. In the case of Fiji, â€TMI Futa Helu says that it was mostly the politicians and London that decided in favour of independence: “We went in without getting ourselves prepared for it. People on the whole were unprepared, even stunned (district officerâ€TMs report), when Fiji became independent.†[16]
Current leadership challenges in the Pacific have also had some input by the Pacific people themselves, whose leaders conspired with colonial administrators to devise a constitution that would accommodate their interests but which would also entrench a Western mode of government under Western artifacts such as a parliamentary system of government, a public service, and legal and judiciary systems. In most Pacific Island countries, chiefly councils have been created which did not exist before. These include the Samoan matai system, the Cook Islands House of Ariki, the Fijian Great Council of Chiefs, the creation of positions of paramount chiefs in Vanuatu and the Solomon Islands, and the Tongan House of Nobles and monarchy.
Lindstrom and White aptly say that, far from pre-modern relics, the chiefs of modern Pacific states increasingly figure in the rhetoric and reality of national political development. [17] Lindstrom and White further contend that the renewed significance of chiefs, and the debates and disagreements that surround them, emerge from a collision of discourses of identity and power circulating in the Pacific today. People are debating the importance of chiefs and the legitimacy of current chiefly political practice. These collisions, say Lindstrom and White, call either for the revitalization or the curtailment of the power of chiefs and provide a window into social and political transformation: “Even though the specific political issues are framed somewhat differently in each country, chiefs today are everywhere potent symbols — symbols of the indigenous and the traditional in contrast with the foreign and the modern.†[18]
A number of reasons existed for including chiefs in the political system. One of the main reasons was so the chiefs would not stir up political mischief and create disturbances for the colonial administration. Lindstrom discusses the need in developing states to create useful work for chiefs that would take advantage of their traditional authority but which would not disturb the sometimes unsteady authority of the central governments: “The dilemma for politicians is that the state must recognize and empower jifs in order that jifs may legitimate and serve the state. The dilemma for jifs is that they must at least appear to serve the state in order to promote their authority at home. Vanuatu jifs, to date, have provided for the state two main services: a warrant of traditional legitimacy and, grossly, a mechanism of crowd control.†[19] This created a sometimes uneasy marriage of traditional Pacific leadership with Western modes of governance, where colonizers pacified chiefs because they needed them, yet did not give them too much power, as this would jeopardize the colonizersâ€TM authority.
In the case of Samoa, the anti-colonial resistance and the move to grant independence to colonies elsewhere in the world resulted in independence in 1962, with a constitution that, by and large, was expected to preserve the Samoan culture and tradition by entrenching the Samoan matai system in the constitution. The franchise, however, was restricted to the matai, and only the matai could stand for elections. A later constitutional amendment, in 1990, finally gave universal suffrage to Samoans. Instead of reducing the power of the chiefs, however, this was … “paradoxically an attempt to preserve the status and significance of the chieftaincy, by preventing the devaluation that was resulting from the proliferation of multiple (title) holders and the corrosive intra-family disputes that accompanied this proliferation.†[20] In the public service, too, “titled public servants enjoy power which derives from their status as matai.†[21] Thus, traditionally-acquired privileges are sometimes used to the detriment of the interests of the commoners.
In Tonga, some of the nobles abuse their privilege “through their continued demands for gifts and services from the people traditionally bound to them.†[22] Despite this abuse of privilege, however, the interest of nobles in their people has been shown to have a positive effect. Kerry James talks of a village where the people were happy to have a noble after many years of the title being vacant. The village had won a prize for being the cleanest when it had the noblesâ€TM family to encourage them to beautify the place but deteriorated into filth once the noble position became vacant. After 15 years of being vacant, a young titleholder was appointed who showed interest in his people and organized a successful rugby team. Although some educated islanders are cynical, others are delighted to once again have a noble. [23] Despite the growing pro-democracy support in Tonga, James notes that although “villagers are increasingly exercising degrees of organizational skill,†they are “always careful to disavow any leadership role for themselves because, they say, leadership belongs to the nobles and other social superiors.†National groups and associations thus have nobles as chairpersons and patrons, and there could well be a leadership crisis at the village level in Tonga. [24]
In Samoa, independence provided the country with two systems of legitimacy: the matai and a set of Western liberal principles such as individual rights, religious freedom, and equality under the law. [25] The entrenchment of the matai system is creating its own problems. A growing number of young, Western-educated Samoans, for example, are challenging the matai systemâ€TMs legitimacy. Macpherson notes that “it is significant that the shortage of human resources is created in the first place by the exodus of those Samoans born and raised in Samoa.†[26] The migration of these Samoans, in addition to professional reasons, has also been linked to the matai system. In Tonga, a pro-democracy movement is increasingly questioning those actions of the monarchy and nobility that have a negative impact on the people. Some Tongans, too, have been migrating, and the reason has been to escape the system which creates subservience for commoners and privilege for nobles.
