With their ivory beaches, turquoise lagoons and somnolent pace of life, the Cocos (Keeling) Islands seem like a castaway's paradise.
But rebellion is stirring on the sun-baked coral cays, with residents of the Indian Ocean territory accusing Australia of modern-day colonialism.
Canberra's most vocal critic is John Clunies-Ross, whose family ruled Cocos for 150 years with the blessing of the British Crown.
His father was forced to sell the remote atolls to Australia in 1978, after pressure from the United Nations, and in 1984 the islanders voted for full integration with the mainland.
More than 25 years on, Clunies-Ross - still on Cocos, despite being deprived of his birthright - claims Australia has yet to realise that vision for the external territory.
"The place was sold on a false promise," he said this week. "We pay our taxes, but where is our political voice? We don't have full equality with the mainland; we're not even treated like citizens."
Like its larger, better known neighbour, Christmas Island, Cocos - about 3000km northwest of Perth - is Canberra's responsibility but is also subject to Western Australian laws.
To complicate matters, Christmas and Cocos are represented at national level by a Northern Territory politician.
Australia's westernmost outpost, Cocos consists of two main islands: Home Island, inhabited by 500 Muslim "Cocos Malays", the descendants of indentured labourers from Malaya and Java, and West Island, home to 100 or so Europeans, mainly Australian government contractors.
The labourers were imported to work on copra plantations established by the first John Clunies-Ross, a Scottish seafarer who settled on Cocos in 1827. Five successive generations ran the islands like a fiefdom, and locals who left were not allowed to return. The family provided education and medical services, and even had its own criminal court.
When the UN-sponsored vote was staged, Cocos Malays were offered the choice of independence, free association with Australia or full integration. They opted for the latter, not least because Canberra had promised everyone a new house. While living standards have undoubtedly risen since then, the locals now suffer from diabetes, obesity and heart disease. And with nothing to replace the defunct copra industry, up to 70 per cent of Home Islanders are on the dole.
Some believe they were better off under a benevolent autocracy. Parson bin Yapat, one of two elders who addressed the UN's decolonisation committee in the 1980s, disagrees. "They pushed the workers very hard and they paid us in plastic money [redeemable only at the company store]," he said.
English-educated Clunies-Ross, groomed to reign over the miniature coral kingdom, defends the way the islands were administered.
"We looked after the community, generation after generation, pretty well - bloody well compared with some Aboriginal communities," he said.
"We had 100 per cent employment, 100 per cent health care, pensions, paid holidays, all the things people aspire to these days as the touchstone of social democracy.
"I can't say it was perfect. But to get 500 or 600 people all working in one direction, with an obvious community spirit and a lively cultural and social life ... you would be hard pressed to find a better run, happier community anywhere in the world.
"The only thing it wasn't was a social democracy. Now they have social democracy, but everything else has gone."
First spotted in 1609 by an English sea captain, William Keeling, the islands were accidentally annexed in 1857 by a Royal Navy officer, who mistook them for the Cocos Islands of the Andamans. They were granted to the Clunies-Rosses in perpetuity by Queen Victoria in 1886; Australia assumed sovereignty in 1955.
Having sold up for A$6.25 million, Clunies-Ross's father, John, sunk the proceeds into a shipping line, which collapsed in 1986.
The family had to give up their ancestral mansion, Oceania House, with its eight bedrooms, solid teak panelling, ballroom, spiral staircase and 5ha of walled gardens.
Clunies-Ross senior now lives in Perth. His son occupies a modest bungalow on West Island, where he farms giant clams. The 52-year-old claims not to be bitter about the way things turned out.
"This isn't the end of my family's story," he said. "It's just a different chapter, or perhaps a different book."
Clunies-Ross is considering legal action to force a review of the integration process, which - if fundamental flaws were found - could theoretically trigger a new vote.
He favours free association, which would see ownership of the land and fisheries revert to the Cocos Malays.
Equally pressing, though, is the need to secure the territory's economic future. A parliamentary inquiry last year recommended developing its tiny tourism industry. However, given Cocos' size (14sq km) and remoteness, it is unlikely to become the next Bali.
Observers believe Australia will never abandon Cocos, thanks to its strategic importance.
Whether Canberra cares if the place has a permanent population is another question. It costs about A$40,000 ($52,500) a head to deliver services to Cocos. One local says: "They're just waiting for a big cyclone to come and knock us all off."
Promise begins to pall in paradise
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