*There is also a credibility issue that cannot be ignored. Niko Nawaikula is a former Member of Parliament who served a prison sentence for abuse of parliamentary travel allowances. That record does not automatically invalidate his views, but it does invite caution when he advances proposals that concentrate power in institutions less directly accountable to voters
   |  To the Speakers Nilesh Lal, Graham Leung & Hon Manoa Kamikamica, thank you for sharing your expert views that has truly empowered us all.  |
A Return to the Past, Disguised as Reform: Why Niko Nawaikula's Re-Ethnicising the Constitution Risks Fragmentation And Not Unity
Niko Nawaikula’s proposal is framed as a restoration of indigenous safeguards removed by the 2013 Constitution of Fiji. In substance, however, it seeks to reintroduce constitutional mechanisms, consent requirements, chiefly oversight, and group-based privileges that belong to an earlier era under the 1997 Constitution of Fiji and 1970 Constitution of Fiji.
That earlier framework was shaped by a specific demographic and political reality: iTaukei were not always a clear majority, and constitutional protections were justified as a buffer against marginalisation. Today, that premise has shifted. iTaukei are the majority. The question, therefore, is no longer one of protection from others, but how power is organised within that majority itself.
This is the point Nawaikula’s argument does not confront.
Reintroducing group-based constitutional privileges in a context where one group is numerically dominant does not stabilise the system; it alters the fault lines. Instead of mediating between communities, the Constitution begins to structure competition within the majority. In Fiji’s case, that means between provinces, confederacies, and chiefly networks, each with its own history, hierarchy, and claims to legitimacy.
The rhetoric already offers early warning signs. Labels such as “Natewa Vikings” or “Naitasiri hill tribes”, whatever their immediate political use, point to a deeper risk: the re-tribalisation of political identity. Once the Constitution elevates group authority, it does not stop neatly at a single category. It invites further subdivision who speaks for the group, which province carries weight, whose chiefs sit at the apex, and whose do not.
Comparative experience, particularly in parts of Africa, shows how quickly such dynamics can harden. Where constitutions or political systems privilege identity as a basis of authority, competition often shifts from national politics to intra-group rivalry - sometimes along regional or tribal lines. The result is not cohesion but fragmentation, with institutions drawn into disputes they are ill-equipped to resolve.
Fiji has already seen how perceptions of entitlement can destabilise constitutional order. The coups of 1987 and 2000 were not simply reactions to policy differences; they were triggered, in part, by a belief that political authority was shifting in ways that threatened established expectations, most notably with the election of Dr Timoci Bavadra in 1987 and Mahendra Chaudhry a decade later.
Those events illustrate a broader principle. When political power is seen as something that must be secured for a particular group, whether through constitutional design or informal expectation, any perceived loss of that power becomes a flashpoint. Reintroducing constitutional privileges now, in a majority context, risks replicating that dynamic within the iTaukei community itself.
The proposal to elevate the Great Council of Chiefs into a national reviewing authority intensifies this risk. Far from acting as a neutral “unifying” institution, it would inevitably reflect internal balances of influence: which provinces dominate, how representation is allocated, and whose voices carry decisive weight. Instead of resolving disputes, it could become the arena in which they are fought.
None of this is to deny the importance of indigenous identity, land, or cultural autonomy. These are central to Fiji’s history and remain protected in law. The issue is how they are embedded within the Constitution. There is a clear difference between recognition and constitutional supremacy. The former can coexist with equal citizenship; the latter strains it.
Nawaikula’s reliance on instruments such as United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples and ILO Convention 169 does not bridge that gap. These frameworks support protection and consultation. They do not mandate political structures that elevate one group, or its internal subdivisions, above the general constitutional order.
There is also the matter of judgment. Proposals of this scale require not only historical awareness but a steady appreciation of institutional consequences.
Nawaikula’s own record, including his conviction for abuse of parliamentary travel allowances, is not determinative of the argument, but it does underscore the need for caution when power is to be concentrated in less directly accountable bodies.