These incidences do not mean that tradition in the Pacific is diluting. In fact, the legitimacy of tradition is so strong in the Pacific that leaders sometimes feel a need to justify their legitimacy in the traditional manner. For instance, in Vanuatu, during his first official speech after being elected Vanuatuâ€TMs third President in 1994, Jean-Marie Leye stretched his name to Jean-Marie Leye Lenelgau — attaching the chiefly title “Lenelgau.†[27] This illustrates that he needed to qualify that he was also a traditional leader to add further legitimacy, in the eyes of the people, to his appointment. Huffer and Molisa also comment on this behaviour, saying that “politicians frequently attribute to themselves a chiefly or ‘big manâ€TM aura which they use to profit from their function as parliamentarians.†[28]
This questioning of, yet adherence to, traditional authority in the Pacific means that politics remains a delicate issue, whereby people are unwilling to speak out against figures representing traditional authority: “Open discussion of politics within many island countries of the Pacific is hampered by a high degree of sensitivity linked to status, kinship and small communities, even at the “national†level.†[29] Meleisea notes that Samoa is “a small country with few senior jobs, so outspokenness is generally bad for oneâ€TMs career.†[30]
The pro-democracy movement in Tonga, the migration of many Tongans and Samoans to avoid a repressive cultural system, and passive protests against the excesses of traditional leaders, however, indicate that at least some (especially educated) Pacific Islanders are questioning the special privileges accorded to traditional leaders. In Fiji, the 1987 coup was justified on the grounds that Ratu Mara, a high chief and Prime Minister of Fiji for 17 years, had to vacate the highest office to make way for a commoner — Dr. Timoci Bavadra — to become Prime Minister. Nevertheless, history later revealed that common Fijians are now claiming the position of Prime Minister for themselves. After initially calling back Ratu Mara to be interim Prime Minister in 1987, coup-maker Colonel Sitiveni Rabuka himself decided to take on this coveted position. Subsequently, he won elections and remained Prime Minister until 1999. After the 2000 coup, when Prime Minister Mahendra Chaudhary was deposed after one year, a commoner, Laisenia Qarase, was appointed interim Prime Minister and subsequently won the 2001 election. Stephanie Lawson comments that “it is evident that, despite all the rhetoric about the sacrosanct nature of the Fijian chiefly system and its pre-eminence in politics, Fijian commoners have claimed a leading role in contemporary politics — a trend that is unlikely to be reversed.†[31]
Another complexity is the duality of legal beliefs in the Pacific. The Western legal system, left behind by the former colonialists (or devised to accommodate Western ideas of government, such as in Samoa and Tonga) exists in conjunction with the traditional (or the recreated traditional) legal system, such as the village court system presided over by jifs in Vanuatu, and the Fijian court system. In Vanuatu, after state recognition of official island and paramount jifs, the Malvatumauri jifs started codifying kastom law: “Nearly all the policy aimed at village-level delict and disorder and much of it seems designed particularly to keep women and youth under closer control and to make chiefly supervision of village activities more muscular.†[32] These customary laws cover all important facets of village life and can be used to govern as a set of laws on its own.
In some quarters, people do not treat the Western legal system as the legitimate system; rather, it is something that can sometimes be evaded. In this regard, â€TMI Futa Helu says that “cultural traditions may have the social force of law, though they are not technically legal.†[33] In the issue of obeisance to the law, the legal system in the Pacific is sometimes not regarded (or is unwillingly regarded) as that body which has the utmost authority to punish wrongs. This is because the current legal systems in the Pacific were not created through collective dialogue and discourse in their own communities. Rather, it was a modified version of the legal system that existed in the colonial powersâ€TM countries.
