An Unforgivable Abdication
*Now, in the wake of the Commission of Inquiry's revelations, the same media houses that refused to investigate are enthusiastically publishing cherry-picked extracts from a redacted version of the report, released by Prime Minister Sitiveni Rabuka himself. What they will not tell their readers is this: they had the chance to break [or atleast follow up] this story — and they didn’t. They buried it. The media is not merely a bystander in Fiji’s democracy. It is a co-equal pillar, with a legal and civic duty to expose wrongdoing, not enable it. When that duty is cast aside, public institutions become playgrounds for impunity.
*The real scandal isn’t just what politicians and officials did behind closed doors. It’s that they were allowed to do it without fear of exposure, because Fiji’s press corps — by and large — fetishizes proximity to power. Investigative reporting has been replaced by access journalism.
   When future generations ask how a scandal of this scale was allowed to fester in plain sight, we must answer honestly: because the watchdogs chose to sleep. The Commission of Inquiry Report has peeled back the facade of respectability that surrounded Fiji’s governing institutions. It has exposed deceit, concealment, and a systematic abuse of power. Yet the most glaring institutional failure not directly named in the report is one that enabled this all along: the collapse of independent journalism in Fiji. |    |
Let us be specific.
Not a single mainstream media outlet investigated the highly questionable appointment of Barbara Malimali as Commissioner of FICAC. None asked what qualified her. None reported that she had been barred from practising in Tuvalu, a disqualifying fact in any credible jurisdiction. Instead, when FICAC officer Francis Puleiwai did what the law required and arrested Malimali on 5 September 2024, the Fiji media shamefully ran Graham Leung’s public attack on Puleiwai with top billing — without fact-checking, without balance, and without scrutiny of Leung’s own conflicts of interest.
This was not journalism. It was public relations — for power.
Now, in the wake of the Commission’s revelations, the same media houses that refused to investigate are enthusiastically publishing cherry-picked extracts from a redacted version of the report, released by Prime Minister Sitiveni Rabuka himself. What they will not tell their readers is this: they had the chance to break this story — and they didn’t. They buried it.
An Unforgivable Abdication
What happened here was not a passive failure of judgment. It was an active choice to look away, to avoid controversy, to shield the politically connected. The appointment of a disqualified individual to the country’s top anti-corruption body should have triggered national outrage and front-page headlines. Instead, it received silence — because the truth was inconvenient, and those in charge were untouchable.
This is a constitutional matter. The media is not merely a bystander in Fiji’s democracy. It is a co-equal pillar, with a legal and civic duty to expose wrongdoing, not enable it. When that duty is cast aside, public institutions become playgrounds for impunity.
The Fiji media’s role in this saga is not peripheral. It is central.
The Cult of Power and Proximity
The real scandal isn’t just what politicians and officials did behind closed doors. It’s that they were allowed to do it without fear of exposure, because Fiji’s press corps — by and large — fetishizes proximity to power. Investigative reporting has been replaced by access journalism. Public accountability has been drowned out by “he said, she said” stenography. Worse still, some editors have become outright gatekeepers of what the public is allowed to know — filtering the news through layers of political caution and advertiser influence.
And when someone dares speak up — like the FICAC officer who arrested Malimali — they are vilified, not vindicated.
The Dangerous Illusion of “Neutrality”
Too many in the press have fallen back on the illusion of “neutrality.” But neutrality in the face of corruption is not objectivity. It is complicity. The media is not neutral between truth and falsehood, between legality and abuse, between impunity and accountability.
To print unverified attacks on a law enforcement officer doing their duty — and to never follow up with an investigation into the credibility of the person protected — is not journalism. It is a betrayal of the public trust.
A Call to Reckon — and Reform
Fiji needs a media reckoning. A review of editorial failures. A public apology to the people of Fiji. A renewed commitment to fearless, evidence-based reporting that serves the public interest — not political patrons.
Newsrooms must retool. Journalists must be trained in public law, ethics, and investigative technique. Editorial independence must be rebuilt from the rubble. And civil society must demand it.
This isn’t just about one scandal. It’s about whether Fiji still has a functioning democracy. Because a press that is silent when power breaks the law is not a press at all — it is camouflage for corruption.
