Looking back over the past six years, I would say that they have seen something like a pragmatic revolution in the Australian connection with Britain. The old relationship was predominantly a family one, and had that quality of boredom with which such relationships are too often attended. Each side took the other for granted: Britain was a dreary old Mum doing her knitting in the North Sea, Australia was a brash young daughter hopping about Down-Under; in theory they loved each other, in practice they regarded each other as part of the furniture. During these six years, with their dramatic and sometimes bitter developments, the relationship has evolved into something quite different: a consciousness of the strong common interest existing between mature and independent equals, living in different parts of the world, and confronted with different regional problems – but for that reason needing each other all the more in order to prevent regional influences from swamping the national identity. That seems a much sounder and healthier relationship to build on in the future.
1. Mr Holt: Harold Holt, Prime Minister of Australia, 1966–7. Holt’s term in office came to an abrupt and untimely end one December day in 1967; taking a swim in heavy surf near Melbourne the Prime Minister vanished. His body was never recovered.
2. Peace of Utrecht: Signed in 1713 between the major European powers, concluding the War of the Spanish Succession. Putting an end to French territorial expansion, the treaty cleared the way for the growth of the British Empire.
3. since the Dutch swept the Medway: An audacious attack by the Dutch Navy in 1667. Sailing up the River Thames, and then up the River Medway to Chatham, they burned much of the English fleet at anchor, towing the flagship Royal Charles away with them.
‘The new niggers in the woodpile … must be the still surviving colonialists’
ARTHUR KELLAS, HM HIGH COMMISSIONER TO TANZANIA, DECEMBER 1974
It is a fixed conviction in the Third World that aid is morally owing from developed to developing countries, and from the UK in particular to the liberated parts of the old British Empire. A kind of atonement is demanded, in compensation for conquest or for years of colonial oppression or neglect. If conquest is hard to identify, if oppression was milder than the practice of the liberated government themselves, if neglect was benign, or indeed outweighed by the efficient and dedicated service of so many devoted colonial administrators, then it is argued that in any case human dignity was impaired by the colonial relationship itself, which outraged or frustrated indigenous values and positively obstructed development. Thus if by virtue of aid we are now certainly in better standing in Tanzania, nevertheless the Tanzanian Government in no way regard themselves as beholden, nor inhibited from reviling our international policies …
… The issue of principal concern to Tanzania is residual colonialism in Africa, apartheid, and the whole black–white confrontation. In this context, for historical, political, economic and indeed racial reasons the British appear to Tanzania to be on the wrong side and our policies suspect if not hostile … From all this is derived an attitude on the part of the Tanzanian rulers which disposes them against ourselves. Perceiving the relatively backward condition of their country, they blame for it the Portuguese adventurers, the Arab slave traders, the German imperialists, or the British colonialists. If the British colonialists after 40 years’ rule quietly conceded power a dozen years ago to the leader of a popular movement, then somebody else, dear Brutus, must be to blame now. The new niggers in the woodpile, to quote my American colleague (himself a nigger of the highest quality), must be the still surviving colonialists, the neo-colonialists, the dollar imperialists, the Central Intelligence Agency, the Zionists, multi-national corporations, or British reactionaries. Above all somebody other than the Tanzanian people must be to blame. The ideology is ready made. Its vocabulary of invective and abuse is contributed by the disciples of Marx, Lenin and Mao Tse-tung. It is enriched, still ten years short of 1984, by a new ‘double speak’; in which language, for example, employment is exploitation, investment is robbery, profit is a bad word (better say surplus), the people is the Party, propaganda is education, agitation is vigilance or nation building, and aid is more agreeably called a transfer of resources.
‘Neither the Minister nor the Permanent Secretary have been educated beyond primary level’
TOM LAYNG, HM COMMISSIONER IN TUVALU, SEPTEMBER 1978
GOVERNMENT HOUSE
FUNAFUTI
TUVALU
20 September 1978
Rt Hon David Owen MP
Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs
Foreign and Commonwealth Office
London SW1A 2AH
Sir,
TUVALU – VALEDICTORY
I have the honour to forward my valedictory despatch on Tuvalu. In it more farewells, perhaps, than usual are being said. This is not only my own final report on the country, but it will be, Sir – with independence now only a few days away – the last despatch you receive on colonial Tuvalu. It will also be the last formal civil service document from my pen, as this is my final post after almost exactly twenty years spent in five different sets of small islands …
… My job was initially to try and reconcile two opposing philosophies: the local view that Tuvalu should rapidly be equipped with a modern infrastructure comparable to that existing in neighbouring territories, and the idealistic view from afar that the territory should be set up cheaply along traditional lines of yesteryear as a settlement of happy smiling natives in leaf huts and lavalavas.1 Inevitably in so political a period, the wishes of the locals have prevailed. A stoneage oasis in the modern world is just not practicable. But the result has been a period of constant struggle to obtain the modest finance needed to make the administration work.
