*In i-Taukei culture, the chiefly vanua and the political realm are deeply intertwined. By attending one installation and not the other, Sitiveni Rabuka has done more than express a personal preference — he has reignited historical divisions, and possibly signaled that reconciliation with the Mara legacy is still not on his agenda. |  |
*If national unity is the goal, then reconciling with Lau — and its most iconic political family — may be the most important step Rabuka has yet to take.
 *When asked by fijivillage News on why he did not attend the chiefly installation ceremony in Lau, Rabuka says he was invited as an ordinary person but he decided to only send his wife, Sulueti, who is from Tubou. He also says he had no role to play as the Prime Minister in the ceremony and if he held the iTaukei porfolio, it would have been okay to be invited in his official capacity. |  |
When Prime Minister Sitiveni Rabuka swiftly made his way to Bau in 2023 to pay respects to Ratu Epenisa Cakobau — the newly installed Vunivalu of Bau — he was visibly moved, attentive, and ceremonially present. He did not wait for formal protocol or invitation as Prime Minister.
He went “in his personal capacity,” he said — a show of humility and cultural reverence, or so it seemed.
Fast forward to the recent installation of Ratu Tevita Uluilakeba Mara in Lakeba, Lau — a chiefly succession of no less cultural gravity — and suddenly Rabuka’s reverence for tradition is qualified, conditional, and bureaucratically hesitant.
This time, the same Prime Minister who once invoked the spirits of his vanua to explain political decisions now insists that he wasn’t invited “as Prime Minister,” and therefore opted not to attend at all. A strange form of cultural selectivity for someone who once wrapped himself in the cloth of vanua values.
The question that inevitably follows is: why the double standard?
Both men — Ratu Epenisa and Ratu Ului — are not just high chiefs. They are direct descendants of Fiji’s political and chiefly royalty. They are both central figures in their respective confederacies — Bau and Lau — and both ascend to positions that shape how i-Taukei Fijians perceive power, legacy, and leadership.
Rabuka’s conspicuous absence in Lau doesn’t escape notice. Nor does the long shadow cast by history: Ratu Ului is the son of Fiji’s founding father, Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara — a towering figure who lost the 1987 elections to Dr Timoci Bavadra, resulting in Rabuka's 1987 coups. That history remains unresolved in many quarters, especially in Lau, where memories are long and titles sacred.
Was Rabuka’s absence a quiet political snub? A personal discomfort cloaked in protocol? Or does it reflect a deeper inability to reconcile past wrongs with present responsibilities?
Whatever the case, leaders cannot cherry-pick tradition to suit convenience. If Rabuka believed it appropriate to be present for Ratu Epenisa “as an individual,” then that same logic — or at least the courtesy — should have been applied in Lau. To show respect to both chiefs, both confederacies, and all iTaukei who look to these events as moments of national continuity and cultural depth.
To attend one and ignore the other sends a message, intended or not: that some chiefly seats are worthy of presence, and others are not; that some relationships are reconcilable, and others can be left to fester.
If unity, tradition, and reconciliation are more than political slogans, then leadership must be even-handed in respecting the vanua — not only when it’s convenient, but especially when it’s uncomfortable.
Fiji deserves leadership that doesn’t hide behind invitation lists, but stands tall in the face of history — even its most complicated chapters.
He went “in his personal capacity,” he said — a show of humility and cultural reverence, or so it seemed.
Fast forward to the recent installation of Ratu Tevita Uluilakeba Mara in Lakeba, Lau — a chiefly succession of no less cultural gravity — and suddenly Rabuka’s reverence for tradition is qualified, conditional, and bureaucratically hesitant.
This time, the same Prime Minister who once invoked the spirits of his vanua to explain political decisions now insists that he wasn’t invited “as Prime Minister,” and therefore opted not to attend at all. A strange form of cultural selectivity for someone who once wrapped himself in the cloth of vanua values.
The question that inevitably follows is: why the double standard?
Both men — Ratu Epenisa and Ratu Ului — are not just high chiefs. They are direct descendants of Fiji’s political and chiefly royalty. They are both central figures in their respective confederacies — Bau and Lau — and both ascend to positions that shape how i-Taukei Fijians perceive power, legacy, and leadership.
Rabuka’s conspicuous absence in Lau doesn’t escape notice. Nor does the long shadow cast by history: Ratu Ului is the son of Fiji’s founding father, Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara — a towering figure who lost the 1987 elections to Dr Timoci Bavadra, resulting in Rabuka's 1987 coups. That history remains unresolved in many quarters, especially in Lau, where memories are long and titles sacred.
Was Rabuka’s absence a quiet political snub? A personal discomfort cloaked in protocol? Or does it reflect a deeper inability to reconcile past wrongs with present responsibilities?
Whatever the case, leaders cannot cherry-pick tradition to suit convenience. If Rabuka believed it appropriate to be present for Ratu Epenisa “as an individual,” then that same logic — or at least the courtesy — should have been applied in Lau. To show respect to both chiefs, both confederacies, and all iTaukei who look to these events as moments of national continuity and cultural depth.
To attend one and ignore the other sends a message, intended or not: that some chiefly seats are worthy of presence, and others are not; that some relationships are reconcilable, and others can be left to fester.
If unity, tradition, and reconciliation are more than political slogans, then leadership must be even-handed in respecting the vanua — not only when it’s convenient, but especially when it’s uncomfortable.
Fiji deserves leadership that doesn’t hide behind invitation lists, but stands tall in the face of history — even its most complicated chapters.
*Sitiveni Rabuka’s historical tensions with the Mara family — particularly with the late Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara — likely played a significant role in his decision not to attend Ratu Tevita Uluilakeba Mara’s installation in Lakeba, even if he claims otherwise.
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*In May 1987, Sitiveni Rabuka, then a Lieutenant Colonel, staged a military coup to remove Prime Minister Timoci Bavadra, whose multi-ethnic coalition had just defeated the long-dominant Alliance Party led by Ratu Mara. At the time, Ratu Mara was not the target of the coup — he had already lost the election — but Rabuka later re-installed Mara as head of an interim government after the second coup in September 1987.
*Over time, Rabuka distanced himself from Mara and began publicly alleging that Ratu Mara had orchestrated or endorsed the coups behind the scenes — a claim Ratu Mara always denied. In his memoirs and interviews, Rabuka has implied that he felt used, or manipulated, by chiefly and political elites, including Ratu Mara.
The Personal Becomes Political
*Ratu Tevita Uluilakeba Mara is not just a high chief; he is Ratu Mara’s son. And in many ways, his installation as Tui Nayau and head of the Vuanirewa clan is seen as a restoration of Mara’s legacy in Lau.
*Rabuka’s absence from the ceremony, while perhaps defensible on procedural grounds, must be viewed through the lens of this fraught personal and political history.
*Attending the installation would have symbolized:
*A full-circle gesture of reconciliation with the Mara lineage, and;
*An affirmation that the past — however dark — has been transcended.
*By choosing not to attend, Rabuka appears to have kept a deliberate distance, reinforcing the perception that old wounds remain unhealed.
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*Welcome for Tongan King, But No Show by Rabuka at Lau Installation
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