The people were misled. The media knew — or should have known. Their silence helped protect a lie. Now, as the truth unfolds, Fiji must remember who told it — and who didn’t.
Not a single mainstream media outlet investigated the highly questionable appointment of Barbara Malimali as Commissioner of FICAC. None asked what qualified her. None reported that she had been barred from practising in Tuvalu, a disqualifying fact in any credible jurisdiction. Instead, when FICAC officer Francis Puleiwai did what the law required and arrested Malimali on 5 September 2024, the Fiji media shamefully ran Graham Leung’s public attack on Puleiwai with top billing — without fact-checking, without balance, and without scrutiny of Leung’s own conflicts of interest.
This was not journalism. It was public relations — for power.
Now, in the wake of the Commission’s revelations, the same media houses that refused to investigate are enthusiastically publishing cherry-picked extracts from a redacted version of the report, released by Prime Minister Sitiveni Rabuka himself. What they will not tell their readers is this: they had the chance to break this story — and they didn’t. They buried it.
An Unforgivable Abdication
What happened here was not a passive failure of judgment. It was an active choice to look away, to avoid controversy, to shield the politically connected. The appointment of a disqualified individual to the country’s top anti-corruption body should have triggered national outrage and front-page headlines. Instead, it received silence — because the truth was inconvenient, and those in charge were untouchable.
This is a constitutional matter. The media is not merely a bystander in Fiji’s democracy. It is a co-equal pillar, with a legal and civic duty to expose wrongdoing, not enable it. When that duty is cast aside, public institutions become playgrounds for impunity.
The Fiji media’s role in this saga is not peripheral. It is central.
The Cult of Power and Proximity
The real scandal isn’t just what politicians and officials did behind closed doors. It’s that they were allowed to do it without fear of exposure, because Fiji’s press corps — by and large — fetishizes proximity to power. Investigative reporting has been replaced by access journalism. Public accountability has been drowned out by “he said, she said” stenography. Worse still, some editors have become outright gatekeepers of what the public is allowed to know — filtering the news through layers of political caution and advertiser influence.
And when someone dares speak up — like the FICAC officer who arrested Malimali — they are vilified, not vindicated.
The Dangerous Illusion of “Neutrality”
Too many in the press have fallen back on the illusion of “neutrality.” But neutrality in the face of corruption is not objectivity. It is complicity. The media is not neutral between truth and falsehood, between legality and abuse, between impunity and accountability.
To print unverified attacks on a law enforcement officer doing their duty — and to never follow up with an investigation into the credibility of the person protected — is not journalism. It is a betrayal of the public trust.
A Call to Reckon — and Reform
Fiji needs a media reckoning. A review of editorial failures. A public apology to the people of Fiji. A renewed commitment to fearless, evidence-based reporting that serves the public interest — not political patrons.
Newsrooms must retool. Journalists must be trained in public law, ethics, and investigative technique. Editorial independence must be rebuilt from the rubble. And civil society must demand it.
This isn’t just about one scandal. It’s about whether Fiji still has a functioning democracy. Because a press that is silent when power breaks the law is not a press at all — it is camouflage for corruption.
The people were misled. The media knew — or should have known. Their silence helped protect a lie. Now, as the truth unfolds, Fiji must remember who told it — and who didn’t.
2008: Fiji Sun columnist Victor Lal and the paper's late Publisher Russell Hunter win the prestigious Robert Keith-Reid Award for Outstanding Journalism: |  |
2025: The current Fiji Sun publisher is yet to publish an Opinion Piece by our Editor-in-Chief and the paper's former Opinion Columnist on Biman Prasad's threat to bring back media control. According to highly placed sources in the media industry, Prasad has allegedly threatened the Fiji Sun that any adverse commentary against him will result in him reviving the $1million defamation suit he had filed against the old guard.
Biman Prasad’s Media Threats Cloaked as Concern? Journalists Must Stand Firm
From VICTOR LAL at Oxford
When Finance Minister Biman Prasad appeared to caution the media about what he termed “misinformation” and suggested consequences for irresponsible reporting, the alarm bells rang across Fiji’s press corps. He may argue—perhaps sincerely—that his concern lies with the spread of fake news, particularly on social media. But that concern, however valid, cannot justify rhetoric that chills press freedom or threatens professional journalists.