It would be pleasant to be able to go on to say that all the problems have been overcome and that in the short time available all the multifarious preparations for statehood have been satisfactorily completed. Regrettably this is far from the truth. Some will say that Tuvalu is the most unprepared nation ever to go forward to independence. Only two Tuvaluans working in the country have obtained university degrees. In one Ministry neither the Minister nor the Permanent Secretary have been educated beyond primary level. At the last Cabinet meeting which I attended it became clear that the Minister for Finance had little idea of what is meant by purchasing shares in a company, and the Minister of Commerce had no idea at all of the meaning of the word to ‘subsidise’. There is certainly a truly alarming shortage of experience, competence and brainpower. But the situation is improving. Now that there are no expatriates in administrative or executive positions – and thus nowhere to pass the buck and no convenient scapegoats – the civil service is learning to make decisions and take responsibility …
I, Sir, have always supported Tuvalu’s move towards early independence for two reasons – firstly because in all fields except top level government these tiny isolated islands have in effect always been independent, and secondly because the people genuinely want to do things in their own way. Independence brings with it the freedom to govern a country well or govern it badly. It is a basic human right to have the choice of making a success or a failure of one’s life. If a country wants to run its own affairs, and is happier doing this ‘badly’ than having it done more expertly by others, then a colonial power should not stand in its way.
Polynesians are a proud people, at times even arrogant. They regard themselves – and perhaps not without reason – as superior to the other races with whom they have come in contact. Tuvaluans are to Western eyes probably the most virtuous of the various Polynesian tribes. They set great store by family obligations, are not promiscuous and are by no means as light fingered as islanders are often reputed to be.
Tuvalus’ Chief Minister, Mr Toalipi Lauti, is generously endowed with Polynesian virtue. He has concentrated his efforts to date on obtaining the independence of his country. To him this is an end in itself, and he has, I think, not yet given much thought as to how
he will run things afterwards. ‘We will do things in our own way’ is a frequent phrase from his lips. He is not at all concerned when it is pointed out that in many technical fields there is only one way of doing things and this may require considerable expertise. To him, anything done in the colonial era is automatically bad, and must be changed. His immediate reaction to the question of treaty succession is ‘scrap the lot, and we’ll start again from scratch’. A completely new Public Service Commission had to be appointed simply because all the old members of Public Service Advisory Board had been appointed under the former regime. A recent Cabinet decision has been that General Orders – the bible of the civil service – should be abolished and all matters requiring decision be referred to the whole Cabinet …
I am also often asked how long Tuvalu will continue to depend on aid and whether the present appearance of being a ‘begging bowl’ nation will continue … Regrettably the present ministerial team seems more interested in spending money than in looking for ways to raise it. It has to be admitted that this is not a government which will have the courage to increase taxes or levy new dues. Indeed all moves since internal self government have been in the opposite direction. But this is understandable. The country is currently generously endowed with aid money. In recent months local officials have been exhorted time and time again to try and think of ways in which to spend the various grants. The New Zealanders are upset that the country is only using a quarter of the allocation from Wellington. The United Nations has sent several officials to draw up plans to spend the one and a half million dollar independence grant, and British officials keep pointing out how difficult it will be for the country to absorb its ordinary development aid allocation let alone the special (five million dollar) fund.
The result is that Tuvaluans, particularly the Ministers, are firmly convinced that the rest of the world is much too rich. This is emphasized by the treatment which they receive on overseas visits. Last year I accompanied a small delegation to Wellington and Canberra which was traveling at the invitation of the Australian and New Zealand governments: First class air travel, top class hotels, large limousines to take us everywhere, champagne before breakfast on Air New Zealand, exotic gifts on Canadian Pacific, far too much to eat and drink all the time. Naturally the overall impression taken back to the isolated atolls was that the Antipodeans have more money than they know what to do with. In Polynesia, even keeping surplus fish in the fridge for use next week is considered anti-social behaviour. Any excess should be given, now, to those without. So who can blame Tuvaluan ministers – firmly believing, Sir, that you and I and other Europeans drink champagne daily before breakfast – for thinking that it is their right to be given as much aid finance as they need from the bottomless pit in the outside world? Perhaps we should try to arrange that the next time the Chief Minister goes to London he stays with the Desk Officer and helps with the washing up …
For all this – and what country is perfect? – Tuvalu is (almost) launched safely into the world as a sovereign state. Few colonies, Sir, can have caused you less trouble. There have been no riots, no bloodshed and no unfavourable publicity. If you had told officials retiring from Tarawa2 in 1972 that the Ellice Islands would be separate and independent six years later, they would have laughed at you. In Tuvalu, fifty years of history has been compressed into five. It is scarcely surprising that everything is not as neat and tidy as one might like it to be. Tuvaluans are proud, but they are also an immensely likeable people. A colonial administrator tends to develop a love/hate relationship with the locals in whatever far away place he may work. One may be exasperated beyond words by Polynesian ministers during office hours, but charmed by their wives and children outside. And as companions on a fishing trip, opponents on the tennis court or hosts at a party, there can be no more delightful people. Which, Sir, is just as well, for without fishing, tennis and beer, life for your first, last and only Queen’s Commissioner in Tuvalu and other expatriates serving in this remotest remaining outpost of empire could indeed have been dreary at times.