For the case of Fiji, former high court judge, prominent Fijian high chief and lawyer Ratu Joni Madraiwiwi writes that “the rule of law to Fijians is an arcane concept that they perceive is a foreign idea imported to subvert their way of life. It is for them an obstacle to their aspirations. It is because they conceive of indigenous rights as superior to and beyond the rule of law. . . . Fijian rights in this scenario can only be secured by force.†[34] Ratu Joni further explains: “Not five generations distant, Fijians were cannibalizing each other. The missionaries and the colonial administration imposed a veneer of civilization on their native subjects. However, it is not apparent that they imparted to them any profound understanding of the process involved in the maintenance and upholding of the law. What little they understood was that it was a system designed and intended to keep them in their place. In this paradigm, it was convenient for Fijians to see it as white manâ€TMs law as opposed to something that belonged to them or was theirs.â€
In the village legal systems under customary law, villagers get away with light punishments for their crimes, whereas when punished for the same crime by the police and judiciary, they are convicted and must serve a jail sentence. In the Sepik Province in Papua New Guinea, crimes, including murders, have been settled in the traditional manner, which often gave rise to more crimes and murders. [35] In the Melanesian countries of Papua New Guinea and the Solomon Islands, the cultural value of retribution exacerbated the crimes there, as murders of people from one community or family were avenged with murders of members from the opposing camp.
In Vanuatu, jifs hear disputes and assign fines of pigs, kava, mats, or money. If disputants refuse a judgment or refuse to pay, jifs can summon the police and state courts to take charge. [36] Lindstrom, after analyzing jifs roles, says that “jifs serve the state but threaten it as well, as when state police and judges see their authority usurped and sidetracked. Jifs serve the people, but also threaten them, . . . as when they evoke custom to maintain inequalities between men and women, the old and young, and the urban and the rural.†[37]
One may be led to deduce from this that, in a way, customary law creates a situation where villagers take the “legal law†lightly. It may in fact lead to the legal law being pushed aside, such as experienced in May 2000 during the attempted coup in Fiji and the copycat coup that followed in the Solomon Islands. The legal laws have only been here since colonization and are not embedded in Pacific cultures, therefore making them easy to violate because people do not feel obligated to obey them and do not feel responsible to uphold them.
Some Pacific people believe that they need to follow the legal law system embedded in the constitution because of donors and the international community. They feel obligated to follow it because they need the approval and support of the international community for their survival; they do not necessarily follow it because they believe in it. This could create great complexities and hypocrisy. For instance, in the aftermath of the attempted 2000 coup in Fiji, the ensuing elected government in 2001 needed to assure the international community that democracy had been restored in Fiji and the wronged communities were reconciled. The government organized a week-long National Reconciliation Week in October 2004 to coincide with the anniversary of Fijiâ€TMs independence. One of the major victims of the 2000 coup, the Indo-Fijian community, largely did not participate in the event. The governmentâ€TMs sincerity in organizing this event was questioned in the daily media and in Parliament, and rumours were rife that the week-long celebration was just a publicity stunt played out for the benefit of the international community.
The duality of systems that exist in the Pacific means that sometimes there is no clear distinction between what is the traditional norm and the new norm of democracy. For Samoa, Clunyand Laâ€TMavasa Macpherson contend that “the social values and practices which underlie the ‘good governanceâ€TM agenda are not central to Samoan culture; in fact, they conflict with some central values.†[38] The good governance principles are essentially principles that promote democracy. Thus, one can deduce that the Macphersons are implying that democracy conflicts with island culture. This cultural conflict is illustrated in the observation that “there is no clear separation in Samoa between work and non-work spheres and the values and rules which govern each as envisaged in the Weberian model [39]: “Salaried work in both private and public organizations is always seen as embedded and subservient to social obligations that are rooted outside of the work space. Broader social linkages enter the work sphere and come to influence decisions made there. . . . Tautua (service) still requires that oneâ€TMs resources are placed at the disposal of oneâ€TMs family but this now includes wage labour in the public and private sectors.†[40]
Thus, a person is culturally bound to act outside the Western work ethic in order to fulfill his primary cultural obligations. Malama Meleisea thus concludes that, “Samoans are living in two worlds, a situation which is breeding a kind of moral confusion. The problem is not that there are contradictions between new and old principles, but that these two sets of principles can be selectively invoked to justify almost any action.†[41]
For the case of Vanuatu, the differentiation between the two systems, according to Elise Huffer and Grace Molisa, is revealed in commonly used language, whereby “‘politicsâ€TM is frequently distinguished from ‘customâ€TM when discussing the management of public affairs. People will talk about politics when they refer to what is happening at the national or political party level and to custom when they talk about the management of local, rural issues. This artificial differentiation both reveals and reinforces the gap which exists between ‘imposedâ€TM (colonial) institutions and ‘localâ€TM (custom) institutions. Custom has thus come to exist in opposition to politics as though two completely distinct spheres existed with politics being thought of as more important and prestigious than custom.†[42]
The demands of modern-day democracy, the wants of the people, and the aspirations of those following the traditional modes, make it a very difficult job to lead in the Pacific. Many leaders play contrasting roles, espousing democracy to donors and championing the cultural norms back in their villages: “It is difficult to govern, riven by regional and secessionist sympathies, subject to economic and fiscal crisis, hampered by enormous infrastructural problems, and vulnerable to depradations by multinational companies and venal politicians.†[43] The lack of capacity and resources because of the relatively small size of some countries — such as Tuvalu, Niue, Cook Islands, Kiribati and Tokelau — is also a contributor to leadership challenges. On the other hand, in other countries, a richness of natural resources has been seen to create further problems — such as in the Melanesian countries Fiji, Papua New Guinea, Vanuatu, the Solomon Islands, and New Caledonia.
