   Ever since the Commission of Inquiry Report began circulating in Fiji’s political and legal circles, a familiar strategy has emerged among those uncomfortable with its contents: attack the Report, discredit the process, and hope the evidence quietly disappears. |   |
It is an old tactic. When the facts become inconvenient, the next best option is to rubbish the investigation that uncovered them.
Yet the increasingly shrill campaign to dismiss the Commission of Inquiry Report says far more about the desperation of its critics than about the credibility of the document itself.
For buried within the report, and within the affidavits, testimony, and documentary material presented to the Commission, are revelations that would make anyone uneasy.
The Evidence Cannot Be Wished Away
Those attempting to discredit the Report have focused obsessively on procedural complaints: who saw what draft, who was “named”, who received a copy of what findings, and whether the Commission followed every conceivable step of the so-called Maxwellisation process.
These are legitimate legal questions. But they are not the central issue. The real issue is the evidence that emerged during the inquiry. Witness statements, sworn affidavits, internal communications and institutional records were placed before the Commission.
These materials were not invented by political opponents or fabricated by journalists. They came from individuals directly involved in the events under investigation. And what they revealed was deeply troubling.
The evidence pointed to networks of influence, conflicts of interest, questionable legal manoeuvres, and decisions taken within some of the most sensitive institutions of the state. These revelations are precisely why the Report has triggered such a ferocious backlash.
The Strategy: Discredit the Inquiry
The strategy now being deployed is transparent. Rather than confront the substance of the evidence, critics of the Report have shifted the debate to technicalities. The focus has moved away from what witnesses actually said and toward whether the Commission followed every procedural step to the satisfaction of those who now feel aggrieved.
In other words, the argument has been reframed from “Did these events occur?” to “Was the process perfectly executed?”
But even if procedural criticisms were ultimately upheld by a court, they would not magically erase the testimony that was given or the documents that were produced. Evidence does not vanish simply because someone dislikes the conclusions drawn from it.
The Public Has Already Seen Enough
In today’s digital age, information does not remain confined to sealed envelopes or filing cabinets. The Report, together with many of the affidavits and supporting materials, has already entered the public domain.
Citizens, journalists and legal observers have been able to read for themselves the extraordinary claims and allegations contained within those materials. They describe a world of overlapping interests, political alliances, and legal manoeuvres that raise uncomfortable questions about the integrity of institutions entrusted with enforcing the rule of law.
For those named in the Report, the temptation is obvious: if the Report itself can be discredited, then the damaging narrative surrounding it might collapse as well. But the public has already seen enough to know that the issues raised cannot simply be swept aside.
Accountability Cannot Be Optional
Commissions of Inquiry exist for a reason. They are established when the ordinary mechanisms of oversight fail or when events occur that demand independent investigation. Their purpose is not to produce comfortable reading. They exist to uncover facts that powerful individuals might prefer to keep hidden.
In Fiji’s case, the Commission was tasked with examining matters that strike at the heart of institutional integrity. If the evidence presented to it reveals wrongdoing, abuse of power, or serious conflicts of interest, then the appropriate response is not to destroy the messenger.
The appropriate response is to examine the evidence and determine what consequences must follow.
A Familiar Pattern
Fiji has seen this pattern before. Time and again, investigations that threaten powerful interests are met with attempts to delegitimise the inquiry itself. Critics question the motives of investigators, the procedures they followed, and even the right of the inquiry to exist.
Meanwhile, the evidence that triggered the investigation quietly fades into the background. It is a strategy designed to exhaust public attention and blur the distinction between legitimate procedural debate and the far more serious question of whether misconduct occurred.
The Central Question Remains
No amount of rhetorical outrage can erase the fundamental question raised by the Commission’s work: What do the documents, affidavits, and testimony actually reveal about the conduct of those entrusted with public power?
That question has not been answered by the critics of the Report. Instead, they have chosen to wage a campaign against the Report itself. But attacking the Report does not erase the evidence that produced it.
And until the substance of that evidence is addressed honestly and transparently, the Commission of Inquiry Report will continue to haunt those determined to bury it. Because the problem was never the Report. The problem was what the Report revealed.
Take for example one story: Fijileaks had revealed that the newly appointed FICAC Commissioner Barbara Malimali had been banned from practising law in neighbouring Tuvalu.
It took the power of the Commission of Inquiry to write and obtain confirmation that it was true, and it came from the Attorney-General of Tuvalu to the COI that had been established to enquire into the appointment of Malimali as FICAC Commissioner.
Yet the increasingly shrill campaign to dismiss the Commission of Inquiry Report says far more about the desperation of its critics than about the credibility of the document itself.
For buried within the report, and within the affidavits, testimony, and documentary material presented to the Commission, are revelations that would make anyone uneasy.
The Evidence Cannot Be Wished Away
Those attempting to discredit the Report have focused obsessively on procedural complaints: who saw what draft, who was “named”, who received a copy of what findings, and whether the Commission followed every conceivable step of the so-called Maxwellisation process.