I am, Sir,
Your obedient servant,
T. H. Layng
1. lavalavas: Cloth skirt; a Polynesian take on the sarong.
2. Tarawa: Colonial capital of the Gilbert and Ellice Islands, a British Protectorate which split in 1976, shortly before independence, into Kiribati and Tuvalu.
‘We abandoned our subjects to a motley crew of mountebanks, criminals and even monsters’
SIR MARTIN EWANS, HM HIGH COMMISSIONER TO NIGERIA, APRIL 1988
The last third of a century has not been the easiest period in which to represent Britain overseas, particularly for one whose career has lain mostly in the so-called developing world. For much of the time, it has meant trying to help manage, and mitigate the consequences of, our retreat from Empire, against the background of a loss of sense of national purpose and relative economic decline. Some of the manifestations of this decline have been particularly galling, in particular our consistent failure, through a penny-pinching approach, to make the best of those incomparable sources of influence overseas, the BBC, the British Council, and our educational and military training institutions. It has therefore been all the more pleasant, in my last few years, to have been able to take some pride in the beginning of economic resurgence and of a positive role in the European Community, where we manifestly belong.
I have strongly-held views about our withdrawal from Africa. Several generations of Britons devoted their lives, and sometimes died, in trying to do something worthwhile for the people of this continent. Over a good many years, we assumed a responsibility for the well-being of millions of Africans. Then we about-turned, broke faith with our predecessors and abandoned our charges to what has, for the most part, been a miserable and often tragic fate. Of course, we had to go. But overwhelmingly, the path we followed towards the independence of our African colonies was that of least resistance. The institutions we established – the civil service, army, police, judiciary and so on – were, unlike their Indian counterparts, insufficiently deep-rooted to sustain coherent states against tribal and other forces. Some of our African colonies we even abandoned against their will. One of my vivid recollections is being at the receiving end of an impassioned plea by Jimmy Mancham of the Seychelles that his country should remain under British rule. Not so long afterwards, I was the person who had to go round to the Savoy and break it to him that he had been overthrown by a small band of squalid left-wing usurpers, backed by Tanzania.
For me, the moment of truth came when that incompetent humbug, Julius Nyerere,1 quixotically invited a number of former colonial administrators to come back on the tenth anniversary of Tanzanian independence in order to see what had been achieved since their departure. They came; they saw; and they were appalled. Not only were they themselves being crudely lampooned in the schools they had founded as blood-sucking imperialists but much of their development work was in ruins. In retrospect the only surprising thing about this is that it should have been surprising. Less than ten years before independence a UN Commission had advised that twenty-five years would be needed before Tanganyika could be self-governing. I suppose that we saw no alternative but to saddle our colonies with Westminster-type Parliaments, with all the trappings of Speakers, maces and copies of Erskine May,2 but their irrelevance and futility were soon painfully obvious. (But this is not to say that Africans are unfit for democracy. I would strongly dispute that proposition: and just about the one perceptive thing which I heard the Nigerian Foreign Minister, Bolaji Akinyemi, say, was that the view that Africans could operate democratic institutions was proved by the fact that they had almost never been allowed to do so!)
At the end of the day, therefore, we abandoned our subjects to a motley crew of mountebanks, criminals and even monsters. In post-independence anglophone Africa, I can think of only two leaders of real stature and integrity, Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa3 and Sir Seretse Khama.4 And of these, the former was never master in his own house a
nd was murdered within a few years. Of course, our subsequent record is by no means wholly bad. Live Aid and its successors have, for example, provided heartwarming examples of genuine concern. But as a nation, we have in recent years not really wanted to know, and we have done pitifully less than we could have done to help our former colonies along. Whatever one may say about the French (and who does not), at least they have done better for their ex-colonies than we have.
1. Julius Nyerere: The first President of Tanzania (1964–85).
2. Erskine May: The rule book of parliamentary procedure.
3. Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa: Prime Minister of Nigeria 1960–66; overthrown in a coup.
4. Sir Seretse Khama: President of Botswana, 1966–1980.
9. Envoi
Parting Shots Page 31