The shortage of skilled people is still a problem, and Penelope Schoeffel and Mark Turner comment that “even twenty or thirty years after independence there are still shortages of people with technical skills.†[44] “In some countries, there is great disparity between developed and underdeveloped regions and resource-rich and resource-poor regions. People living in the resource rich areas ask why they should share their resources and are angry at outsiders who have migrated into their area and are doing better than the local people.†[45] This has been put forward as one of the causes of the conflict in the Solomon Islands that brought the government to the brink of bankruptcy in 2000. Here, the richer area is Guadalcanal, where the capital, Honiara, is based, and the poorer area is Malaita, the island from which the bulk of labour in Guadalcanal comes. This explanation also applies to Fiji, where some ethnic Fijians resent that the descendents of Indians who arrived 125 years ago seem to have prospered more economically than they have.
The conflicting systems of law and authority in the Pacific lead to both a dilemma and confusion. This conflict is definitely the camouflage behind which leaders have been able to manipulate peopleâ€TMs sentiments and also abuse public funds and systems: “Many Pacific Island countries have serious problems with corruption, associated with the collusion between politicians and bureaucrats involving the misuse of public funds and other resources. The collusion . . . is entangled with systems of patronage. . . . In most Pacific countries, patronage and corruption are fed to a large extent by those who can demonstrate power to attract and amass wealth and to share it in some form or another with supporters or clients, in a modern enactment of older political processes.†[46] Thus, the cultural practice in many (especially Melanesian) Pacific countries, where the leaders must be able to amass wealth as well as distribute it, is translated into a corrupt practice in modern times, where state funds may be used by politicians to provide items and services to people as a way of showing that they are fulfilling their duty and to attract votes.
In conclusion, Pacific countries are not “weak states,†but rather “young states†. They have yet to learn through trial and error why certain rules are supposed to be good and certain rules are supposed to be bad, because they have been independent only for a few decades. The ethical challenges of public leadership are linked to using traditional means to satisfy democratic ends. Traditional values, modes of authority, and custom law exist side-by-side with democratic values, modern legal law, and political authority. In the traditional sense, wealth is gathered; due to the capitalist value of wealth, however, this may be selectively distributed, for example, as a prelude to elections. Goods distributed as the leaderâ€TMs obligation may not be personally owned but be the property of the state. So, in the traditional sense, the leaderâ€TMs activity is ethically sound, but in the Western legal sense, the leaderâ€TMs behaviour is unethical.
Mughan and Patterson say that argumentation, persuasion, and maintenance of popular support are essential ingredients of effective leadership in democratic societies and also that democratic leaders are expected to be responsive to the demands and wants of followers. Thus, there is nothing wrong when Pacific leaders go out of their way to satisfy the needs of their followers. It only becomes ethically wrong when the goods being given to followers are not legitimately the property of the leader to give away, or are the property of the state, or are being used to influence election outcomes, or are only used to benefit those who are close to the leader.
Public leadership in the Pacific faces ethical challenges due to the existence of dual legal and cultural systems and dual modes of authority. To resolve these challenges, Pacific peoples will have to define which parts of their traditional ethical systems to keep. The dual systems will have to be unified rather than having two opposing systems existing side-by-side.
- Mosmi Bhim, Graduate Assistant, Pacific Institute of Advanced Studies in Development and Governance (PIAS-DG), University of the South Pacific (USP), Suva, Fiji
Footnotes
[1] Meleisea, Malama. (2000). “Governance, Development and Leadership in Polynesia.†In E. Huffer and A. Soâ€TMo (eds.), Governance in Samoa / pulega i Samoa. Canberra, Australia: Asia Pacific Press at the Australian National University, and Institute of Pacific Studies at University of the South Pacific, Suva. p. 190.