These are legitimate legal questions. But they are not the central issue. The real issue is the evidence that emerged during the inquiry. Witness statements, sworn affidavits, internal communications and institutional records were placed before the Commission.
These materials were not invented by political opponents or fabricated by journalists. They came from individuals directly involved in the events under investigation. And what they revealed was deeply troubling.
The evidence pointed to networks of influence, conflicts of interest, questionable legal manoeuvres, and decisions taken within some of the most sensitive institutions of the state. These revelations are precisely why the Report has triggered such a ferocious backlash.
The Strategy: Discredit the Inquiry
The strategy now being deployed is transparent. Rather than confront the substance of the evidence, critics of the Report have shifted the debate to technicalities. The focus has moved away from what witnesses actually said and toward whether the Commission followed every procedural step to the satisfaction of those who now feel aggrieved.
In other words, the argument has been reframed from “Did these events occur?” to “Was the process perfectly executed?”
But even if procedural criticisms were ultimately upheld by a court, they would not magically erase the testimony that was given or the documents that were produced. Evidence does not vanish simply because someone dislikes the conclusions drawn from it.
The Public Has Already Seen Enough
In today’s digital age, information does not remain confined to sealed envelopes or filing cabinets. The Report, together with many of the affidavits and supporting materials, has already entered the public domain.
Citizens, journalists and legal observers have been able to read for themselves the extraordinary claims and allegations contained within those materials. They describe a world of overlapping interests, political alliances, and legal manoeuvres that raise uncomfortable questions about the integrity of institutions entrusted with enforcing the rule of law.
For those named in the Report, the temptation is obvious: if the Report itself can be discredited, then the damaging narrative surrounding it might collapse as well. But the public has already seen enough to know that the issues raised cannot simply be swept aside.
Accountability Cannot Be Optional
Commissions of Inquiry exist for a reason. They are established when the ordinary mechanisms of oversight fail or when events occur that demand independent investigation. Their purpose is not to produce comfortable reading. They exist to uncover facts that powerful individuals might prefer to keep hidden.
In Fiji’s case, the Commission was tasked with examining matters that strike at the heart of institutional integrity. If the evidence presented to it reveals wrongdoing, abuse of power, or serious conflicts of interest, then the appropriate response is not to destroy the messenger.
The appropriate response is to examine the evidence and determine what consequences must follow.
A Familiar Pattern
Fiji has seen this pattern before. Time and again, investigations that threaten powerful interests are met with attempts to delegitimise the inquiry itself. Critics question the motives of investigators, the procedures they followed, and even the right of the inquiry to exist.
Meanwhile, the evidence that triggered the investigation quietly fades into the background. It is a strategy designed to exhaust public attention and blur the distinction between legitimate procedural debate and the far more serious question of whether misconduct occurred.
The Central Question Remains
No amount of rhetorical outrage can erase the fundamental question raised by the Commission’s work: What do the documents, affidavits, and testimony actually reveal about the conduct of those entrusted with public power?
That question has not been answered by the critics of the Report. Instead, they have chosen to wage a campaign against the Report itself. But attacking the Report does not erase the evidence that produced it.
And until the substance of that evidence is addressed honestly and transparently, the Commission of Inquiry Report will continue to haunt those determined to bury it. Because the problem was never the Report. The problem was what the Report revealed.
Take for example one story: Fijileaks had revealed that the newly appointed FICAC Commissioner Barbara Malimali had been banned from practising law in neighbouring Tuvalu.
It took the power of the Commission of Inquiry to write and obtain confirmation that it was true, and it came from the Attorney-General of Tuvalu to the COI that had been established to enquire into the appointment of Malimali as FICAC Commissioner.
The Tuvalu Ban: How the Commission of Inquiry Confirmed What Fijileaks Revealed About FICAC Commissioner Barbara Malimali
When Fijileaks first reported that the newly appointed Commissioner of the Fiji Independent Commission Against Corruption (FICAC), Barbara Malimali, had previously been barred from practising law in neighbouring Tuvalu, the claim was met in some quarters with scepticism. Critics dismissed the revelation as speculation or political mischief, suggesting that the report lacked official confirmation.
What followed, however, demonstrated precisely why the Commission of Inquiry (COI) into Malimali’s appointment proved so significant.
Unlike journalists or civil society organisations, a Commission of Inquiry possesses statutory powers to obtain documents, summon records, and seek formal confirmation from public authorities both within and outside Fiji. During its investigation into the circumstances surrounding Malimali’s appointment as FICAC Commissioner, the Commission exercised those powers.
The Commission wrote directly to the Attorney-General of Tuvalu, seeking clarification about Malimali’s professional standing in that jurisdiction. The reply removed any lingering uncertainty.
The Attorney-General confirmed to the Commission that Barbara Malimali had indeed been barred from practising law in Tuvalu.
This official confirmation vindicated what Fijileaks had earlier reported. But the Commission’s findings did not stop there. Using its authority to obtain records from Fiji’s Legal Practitioners Unit (LPU), the Commission also examined Malimali’s applications for practising certificates in Fiji. Those applications required applicants to disclose any disciplinary findings or prohibitions affecting their ability to practise law in other jurisdictions.
