Fijileaks: Malimali's drunken episode in Tuvalu, where she became intoxicated and ended up crashing in the Australian Judge's hotel room (the "old dude" was hearing her client's case) was never raised by the Church during the appointment discussions. Nor that she is banned from Tuvalu. It seems the Methodist Church overlooked the advice of Ephesians 5: 18:
"Do not get drunk on wine, which lead to debauchery. Instead, be filled with the Spirit."
And yet, each time, I’m haunted by how grotesquely those teachings have been twisted in Fiji since the 1987 coups. Sitiveni Rabuka, a Methodist lay preacher, tore apart our 1970 Constitution on 14 May 1987, claiming that God had “spoken into his ears” and commanded him to seize power from Dr Timoci Bavadra's Coalition government. Under Rabuka's military rule, Methodism was weaponised to sanctify racist ideology and justify persecution of the Indo-Fijians.
We remember the infamous Sunday Observance Decree when shops shuttered, beaches closed, buses stopped running on Sundays, and life itself paused. All enforced under the banner of “Christian (Methodist) values”. And yet beneath this facade of piety, Fiji descended into terror. Indo-Fijians were beaten, their wives, daughters, mothers, and sisters were savagely gang-raped, humiliated, and driven from their homes. Fear reigned, and the very Methodist Church that should have stood as a sanctuary of compassion became complicit—blessing a coup regime, offering cover to violence, and draping authoritarianism in the robes of faith.
That legacy has never been dismantled. It lingers like an unhealed wound. The Methodist Church remains deeply entwined with political power, and Rabuka’s influence still threads through its hierarchy and agenda.
This past Sunday, 31 August 2025, as I walked past Wesley’s plaque on my way to another church in the city, the Catholic Church, my thoughts turned to the scandal surrounding Barbara Malimali’s appointment to the Methodist Church’s constitutional review committee. Nominated by the Church’s own lawyer, Simione Valenitabua, alongside Tanya Waqanika, Malimali’s selection isn’t just about one individual. It’s about an entire structure of influence that has endured since 1987. It reveals how the same actors, the same alliances, and the same quiet manipulations of faith and law continue to shape Fiji’s destiny.
It is bitterly ironic. John Wesley preached here of grace, dignity, and equality before God. Yet in Fiji, his spiritual heirs turned Methodism into a weapon of exclusion, fear, and privilege. And now, decades later, as the Church places itself at the heart of constitutional debates once again, the risk is that it continues to serve power rather than challenge it.
That little plaque in Oxford always reminds me how far many iTaukei Methodists have strayed from Wesley’s vision. And how urgently Fiji needs to confront its unfinished reckoning with 1987. Until we do, we will remain trapped in its shadow, governed not by justice or compassion, but by the same old ghosts wearing new robes.
FROM THE PULPIT TO THE PEW
The Methodist Church has approved Barbara Malimali’s appointment to its Constitutional Review Committee, a body tasked with reshaping the church’s governing document every decade. But critics are asking: “What does this say about the church’s moral compass?”
Meanwhile, the Tuvalu drunken episode is no longer a secret, a night of misconduct that embarrassed colleagues and tarnished professional reputations. Yet, the church hierarchy never raised it, never questioned it, and never explained it.
SUING THE STATE, SHAPING THE CHURCH
Malimali is also currently suing the Fiji Government via a judicial review over her dismissal as FICAC Commissioner. Her lawyer is none other than Tanya Waqanika. How does someone like Malimali, entangled in a High Court battle, get handed the keys to rewriting the Methodist Church’s constitution? Answer, through Church and PAP lawyer Simione Valenitabua.
Every Sunday, the Methodist Church preaches sobriety, integrity, and moral leadership. But when it comes to its own appointments, it seems those rules don’t apply at the top. By appointing Barbara Malimali, the Methodist Church has chosen influence over integrity and silence over scrutiny, undermining its authority to speak on morality and youth leadership.
And perhaps, before their next sermon, the Bose ko Viti delegates might want to re-read this verse: “Do not get drunk on wine, which leads to debauchery. Instead, be filled with the Spirit.”: Ephesians 5:18.
Because right now, Fiji’s largest church looks like it’s being led by spirits of another kind.
Because there he was, solemnly invoking King Solomon’s parable from 1 Kings 3:16–28, likening the battle over Fiji’s 2013 Constitution v the 1997 Constitution to two wives fighting over a child. The legal fraternity collectively shook its head. This wasn’t constitutional argument. This was Sunday school dressed up as Supreme Court advocacy.
As I wrote in my unpublished draft, this is not a case about divine wisdom. It’s religious theatre masquerading as law, a carefully calculated ploy to manipulate iTaukei religious sentiment by cloaking PAP’s political agenda in biblical imagery.
And now, of course, the missing piece of the riddle is solved: Valenitabua isn’t just PAP’s lawyer. He’s also the lawyer for the Methodist Church.
Suddenly, it all makes sense.
This isn’t about the rule of law. It’s about fusing politics and religion to secure an outcome through emotional manipulation rather than constitutional principle. The courtroom was never meant to be a pulpit but PAP’s legal team seemed intent on turning it into one.
The Bible is not Fiji’s Constitution.
And no amount of Solomonic parables should rewrite it.
ANNEX: My Unpublished Critique of 21 August 2025: KING Solomon’s Sword Cannot Cut the Law: PAP’s Religious Theatre Won’t Rewrite Fiji’s Constitution