We must make an important distinction here. Social media disinformation is a global challenge. It can mislead, distort, and provoke. Governments are right to be concerned about its impact. But conflating that problem with independent journalism is dangerous—and deliberate or not, it risks undermining the public’s trust in both the media and in democratic institutions.
If Minister Prasad is troubled by fake news, he should support media literacy, invest in fact-checking bodies, and engage constructively with the press.
What he must not do is issue statements that blur the line between criticism and intimidation. Language matters—especially when spoken by a senior member of the Cabinet. Warnings to the media, couched as concern, still carry the weight of threat. Journalists, for their part, should not overreact—but neither should they downplay the implications. The best defence against claims of misinformation is rigorous, ethical reporting. Let the facts speak. But when those in power appear to equate journalism with propaganda or misinformation, the response must be swift, united, and unapologetically clear: we will not be silenced.
There is room for dialogue. There is space for accountability on all sides. But there is no room for threats—no matter how politely phrased. The moment a government official hints at “consequences” for the media, a red line is crossed.
The minister’s concern about disinformation may be genuine. His choice of words, however, was reckless. The press in Fiji has fought hard for its voice. It must not be bullied into submission—by fear, by inference, or by the selective misuse of the term “fake news.”
This is a moment for the media to reaffirm its role. Not to provoke, but to persist. Not to retreat, but to report—with courage, and without compromise. In a chilling turn for Fijian democracy, Biman Prasad — once a vocal champion of media freedom — is now moving to silence the very institutions that helped restore it.
Recent signals from him indicate a push for tighter control over Fiji’s media, including the possible return of licensing regimes, restrictions on investigative reporting, and harsher penalties for what the government brands as “misinformation.”
Let’s call this what it is: a betrayal of principle and a dangerous slide into authoritarianism, dressed up in the language of national interest.
From Reformer to Enforcer
For years, Prasad positioned himself as a liberal reformer — a voice against the censorship and media intimidation of the Bainimarama era. He denounced the draconian Media Industry Development Decree, praised journalists as guardians of truth, and demanded space for dissent and critique.
But now that the media’s spotlight has turned to him — questioning his conflicts of interest, financial disclosures, and alleged interference in independent bodies — Prasad appears to be abandoning that high ground. The same free press he once defended is now, in his words, “divisive,” “irresponsible,” and “a threat to stability.”
It is not lost on the public that those now calling for tighter media control are the very ones facing hard questions.
The Dangers of Muzzling the Press
History — both in Fiji and abroad — teaches us that when governments move to control journalism, corruption flourishes, public trust collapses, and democracy becomes an illusion.
The media’s job is not to flatter those in power, but to challenge them. To investigate, expose, and inform. When journalists uncover mismanagement, abuse of power, or hidden financial entanglements, they are doing their duty — not committing a crime.
To suppress the press is to suppress accountability, and to turn politics into a closed shop for the powerful.
Not in the People’s Name
Let us be clear: there is no public mandate for media repression. Fijians have lived through years of gag orders, press intimidation, and newsroom raids. We know what it feels like to have our information filtered, our voices silenced, and our truths buried. We also know that the restoration of media freedom after the 2022 elections was one of the few bright lights in our democratic journey.
If Biman Prasad believes he can use his platform to bully editors, threaten journalists, or push for laws that stifle scrutiny, he is not acting in the public interest — he is acting in self-protection.
And the people will not forget.
The Media Must Not Back Down
This is a time for courage.
Fiji’s independent media must hold the line — not with partisanship or sensationalism, but with relentless integrity. The job of journalists is not to be liked, but to be feared by those who abuse power.
Civil society, legal advocates, academics, and ordinary citizens must speak out now — before the space for criticism disappears again.
A Warning, Not a Whisper
To Biman Prasad and those in government flirting with censorship: this is your warning. The Fijian people did not vote for silence. They voted for transparency, accountability, and reform.
Clamp down on the press, and you will not be remembered as a protector of the people. You will be remembered as just another politician who feared the truth.
And the truth — however inconvenient — will outlive you.
From VICTOR LAL at Oxford
When Finance Minister Biman Prasad appeared to caution the media about what he termed “misinformation” and suggested consequences for irresponsible reporting, the alarm bells rang across Fiji’s press corps. He may argue—perhaps sincerely—that his concern lies with the spread of fake news, particularly on social media. But that concern, however valid, cannot justify rhetoric that chills press freedom or threatens professional journalists.
