Small Men, Big Trouble

One of the welcome consequences of the regional Assistance Mission to Solomon Islands (RAMSI)—three years on the ground and counting—is how the presence of foreigners has opened local eyes to the shameful inadequacy of Honiara's politicians. The nominal Big Men who hop on and off the capital's political merry-go-round cannot deliver for their own communities nor for the nation as a whole. Unlike, for instance, a judge from Suva, a Canberra auditor, a Nuka'alofa constable or a Wellington diplomat—all the quiet, efficient public servants from around the region who have volunteered to help a troubled neighbor. When local M.P.s moan that they don't get credit for the progress that has been achieved, senior RAMSI members hold their tongues. "It's hard to know whether to laugh or cry when you hear those complaints," says an Australian official. "There's a deep sense of frustration among the political class," says another observer in Honiara. "They are failing, and the people are increasingly aware of their impotence."

Frustration leads to overreaction. Patrick Cole, Australia's High Commissioner to Solomon Islands, was declared persona non grata by the government of Prime Minister Manasseh Sogavare on Sept. 12. Sogavare's charge was that Cole was interfering in local politics and too frequently consulting opposition politicians. Canberra had argued strongly against a proposed inquiry into this year's riots in Honiara. Two M.P.s aligned with the government are in jail facing charges relating to the violence, which razed Chinatown. According to Australian Foreign Minister Alexander Downer, Cole's expulsion was outrageous; he smells a rat. "The real motive of the commission of inquiry," he said, "is to ease the pressure on two of Mr. Sogavare's henchmen." The expulsion has cost Solomons M.P.s one of their most beloved perks—multiple-entry visas to Australia.

Such is the fluidity of Solomons politics (Downer mocks it as a "rather curious world") that well-informed observers expect a change of government in Honiara soon. Sogavare has come to power twice in the wake of violence: following a coup in 2000, and after last April's riots. While some of his government's moves seem erratic, the guiding purpose is clear. Under the slogan of "sovereignty," Sogavare is trying to gain control of donor funds and dominate the bureaucracy again. In New York last week to attend the gathering of the U.N. General Assembly, Honiara's delegation sought out friends and did some business: it announced a new health initiative with Cuba, did some lobbying for Taiwan, and found new personnel for its commission of inquiry, courtesy of Papua New Guinea.

While Sogavare was in the Big Apple, RAMSI officials were generating color and movement in Honiara. Working the grass roots, the mission set up community outreach stalls to promote its work. According to the Solomon Star newspaper, a young Canberra economist, Harry the Juggler, entertained the crowd while speaking in pidgin about economic reform; it was goofy but effective. RAMSI is popular with locals because it's brought better security, some services, and new infrastructure. RAMSI is a strange beast. It is not an occupying force, but remains in the Solomons at the invitation of the government. Yet the key role of the mission at this stage is to improve the way government works: to make it more effective, efficient and accountable. So RAMSI is getting right into the belly of the country's institutions, trying to end decades of corruption and inadequacy.

Led by Special Coordinator James Batley, RAMSI has to win over the elite while breaking their hold on power, or at least their longstanding habits. His team is encountering two kinds of resistance—common bastardry and the equally corrosive Solomons passivity. Technically, RAMSI works in partnership with the country's government and people. Its performance is monitored by an eminent persons group from the Pacific Islands Forum. Yes, RAMSI is staffed by people from 14 nations in the South Pacific—as Batley, an Australian diplomat, stresses tirelessly. But there's no doubt that the mission is an Australian initiative. Without Canberra's dollars, troops and expertise, RAMSI would not exist. Having committed so much, Australia cannot pull out. It must stay until the work is done. Nor did it underestimate the task; in fact, six months before the July 2003 deployment, Downer saw intervention as "folly in the extreme." "The fundamental problem," he wrote in the Australian, "is that foreigners do not have answers for the deep-seated problems afflicting Solomon Islands."

Which brings us back to Sogavare's populist trump card. Sovereignty is a slippery concept in the arc of instability to Australia's north. In a typically under-the-radar speech on RAMSI's third anniversary, Batley defined it for tomorrow's leaders. "Sovereignty is not just about having the ability to pass laws," he told university students in Honiara. "It's also about the capacity of a nation to enforce those laws. Sovereignty is not just the ability to announce government policies. It's about the capacity of a nation to implement those policies and to pay for them. Sovereignty is not just about local personnel occupying key positions, it's ensuring they are effective in those positions. Sovereignty is not just about being an independent country, having a flag and a national anthem. It's about winning the respect and the cooperation of other countries." On all these benchmarks, the little big men of Honiara fall short. Countries rarely get a second chance. A third, never.