The deeper point is this. Fiji’s stability depends less on returning to older constitutional formulas than on managing diversity within a shared civic framework. Once the Constitution begins to organise power around identity, especially within a majority, it risks multiplying the very divisions it seeks to contain.
A durable constitutional order does not attempt to freeze history or privilege one narrative over others. It recognises identity without allowing it to become the organising principle of political authority.
Nawaikula’s proposal, for all its invocation of tradition, moves in the opposite direction. It risks turning difference into structure, and structure into division.
Niko Nawaikula’s proposal is framed as a restoration of indigenous safeguards removed by the 2013 Constitution of Fiji. In substance, however, it seeks to reintroduce constitutional mechanisms, consent requirements, chiefly oversight, and group-based privileges that belong to an earlier era under the 1997 Constitution of Fiji and 1970 Constitution of Fiji.
That earlier framework was shaped by a specific demographic and political reality: iTaukei were not always a clear majority, and constitutional protections were justified as a buffer against marginalisation. Today, that premise has shifted. iTaukei are the majority. The question, therefore, is no longer one of protection from others, but how power is organised within that majority itself.
This is the point Nawaikula’s argument does not confront.
Reintroducing group-based constitutional privileges in a context where one group is numerically dominant does not stabilise the system; it alters the fault lines. Instead of mediating between communities, the Constitution begins to structure competition within the majority. In Fiji’s case, that means between provinces, confederacies, and chiefly networks, each with its own history, hierarchy, and claims to legitimacy.
The rhetoric already offers early warning signs. Labels such as “Natewa Vikings” or “Naitasiri hill tribes”, whatever their immediate political use, point to a deeper risk: the re-tribalisation of political identity. Once the Constitution elevates group authority, it does not stop neatly at a single category. It invites further subdivision who speaks for the group, which province carries weight, whose chiefs sit at the apex, and whose do not.
Comparative experience, particularly in parts of Africa, shows how quickly such dynamics can harden. Where constitutions or political systems privilege identity as a basis of authority, competition often shifts from national politics to intra-group rivalry - sometimes along regional or tribal lines. The result is not cohesion but fragmentation, with institutions drawn into disputes they are ill-equipped to resolve.
Fiji has already seen how perceptions of entitlement can destabilise constitutional order. The coups of 1987 and 2000 were not simply reactions to policy differences; they were triggered, in part, by a belief that political authority was shifting in ways that threatened established expectations, most notably with the election of Dr Timoci Bavadra in 1987 and Mahendra Chaudhry a decade later.
Those events illustrate a broader principle. When political power is seen as something that must be secured for a particular group, whether through constitutional design or informal expectation, any perceived loss of that power becomes a flashpoint. Reintroducing constitutional privileges now, in a majority context, risks replicating that dynamic within the iTaukei community itself.
The proposal to elevate the Great Council of Chiefs into a national reviewing authority intensifies this risk. Far from acting as a neutral “unifying” institution, it would inevitably reflect internal balances of influence: which provinces dominate, how representation is allocated, and whose voices carry decisive weight. Instead of resolving disputes, it could become the arena in which they are fought.
None of this is to deny the importance of indigenous identity, land, or cultural autonomy. These are central to Fiji’s history and remain protected in law. The issue is how they are embedded within the Constitution. There is a clear difference between recognition and constitutional supremacy. The former can coexist with equal citizenship; the latter strains it.
Nawaikula’s reliance on instruments such as United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples and ILO Convention 169 does not bridge that gap. These frameworks support protection and consultation. They do not mandate political structures that elevate one group, or its internal subdivisions, above the general constitutional order.
There is also the matter of judgment. Proposals of this scale require not only historical awareness but a steady appreciation of institutional consequences.
Nawaikula’s own record, including his conviction for abuse of parliamentary travel allowances, is not determinative of the argument, but it does underscore the need for caution when power is to be concentrated in less directly accountable bodies.