We must make an important distinction here. Social media disinformation is a global challenge. It can mislead, distort, and provoke. Governments are right to be concerned about its impact. But conflating that problem with independent journalism is dangerous—and deliberate or not, it risks undermining the public’s trust in both the media and in democratic institutions.
If Minister Prasad is troubled by fake news, he should support media literacy, invest in fact-checking bodies, and engage constructively with the press.
What he must not do is issue statements that blur the line between criticism and intimidation. Language matters—especially when spoken by a senior member of the Cabinet. Warnings to the media, couched as concern, still carry the weight of threat. Journalists, for their part, should not overreact—but neither should they downplay the implications. The best defence against claims of misinformation is rigorous, ethical reporting. Let the facts speak. But when those in power appear to equate journalism with propaganda or misinformation, the response must be swift, united, and unapologetically clear: we will not be silenced.
There is room for dialogue. There is space for accountability on all sides. But there is no room for threats—no matter how politely phrased. The moment a government official hints at “consequences” for the media, a red line is crossed.
The minister’s concern about disinformation may be genuine. His choice of words, however, was reckless. The press in Fiji has fought hard for its voice. It must not be bullied into submission—by fear, by inference, or by the selective misuse of the term “fake news.”
This is a moment for the media to reaffirm its role. Not to provoke, but to persist. Not to retreat, but to report—with courage, and without compromise. In a chilling turn for Fijian democracy, Biman Prasad — once a vocal champion of media freedom — is now moving to silence the very institutions that helped restore it.
Recent signals from him indicate a push for tighter control over Fiji’s media, including the possible return of licensing regimes, restrictions on investigative reporting, and harsher penalties for what the government brands as “misinformation.”
Let’s call this what it is: a betrayal of principle and a dangerous slide into authoritarianism, dressed up in the language of national interest.
From Reformer to Enforcer
For years, Prasad positioned himself as a liberal reformer — a voice against the censorship and media intimidation of the Bainimarama era. He denounced the draconian Media Industry Development Decree, praised journalists as guardians of truth, and demanded space for dissent and critique.
But now that the media’s spotlight has turned to him — questioning his conflicts of interest, financial disclosures, and alleged interference in independent bodies — Prasad appears to be abandoning that high ground. The same free press he once defended is now, in his words, “divisive,” “irresponsible,” and “a threat to stability.”
It is not lost on the public that those now calling for tighter media control are the very ones facing hard questions.
The Dangers of Muzzling the Press
History — both in Fiji and abroad — teaches us that when governments move to control journalism, corruption flourishes, public trust collapses, and democracy becomes an illusion.
The media’s job is not to flatter those in power, but to challenge them. To investigate, expose, and inform. When journalists uncover mismanagement, abuse of power, or hidden financial entanglements, they are doing their duty — not committing a crime.
To suppress the press is to suppress accountability, and to turn politics into a closed shop for the powerful.
Not in the People’s Name
Let us be clear: there is no public mandate for media repression. Fijians have lived through years of gag orders, press intimidation, and newsroom raids. We know what it feels like to have our information filtered, our voices silenced, and our truths buried. We also know that the restoration of media freedom after the 2022 elections was one of the few bright lights in our democratic journey.
If Biman Prasad believes he can use his platform to bully editors, threaten journalists, or push for laws that stifle scrutiny, he is not acting in the public interest — he is acting in self-protection.
And the people will not forget.
The Media Must Not Back Down
This is a time for courage.
Fiji’s independent media must hold the line — not with partisanship or sensationalism, but with relentless integrity. The job of journalists is not to be liked, but to be feared by those who abuse power.
Civil society, legal advocates, academics, and ordinary citizens must speak out now — before the space for criticism disappears again.
A Warning, Not a Whisper
To Biman Prasad and those in government flirting with censorship: this is your warning. The Fijian people did not vote for silence. They voted for transparency, accountability, and reform.
Clamp down on the press, and you will not be remembered as a protector of the people. You will be remembered as just another politician who feared the truth.
And the truth — however inconvenient — will outlive you.
 |  |