[2] Microsoft Encarta Encyclopedia 2002.
[3] Mughan, A., and S.C. Patterson (1991). Political Leadership in Democratic Societies. Chicago: Nelson-Hall Publishers. p. 2.
[4] Ibid. p. 3.
[5] Ibid. p. 9.
[6] Ghai, Yash. (1990). “Constitutional Foundations of Public Administration.†In Y. Ghai (ed.), Public Administration and Management in Small States: Pacific Experiences. Suva, Fiji: The Commonwealth Secretariat and the Institute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific. p. 2.
[7] Helu, â€TMI Futa. (1997). “Tradition and Good Governance.†Canberra, Australia: State, Society and Governance in Melanesia Project, Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National University. p. 1.
[8] Meleisea, Malama. (2000). “Governance, Development and Leadership in Polynesia.†In E. Huffer and A. Soâ€TMo (eds.), Governance in Samoa / pulega i Samoa. Canberra, Australia: Asia Pacific Press at the Australian National University, and Institute of Pacific Studies at University of the South Pacific, Suva. p. 191.
[9] Lawson S. (1997). “Chiefs, Politics, and the Power of Tradition in Contemporary Fiji.†In G.M. White and L. Lindstrom (eds.), Chiefs Today: Traditional Pacific Leadership and the Postcolonial State. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. p. 112.
[10] Haglegam, J. (1998). “Traditional Leaders and Governance in Micronesia.†Canberra, Australia: State, Society and Governance in Melanesia Project, Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National University. p. 1.
[11] Ibid. p. 3.
[12] Ibid. pp. 4-5.
[13] Ghai, Yash. (1990). “Constitutional Foundations of Public Administration.†In Y. Ghai (ed.), Public Administration and Management in Small States: Pacific Experiences. Suva, Fiji: The Commonwealth Secretariat and the Institute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific. p. 3.
[14] Molisa, G.M. (1995). “A Crisis of Leadership.†In H.V. Trease (ed.), Melanesian Politics: Stael Blong Vanuatu. Christchurch: Macmillan Brown Centre for Pacific Studies, University of Canterbury, and Institute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific, Suva. p. 428.
[15] Ibid. pp. 429-431.
[16] Helu, â€TMI Futa. (1997). “Tradition and Good Governance.†Canberra, Australia: State, Society and Governance in Melanesia Project, Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National University. p. 4.
[17] Lindstrom, L., and G.M. White (1997). “Introduction: Chiefs Today.†In L. Lindstrom and G.M. White (eds.), Chiefs Today: Traditional Pacific Leadership and the Postcolonial State. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. p. 3.
[18] White, G.M. (1997). “The Discourse of Chiefs: Notes on a Melanesian Society.†In L. Lindstrom and G.M. White (eds.), Chiefs Today: Traditional Pacific Leadership and the Postcolonial State. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. pp. 231.
[19] Lindstrom, L. (1997). “Chiefs in Vanuatu Today.†In L. Lindstrom and G.M. White (eds.), Chiefs Today: Traditional Pacific Leadership and the Postcolonial State. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. p. 222.
[20] Macpherson, Cluny. (1997). The Persistence of Chiefly Authority in Western Samoa. In L. Lindstrom and G.M. White (eds.), Chiefs Today: Traditional Pacific Leadership and the Postcolonial State. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. pp. 41-42.
[21] Macpherson, Cluny, and Laâ€TMavasa Macpherson (2000). “Where Theory Meets Practice: The Limits of the Good Governance Program.†In E. Huffer and A. Soâ€TMo (eds.), Governance in Samoa / pulega i Samoa. Canberra, Australia: Asia Pacific Press at the Australian National University, and Institute of Pacific Studies at University of the South Pacific, Suva, Suva. p. 32.
[22] James, Kerry. (1997). “Rank and Leadership in Tonga.†In L. Lindstrom and G.M. White (eds.), Chiefs Today: Traditional Pacific Leadership and the Postcolonial State. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. p. 63.
[23] Ibid.
[24] Ibid. p. 66.
[25] Meleisea, Malama. (2000). “Governance, Development and Leadership in Polynesia.†In E. Huffer and A. Soâ€TMo (eds.), Governance in Samoa / pulega i Samoa. Canberra, Australia: Asia Pacific Press at the Australian National University, and Institute of Pacific Studies at University of the South Pacific, Suva. p. 191.