The deeper point is this. Fiji’s stability depends less on returning to older constitutional formulas than on managing diversity within a shared civic framework. Once the Constitution begins to organise power around identity, especially within a majority, it risks multiplying the very divisions it seeks to contain.
A durable constitutional order does not attempt to freeze history or privilege one narrative over others. It recognises identity without allowing it to become the organising principle of political authority.
Nawaikula’s proposal, for all its invocation of tradition, moves in the opposite direction. It risks turning difference into structure, and structure into division.
 |  |
The above question was the primary topic of my speech during the Talanoa Session on Amending the 2013 Constitution of Fiji held last Friday at FNU, Nasinu Campus. I answered that by posing and addressing the following questions: where in the 1997 Constitution of Fiji and 1970 Constitution of Fiji can one find recognition and protection of iTaukei indigenous cultural and ethnic identity and group rights which the authors of the 2013 Constitution rejected; what is the history of recognition and protection of iTaukei cultural and group identity; why these were left out by the authors of the 2013 Constitution; whether they should be restored and the justification for their restoration under the proposed constitutional amendment; and finally, how such restoration should be reflected in the planned amendment.
On the first question—where in the 1997 and 1970 Constitutions can one find recognition and protection of iTaukei indigenous cultural and ethnic identity and group rights which the authors of the 2013 Constitution rejected—I stated that there are a total of seven provisions in the 1997 Constitution that deal with the recognition, protection, and advancement of iTaukei interests, all of which were deliberately left out of the 2013 Constitution.
First, Chapter 13, section 185 deals with group rights. This provision introduced a form of protection now consistent with instruments such as United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples and ILO Convention 169, requiring consultation and prior informed consent before legislation affecting iTaukei land rights and cultural autonomy could be introduced or amended. It provided that legislation concerning the Native Lands Act, Native Land Trust Act, Fijian Affairs Act, and Fijian Development Fund Act could not be amended without approval from the majority of GCC members in the Senate. This provision was deliberately excluded from the 2013 Constitution.
Secondly, section 186 dealt with customary laws and customary rights, requiring Parliament to recognise and provide for customary law and customary dispute resolution. This too was entirely omitted from the 2013 Constitution.
Thirdly, Chapter 8, section 116 gave constitutional recognition to the Great Council of Chiefs and its role in appointing and disciplining the President. This provision did not find a place in the 2013 Constitution.
Fourthly, section 90 recognised the role of the GCC in appointing the President and Vice-President, while section 93 recognised its role in their removal. Both provisions were excluded from the 2013 Constitution.
Sixthly, section 64 recognised the GCC’s role in appointing over 43 per cent of the Senate. This too was removed.
Seventhly, Chapter 5, section 44 recognised social justice and affirmative action. This provision was used to justify policies such as scholarship allocations, employment distribution in the civil service, and commercial assistance programmes. It was also omitted from the 2013 Constitution.
I then turned to the 1970 Constitution. There are two important provisions that relate specifically to the protection of group rights through prior consent before amendments to legislation affecting indigenous Fijians. Section 66 identified key legislation relating to iTaukei land and cultural autonomy, including the iTaukei Lands Act, the iTaukei Lands Trust Act, and the iTaukei Affairs Act. It required that such legislation could not be amended unless approved by six of the eight GCC members in the Senate appointed under section 45(1). Both sections 66 and 45(1) were removed and do not appear in the 2013 Constitution.
In answer to the first question, therefore, there are two provisions in the 1970 Constitution and seven in the 1997 Constitution that deal with the recognition, protection, and advancement of iTaukei identity and group rights, all of which were rejected by the authors of the 2013 Constitution.
On the second question—what is the history of recognition and protection of iTaukei cultural and group identity—I expressed that, as an iTaukei, I am deeply saddened by the deliberate removal of these protections. The acquisition of Fiji as a colony was historically grounded in the recognition and protection of iTaukei land rights and cultural autonomy. This principle, often described as the paramountcy of iTaukei interests or native policy, is reflected in several key instruments.
