If the Kingdom of Tonga was not part of our neighbourhood, and Tongans such a rich part of New Zealand society, it would be hard to believe the goings-on in that odd little country. If it were located, say, in South America or the Caribbean or Southeast Asia, who would take such a place seriously? A country which, in the 21st century, is ruled by an all-powerful monarch and his family who parade in Victorian military splendour, bedecked in medals and sashes, overseeing a feudal society in which a class of nobles dominates, where wealth and commercial rights are held by the few, where an international huckster is anointed court jester and runs off with the royal millions and numerous pie-in-the-sky schemes soak up millions more. A country which would be one of the poorest on the planet, without remittances from its diaspora in New Zealand, Australia and the United States keeping it afloat.
If such a place existed on the other side of the world, it would be assumed to be an anachronism certain to face change in this age of globalisation, of velvet, orange and cedar revolutions by people power. Anyone observing the scuffles, protests and melodramatics outside the King's Auckland home this week - amid news of arsons of cars and buildings back in Tonga - might think the tapa revolution was upon us.
That is unlikely. The civil service strike which has precipitated demonstrations and some misguided direct action against the regime is a symptom of Tonga's economic and constitutional failings. But those failings have prompted popular disquiet for years. The current conflict is more dramatic than past movements for change, enhanced perhaps by the King's absence from Nuku'alofa in Auckland for medical care and the anger of Auckland-based agitators. New Zealand has sent an envoy, Judge Tom Goddard, to mediate between the Government and striking civil servants if the parties can even agree to his involvement. The workers want pay rises of between 60 and 80 per cent, to reflect the jumps in mandarins' salaries. That would place an unsustainable burden on an already fragile national budget. In the way of these things, a mediated settlement could involve temporary help from third parties like the Pacific Forum, but such band-aids cannot last.
Tonga's rulers need to consider the bigger picture. They are insulated from an overwhelming popular uprising by a cultural reverence for the position of King. He is 87 and battling chronic illness. Once he is gone, his unloved son and heir, Crown Prince Tupouto'a, will face a new range of sentiment. Thirteen years ago the country held its first convention on temokalati (democracy), boycotted by the Government. Little has happened since that peaceful but fervent gathering to reduce inequality on the islands. Commoners still have limited voting rights, most are poor and the elite live well. In 1992, speakers raised the possibility of transforming the monarchy into something akin to the Japanese system, through evolution, not revolution.
A former New Zealand diplomat, Dr Guy Powles, told the convention: "The monarch has governed with a relatively benign and gentle hand. Now it is a question as to how to protect the interests of the people against the possibility of a less-enlightened and more interventionist ruler."
Today's troubles make those words more pertinent than ever. If ever a ruling family has an opportunity to preserve itself in a more limited role by consultation, this is it. Otherwise, in that great truism of dissent, the royals will find that each time the tide comes in, it comes further up the beach. And Nuku'alofa's beachfront royal palace sits just above the high-water mark.
<EM>Editorial:</EM> Royals must change or be swept away
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