According to the materials examined by the Commission, Malimali had submitted a series of practising certificate applications in which she failed to disclose the Tuvalu prohibition.
The Commission found that this omission occurred on seven separate occasions, each time the application form required disclosure of such matters.
If accurate, that pattern raises serious questions. Practising certificate applications are not casual documents; they are formal declarations made to the regulatory authorities governing the legal profession. Lawyers are expected to provide full and truthful disclosure about any disciplinary action or professional restrictions imposed in other jurisdictions.
Failure to do so may constitute a serious breach of professional obligations.
The Commission’s discovery therefore added a new dimension to the controversy surrounding Malimali’s appointment. What began as a disputed claim about her professional history in Tuvalu became, through documentary examination, a question about whether the regulatory authorities in Fiji had been given complete and accurate information when practising certificates were sought.
For critics who have sought to dismiss the Commission of Inquiry Report as flawed or politically motivated, the Malimali episode presents a difficulty.
The key facts did not originate from political opponents or speculative commentary. They emerged from official correspondence with the Attorney-General of Tuvalu and from documentary records held by Fiji’s own legal regulatory authorities.
In other words, the Commission did not merely repeat allegations. It verified them through official sources and primary records.
That is precisely what commissions of inquiry are designed to do.
Whatever disagreements may continue about the broader conclusions of the Report, the episode illustrates an uncomfortable truth for those determined to rubbish its findings: in at least one critical instance, the Commission used its powers to confirm facts that might otherwise have remained disputed.
And those facts raise questions that will not easily disappear. Hence, the JSC should SACK Barbara Malimali based on the failure to disclose the truth in her job application.
When Fijileaks first reported that the newly appointed Commissioner of the Fiji Independent Commission Against Corruption (FICAC), Barbara Malimali, had previously been barred from practising law in neighbouring Tuvalu, the claim was met in some quarters with scepticism. Critics dismissed the revelation as speculation or political mischief, suggesting that the report lacked official confirmation.
What followed, however, demonstrated precisely why the Commission of Inquiry (COI) into Malimali’s appointment proved so significant.
Unlike journalists or civil society organisations, a Commission of Inquiry possesses statutory powers to obtain documents, summon records, and seek formal confirmation from public authorities both within and outside Fiji. During its investigation into the circumstances surrounding Malimali’s appointment as FICAC Commissioner, the Commission exercised those powers.
The Commission wrote directly to the Attorney-General of Tuvalu, seeking clarification about Malimali’s professional standing in that jurisdiction. The reply removed any lingering uncertainty.
The Attorney-General confirmed to the Commission that Barbara Malimali had indeed been barred from practising law in Tuvalu.
This official confirmation vindicated what Fijileaks had earlier reported. But the Commission’s findings did not stop there. Using its authority to obtain records from Fiji’s Legal Practitioners Unit (LPU), the Commission also examined Malimali’s applications for practising certificates in Fiji. Those applications required applicants to disclose any disciplinary findings or prohibitions affecting their ability to practise law in other jurisdictions.
According to the materials examined by the Commission, Malimali had submitted a series of practising certificate applications in which she failed to disclose the Tuvalu prohibition.
The Commission found that this omission occurred on seven separate occasions, each time the application form required disclosure of such matters.
If accurate, that pattern raises serious questions. Practising certificate applications are not casual documents; they are formal declarations made to the regulatory authorities governing the legal profession. Lawyers are expected to provide full and truthful disclosure about any disciplinary action or professional restrictions imposed in other jurisdictions.
Failure to do so may constitute a serious breach of professional obligations.
The Commission’s discovery therefore added a new dimension to the controversy surrounding Malimali’s appointment. What began as a disputed claim about her professional history in Tuvalu became, through documentary examination, a question about whether the regulatory authorities in Fiji had been given complete and accurate information when practising certificates were sought.
For critics who have sought to dismiss the Commission of Inquiry Report as flawed or politically motivated, the Malimali episode presents a difficulty.
The key facts did not originate from political opponents or speculative commentary. They emerged from official correspondence with the Attorney-General of Tuvalu and from documentary records held by Fiji’s own legal regulatory authorities.
In other words, the Commission did not merely repeat allegations. It verified them through official sources and primary records.
That is precisely what commissions of inquiry are designed to do.
Whatever disagreements may continue about the broader conclusions of the Report, the episode illustrates an uncomfortable truth for those determined to rubbish its findings: in at least one critical instance, the Commission used its powers to confirm facts that might otherwise have remained disputed.
And those facts raise questions that will not easily disappear. Hence, the JSC should SACK Barbara Malimali based on the failure to disclose the truth in her job application.
Clean Your Glasses, Mr Richard Naidu. The COI Recommended an Independent Review of Biman Prasad's File, and Fijileaks Holds the Damning Evidence on the NFP leader and former FINANCE MINISTER
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