The first is the Deed of Cession 1874, particularly clauses 4 and 7, which contain the Crown’s promise to protect land rights and cultural autonomy. The second is the Native Lands Ordinance of 1882 and the Native Affairs Ordinance of 1876, which formalised those commitments into law. These provided not merely recognition but enforceable legal protection of iTaukei land rights and cultural systems.
These same group rights—land rights and cultural autonomy—are now recognised under modern international frameworks such as UNDRIP and ILO Convention 169, yet they were embedded in Fiji’s legal system more than a century earlier. They were also reflected in sections 66 and 45(1) of the 1970 Constitution and in section 185 of the 1997 Constitution through the requirement of prior informed consent. These are the very protections that the 2013 Constitution has removed.
On the third question—why these protections were left out—I argued that their removal was intentional. In my parliamentary debates, I consistently maintained that the 2013 Constitution formed part of a broader policy to dilute or eliminate iTaukei identity within a framework of common and equal citizenry. Although this was never explicitly acknowledged by the former Attorney-General, the content of the Constitution and subsequent legislative measures suggest a deliberate move away from recognition of customary law, cultural autonomy, and group rights.
On the fourth question—whether these protections should be restored—I answered in the affirmative. The recognition of iTaukei identity, culture, and social structure is deeply rooted in Fiji’s history and legal development. Their removal is, in my view, unjustified and inconsistent with both historical commitments and international norms. The restoration of these provisions is therefore necessary.
Finally, on how such restoration should be reflected in a constitutional amendment, I proposed that the Constitution should include express recognition of indigenous group rights within the Bill of Rights, guided by international instruments such as UNDRIP and ILO Convention 169, while balancing these with the rights of other communities. It should restore provisions recognising customary law, reintroduce mechanisms for prior informed consent before legislation affecting iTaukei interests, and provide for social justice and affirmative action measures.
I further proposed that the GCC be reconstituted with a new national role, effectively replacing the Senate as a reviewing body. In this model, the GCC would act not only for iTaukei but as a unifying national institution, reviewing legislation and ensuring that government actions are consistent with the interests of all communities.
In conclusion, I stated that there are nine instances of constitutional recognition and protection of iTaukei identity and group rights found in the 1970 and 1997 Constitutions which were rejected in 2013. These protections were historically grounded in colonial law and policy and should now be restored through constitutional amendment. The reformed GCC, in particular, should assume a central national role, serving not only iTaukei but all who call Fiji home.
Vinaka.
On the first question—where in the 1997 and 1970 Constitutions can one find recognition and protection of iTaukei indigenous cultural and ethnic identity and group rights which the authors of the 2013 Constitution rejected—I stated that there are a total of seven provisions in the 1997 Constitution that deal with the recognition, protection, and advancement of iTaukei interests, all of which were deliberately left out of the 2013 Constitution.
First, Chapter 13, section 185 deals with group rights. This provision introduced a form of protection now consistent with instruments such as United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples and ILO Convention 169, requiring consultation and prior informed consent before legislation affecting iTaukei land rights and cultural autonomy could be introduced or amended. It provided that legislation concerning the Native Lands Act, Native Land Trust Act, Fijian Affairs Act, and Fijian Development Fund Act could not be amended without approval from the majority of GCC members in the Senate. This provision was deliberately excluded from the 2013 Constitution.
Secondly, section 186 dealt with customary laws and customary rights, requiring Parliament to recognise and provide for customary law and customary dispute resolution. This too was entirely omitted from the 2013 Constitution.
Thirdly, Chapter 8, section 116 gave constitutional recognition to the Great Council of Chiefs and its role in appointing and disciplining the President. This provision did not find a place in the 2013 Constitution.
Fourthly, section 90 recognised the role of the GCC in appointing the President and Vice-President, while section 93 recognised its role in their removal. Both provisions were excluded from the 2013 Constitution.