[26] Macpherson, Cluny. (1997). The Persistence of Chiefly Authority in Western Samoa. In L. Lindstrom and G.M. White (eds.), Chiefs Today: Traditional Pacific Leadership and the Postcolonial State. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. p. 45.
[27] Lindstrom, L. (1997). “Chiefs in Vanuatu Today.†In L. Lindstrom and G.M. White (eds.), Chiefs Today: Traditional Pacific Leadership and the Postcolonial State. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. p. 211.
[28] Huffer, Elise, and Grace Molisa (1999). “Governance in Vanuatu: In Search of the Nakamal Way.†Canberra, Australia: State, Society and Governance in Melanesia Project, Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National University. p. 7.
[29] Huffer, Elise, and A. Soâ€TMo (2000). “Introduction.†In E. Huffer and A. Soâ€TMo (eds.), Governance in Samoa / pulega i Samoa. Canberra, Australia: Asia Pacific Press at the Australian National University, and Institute of Pacific Studies at University of the South Pacific, Suva. p. 2.
[30] Meleisea, Malama. (2000). “Governance, Development and Leadership in Polynesia.†In E. Huffer and A. Soâ€TMo (eds.), Governance in Samoa / pulega i Samoa. Canberra, Australia: Asia Pacific Press at the Australian National University, and Institute of Pacific Studies at University of the South Pacific, Suva. p. 192.
[31] Lawson, S. (1993). “Ethnic Politics and the State in Fiji.†Working Paper No. 135. Canberra, Australia: Peace Research Centre, Australian National University. p. 14.
[32] Lindstrom, L. (1997). “Chiefs in Vanuatu Today.†In L. Lindstrom and G.M. White (eds.), Chiefs Today: Traditional Pacific Leadership and the Postcolonial State. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. p. 219.
[33] Helu, â€TMI Futa. (1997). “Tradition and Good Governance.†Canberra, Australia: State, Society and Governance in Melanesia Project, Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National University. p. 2.
[34] Madraiwiwi, Ratu Joni. (2004). “Ethnic Tensions and the Rule of Law: Lessons from Fiji since May 2000.†Speech at the Siwatibau Memorial Lecture, Honiara, Solomon Islands, 16 September.
[35] Schoeffel, Penelope, and Mark Turner (2003). “Local Level Governance in the Pacific.†Canberra, Australia: State, Society and Governance in Melanesia Project, Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National University. p. 5.
[36] Lindstrom, L. (1997). “Chiefs in Vanuatu Today.†In L. Lindstrom and G.M. White (eds.), Chiefs Today: Traditional Pacific Leadership and the Postcolonial State. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. p. 225.
[37] Ibid. pp. 226-227.
[38] Macpherson, Cluny. and Laâ€TMavasa Macpherson (2000). “Where Theory Meets Practice: The Limits of the Good Governance Program.†In E. Huffer and A. Soâ€TMo (eds.), Governance in Samoa / pulega i Samoa. Canberra, Australia: Asia Pacific Press at the Australian National University, and Institute of Pacific Studies at University of the South Pacific, Suva, Suva. p. 28.
[39] Ibid. p. 29.
[40] Ibid. 29-31.
[41] Meleisea, Malama. (2000). “Governance, Development and Leadership in Polynesia.†In E. Huffer and A. Soâ€TMo (eds.), Governance in Samoa / pulega i Samoa. Canberra, Australia: Asia Pacific Press at the Australian National University, and Institute of Pacific Studies at University of the South Pacific, Suva. pp. 193.
[42] Huffer, Elise, and Grace Molisa (1999). “Governance in Vanuatu: In Search of the Nakamal Way.†Canberra, Australia: State, Society and Governance in Melanesia Project, Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National University. p. 7.
[43] Goldsmith, M. (2000). “Codes of Governance in the Pacific.†In E. Huffer and A. Soâ€TMo (eds.), Governance in Samoa / pulega i Samoa. Canberra, Australia: Asia Pacific Press at the Australian National University, and Institute of Pacific Studies at University of the South Pacific. p. 11.
[44] Schoeffel, Penelope, and Mark Turner (2003). “Local Level Governance in the Pacific.†Canberra, Australia: State, Society and Governance in Melanesia Project, Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National University. p. 4.
[45] Ibid. p. 2.
[46] Ibid. p. 3.
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