Sixthly, section 64 recognised the GCC’s role in appointing over 43 per cent of the Senate. This too was removed.
Seventhly, Chapter 5, section 44 recognised social justice and affirmative action. This provision was used to justify policies such as scholarship allocations, employment distribution in the civil service, and commercial assistance programmes. It was also omitted from the 2013 Constitution.
I then turned to the 1970 Constitution. There are two important provisions that relate specifically to the protection of group rights through prior consent before amendments to legislation affecting indigenous Fijians. Section 66 identified key legislation relating to iTaukei land and cultural autonomy, including the iTaukei Lands Act, the iTaukei Lands Trust Act, and the iTaukei Affairs Act. It required that such legislation could not be amended unless approved by six of the eight GCC members in the Senate appointed under section 45(1). Both sections 66 and 45(1) were removed and do not appear in the 2013 Constitution.
In answer to the first question, therefore, there are two provisions in the 1970 Constitution and seven in the 1997 Constitution that deal with the recognition, protection, and advancement of iTaukei identity and group rights, all of which were rejected by the authors of the 2013 Constitution.
On the second question—what is the history of recognition and protection of iTaukei cultural and group identity—I expressed that, as an iTaukei, I am deeply saddened by the deliberate removal of these protections. The acquisition of Fiji as a colony was historically grounded in the recognition and protection of iTaukei land rights and cultural autonomy. This principle, often described as the paramountcy of iTaukei interests or native policy, is reflected in several key instruments.
The first is the Deed of Cession 1874, particularly clauses 4 and 7, which contain the Crown’s promise to protect land rights and cultural autonomy. The second is the Native Lands Ordinance of 1882 and the Native Affairs Ordinance of 1876, which formalised those commitments into law. These provided not merely recognition but enforceable legal protection of iTaukei land rights and cultural systems.
These same group rights—land rights and cultural autonomy—are now recognised under modern international frameworks such as UNDRIP and ILO Convention 169, yet they were embedded in Fiji’s legal system more than a century earlier. They were also reflected in sections 66 and 45(1) of the 1970 Constitution and in section 185 of the 1997 Constitution through the requirement of prior informed consent. These are the very protections that the 2013 Constitution has removed.
On the third question—why these protections were left out—I argued that their removal was intentional. In my parliamentary debates, I consistently maintained that the 2013 Constitution formed part of a broader policy to dilute or eliminate iTaukei identity within a framework of common and equal citizenry. Although this was never explicitly acknowledged by the former Attorney-General, the content of the Constitution and subsequent legislative measures suggest a deliberate move away from recognition of customary law, cultural autonomy, and group rights.
On the fourth question—whether these protections should be restored—I answered in the affirmative. The recognition of iTaukei identity, culture, and social structure is deeply rooted in Fiji’s history and legal development. Their removal is, in my view, unjustified and inconsistent with both historical commitments and international norms. The restoration of these provisions is therefore necessary.
Finally, on how such restoration should be reflected in a constitutional amendment, I proposed that the Constitution should include express recognition of indigenous group rights within the Bill of Rights, guided by international instruments such as UNDRIP and ILO Convention 169, while balancing these with the rights of other communities. It should restore provisions recognising customary law, reintroduce mechanisms for prior informed consent before legislation affecting iTaukei interests, and provide for social justice and affirmative action measures.
I further proposed that the GCC be reconstituted with a new national role, effectively replacing the Senate as a reviewing body. In this model, the GCC would act not only for iTaukei but as a unifying national institution, reviewing legislation and ensuring that government actions are consistent with the interests of all communities.
In conclusion, I stated that there are nine instances of constitutional recognition and protection of iTaukei identity and group rights found in the 1970 and 1997 Constitutions which were rejected in 2013. These protections were historically grounded in colonial law and policy and should now be restored through constitutional amendment. The reformed GCC, in particular, should assume a central national role, serving not only iTaukei but all who call Fiji home.
Vinaka.
